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shespeaksinsongs · 3 years ago

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May I have a ship 🍄 for HP of golden trio era? Preferably male, thank you 💞

𝗕𝗔𝗦𝗜𝗖𝗦 + 𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘

I'm 19, Southeast Asian with Spanish descent, Libra, ENFJ-A/ENFJ-T, Neutral Good, Ravenclaw, and a Bi Pan Genderfluid girl using the pronouns She/Her or He/Him. A friend of mine told me that I (kinda) look like Marinette from 𝗠𝗶𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘂𝗹𝗼𝘂𝘀 𝗟𝗮𝗱𝘆𝗯𝘂𝗴, Musa from 𝗪𝗶𝗻𝘅 𝗖𝗹𝘂𝗯, and Alexandra Trese from 𝗧𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲 (a Netflix animated series), but the exception is I'm short (5'1.2") plus sized Southeast Asian woman with Spanish descent that has messy/wavy brunette medium hair, chocolate brown eyes, oriental skin and a small beauty mark on the forehead. My sense of fashion is in between emo and boyish plus korean glam.

𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬

Distant, quiet, and shy at first cause' I dunno how to initiate a conversation, but a total opposite if I open up---friendly, ambivert, witty, laughing loudly on a daily basis, talkative, eats a lot, awkward, daydreamer (I got embarrassed from knocking at the door even I'm inside the classroom 😂), EXTREMELY CLUMSY (mostly tends to get bruises from bumping and being careless to my belongings), secretly likes affection, easily overwhelmed, prone to melt over wholesomeness, flusters on compliments, lightly blushes on cheesy banters, eager to share what I know (especially about Catholic Church---my past teacher joked that I'll become a saint because of it 🤣), oftenly speaks full of sarcasm with a lowkey crackhead energy citing meme references, and talented girl who can be your no.1 supporter and unashamed to be true to myself. In terms of leadership, I only educate and guide than being a prefect (I might take the role seriously), will lift my group when there's lacking/incompleteness. About doing projects in school, I become too extra and prepared for efforts, but I'll forget the process in the end.

People thought I'm a demure self-effacing woman that looks "immaculate" or "one of a kind," (due to my protective parents, a reason why I've never been in a relationship) but the truth is, I'm eloquent, warm-hearted, willig to help, kind, intelligent, supportive, nice, creative, enthusiastic, laid-back, determined, tough, competitive, and feisty outside, but a real softie that can be childish and dramatic that cries so easily (but will enlightened real quick by smallest things that makes me smile) filled with doubts, frustrations, and insecurities with fear of failure that pushes off the limits to to please everyone because they might get dissappointed from expectations, yet I still managed to be stronger than ever, even it's a slow burn process. I can be intimidating, sassy, and a douchebag if I receive ends. Immature, headstrong, perfectionist, demanding, hesitant, jumpy, very indecisive, overthinker, quick-tempered, sensitive, and anxious (no joke, my nervousness makes me think worse scenario will arrive). Though can be procrastinator and arrogant, I raised as a religious 𝖺𝗇𝖽 diplomatic person, willing to fight what I believe (including my dreams and what's important to me) and what is right. In addition, I have a habit of staying up late and doing sign of the cross to ease nervousness.

Blunt but the loudest idiotic feeling-brokenhearted and bitter friend in the group who fangirl a lot, swears like sailor, will call out on people that we loathe, will crack up over your stupid antics before helping, vent out everything I despise (having a bad day, toxicity, poorly written soap operas, how am unlucky when it comes to love life) and bring gossips, but a hopeless romantic who tends to banter with sarcasms or pick up lines as an endearment (but gets grumpy if I received sappy or offensive one), Still generous and concerned person in a subtle way.

𝗘𝗫𝗧𝗥𝗔 𝗜𝗡𝗙𝗢

My hobbies are singing, drawing, roleplaying, listening to music, chatting/browsing on social media, conceptualizing, writing, and reading some stuffs. I'll include making corniest jokes/puns, sleeping, and dancing when nobody's around or walking like a model if I feel so bold (even I'm terrible at both xD). I also used to learn Italian language a bit. Lastly, my best assets are smile, eyes, personality, singing voice, artistic skills, writings, intelligence, and oratorical skills...so I can consider myself as a singer, artist, orator, and a top student who's a former campus ministry member (choir member, psalm singer, and reader) and in coming college freshman. Currently learning how to cook and have so many interests, to the point I don't know what I'm into because of my dreams to become a popular Filipino YouTuber, a novelist, and being part of a successful chorale...I also consider joining pageants too once the pandemic ends, but maybe.

okay. this was a tough one, but i finally settled on fred and george. i think you'd be best with fred weasley by a CLOSE SECOND to george.

you mentioned that you're into banter and pick-up lines as endearment - and i think that is so fred weasley. george strikes me as the softer, sweeter, twin, who is more likely to be dominated, but i think you and fred having an equally dominant personality would make for an interesting relationship! additionally, the secretly likes affection thing would go smoothly with fred. i think fred is a more "quality time" and "acts of service" kind of guy, but affection is never rejected for him, and he quite enjoys it! the hobbies you mentioned seem like things he might love to do, or encourage you to do! it even gave me a good idea for a fic, which i think i will be releasing tomorrow if i can. will tag you, of course. head-strong, sassy, and being quick-tempered would keep fred on his toes, and i think that's one of his favorite things about you. he'd love that he's always on the edge with you. he doesn't know where he's going, but he doesn't mind. i think fred really likes someone who's not afraid to let themselves get out there, and you pursuing your dreams so fearlessly, along with your passions, makes for a pretty good match to me. besides that, i think fred would definitely try to dig beneath the surface, or the "demure" demeanor you give off. based on your description of yourself, i think he would find somebody worth being with.

he would definitely see you in the hallways and pretend not to know you sometimes, hitting on you as if you weren't already together. i think he most definitely thinks it's both cute and scary when you're angry, seeing as your height and personality clash (in a good way, dw). teases you for being clumsy, but he thinks it's cute. aside from the normal nicknames, he probably calls you "my pretty witch", or "my smart baby ravenclaw". he likes head pats, and uses you as an elbow rest to annoy you sometimes. i think he would also think you're stunning. like he would almost worship you and your entire body. gives you kisses on the beauty mark on your forehead a lot, especially if you're cuddling. he almost can't resist. loves your style and tries to copy it, but decides that it's reserved for you in his mind, so he goes back to his normal style, admiring all your different outfits. stays up late with you on nights you can't sleep or don't want to. starts cursing a lot after he met you. he gets into the habit, and every conversation with you is a swearing mess. gives you kisses on the cheeks randomly to see how off-guard he can catch you and see how flustered you get. LOVES when you blush. it's his favorite thing about you.

<3 thank you so much for your submission.

#hlbutterflycelebration

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xbeautifulunseenx · 4 years ago

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The NYADA Vegans Club

Summary: A cute guy catches Blaine’s eye and draws him to a meeting of the NYADA Vegans Club. Except Blaine is very, definitely not a vegan.

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"This meeting of the NYADA Vegans Club is now in session!"

Blaine jumped as the sound of a gavel hitting wood cracked through the air. The NYADA Vegans Club? Had he heard that right?

When he had followed that hot freshman guy into the room, he'd hoped it would be a meeting for something much more in line with his interests. He couldn't honestly sit through a meeting of a club that actively promoted not eating cheese for a guy he knew nothing about. Could he?

"I see many new faces this year, so let's go around and introduce ourselves. I'm Jay, the president of the NYADA Vegans. I've been a vegan for six years. And you?" Jay gestured to where Blaine stood half in and half out the doorway. "Will you be joining us?"

Blaine saw the hot guy give a small laugh at his expense as he tried to decide whether he was coming or going.

Coming, he decided upon making eye contact with his new crush.

"I'm Blaine and being vegan is something I've dedicated my life to."

He didn't know where the lie came from, but there was no taking it back once it was out. He watched as the guy's friend —a cute, small, brunette — poked his arm and made no secret of winking pointedly in Blaine's direction.

Introductions continued around the room until Blaine learned that the hot guy was named Kurt, a baby vegan of just 6 months, and his friend was named Rachel, a fellow lifelong vegan.

Blaine hadn't given much consideration to what might happen at a vegan club meeting, so he couldn't say he was surprised when anti-animal product PSAs began playing on a large screen in the room. Shortly after the videos ended, they were instructed to break, and when the meeting resumed, they would be writing letters to local restaurants encouraging the use of more vegan products.

With the excuse of wanting to stretch his legs, Blaine walked over to where Kurt and Rachel were helping themselves to cups of almond milk and dairy-free cookies.

"There he is!" he heard Rachel whisper loudly to Kurt. "Say hi!"

"Oh my god, Rachel, way to be discreet. Hi," Kurt said, extending his hand toward Blaine. "I'm Kurt, and this is Rachel, who has yet to master the art of subtlety."

Kurt's hand felt warm and perfect in his. "Blaine."

"We remember. The lifelong vegan. Impressive."

"Yeah," Blaine said, trying not to wrinkle his nose at the lie. "Thanks. So are you two freshmen? I think I recognize you from orientation."

"Oh phew," Kurt pretended to wipe his brow. "I thought I recognized you from orientation, too, but I didn't want to be the first creep to admit it."

Blaine blushed and looked at his feet, trying to figure out how to run from the room and never see Kurt again without looking like too much of a loser.

"Relax, Blaine." Kurt laughed and put a reassuring hand on his bare forearm. "I was kidding."

"Oh thank god, I thought I was going to have to switch schools."

They all laughed at Blaine's dramatics and continued on with a light conversation. Blaine was thrilled to notice that Kurt's eyes lingered on him as they spoke, and that he laughed the loudest at Blaine's jokes.

They chatted through the letter writing activity and stayed long past the end of the meeting, discussing their histories with show choir and their favorite musicals and what their upcoming college career could hold in store.

When they finally parted to go home to apartments on opposite sides of the city, Blaine couldn't deny that following Kurt into that meeting was the best dumb choice he'd ever made.

Blaine went back for the next meeting, and then the next. The subject matter may have been less than stimulating, but the scenery was gorgeous and the conversation wasn't bad either. He and Kurt were having a great time getting to know each other, but neither came right out and flirted openly or made plans outside of Vegan Club. Instead, they sent each other looks with dopey smiles on their faces when they thought nobody was paying attention, and blushed bashfully when they were caught.

When it became clear that neither of them would be making any moves, Rachel took it upon herself to intervene. She invited Blaine over for a five course vegan meal at her and Kurt's loft, and he accepted immediately.

While Blaine saw the merits of vegan products, and had even thoroughly enjoyed some of the snacks offered at Vegan Club, he couldn't say he was looking forward to an entirely vegan meal. But he was one to try anything, and since Kurt — who somehow got more attractive every time they saw each other — was involved, he would definitely be trying Rachel's feast.

"Blaine's here!" he heard Rachel yell from the other side of the door. He tightened his already too-tight grasp on the wine he'd had his roommate buy for him and waited for someone to answer his knock.

The heavy door slid open, and Blaine couldn't decide if he should stare at Kurt or the apartment. Kurt, as usual, won out.

"You look amazing," he said as he pulled a surprised, but flattered, Kurt into a hug.

"Thank you, so do you."

"Your apartment is incredible," Blaine gushed, looking around. "It's giving me chic RENT vibes."

"Kurt decorated most of it," Rachel told him from her spot by the stove. She lifted the spoon she was holding. "Broccoli vegan cheddar soup! Are you ready to eat?"

It turned out that vegan cheddar was not exactly Blaine's preferred cheese. And that meatless meatloaf wasn't his preferred entrée. There was a little hope for the vegan strawberry cheesecake. At least, it looked mouthwatering.

"Kurt made this one," Rachel announced as she set the plates in front of them. "He worked on it all last night, so I'm sure it will be wonderful."

Blaine took a bite and closed his eyes with the overwhelming deliciousness of the cake.

"Wow, Kurt, I've never had a vegan dessert so good. You've got to share the recipe with me!"

Kurt shook his head. "Sorry, secret family recipe."

"Oh well, guess you'll just have to keep making it for me, then," Blaine teased. He stood and headed to the kitchen. "Shall I get the new bottle of wine from the fridge?"

"No!" Kurt said, a little too loudly, pushing back from the table and beating Blaine to the fridge, standing in front of it. "You're our guest. Please sit and I'll get it."

Blaine returned to the table to find Rachel trying her best to hide a laugh, but he didn't ask.

After the dessert plates were cleared, they settled on the couch to watch a movie. At first, Blaine had thought Rachel was acting as Kurt's wingman by asking him to their apartment for dinner and a movie, and that she'd do the classic "I'm going to bed" and slip away to leave the two men alone, but she never did. She stayed the entire movie, curled up on the other side of Kurt. Blaine rested his hand on the couch next to him, inching his way toward where Kurt's hand lay, brushing their fingers together every so often and sending a jolt of excitement though his arm. He wanted to chance putting an arm around Kurt, but with Rachel so close, it would have been awkward.

By the time he hugged the two roommates goodnight and left, Blaine knew he couldn't waste any more time. He was going to ask Kurt out.

———

After enduring another excruciatingly boring Vegan Club meeting, Blaine finally asked Kurt on a date. His heart soared when Kurt said yes without hesitation.

That Saturday evening, Blaine and Kurt met in front of the student center on campus. After overtly admiring each other for a few seconds, Kurt spoke up.

"I'm really glad you had the balls to ask me out. I put on a good show of confidence, but when it comes to boys, that's all it is — a show. If you hadn't asked, we'd probably still be staring at each other all cutesy and pretending we only like each other as friends two years down the road."

"I'm glad too, then. I'm not afraid to make big moves. They almost always backfire on me somehow, but…" he shrugged. "Can't win if you never play the game!"

Kurt gave a laugh-snort. "You're like a walking motivational poster."

"Kurt," Blaine said, looking at him seriously. "You've gotta risk it to get the biscuit."

Their laughter carried them all the way to the restaurant, a small bistro tucked away from most of the nearby foot traffic.

Cozied up in the round, plush booth where they were directed, the waiter interrupted their conversation to take their order.

"I'll have the house salad with balsamic vinaigrette and a cup of the vegan minestrone soup, please," Blaine said, longing for something more substantial, but selecting the only vegan options on the menu.

Kurt gave him a weird look, then ordered for himself. "I would like the filet mignon."

Blaine's smile faltered. "What? Kurt! Are you falling off the wagon?"

"I need to tell you something." Kurt turned to Blaine, their waiter temporarily forgotten. "I am not now, nor have I ever been, vegan. I was only at Vegan Club that night because I promised Rachel I would go with her to the first meeting. Then I couldn't stop going because of...well, you."

Kurt's face looked terrified, like he was worried Blaine might up and leave the date due to his confession. Instead, Blaine laughed.

"Oh, thank god!"

"What?" Kurt seemed confused yet relieved.

"I've never been vegan a day in my life either. I'd noticed you from day one of orientation and I thought you were the cutest guy I'd ever seen. So I followed you into Vegan Club without knowing it was Vegan Club, because I thought you'd be more likely to go out with me if we shared interests."

"Oh my god. You can't be serious." Kurt was wheeze-laughing so hard he collapsed into Blaine's chest. Blaine put his arms around Kurt and pulled him closer before remembering the waiter who was slowly backing away from their table with an amused expression.

"Wait!" Blaine called. "I'd like to change my order to the six cheese pizza, if that's okay."

That only made Kurt lose it even further. "I can't believe this." He settled down enough that he straightened out and looked into Blaine's eyes. "You're perfect."

"You're perfect," Blaine responded.

"And we're perfect together," they sang the Wicked line at the same time.

The magic of the moment led them into a tender first kiss that knocked them sideways until Blaine pulled back just enough to whisper, "That amazing cheesecake you made last week wasn't really vegan, was it?"

#klaine #klaine fanfiction #beautifulunseen fic #strangely the only thing I’ve been motivated to write recently

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princecharmingtobe · 5 years ago

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Rai tries to explain the furry fandom for non-furries for the 24963569356586th time because I have no life~

I’m sure I’m preaching to the choir posting this here, I just still often see people in the general internet being confused about or flat out wrong about what furries are and why we like the things we like. So here I go again, taking my frustrations out by making a long-winded tumblr post about it. But hey, if you’re confused by furries or know someone who is, maybe this will help idfk

Just be warned I am an ADHD motherfucker and there will be about 10x more words than necessary.

To start, What Are Furries?

Furries are simply self-identified fans of anthropomorphic animal characters.That is, a character that is an animal, but with many human characteristics. This can include speaking human language, human-like facial expressions, walking upright in a human-like way, wearing clothes, etc. Examples of anthropomorphic (or anthro for short) characters include Bugs Bunny, Mickey Mouse, Sonic the Hedgehog, Disney’s animated Robin Hood, Zootopia, and Beastars. All things in which the “animal” characters behave and express themselves like humans. Even movies like The Lion King and Balto have what would be considered “antho” characters, due to their capacity for human thought, speech, and facial expressions, though they would be in a subcategory often referred to as “feral” or sometimes “non-morphic” in which the character still moves and behaves largely like an animal.

So to reiterate, a furry is simply a self-proclaimed fan of anthro animal characters.

Why Anthro Animals?

I mean the obvious answer is, because it’s fun. It can be really fun and get one’s creative juices flowing trying to figure out how to blend human and animal characteristics. It’s an animal that moves and acts like a human. In what ways is it like a person, and what ways is it still an animal? Popular media like Zootopia and Beastars address that question as major plot points and worldbuilding elements. But it can also be fun to think about just when creating your own characters. And aside from just figuring out how to blend characteristics, the animal aspects of a character can offer more options of expression. Ears can perk up, droop, or fold back, tails can wag, lash, or tuck between legs, growling, hissing, etc. People often use expressions comparing human behavior and emotions to animals. You ever find yourself so happy or exited you think “If I was a dog my tail would be wagging!”

And aside from being an interesting concept to think about, sometimes it’s just aesthetically pleasing.

What is a “fursona”?

Fursona is short for “furry persona”. A BIG BIG part of the fandom is original characters. If you look at a furry art website you might see some art of Judy Hops, Legoshi, Sonic, etc. But mostly you’ll see original characters. They tend to be the main focus of the fandom. Because all the things mentioned above are fun to play with, and the fandom is big on creativity and self-expression. And what good is self-expression if you don’t use it to express... yourself? A fursona is an anthro animal representation of oneself. Basically “Me, but an [animal].” These can be an accurate representation of oneself (example: someone who is short and meek and skittish might make a mouse fursona) or a more idealized version of who you want to be (example: same short meek skittish person might instead make a lion fursona because they wish they could be more confident, strong, and outgoing). Some people even make multiple fursonas to represent different aspects of themselves (Think Thomas Sanders’ “Sanders Sides” but with fur). In the fandom, your fursona is also often how you represent yourself to others. In real life there are aspects of your appearance you can’t control, or that can be very hard to control. Your height, weight, bone structure, etc. But online as a furry, you can look like anything you want. This is also a very attractive concept to trans folk and queer people in general, which may explain why there’s such a high percentage of queer furries compared to the general population.

What is a Fursuit and Why do People Wear Them?

A fursuit is simply a costume made to look like a furry character. it is pretty much no different from cosplaying comic, anime, or video game characters, except that most of the time fursuits are of original characters instead of pre-existing ones. People wear them for fun and self-expression, just like any other costume. They differ from mascot suits in that they tend to be of higher quality, and more form-fitting and expressive. Fake furries are usually pretty easy to spot on TV because they usually end up in cheap Easter bunny costumes.

While “fursuiters” are often the “face” of the fandom to outsiders, most furries don’t actually own a fursuit. They are expensive, cumbersome, take work to maintain, and don’t always play nice with certain health conditions and phobias. I personally am apprehensive about getting one because I worry I’ll have difficulty breathing, and I easily overheat. Others simply don’t see the appeal of dressing up.

Do Furries Think They Are Animals?

Generally speaking: No. People often mix up furries with a subset of otherkin known as Therians. Otherkin are people who believe themselves to be in some way non-human, usually spiritually or mentally a non-human creature. Therians in particular believe themselves to be in some way a non-human animal. Furries are on the other hand, as I said, just fans of anthro characters. While there are likely furries who are also therians, most are not.

People who approach furry conventions to yell “You know you’re not really an animal!” at the fursuiters is about the equivalent of going to an anime convention and shouting “You know you’re not really Naruto!” at the cosplayers.

Is Being a Furry a Big Part of a Person’s Life?

It varies, just like any other fandom. Take anime for example. Some people just watch it and maybe talk to their friends about it and that’s it. Others might go online to view fanart and read fanfic, even go to conventions. And some people fill every aspect of their life that they can with it, filling their home with merch, getting tattoos, even building careers like being a youtuber around it. The same goes for furries. For some people it never goes beyond consuming media and art, while for others it plays a big part in their day to day life.

Is it a Sex Thing? (VERY ADULT AND SENSITIVE CONTENT BELOW THIS POINT)

I won’t beat around the bush here. There IS a sexual side to the fandom, just like any other fandom. Any anime, comic, video game, TV show, book, there is a sexual side to its fandom. Furries are no different. Just like it’s easy to find anime porn, it’s easy to find furry porn. People be making porn, idk what to tell you.

“Isn’t that zoophilia?”

Some people seem to feel that way about it, but no, not really. The thing that differentiates furry porn from watching two dogs hump at the park is that the characters are anthro. They think and express themselves like people, and fans relate to them as they would with human characters.

This

is in no way the same as this

“Do people have sex in fursuits?”

Generally, no, for various reasons. 1. They are expensive and take work to maintain and keep clean, and you don’t want to get various fluids on them. 2. They can be cumbersome and get really hot and stuffy, not ideal. 3. They just aren’t made for it. They don’t usually offer access to ones’ genitals, and thus having sex in them would be rather difficult.

There ARE some people who will get suits specially made for having sex in, with holes in all the necessary places, but you’re not likely to see those out in public. Generally if you see someone walking around in public in a fursuit, you can rest assured it’s probably not been used for sex.

“Ugh but that’s weird!”

I mean, people dress up and roleplay characters during sex all the time. Is dressing up as Krystal the Fox all that different from dressing up as Harley Quinn? And anyway, what does it matter to you what consenting adults get up to in the privacy of their own bedroom? Maybe don’t think too hard about other peoples’ sex lives.

And despite the availability of furry porn, it is not all there is to the fandom, and not everyone participates in that part of it. Heck, there are a lot of minors in the fandom, I was a tween when I was introduced to it, and the only times I was exposed to porn was when haters would “raid” our forums and spam it at us while calling US perverts, all the while being told “Hey, there are kids here!” But no we’re totally the sex-crazed perverts here right?

“I’ve Heard About Furries Who Are Bad People”

Yeah, you probably have. It’s a big fandom and inevitably some of the people in it will do bad things. Again, it’s the same for every fandom. You take any percentage of the human population, you’re going to get a few bad ones. Actual zoophiles, pedophiles, rapists, abusers. If they exist in the general population they’re going to exist in the fandom. But generally when their actions are brought to light they are driven out of our spaces, as with most fandom spaces. No group is perfect and without its bad eggs, but most of us work to keep our spaces safe.

In the end, people looking at a group from the outside tend to only see the loudest, weirdest, most outrageous members, and assume that’s what the whole group is.

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lavenderek · 5 years ago

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this will be a very long post about some kids i knew in high school. it is boring, but it still frustrates me for some reason, so here it is. feel free to ignore. i REALLY hope the readmore works for mobile users. if not - sorry.

A Tale Of Two Christians so there were two SuperChristians - who i will call Daygan and Braygan - in band with me. they both had a lot of friends. i did not. Braygan was A Cool Christian who i could see running a youth group. she played percussion and had an undyed scene haircut. Daygan was a My Family Thinks Tattoos, Makeup, and Piercings Are Offensive And We Never Cut Our Hair Christian. she played the tuba and wrote poetry.

anyway so they were both cold and rude to me me all four years.

The Genesis: Braygan And The Legend Of The Ill-Fated Chuck Norris Joke It All Started when my parents literally made me go to a band social before the school year started. i was terrified. i was very shy and i was a teenager. i do not remember how, but i managed to enter a conversation with three band kids, one of whom was braygan. we were talking about jokes. i had recently read a Chuck Norris joke. i timidly told this joke for the following reasons: A. they were very popular online in 2006, so i thought it would be a hit. B. i was 15 and didn’t know any better. C. i had read it in a book owned by my friend’s dad, so if dads were into it it must be ok. i did not realize braygan was A Christian, so it took me like a year to understand why she snapped, “that’s not funny.” and glared at me. i was so shocked and humiliated that i remember i could feel the tears spring to my eyes. i went quiet, and the other two kids standing with us went quiet, and i learned never to try to make friends again, and braygan and i never spoke again. it was a beautiful tale of human connection.

Interlude: Braygan Some More braygan would always make a point of ignoring me, which was understandable as i had evidently made such a poor impression that she thought i was unchangeable and could never be forgiven. and it’s not like i was super jazzed to hang out with a person who could be so mean just because i told her a joke she didn’t think was funny. i was always perplexed as to how such a nasty person had so many friends and could only conclude that the nastiness was exclusive to me for some reason. like holy shit dude, it was a chuck norris joke, one that i never told again lmao. maybe chuck norris killed her dad or something.

I Sort Of Gave A Damn About My Reputation: Daygan i mostly did not encounter braygan most of the time, thankfully. daygan was a different case for the following reasons: A. she was friends with a pretty good amount of my friends. B. we had band and pep band together. C. we had english together. D. we always had the same lunch for some reason. daygan seemed to have the same opinion of me as braygan, presumably because they became very close and braygan warned her of my inclinations. i can only assume this because i was never introduced to daygan. i knew of her for the above reasons, but i think i physically talked to her maybe once in four years. like, for real.

The Poms Hated Us: Spirit Contests i said previously we were in pep band. (no, i was not popular in high school.) when we played at football games, our band leader, ben, would make us do “spirit contests,” in which whatever section of the band cheered the loudest was rewarded. typically the reward was each of us got a Sobe when we got back to school afterwards. one night my section won. it was the only time my section won. reasons we never won: A. it was 100% girls. B. me excluded, the section was mostly friends with each other. C. i didn’t try very hard most of the time. D. since graduating i have learned from The Internet that there is a generally negative opinion of people who play the flute. maybe if i had had friends in band i would have known about this. but we were chosen by ben that night. frankly, i do think we had earned it: if there is one thing you must know about flutes and piccolos, it’s that they take a fuckin shredded diaphragm to play. we were good at projecting. daygan respectfully disagreed, by which i mean she was extremely distressed by ben giving us Sobes. she and her entire section had an actual tantrum in the bus on the way back. daygan shouted that the decision was “baloney.” (good christians don’t cuss.) their argument: A. they couldn’t hear us very well, and so we must have been quiet. B. our voices weren’t hoarse. her voice was hoarse, and so she must have yelled harder. C. ben’s little sister was in the flute section, and so he must have been catering to her. reasons those arguments do not carry water: A. sound travels in waves. if one is outside and surrounded by loud noise, the voice of a person standing in front of you and facing away may sound very quiet to you. B. we consulted the kids who were also in choir or drama and they confirmed that there are ways to project without damaging your voice in two hours. involving the diaphragm. C. it was literally one time, and ben and his sister weren’t like, friends at school. they were just siblings and happened to share an extracurricular activity. reasons we gave up defending ourselves and just watched daygan and her friends have a meltdown: A. they would shout over us when we spoke. B. they did not believe us. C. the arguments did come across as excuses coming from us. ben did not recant his decision and daygan literally looked at me with complete hatred in her eyes before turning away. we had this long conversation: me: ok. if you want the Sobe this bad, you can have mine. her: (snort) she and the rest of the brass section continued to very loudly discuss how ridiculous this decision was for like, half an hour. like imagine being this upset about the intricate politics of pep band. my god. it was very disturbing. i had hoped this would damage her reputation, but it didn’t seem to in any longterm way.

Interlude: Concert Wear I was also in the wind ensemble. there were three levels of band: beginner, symphonic, and wind ensemble. we would have concerts every few months. we had a uniform for formal concert wear. for girls, this was a conservative floor length black gown. i didn’t mind it, but i was the only one who didn’t mind it. i have bad taste i guess. we were asked to wear black shoes with it. colorful footwear was discouraged.

Other Interlude: My Fashion ask anyone who knew me in high school. my sense of fashion wasn’t great. i basically only owned striped knee socks. i thought they made me fun and unique.

Footwear: Return Of Braygan so it was wintertime, a year after The Big Hissy Fit. i had finally made a band friend, just because she was one of those people who was nice to everyone. she and i were both cold all the time, and decided we would wear socks during the concert. you could only see if we lifted the skirt to walk, so it was our quirky secret. she wore normal person socks. i wore red stripey socks. after the concert, we were heading down the hall to the band room so we could put our flutes away and collect our backpacks and coats. the hall was empty except for braygan and daygan. they stopped talking and watched as we passed them. i just ignored them. we are both allowed to use the hallway. my band friend was friends with them also, as most people were, so this happened: daygan: (elevators me) nice socks. Band Friend: (thinking daygan is teasing her in a friendly way) haha thanks! our feet get cold :) me: (i pretended not to hear daygan. at least this way she’s coming across as a person who jokes with her friend rather than a person who is physically unable to be civil.

Where Is My App To Build A Wall Between Me And Daygan none of their friends talked to me either. i wasn’t great socially, but i also assume they shared their opinion of me with their friends, as anyone would. i never did this. it’s not because i’m a saint, it’s because all my friends either were also friends with her or didn’t know her. to know daygan was to love daygan. but this doesn’t change the fact that i never talked badly about her behind her back. i rode the bus with a girl who had the same last name as daygan, which i never really questioned. it wasn’t a super common last name, i just didn’t think about it. one day late in my senior year, everyone was at a school event and this girl ran up to me. her: have you seen daygan? me: nope sorry her: haha aren’t you in band together? me: yeah but we’re not friends. she’s kind of a jerk to me actually her: um... she’s my cousin. me: oh huh cool! she’s still a jerk to me. this was not an exciting event. it’s just a thing that happened. i do not care that you are cousins. she’s mean to me. The Confusion That Would Never Fully Go Away we had graduated and it was the summer before we started college. i was hanging out with some friends. somehow the topic of daygan came up. one of my friends was in AP classes with her all 4 years and they were friendly. the reason i am still annoyed about this to this day is because of what he said to me that summer afternoon in the grass. him: oh yeah i was talking to daygan the other day! she said she always wanted to be friends with you. me, internally: ????????????????????????????? me, externally: ????????????????????????????? i explained to him that she had only ever been cold to me, that she avoided eye contact unless it was time to glare into my eyes and will my head to expand and pop like a marshmallow in a microwave. i explained to him my violently smacked down attempt to befriend braygan when we were 15. i explained to him that daygan’s alleged words were perplexing and did not fit with her actions. him: that... is so. weird. i have never seen them act like that. daygan’s always really nice. me, bummed out: cool FAQ maybe she didn’t like you because you make fun of christians. i didn’t used to make fun of christians. i was raised christian. maybe you were misinterpreting what was happening. always possible, if it weren’t for the fact that i was wide-eyed and bewildered for several years until i just got stoical about it. maybe you should have tried again to befriend her. the lesson of braygan was a hard one. and the sight of me seemed to make her very angry. i figured it would be better for both of us if i just tried to stay out of her way. maybe your friend could have asked daygan for you. maybe. but we had already graduated. and besides, i don’t think he completely believed me. would you even have wanted to be friends with her? probably not. rejection still sucks, though. my moment with braygan is my own theory. it’s just that if it wasn’t that, i have no idea what i could have done to warrant this longterm behavior from someone who, by all accounts, was the mother theresa of wind ensemble. maybe someday she will message me on facebook or something and tell me what was going on, because i cannot tell you how perplexing and hurtful it was at the time. the end.

#long post #diary post

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solli · 6 years ago

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a season 2 au where seblaine is in vocal adrenaline because why the hell not (part 1 - tina)

here’s what happened on glee - vocal adrenaline verse: it’s 2010 and vocal adrenaline are still relevant. seblaine are taking up the mantle after jesse st.james graduated. Sebastian is vicious, Blaine is ruthless, and together they are a nightmare.

or: a story told trough short episodes in multiple povs by the new directions kids. a bit voyeuristic in nature but i love me some outside perspective.

will loosely follow any storyline i can remember about season 2. if anything rings weird just roll with it.

(ao3 link)

Tina isn't sure how or why they fooled themselves into thinking Vocal Adrenaline would be a joke this year.

Sure, they lost Jesse St.James to UCLA and apparently their coach with him- Show Choir blogs supects illicit affairs- but more than half of the members didn't graduate and their coreographer is apparently still in the game.

Moreover, they apparently pulled a shorter, more hyper, more top 40 Jesse St.James out of their ass.

It's just an invitational, and it feels like they're doing the half show at Super Bowl.

Just when Tina thinks she’s had enough, that’s it, it can’t get any worse than a sexy voice crack strategically planted in the last verse of Teenage Dream, here they are, wrapping the Katy Perry up and diving into Don't Stop Me Now. She knew there had to be a reason why they're all dressed in thight leather pants.

The Queens performance is clearly a message to anyone who ever tried and made the assumption Vocal Adrenaline was dead. The new lead might not be Jesse St.James, but he doesn't try to be.

He doesn't need to when he’s that good.

The second the song dies and the boy let himself fall from the top of the stairs into the arms of the other members, Tina decides that A, they're doomed, B, she needs to go to the bathroom in case the nausea really turns into puke.

All the New Directions follow her when she sprints out of the auditorium, instantly flocking up in dire times.

"Who is that?" Rachel shreeks, off tune, marching into the bathroom.

It's a stupidly nice bathroom. There’s a shared hall with unbroken mirrors and some sink, girls door on the left and boys on the right. It's big enough they can all fit in there.

Tina would fill Rachel in with her show choir blogs knowledge, and tell her his name should be Blaine Anderson, but Santana is bitching.

"Where do they pull them from? Are they a metrosexual mop head business?"

"Metrowhat?" Finn asks off topic, and Kurt fills him in, and the whole conversation breaks in small bursts until Rachel is putting her foot down.

"We have to do something! What if we meet them at Sectionals? They're gonna end us!" she panics, and Tina does have to give credit when it's due: Rachel is a mood setter.

Usually, it's a positive attribute. As annoying as she is, some of her determination rubs off of them and give them confidence even as she tells them they suck. There’s always a backhanded compliment to be gripped, as she tell them they have the potential to be great, if only they didn’t have misguided work ethics. But when Rachel is panicking, there's no light at the end of the tunnel.

Tina sobs. Mercedes shouts. Puckerman punches the wall.

"We could make aliens abduct them." Brittany shrugs.

"Or we could poison them." Kurt follows.

"Or get them all mononucleosis." Santana adds.

"Or send the lead singer to a crack house!" Rachel lits up, pointing a finger to nobody.

There's some silence as they all turn to her.

Tina doesn't know the numbers exactly, but she knows while some are shocked, some are actually considering the plan. She herself isn’t sure where she stands on the topic.

"Or we could, you know, reharse." Quinn muses with her breathy indoor voice, somehow managing to sound the loudest.

All heads turn to her.

"Cheerios aren't National champions because we're hot, and Vocal Adrenaline aren't that good because they were born with it. I know sweat when I see it."

Somehow Tina's brain suggests her the very notion of reharsing is outrageous, but rationally she knows Quinn's right.

"Yes!" Rachel point at her. "That's the attitude I’m searching for!"

"Shouldn't we, like, have fun? They don't look like they have fun." the new blonde kid asks and everyone blinks at him.

Just as Rachel is shouting back that show choir is serious business, the bathroom door opens and Tina almost has an heart attack.

It's Blaine Anderson.

She's seen photos online, but they don't give him justice. He's a fucking disney prince. There's sweat on his forehead, and his hair are acting out around his hairline giving him a vibe reminiscing of post orgasm. He pulls off neon yellow suspenders like Tina didn't know was possible to do, and most of all it's absolutely, outrageously unfair how he wears those leather pants. He's too short and his legs to torso ratio shouldn't make him any favour, and yet his thighs look sinful and Tina would reach for Mike's abs to steady herself, if she wasn't paralized.

Because if other than looking unfairly hot, Blaine is not looking particularly treacherous, Sebastian Smythe is standing behind him, an arm around Blaine's waist and a finger hooked in the belt loop of Blaine’s pants.

She heard the stories.

Coreographer. Son of a state attorney and a french actress. Enough mean, creative quotes to have a dedicated fan page in the show choir blogoshpear.The worst thing is, Tina can see it all- the moment Sebastian's smile turns to a smirk, the way his back straightens, his eyes narrows, and the cruel unforgiving way he gives them all a onceover. There's something familiar in the way he's looking at them.

"Oh, look." he says in a drawl, ducking his head. "The lovable little band of mistfits. Here to ask for some private lessons?"

Oh, yes. It's like being double targeted by both Quinn and Santana. Vicious and condescending.

"Sebastian." Blaine raises a hand to tap his knuckles against the other's chest. "Be nice."

Sebastian rolls his eyes but he scoots Blaine closer to him, his hand palming Blaine's hips and damn, that is an unfairly narrow waist.

"Tina?" Mike whispers in her ears when she feels his abs up. It's washed down by Santana snickering, loud enough to make Sebastian know it's mocking.

"Someone's on a leash."

Blaine closes his eyes like he's preparing for the worst, and Tina can tell Sebastian's weighing his options, but he's seemingly in a good enough mood.

"Kinky." he shrugs off, his thumb hooking in the waistband of Blaine's pants and oh. Oh. Oh.

Blaine sighs and Tina aks herself again why she's underestimating Vocal Adrenaline.

"You do look like you'd know all about leashes,-"

"Sebastian." Blaine cuts him off, and the tension's is thick enough Tina can feel it weighing down her chest.

"We didn't come here for this, did we?" he asks, titling his head up to look at him, and Tina hates those lashes and that soft jaw with a burning passion.

"Fine. I'll be nice. Hope you enjoyed the show." he flashes them a toothy smile that couldn't ooze more sarcasm.

"I think you were great at Regionals." Blaine smiles to them, and it's sickenly sweet how genuine his small, polite smile looks. "I'm really sorry we got drafted in the same turn last year, I would have loved to see what you’d have done at Nationals. Let's hope we can all make it this year."

The silence is thick as they all wait for the punch.

"I think you broke them." Sebastian smiles, and it's weirdly not hostile. "What is that they say? Kill them with kidness?"

"I'm serious." Blaine says, but there's a little smug line in his smile that wasn't there before. "We might be rivals, but there's no reason for us to be enemies. Well, not anymore." he adds, scrunching his nose, his eyes going up to his right like he's reviewing their history.

"The espionage was mostly for personal reasons that aren't on the table anymore, and Blaine is against egging, so that's also an off deal. Right, killer?" Sebastian elaborates.

"No bullying or assaults this year." Blaine confirms, and it's reassuring. "The one who'll win will do it fair and square." he adds, his head tilting and those doe-eyes of him wide and friendly, his smile perfectly polite, and suddenly Tina's bones are chilling and she's never been more terrified in her life.

They all stare as Rachel flips her hair and steps towards Blaine, extending her hand. He takes it and they shake on it.

"Deal."

"Deal." Blaine smiles, and suddenly the air turns breathable again. "Oh, and they're opening a new karoke bar down the fifth. We should all go sometimes. Have fun together."

"That sounds like a great idea." Rachel replies with a stage smile, and no one moves a muscle.

"Are you going to stay in the bathroom much longer?" Sebastian asks. "Because I have at least ten jokes about why yall apparently like to stand in here so much, but I wouldn't want to ruin Blaine's lesson in diplomacy."

There's a nervous jitters of limbs as Rachel fumbles with perfect enuntiation: "Oh, yeah. Sure. See you soon!"

Sebastian and Blaine step aside and look at them going trough the door, and Tina makes sure to be the last one in line. She turns over her shoulder and tries to sneak a last peek of Blaine in the pants, possibly from the back.

She almost freezes when she sees Blaine turns in Sebastian's arm, a hand behind Sebastian's neck to get him to lean down. He stands on the tip of his toes, flushing their bodies together, and their mouth crash against each other in a kiss that wouldn’t be allowed on national television. Sebastian’s hands are quick to lift Blaine’s shirt until his hand is flat against Blaine’s unfairly tanned and muscular back, and she’s pretty sure Blaine’s free hand isn’t so free where it disappears between their bodies.

It’s an image she won't forget.

When she lets the bathroom door close behind her, the New Direction are some feet down the hallway. She jogs to catch up, just as Rachel's march reaches her top speed.

"Fair and square my ass." Tina hears her say not using her indoor voice. "We're sending them both to a crack house."

#seblaine #seblaine fic #outsider pov #everytime i write one of these snippets i have a ball and honestly i'm just trying to have some fun here okay #bear with me #vocal adrenaline verse #a more serious piece of work by blaine's or sebastian's pov is not to be excluded in the future tbh i'm just obsessed about this #just the potential #the gloriousness of seblaine as the villain duo

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svtntntn · 6 years ago

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signed, sealed, delivered!

hogwarts student!seungkwan

(hufflepuff!seungkwan x beauxbatons student!you)

seungkwan is one of the kindest and loudest boys in the entire castle

he's in the frog choir with seokmin and jeonghan

constantly hangs out with ravenclaw student hansol in the great hall or around the frog choir room

love love loves his transfiguration class

accidentally turned wonwoo into a cat and he has a scratch on his forearm from him:’(

hates his herbology class bc he accidentally overfed his plant oranges and it bit him for nearly killing him:;(((

pls protect this sweet sweet boy

he’s also one of the student commentator for all the quidditch matches and always proudly dresses in his house colors

plays theme music for each team even when it's not allowed

if the madam hooch cuts off the music, he will sing the theme music for each team himself

he comes from a muggle family and every month he handwrites his mother and father and sisters letters:’)

bc he does get homesick a lot being all the way at hogwarts

but they’re not the only ppl he writes to

you're a student from the beauxbatons academy of magic in france and you and seungkwan exchange handwritten letters every couple weeks or so

per your letters, you also made guidelines to not send each other photos of each other or any voice letters to not ruin the element of surprise and old fashion-ness of it all

you were connected through a pen pal system for the international relations class between the two schools and after the assignment you kept in contact bc you love talking to one another

seungkwan writes just like he talks, meaning that his letters are always pages long leaving no stone unturned as he talks about his friends, his family, and his life at hogwarts

you love how he embellishes every story he writes with so much detail and how much he writes about his friends and family, especially about his mother

you can tell he has a very big heart and he isn't afraid to wear his heart on his sleeve

seungkwan writes how he was granted a solo to sing at the winter break celebration and how it’s one of his favorite songs ever and you can tell through his words (and the spilled ink on the page) how excited he is

so you decide to break the rules a little

"I know we promised not to send voice letters, but I really want to hear you sing!" you write, "It’s okay if you don’t want to, no pressure. I’d just love to hear you sing someday:)"

seungkwan swears he didn’t scream in the owlery, but the clumps of feathers on his robes say otherwise

"she wants me to sing for her! what do I do? should I send her a voice letter? what if it gets lost, what if she hates it, what if—"

"what if she likes your voice? have you thought about that?" hansol interrupts as he pulls his headphone out of his ears

seokmin agrees with a nod, "and your letter won't get lost in the mail, we have wizard mail! it's fast and dependable and I'm sure (y/n) will love your voice"

and during the month, seungkwan is set on recording something for you

he starts recording in his room or in the frog choir room when he’s alone and when he does, he stops half-way bc he thinks his pitch is off or the mic is too close to his mouth

or sometimes he stops bc he’s not even sure you’re gonna like his singing

"c’mon seungkwan! I bet she’s dreaming right now of you serenading her with this song!" hansol is hyping him up and even conjures a poster to boost his confidence

"please, finish this recording so I can go. I’ve played just the intro 50 times for you already" jihoon mutters from the piano bench, already bunching his robes into a ball so he can lay his head on them

"why is jihoon playing the piano for you?"

seungkwan grins, "it adds to the overall effect, the song sounds 10 times better with live piano, duh"

jihoon groans again, "can I leave now?"

"nO… please"

when seungkwan finally finishes recording something he’s proud of, he prepares to mail out both his paper letter and his voice letter to you, his hands shaky before he depositing them in the mailbox

while he waits for your next letter to arrive, this bub is a nervous wreck inside, but he plays it cool on the outside

he prefers taking the longest route back to the dormitories, meaning that he walks all the way to the owlery after muggle studies to see if there's any new letters before going all the way back down to the hufflepuff common room

about two weeks later, seungkwan gets a letter from you!! and bc he's so nervous to open it and see what you have to say, he makes his house prefect joshua read it

bc everything joshua says is good and positive and even if you hurt his feelings, it won't sound bad coming from joshua's voice

"'dear seungkwan…'" joshua scans the page quietly before reading aloud to find the section talking about seungkwan's singing, as to keep things private between you two

"'why didn't you tell me you were such a good singer! you're not pranking me or anything, right? that is your own voice? I can't believe you! I'm so upset but in a very good way because you sing so well, and I almost teared up and—'" joshua pauses, "and then she writes a bunch of random letters but crosses them out and draws a happy but angry face?"

seungkwan takes back your letter and genuinely smiles, his eyes wandering over the splattered ink and scratches on the parchment, "thanks joshua!"

he leaves joshua's side floating on cloud nine million:)

he's literally floating

towards the end of the year and in honor of all the peace and harmony in the wizarding world, hogwarts decides to open its doors to its neighboring schools for a grand celebration

meaning that the other wizardry schools are all coming to hogwarts for the end of the year festivities

meaning that the beauxbaton academy of magic is one of the schools visiting hogwarts

meaning "(y/n) IS VISITING!! (y/n) IS COMING TO HOGWARTS!!"

seungkwan’s running around the castle in pure delight as he holds the flyer cautioning students of the scheduled arrivals of the visiting schools

all the schools are to be welcomed in the great hall with a feast and performances from the frog choir

meaning the moment you step in hogwarts, you're gonna be able to see and hear him!!

and bc he's singing a solo song for the welcoming feast, seungkwan's nervous and scared as hell

even more nervous when seungcheol and chan agreed to teach him how play quidditch

even more nervous when he first left jeju island for hogwarts his first year

but in the letter he gets a week before you're scheduled to come to hogwarts, you tell him not to fret or worry (bc you know by now that he's gonna internally fuss over everything) and that you can't wait to meet him and spend time with him

and that motivates him to count down the days even more:)

as seungkwan stands at the front of the great hall with the rest of the frog choir, there's a sea of pale blue uniforms that makes it way to the front of the tables, all the beauxbaton students rippling down like waves when you all sit down

and that's when seungkwan realizes he doesn't even know what you look like, so he can't even point you out in the sea of students

and that's when you realize the exact same thing, but at least you know seungkwan is one of the guys up at the very front

headmaster mcgonagall begins her welcoming speech and following announcements to you and your classmates before turning it over to the frog choir with a proud flourish

you constantly teeter left and right to clearly see the choir members as they sing, but your vision is mostly blocked by your upperclassmen

when the songs change, you immediately recognize the voice singing the solo and you gasp, "it's seungkwan!"

your friend mark gives you a questioning look, but you ignore it and lean towards his shoulder to see the group

you have to sit up straighter to see a charmingly cute boy with blonde hair singing his heart out in the front of the hall

and you don’t even second-guess it, you know it’s the same boo seungkwan you’ve been exchanging letters with for months

you've listened to his voice letter a million times over and over again to know his voice like the back of your hand

your heart melts at the sight of seungkwan thriving in the spotlight, his powerful voice commanding your attention with such fervor

your eyes are focused on only him and when his solo is finished, you clap and cheer as loud as you can, catching seungkwan’s attention and making him flustered when he locks eyes with you

the feast commences and you can’t help but peer around for your pen pal as you sit in the crowded benches but there's too many ppl in the room to really look

when the headmasters announce the sleeping arrangements and such, you decide to set out for seungkwan as more and more students walk past you

"don’t wait up for me!" you call to your friends, who all give you confused looks

you get to the front of the hall when you notice all the frog choir students talking in clumps with their frogs in their arms

you tap the handsome boy’s shoulder, "hi uh, you’re seungkwan—you’re boo seungkwan, right?"

he politely nods, "yes that’s me, do I know you?" he turns to you and takes in your beauxbatons uniform before making the connection in his head

you smile widely, "I’m—"

"(Y/N)! oh mY GOSH," seungkwan wraps you up in a giant hug and spins you around

"you were the girl who cheered so loud for seungkwan after he sang!" seokmin notes as his frog croaks in his arms

"guilty" you smile and seungkwan honestly has the biggest heart eyes for you

he goes ahead and starts introducing you to his friends and he gets lost when he’s trying to show you where you’re supposed to be staying at in the castle bc he's just so enamoured by you!!

every morning for the festivities, seungkwan always finds you and eats breakfast with you, becoming his usual chatterbox self and introducing himself to your friends and telling you story after story

like the time jeonghan and peeves pranked mingyu and wonwoo on their way to potions and mingyu didn't speak to wonwoo for a week bc he thought it wonwoo who was messing with him

or when seokmin nearly cried when hagrid had him feed a hippogriff during their care of magical creatures class

or when he completely and utterly failed at quidditch

he adores showing you around hogwarts

boo seungkwan is your personal tour guide!!

he even sneaks you into the quidditch commentator’s box to show you the view of the pitch

hogsmeade visits are his favorite!!

he loves going into the candy shop the most

buys two of everything so you have an array of choices and makes you sample everything, "ok these are my favorite candies, you have to try them!"

"that’s what you said about the first one"

"they’re all my favorites, here try this one" he begins shoving another one into your hand to eat

he loves listening to you talk about beauxbatons and your life there

seungkwan gives you his full, undivided attention with his chin in the palm of his hands

when you and him walk around, seungkwan lets you put your arm through his and you stroll along the street together

your classmates all stare at you and whisper bc they think you’re dating now

and seungkwan’s tense about ppl whispering bc he used to be bullied for being a ‘mudblood’ during his first year, so he hates the whispers and quiet murmurs

but you don’t pay attention to the whispers bc you don’t even realize they’re talking about you two

bc you’re just so focused on him and you comfort him and tell him to focus on you and the beautiful spring day in front of you

it makes seungkwan feel 10 times better and his heart soars even higher bc of you

"for you," seungkwan picks a flower from a florist’s shop and twirls it in his hand before handing it to you, a small pink tinge on his cheeks

you two go back to hogwarts in the best mood possible

your friends start to tease you about dating seungkwan but you just say you and him are just super close friends

bc you technically are, and knowing seungkwan, you know he’d never make the first move, so you decide to take the leap

"so seungkwan?" he nods and you decide now or never, "are you going to the end of the year dance with anyone?"

he shrugs and he continues walking, "not really, I usually go with hansol and seokmin to the dances, and that’s because I sing at the dance too, so no"

"oh, that’s cool" it is so not cool and you think seungkwan is oblivious as to what you’re getting at

but he doesn’t say anything else bc he’s already speculating that you’ve already been asked out

bc he also overheard your friends saying some hogwarts upperclassmen wanted to ask you out

bc you’re beautiful!! and funny!! and caring!! and super considerate and genuine!!

who wouldn’t want to ask you to the dance:’(

so seungkwan avoids talking about the dance and bc you can tell he doesn’t want to talk about it, you don't

he says he’s just stressed from exams and frog choir practices bc seungkwan is asked to sing something at the dance and of course, he obliges per usual

but he’s not sure if he wants to sing if it means seeing you dance with someone else

but he agrees to sing still bc he promised to and he doesn’t want to disappoint anyone

and the night of the dance, he’s rushing to the great hall bc he overslept after commentating on the last quidditch match of the season

and when he spots hansol by the punch bowl, he notices someone else in a beautiful, breathtaking gown next to him

his eyes widen when he realizes it’s you and he becomes a flustered mess, "h-hi! (y/n), you look—" seungkwan stutters over his words and you’re taken aback by all his compliments

"thank you seungkwan, you look very, very handsome yourself" you take the time to admire him in his clean and crisp suit

seungkwan shakes his head, "where’s your date? wait, is hansol your date?" his heart slightly breaks but it mends itself when hansol and you furiously shake your heads

"no no no, he’s not my date—no offense hansol," hansol chuckles and takes his cue to leave you two alone and you smile, "I don’t have a date"

"wHAT? why? did someone turn you down? because if so—" this boy is prepared to duel someone for you but you stop him from stomping off

"I was actually hoping you’d dance with me, and be my date..."

seungkwan turns around several times and points to himself in disbelief, "m-me? you want me to be your date?"

you breathe out a "yes! what’s so hard to believe about that?"

"oh, uh..." seungkwan starts to list a bunch of reasons but you stop him before he can even say a another one

"that’s no way to talk about yourself, seungkwan. you’re amazing and handsome and funny and so kind-hearted and I want you and just you to be my date, so please be mine? m-my date, of course"

he takes your hand and wraps it with his own, "I’d be honored to"

you and him dance with hansol and seokmin the whole time, the upbeat music perfect for your lack of dance experience

when you and him are resting and drinking punch, jihoon calls him over to the stage, "seungkwan! it’s your turn to sing"

seungkwan forgot he had to sing the whole time being with you and he apologizes, "I’m so sorry, I forgot I have to go up"

"no no, go ahead! I’ll be waiting for you"

he kisses the back of your hand and leaves you with your punch with a lingering smile

before he goes up on stage, he whispers something to jihoon and then takes the stage

seungkwan locks eyes with you and he mouths "this is dedicated to you" before queuing jihoon to play the piano

and it’s the same song he sang for you in the very first voice letter

and bc it’s a love song and it’s the very first song you’ve ever heard him sing, you start tearing up

and even though you’re standing by yourself, you can feel seungkwan’s love wrap around you as he pours such emotion and power into his singing

you hug him the moment he steps off the stage and he nearly is knocked over by the force of it, "I did well, I’m guessing?"

"you made me cry, so yes mission accomplished"

"noooo, it's never my mission to make you cry, what are you talking about!"

when jihoon sings another slow song next, seungkwan dances with you on the outskirts of the dance floor, his soft singing making you smile

when he’s walking you back to your quarters, his jacket is around your shoulders and you’re super sleepy and you’re leaning on his chest

you just want to stay with seungkwan in this moment and he sits the two of you down on one of the white marble staircases

which is so one of the magical moving staircases in hogwarts, but seungkwan honestly forgets that

your eyes are closed and you look so peaceful and seungkwan leans closer to try and shift you more on his shoulder but the staircase starts moving directions and that’s when he accidentally kisses you

you wake up startled bc huh?? was that just your dream or did he really kiss you??

and seungkwan stands up and he’s panicking bc it was an accident and he didn’t mean to steal a kiss from you

but you calm him down and tell him it’s alright bc you really like him and you don’t mind stealing a couple kisses every so often

you wrap your hand in his and he squeezes your hand back, kissing your hand before leaning into you and placing a soft kiss on your lips

and that’s the magical story of how you and seungkwan got together

thanks to a bunch of handwritten letters, peaceful magical relations, a song dedicated to you, and a magical moving staircase:’)

#Seventeen #boo seungkwan #seungkwan scenarios #boo seungkwan scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen au #seventeen imagines #boo seungkwan imagines #seungkwan imagines #seungkwan au #boo seungkwan au #my work #hogwarts!seventeen

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drvinyl · 5 years ago

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Exploring KLARA: New Music And The Current Political Climate

It’s always intriguing to hear an artist’s story of their first involvement with music and what made them want to combat breaking into a challenging industry. This is where we start off our interview with KLARA: a singer-songwriter based in London, who’s won the heart of Bon Iver and is set to release her debut album the beginning of the new year. Discussing those moments she realised music was her calling, KLARA recalls her earliest memories of music and what made her want to pursue the career she finds herself in.

“When I was little I was always playing guitar and piano. I was also singing in choirs and making up songs, but it wasn’t until I started to take singing lessons that I knew I wanted to do this properly. My goal became to take a Master’s degree in Music. At University I released a few EP’s and a jazz record, performed live shows in Sweden, played my first 2 live Radio shows which was super exciting. I travelled to Tanzania and Argentina several times to study traditional singing and thumb piano. After 4 years in Malmo I was craving playing more live shows and meeting more creative people, so I did my 5th year at Uni in London…and here I still am a few years later! Now I have my own studio at Church Studios owned by Paul Epworth who is such a warmhearted and inspirational person. This church is always full of great musicians, songwriters and producers.”

KLARA's wealth of experiences over the past few years are a certain testament to her passion for music and her recent releases are proof of that. Besides the influences drawn from previous encounters with creatives, KLARA discusses the notable figures that aided her eagerness for music and the current artists that inspire her.

“Tracy Chapman was the first artist that I bought all the records by and went to see live. I got more into playing guitar and songwriting because of her. I also remember listening to Lauryn Hill - MTV Unplugged every evening for a year until the CD broke, haha! Since I came to London, artists that inspire me include James Blake, Daughter, London Grammar, Ben Howard, The Staves, Bon Iver, First Aid Kit and Regina Spektor. They inspire me in different ways, but the consistent threads are that they all have such great voices, harmonies, superb production and beautiful melodies and lyrics.”

The huge names of singers and songwriters that influenced KLARA, certainly raise the question whether she has carried elements from the likes of Ben Howard and London Grammar into her forthcoming debut album ‘Blossom’, in addition to her own distinctive and delicate sound. She is positively a incredible singer-songwriter in her own right, and we were itching to hear what the album entails.

“It’s about hopes and dreams. How we all carry them with us close to our hearts and are sometimes too shy to show them to others. How we dream big and work hard at the same time as feeling fragile. How we can all feel lonely and isolated even while being surrounded by others. How even though we might have achieved so many of these dreams that were once just a seed of thought, we somehow manage to still feel like we are the ones looking in from the outside.”

There was no immediate rush to create an album for KLARA, who explains the album is a concoction of songs written over a few years, in a variety of locations, drawing in and taking aspects of her travels with her in lyrical form.

“I wrote most of the songs on my own over a few years, with inspiration coming from all over the world. The lyrics for one track came to me whilst in The Gambia, another came to me on the roads through Wisconsin, while driving to Justin Vernon’s Eaux Claire Festival. And Sweden, of course plays a strong thematic role through these songs too. Once I felt I had a cohesive collection of songs that felt like the album I wanted to release, I then spent 6 weeks in my studio at Church Studios with my guitarist Sam, finessing the musical arrangements for the songs. We were so inspired that we then also wrote a song called ‘Voices’ which is the final song I wrote for this album and my latest single.”

“During this ‘pre-production’ phase, I had rehearsals with my full band and as I love harmonies so much me and my two backing singers Karina and Jess worked out the vocal arrangements that are so integral to the album.”

“Kevin Robinson played and created horn arrangements that makes the record bloom beautifully, sounding epic in places. I worked with a wonderful cello player called Klara Schumann who wrote most of the cello arrangements on the record. She is incredible & sometimes we perform live as a duo. I also love Pedal Steel so on a few songs Matt Park is sprinkling some magic dust over my record.”

“Then BOOM comes the most magical moment of my career…to spend 10 days at Real World Studios recording the 12 tracks that form the record. I loved every moment of every 12 hour day in this utterly glorious studio. I travelled there in a big van as I had all my guitars, Nord electro keyboard & my Omnichord with me.”

“I worked with an incredible engineer called Oli Jacobs who introduced me to Erland Cooper who I co-produced the album with. I really liked working with Erland as I trust his expertise and taste. This trust is essential when working under such time pressure. We also mixed and did the post-production together in his lovely studio in Shoreditch. The icing on the cake is the mastering that I had the pleasure of watching engineer Guy Davie deliver with artistic flair!”

KLARA previously spoke about involving politics in her single ‘Voices’, a running theme in a lot of current songs, as seen in Sam Fender’s debut album and The 1975′s collaboration with Greta Thunberg.

“It’s incredibly important to be able to speak my truth as in this dark political climate it feels like the loudest voices are telling the most lies. My music tells it softly but it’s my truth. I have been to many protest marches both in Paris and London but it felt good to also be able to put these feelings into my song lyrics. Another song ‘Falling’ has political undertones and considers the plight of refugees. In my song ‘Laura’ I talk about a woman I met in the neighbourhood I live in. She is homeless and has lived through so much darkness. These themes are new to me as I used to mainly write about relationships and emotions and my inner world but it’s interesting and feels important to express my thoughts about the outer world too.”

Talking about life after the debut’s release, KLARA is not stopping there and looks forward to having her own recording studio by the sea.

“I would like to do another writing trip to LA and continue to go to writing camps in Sweden but also I want to write a lot more with songwriters and artists in London as I haven’t explored that enough yet. While keeping one foot in London I also want to buy a house on a beach in Sweden and realise my dream of a having a recording studio by the sea. I will of course then welcome all my collaborators to come and stay by the Swedish coast when they need a creative break from London life.”

Be sure to follow Klara + listen to the latest: Facebook | Twitter | Youtube | Spotify

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qdtquietdownthere · 5 years ago

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Day 10- Baked Beans for breakfast and an afternoon of volunteering.

DAY10

Crack of dawn and the amber sun sits low on the horizon.

I walk the streets looking at my feet. The pavements are not quiet, like I had expected. They are busy, but a different kind of busy, they are suit busy. People flocking to work. 7am streets are not my streets.

I walked past Regents cafe earlier in the week, it looked proper London to me. A proper greasy spoon cafe with those seats which are bolted to the floor and each other. My Grandad ran a cafe a long while ago, and I will aways remember that smell of bubbling vegetable oil. Everything cooked from one pan. Honest food. Mums comfort food, but grandads. We used to call my grandad ‘grandad Pops’ because he drank lots of pop. They kept shelves of cans and 2litre bottles of pop in their garage. Proper British, wipe clean table cloths, chips and a can of pop. Thats what the cafe looked like when I walked past.

Today it is hectic, there is a long line and a woman shouting with the deepest loudest voice i have ever heard. There is a menu behind her, which looks like chefs specials, these include eggs Benedict and fish cakes. No one seems to be ordering these. Maybe they are for a different crowd. The most popular seems to be toast, black pudding, beans, chips and bacon. There are plenty variations of this, and everyone seems to know their order by heart. I go for beans, toast and mushrooms. This place seems like an institution. I put up an instagram about it and friends from Leeds and Glasgow tell me they have been there. I like my breakfast and its deliciously cheap. I feel comfortable and curious, so I'm not sat with my head down, I'm just watching. I have learnt to just sit and be and watch since starting the residency, which is a great thing. It is also a place I wouldn't walk into if I had to choose where to eat breakfast. This has been a fundamental-ditch avocado on toast. Im sure these places exist in Tottenham, and I'm sure there are delicious places to eat, i just wouldn't go. Now, well I would go.

I wander along to the market, which is still asleep when I get there. Its mainly food places. Japaneese burgers, falafel and a giant fish stall. There are a few locals chatting to the fish monger and I shout at someone “that looks good” but i don't get much interaction here. The wider area is very connected though, lots of coffee shops and charity shops. Once again, it is an area which feels like a little village.

From here I decide to go wander around a new estate and fall asleep lying on the grass in the sun as I watch the jumbo jets come in to land. The space is social, green and alive with movement. Parks for people to hang out and lots of benches. There are a few bee hives and i notice the area has received an award for this. Each flat seems so unique yet they are all identical. This is apparent in Churchill Gardens. The unified individualism of the flats.

I am anxious about volunteering this afternoon. I will be doing food distribution with Mike and ‘Helping the Homeless’. It is one of the best things I have done so far in the residency, despite me being initially, but internally so cautious. I think I am cautious because I'm scared to upset anyone. I don't want to be seen as this young girl rocking up for one session then fluttering away again. Its present, it is serious and the rates of homelessness is increasing. The amount of people relying of food banks is increasing. The food distribution comes out from a tiny little shed hidden in the corner of a housing estate. Its a beautiful housing estate, which once again cuddles around a lively, and busy playground. On one side of the estate is a building completely covered in tarps and scaffolding. Its being turned into luxury flats, despite being in the same square as a community reliant on a food distribution service. Im in shock. I am also, and once again in shock of the contrast. Walking to meet Mike i took many wrong turns and saw many beautiful streets and beautiful people. The streets smelt like flowers and perfume and everyone seemed to be living as it was a Saturday afternoon. This was happening just around the corner. I am saddened and in disbelief.

Walking in to start the afternoon I meet wonderful Mike who shakes my hand very nicely. He is wearing high vis and is the centre of attention. Surrounding him are several people; Dolly, Charlie, Dee, Naomi, Claudio and an Irish man who speaks so fast I don't catch his name. He wishes me a happy life in his soft Irish accent many times and talks about his times living on the streets near Stonehenge. He also asks to inspect my hands and tells me I need to stop biting my nails. While speaking to him and hearing the sadness in his voice I am caught up by a worry about what to say. His world is so different from mine and I worry anything I say would seem stupid. Later Mike and I have a good conversation about how to cope and deal with listening to stories and information which is heavy. We've just got to be human. I find this day valuable on so many levels.

Mike and I load a trolley full of several bags of food. They are bursting with fresh veg, fruit and nuts. Mike tells me that the work he does is not voucher based but based on real needs. Each household is only entitled to visit a food bank three times a month, at which most of the food on offer is purely tined or dried food. This isn’t good enough. I ask Mike how he works out who needs the food and how he reaches these people in the community, especially when they can be hard to find. He answers very simply “I just know my community”. Something which really sticks with me.

We push this really heavy trolley along main streets towards Churchill Gardens. Mike uses a walking stick, which is unbelievable given that he is basically pushing something the weight of a large elephant along the pavement. The first stop we make is to deliver food to an elderly gentleman who's wife recently passed away. He doesn't leave the house much anymore and Mike tells me he often gets caught chatting to the man for a while. I wait outside out of courtesy but wish I had gone in with Mike. Eventually he reappears despite the elderly man showing him photographs of the grandchildren and asking mike to stay for a cup of tea. I cant help but think of the importance of Mikes role in this gentleman’s life as both a means to eat and as social interaction. This is the theme of the next few deliveries. Social isolation due to illness and age and confidence which prevents an individual leaving their house. One woman never answers the door and I cant help wonder if she is inside but is unable to come to the door for whatever reason. We leave the food on the doorstep. We end the deliveries on Churchill gardens with a family who thank Mike and give me the warmest Hello.

Mike is everywhere in the community and even while we are gone for delivery he is getting phone calls every two minutes. He giggles so much and talks about all the groups and initiatives he has set up. I ask about younger people in the community and he names a few places and people who are doing wonderful things for them. Yet they are still no where to be seen to me. Yet again I haven't been with any young people since church or choir. I cant help but see the need for young, energetic people to help Mike, or simply interact with other people in the community, for everyone sake. The separation of age is continuously apparent.

We spend the rest of the afternoon sat on the plastic chairs chatting in the sunshine. We sort 50 black bin liners of crisps into the shed and blabber away as people come and go. It is an inclusive space once again. It is run by the community so there isn't this separation between user and service. The people helping are service users, yet there is no distinction. I forget this and ask Naomi if she lives close by, to which she answers with the story of how she got to be someone who was homeless and how she got to be someone who both uses the service and hangs around with Mike. This is empowering and I value this anonymity. I feel valuable in the conversation, as just another person bringing my experience into the chat but not being defined by it. We talk about so many things while mike goes back to visit the first elderly man to spend more time looking at his pictures of the grandchildren.

This experience is brimming with generosity and inclusivity. Once again, it is about being a local and a regular. At its core it is about being someone who is guided by human connection and friendship, be it fleeting or permanent. I walk away from today with a further confidence in myself and in the power of one individual deciding to take action and make a change. So often before doing this project I would have overthought how to engage and make a difference in communities, including my own. I would have almost been crippled by trying not to upset anyone, make something effective and change driven. I always believed in the power of simply talking but todays experience set it in cement. The food distribution service isn't just about getting the most vulnerable and forgotten people in our community food, it is also about building a community and having a laugh and being validated through being given a space to talk and be listened too.

I walk to the tube station and bump into Mike who is having a natter with the newsagent. I go home and have an ice cream and a swim in the pond at Hampsted Heath.

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hoverbun · 7 years ago

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soulstolen

fandom: league of legends character(s): vladimir, elise, karthus, brief appearances of leblanc and katarina ship(s): vladimir/karthus synopsis: After the Harrowing, Vladimir feels haunted. word count: 5394

The mist clings to his lungs, infecting his too-human self with an otherworldly infestation. The ghost of claws rest heavy on his throat. The haunting has stayed, deep within his bones.

The Black Mist is not a single collective hivemind of thought and instinct - it is a mass of shifting souls, rolling from the split seams of the veil shrouding the Blackened Sea and the islands that exist beyond. It knows where its cold hands have not been, roaming the land with a coveting, searching urge in its cold grasp, tainting the untainted with a mystic corruption.

To many mainlanders of Valoran, the Black Mist is a Bilgewater sea legend, cursing the sailors who foolishly trust the ocean and the mysteries it keeps. It does not often crawl over the Empire of Noxus, chokehold presence curling its iron fist over its people. It had been a long time since the Harrowing came to Noxus - to live it is to feel the wind drop cold and to see the coastline grow eerily steady against old docks, still water lapping against pilings.

The sky goes dark, first. Then, the wind picks up.

The capital was split, like a skull over marble’s edge. The poor districts beyond the city walls were gutted, slain corpses left on scratched wood - unwanted by the isles’ savage culling, their souls harvested whilst their bodies were left to rot. Bodies are not needed - corpses mangled and torn by spectral weapons left in streets and homes. Noxus is built upon mountains that never were, and the walls that divide the city from its poorer districts kept the legions at bay.

The skies remember how the mist stained the city black. The following days feel raw and abraded, like the waking period after deeply dreaming. To see Noxus, in all its talk of glory in death and pride found in bloodshed, take pause after a massacre of its own people - it briefly, fleetingly, amuses Vladimir.

He was among the living left standing. The taste of death lingered in his mouth. His veins felt empty, a haunting air drying him of blood, essence, and life. Haunted.

His body felt hollow, like his skin had been cut and nothing bled from within, coursing down his arms and limbs in thick rivers of red. His blood grew thin and chilled his bones - the absence of warmth had never bothered him until the mist had loosened its hold over him and dragged itself away, across the continent and back to the blackened islands it came from.

( He does not dream often when sleep manages to find him, when the night is no longer restless and his thoughts recede for one evening. But now he dreams of long bones for fingers, skeletal palms over his wrists and throat, roaming his body and holding him. Searching for where his life beats within him the loudest. Searching for where it may draw him out. It’s never cruel, and it’s never violent - roaming and searching, a careful touch, a slow caress. )

Documentations regarding the Harrowing and the lands from whence it came are rare to find - there are old texts, though often they are untranslated, as well as belonging to nobility he has chosen to separate himself from, - those nobles of Noxus keep them for novelty reasons, something to brag about, something to fill their libraries and vaults with ( he doesn’t like the people emilie introduces him to. they pry, more than nobility with their own secrets to hide should. but they can't ask about the blood under his nails if they can't see it. ).

There’s a song sung in the back of his mind, something like a melody he wants to memorize, hymnals that have the right kind of wrong threat woven into their fogshrouded promise. It caught him and curled itself into the back of his thoughts, heard in the rumbling horde of the Harrowing.

“Do you hear singing, Emilie?”

Emilie LeBlanc offered him a glance, curiosity cut clear over her sharp features, until her interest waned. She always responded to her true name when it came from him - the matron’s title she had bestowed upon her however many years ago need not to be spoken. “The Kindred cult are in the streets. Do you mean them?”

While there is singing among the followers of Kindred - who walk winding streets as dusk settles over Noxus and sing for those lost, cleansing the streets of the lingering haunt of the Harrowing - the song he hears is more chilling, more slicing . Gouges in the skin that don’t bleed the way they must.

“No. Something else. It’s far away.”

“Then I don't know. You're imagining things, Vlad.”

Of course she wouldn't understand.

( my song is not for her. it is ours. )

The Kindred choir songs are meant to finalize death, close the eyes of the lost and carry their spirits away. Vladimir wonders why they do not revel in the captivating mysticism of the un dead, life beyond life.

He never expected to witness a Harrowing. Either he'd hear of its effects on a neighbouring state - from outlying city states and factions not yet assimilated by the heavy boot of Noxus, to their neighboured kingdom Demacia ( flawed and unpolished as it is, of course it is susceptible to the ravaging spirits from the west ) - or have it kill him before he can breathe its rotten air, tearing his soul from his body like a dissection, swallowing him whole and taking millennia of hemo magic knowledge with it. It was abrupt and sudden, as death often comes.

Vladimir feels a great weight in his bones, exhaustion that feels heavier than the insomnia he is well acquainted with.

“Maybe you're traumatized,” the General’s daughter offers, clicking her tongue like the scrape of her heel on stone, a blade tucked alongside her wrist, cutting the skin, bloodletting the insult. “Scared because you could’ve died.”

“Probably.” He's very curt with the people he's meant to charm. Emilie has told him he blunders through conversations quite often for a man who carries himself the way he does.

“That isn't very Noxian of you, is it?”

He slouches against the stone, looking over the aggregating buildings of Noxus, the fortress’ walls serving as an imposing divider between the recovering city and the untouched beacon of Noxian integrity. A chill ran through the Immortal Bastion, passing through them both like they were stripped of their flesh with exposed flayed bone - curling wisps of wind dancing against exposed marrow.

When it waned, it felt like the fleeting touch of a lover.

He has a single book open, split at the spine over a desk. There is so little to learn. Most accounts of harrowed lands and roaming spectres are tall tales from the shores of Bilgewater, passed along countless tongues and across waters like stones on a lake - finding their home on an empty sheet of paper. Vladimir questions how many sea tales have their merit anymore, if they ever did at all.

( He finds a story of a warlord, a once feared tyrant of a land before Noxus, but he doesn't consider it useful. )

Sleep won't take him. He thinks he's going to die.

It is -

( beautiful. consuming. intoxicating. to feel the caress of death for the first time - )

comforting.

He does not seek council with the High Priestess often.

Elise circles the parlour, her personal finery untouched from the invasion. The walls are tall, silkscreen drapes over wide windows shrouding the ugly Noxian sun. She had acknowledged his entry with a full smile and outstretched arms - when he sat himself without a word, she continued her movements, rigid and held together. She’s anxious as well, but he won’t acknowledge it, for her sake. It’s unbecoming of her.

“All of Valoran is susceptible to the Harrowing,” she states to him in a passing breath (because of course he’s come to discuss it with her, he knows where her pilgrims follow her to, kept in close council with every person who can speak the names of the Black Rose without feeling dread peak in their stomach, breathing in the sinister purpose of the order like they could the once familiar air of Noxus) when her gaze is swept outside an open window, the low breeze harbouring a cold memory casting itself inside. “But I never expected it to come to Noxus.”

“Not while you are in its service?” Vladimir suggests, head lowered, dark eyes on the steel that plates his fingers. Pretending to play Noxus’ courtly games is so tiring. He is so tired. He wants to sleep.

“Its influence has reached Noxus already.” Vladimir does not look at her, but he knows her gaze is on him. “It is not widespread . But it has taken root. Has something angered them? Drawn the attention of the Isles?”

The wind that rolls through the salon grazes his skin with a draining touch, the lingering dread of a stretched horizon etching itself into Vladimir’s bones. Death lingers in the air, from the rising filth in the almshouses turned crematoriums for the countless dead in the capital, to the presence of spirits hanging in the very parlour Noxus’ elite meet in. The memorabilia and religious fixtures Elise had carved from Vilemani skulls seem to rattle and hum with an elegy of the Shadow Isles, carried upon the wind.

He can hear her steps on the marble. She stands to his left, arms curved and crossed over her chest. It is now that Vladimir offers his cold eyes, hollow and bone white with dark rings under swollen lids. His tone is steady and his body stiff. Peaceful sleep has not reached him in years, and he will not show wear of such effect now.

“Maybe they’re questioning you,” Vladimir suggests, tersely. Elise’s stare is cold, and so is his. She speaks slowly, deliberately.

“If She was to question my capability, I can assure you that I would not be standing here.” Elise’s tone carries the haunting echo of a woman who knows what she risks. The price she has put on her life is tremendously high. He respects very few people. A person who knows her death is so easy to reach yet stares it in its eight eyes is one of them.

Between them is a glass table, low to the ground and framed in brass. Elise sits herself across from him, long legs crossed over another, and watches him carefully. Her eyes feel heavy over him, a weighted gaze that looks to split him apart and find his purpose. Skin from bone. He knows that trick too well.

“Has it taken its toll on you?” She asks, watching him through her lashes.

Vladimir looks at the skull behind her. “There's a song.”

“Have you been sleeping recently, Vladimir?” Emilie asks. For a moment, he wants to tell her he doesn’t sleep - apparitions of the Shadow Isles haven’t change this.

He keeps his eyes down, on the silver curled around the tips of his fingers. Emilie clicks her tongue, and leans farther back in her seat, one leg over another. She knows him, and he knows her - as well as she’d ever allow someone to know her, anyway - and because of this, she lets the edge settle back into her voice, and her curt tongue is sharper. “You’ll terrify everyone if you let yourself walk around like that. You look dead.”

Vladimir still doesn’t respond. Emilie drops her hands into her lap. “Vladimir.”

“Yes?”

“Pay attention to what I’m saying.”

“I can hear you fine,” he says, lifting his head and staring at her. His eyes feel heavy and his gaze isn’t steady but this isn’t new , he’s never slept well and he spends many of his nights restless and awake - the exhaustion that has taken over him that is worse than any insomniac episode is what pulls on him, drags his body to the earth and tries to bury him beneath it.

“I want to see it.”

“See what?”

“The Isles.”

She doesn't show the way her thoughts pause and her curiosity piques, or the way her heart beats twice and the light in her eyes is interest over concern. The game Noxian nobility plays is an interesting one - all who participate know that no word spoken is genuine, yet speak to one another with the same heartfelt concern as any other.

“ Why? What purpose do you have there?” There is no back support of the seat she's taken. Elise leans herself back anyway, away from Vladimir, away to watch him.

Vladimir responds by leaning forward, hands curling to loose fists and resting his chin on his flat fingers. He thinks of the empty wind through his windows. He thinks of the way death washed itself over him. He thinks of a song that he has never heard before but can't get out of his head.

“It's calling to me.” He wonders what the shoreline will look like. “When you went, did you have any reason beyond an insatiable curiosity?”

Her silence is consuming, turning over the request in her head like she'd turn a stone in her palm. Nothing subtle, nothing hidden in code or court talk, nothing she can't understand. He lies about many things - who he is, where he came from, who he's killed - but his intentions are always clear, like the hour after a morning fog. “I only deliver disciples of Vilemaw to Her lair. Are you asking to be converted, or are you asking me to deliver you to your burial?”

He smiles. She thinks he wants her God. “I only ask you guide me.”

If she knows he's lying, she's better at hiding it than he is. “I will organize a pilgrimage.”

The air shifts when he breathes in for the first time. The ocean salt fades - familiar and tepid, like the roll of water - and Vladimir can taste death in the air.

The stale rot in the sickly warm air roots itself among the coven of hooded acolytes, rolling dread cast over the shoreline the same way the fog does. Elise carries herself with a determined clarity, too comfortable in the way the wind rolls over her shoulders and the howling silence consumes the island. She is in long dark robes, ceremonial in purpose - dark regalia laced and lined with spider silk hemwork, etching where the cuffs drape down her forearms and curl in the crook of her arms.

He wears a hood to match the mass of acolytes at her heels. The unsteady caution of the isles roll up behind him - skeletal hands that curl like the wisps of fog around his ankles seem to hang over him. He’s urged along.

He’s welcomed inside. He’s awaited.

Vladimir looks to Elise, who smiles to herself as means of routine - the island knows her, and it allows her to walk easy through the mist, bowing to her presence by dissipating. He wonders how it will speak to him. He, too, is willing , as she was, however long ago.

His heels sink into the dirt, damp from a receding tide. Elise turns her head, glancing down at Vladimir, and waits to see his apprehension. She finds none. He knows she’s watching.

“The temple is a means away,” she states, spoken to those who draw their attention to the macabre surroundings of the isles, and also unto Vladimir - he knows what lies within the temple she details. He offers her a look, one that turns her lies over in its hand, considering. She smiles at him, threateningly. Do not jeopardize this. You are not my priority .

Death rolls around them as they embark within the beaten paths of the island, paths framed by flora that hangs between consuming life and peaceful death. The sky is dark, a low moon shrouded by clouds that seem to curl, domed over the mass and its priestess - closing in, winding them tight, crushed between the star-barren sky and the cold, lifeless earth. Flowers that bloom with dried petals hang at their feet. The taste of rot reaches their throats. Vladimir breathes in, and Elise knows that reaction too well.

He steps on something that cracks. Fallen oak branch, or forgotten bone - it’s a sound that resonates an eerie serenity within him. He considers, for a passing moment, he should not find peace.

The song keeps singing to him. It’s louder here.

But it does not come from a spider’s web.

It is then, that Vladimir also considers he is not here to submit himself to the altar of Elise’s sacrifices. It is not in him to stop her, use the knowledge earnt through secondhand gossip passed among the elite of the Black Rose to halt her pilgrimage and spare the lives of her congregation. Even if he cared, found it in him to consider the lives of humans deserving of whatever self-sacrificing mercy he could possibly find within him, they’d die at the hands of the island anyway.

It’s buried into his skull. Death that sounds like a melody. Luring and lulling and pulling him along. Like hands at his sleeves, only nobody is there, clawing at his wrist and taking him where he never feared ( he’s never feared death. it has intrigued him, kept him wondering, but never wanting, never longing. its new hold on him is exhilarating. ).

She knows he steps away when the footsteps over familiar dry earth lose their even rhythm, a pause in the congregation behind her. Elise turns herself around and searches for the dissent, and grits fanged canines when her most interesting catch is gone . One of the women she had brought steps to her left side, passing a glance upward.

“Should we search for him, Your Reverence?” it comes low, and pulls her from her consuming thoughts of budding rage . Elise’s eyes find the ones of her attentive disciple, looking through the fear she tries to bury beneath her skin. The island is cold, and the fog passes through her bones, no matter how she swallows down the anxiety swelling inside her.

Her gaze is sharp. “No.” Elise steps further into the shadows. “The island will claim him soon enough. If it doesn’t, I will find him myself.”

He is filled with the exhilarating feeling of getting away with something he shouldn’t be doing. Every step into the eternal darkness that hangs over the isles, foot over blackened earth, fills him with invigorated excitement. Vladimir does not know where he is running. He hears the sighs of spirits, echoing through the trees and calling for names he cannot recognize, long forgotten by the waning memory of time.

Some sound like his name, but he reasons it's the delirium reaching him, mesmerized by the holy ground he has found, anticipating it awaits his arrival.

He’s breathing deeply, sharply inhaling and exhaling heavily, looking across a horizon that closes in to find the meaning of why he chose to come. Vladimir realizes he hasn’t a single idea what he is meant to do with the death he breathes in, lightheaded on the rot clinging to his lungs and throat. His arms are stiff at his side.

There’s a fog over the islands, not unlike that which had ravaged Noxus, hanging heavy and shrouding the horizon and the lands long beyond it - the water that rolls against the shorelines pull mist from over the ocean, pulling it around him, trapping him with cold air flooding his lungs. There is a wind, and it blows low, close to the ground, passing through the fabric of his clothes. Shapes move within the fog, and the spirits take notice of him.

He’s never been much of a person , but unfortunately, he is alive. Life brought to the Shadow Isles calls upon the attention of the dead.

With a low roll of wind, he comes - a wraith that follows the curling mist, long limbs that hang without use above the rotting earth, eyes alight with the cold glow of a haunted harbour - Vladimir sees no iris nor pupil, nothing within the armoured priest but icy decay. He is unsure if something wills him to stay, or if fear (once thought dead, only dormant) has rooted itself inside his bones. The spirit narrows its glowing eyes, and approaches Vladimir.

Clutched in one hand is a staff. Ceremonial in its own purposes. It resembles nothing of what the spider priestess shares with her coven. He considers running, but the wraith’s free hand is at his throat.

The skeletal hand gripping the frame of his jaw feels like a cold knife, lingering presence of hanging, long dead flesh over the curves of each finger with sharp clawed talons for nails. The wraith has no need to breathe yet exhales vulgar death over Vladimir, eyes void of human spark and lifelingering meaning, leaning in to stare into the white irises of his painfully ( unwillingly ) human shell. He's being watched with an interest that terrifies him. Vladimir feels pulled apart, picked through by death itself, life drawn out of him.

It's instinctive to bring a hand up to the hand clutching him. His own wraps around a thin wrist, and only feels the curve of bone beneath it, wrapped in tattered red cloth. He doesn't push. The spirit pushes his nails into Vladimir’s flesh regardless.

His voice is cold water underneath winter’s ice, lingering on vowels and dragging them through the space between his rotten teeth. It sounds like a voice that didn't die with the rest of its host. “Why are you here?”

The grip doesn’t, can’t tighten. Vladimir knows this. But the tension in the bone feels as if his hand longs to. “I fled a coven, dedicated to one of the spirits on these islands-”

In all of his life, Vladimir is thankful his voice can remain clear when he is lying. He can’t look away from the miraculous sea-green of the priest’s eyes. He fears if he does, he may perish.

“I was drawn here.” The words feel strange around his tongue. He never believed in the common faiths of Noxus - he never found comfort in their words. He doesn’t consider himself faithful now. Following the desires of death doesn’t accredit to any newfound piety, he believes. “Surviving your Harrowing inspired me.”

Death’s grip recedes from him. His talons pull away, leaving pressed lines where they gripped Vladimir’s skin, a cold touch that is not replaced with warmth, but he still misses it. The haunting within Vladimir keeps him still, rooted in the grasp of perfect death. The sea-green is captivating.

There's a slow blink that covers those eyes boring into the bones of Vladimir’s face. The wind howls, and the spirits that hang off him sigh. His feet won't touch the ground, and he continues to stare at Vladimir, whose legs feel rooted and dug into the ground, held down by decaying life. He seems to be considering something.

“It has been a long time since the living have come to meet the dead.” ( He speaks, recalling a memory. ) “For most, your presence is unexpected. Yet…”

He seems to lean leftward, against the sceptre he now holds in both hands. “The presence of a hemomancer - is that what you attempted to do moments before?”

Vladimir nodded. His voice was like a song through a glass hallway - loud and echoing and hollow, a voice of a thousand different lives culled and wound into one. It was captivating. And a little beautiful.

Those eyes, filled with an unholy light, seemed to brighten with anticipation. “So it is you. It was I who left the spirits to sing you my song when I departed your land.”

“Who are you?” a deathsinger was in the old writings he found, but the already little information had even less on this one-

“I am Karthus,” he said, with a smile less sinister, more sharp , with an unknown threat that has Vladimir captivated. “and I have been awaiting you, hemomancer.”

His heartbeat lulls, stilling in his chest - his blood turns to ice when Karthus’ voice rolls through him, a choir wound together in one haunting breath. The voice is familiar in the way the night sky is - ever present, hung over his head with reminders and omens stretched across, holding him hostage in a place he never thought to be. It sounds like a threat, something to scare him - and he's never trusted anyone, and he still doesn't, but maybe there is a way to sate the song in his head.

“Have you,” he tries, flippant, trying to keep as wary of a gaze he can.

“The power present in your nation’s capital could only belong to one person,” Karthus responds, smile as simple as if this is how it was meant to end. “I longed to meet them.”

“You could sense me.”

“Certainly, this capability of mine is not surprising . I knew of men with powers alike to yours in years past - to show an interest in hemomancy’s remaining sole practitioner is a rational desire.”

He is less hackled, posture once more impeccable and hand raised to his own face. He is familiar, but not in manners that Vladimir could name him at any other time - it is the way he is clothed, the insignia across his pauldrons and affixed on his hat. This isn't much different from the robes worn by priests of the Kindred - he recognizes them from Noxus.

“You came once you heard my song,” Karthus speaks again, with a knowing note to his choir of voices, a smile he would not believe residence of these isles to posses. “You are with the coven that passes this island.”

“You know about them,” Vladimir says, and thinks on the fury that must burn through Elise. She can kill another noble, if that's what she wants. He doesn't care, but won't give her the satisfaction either way.

“Their purpose is not a secret here.”

“Their priestess might come looking for me once she's killed them all.” She can try to kill him. “She wouldn't be currying favour with anyone here if she kills your guest.”

Karthus’ laughter is soft, wisps of souls once were curling around air that never was. It has a melody to it Vladimir wants to follow.

“Perhaps I may prevent her from harming you with my purpose of calling you here.”

Vladimir looks at him, directly. The wasting skin, the bones of his face rounded - he has never thought to stare at a lich. “And what is that?”

Karthus touches his throat.

Her mind drifts and her thoughts are distant when she pulls herself from the ritual, venom of the Vilemaw rolling down her curled fingers and over her cupped palm. The hall of the temple is silent once more, with no bones being cracked or silk being pulled, and no whispers of her disciples and final sobs of life. She stands as the final woman above corpses, the offered vials presented to her by the beautiful immortal Goddess she covets life for lined up on an altar bed. Elise does not enjoy this offering.

The vials are placed in a rucksack her last standing apprentice once held. Leather bound and older than the girl who carried it - Elise remembers countless girls before her, and there will be more girls that can replace her. All she can hear is her own breathing. She took no pleasure in this ritual, for a presence remained on the island that she could not account for.

She does not speak to the wraiths, spirits and spectres here. She has no need to. She is certain they are aware of her, and she is certain her favour with the arachnid god buried deep within the islands is what protects her from whatever wrath or curiosity would lead them to her. She never stays for longer than she must. She never searches, never travels farther than the temple she needs to be at.

Her gown is still perfect, silken robes rolling in the cold and gentle breeze that greets her when she steps from the temple’s once sealed doors. Those bodies will keep Her sated for many months to come - wrapped in the webs She has weaved, cocooned in silk. Elise keeps her gaze ahead, steady, narrowed. The wayward spirits that linger in the air like lost whispers croon around her, speaking to themselves in sighs. She is always fulfilled when she leaves, feeling the imperfections of her skin wane and her vision become sharper. She feels alive among the dead.

Vladimir is still at the forefront of her thoughts. She admits this is the most thought she’s ever given about his wellbeing, and saying it like that is far too generous. She knows he has chosen to bury himself within the isles - he wouldn’t be stupid enough to try to escape on the boat they arrived on without her.

Petty, yes.

But not stupid.

He knows he can’t get anywhere.

She can hear the rolling waves against an old dock distantly, water no longer following in a lazy river - and in between the whispering spirits and the dark, murky waters, she can hear something else.

“If you’re going to kill me, you should be quick about it,” she calls into the aether, her long legs coming to a halt. “I do not have time for your dramatics , Vladimir. I am awaited back home.”

The silence remains. She pauses, and then continues walking, head high and without visible care for his antics.

“Are you angry that I tried to kill you?” she asks to nothing, knowing he’s there. “I would apologise, but you should have seen it coming, my dear. At least we have reunited. Walk with me, we will return-”

She stops when he appears. Immediately, it seems to be that he appears from nowhere, but her eyes are sharp once more, and caught the mist sweeping upward from the earth below them, like the trail of fog around her was Vladimir following her. Elise stares and shock strikes her, looking between his lurid and sickly skin and the desecration of the hooded garment she had given him for their pilgrimage. His hands are not particularly human, and the shock turns to fury.

“Where did you go -”

“I didn’t come here for you, don’t give yourself so much credit.” It’s still him, with that agonizingly dry voice and the nasally drawl to every vowel, she knows it - even with the airy tone that echoes his taunt. “You were my method of travel.”

“Who did this to you?” it’s an appalled command more than it is concern, with Elise gritting her fanged teeth in slow boiling rage. “I know who resides here, Vladimir, and I know what they are capable of, as well as how they take lives-”

“He didn’t say.” He’s lying. He’s infuriating. “He offered I join his choir. I enjoyed the idea of necromancy. This is more than what Emilie was trying to encourage in my meditations.”

An eerie realization dawns upon Elise’s face, and the way her eyes widen tells Vladimir just that. She does not darken, only stiffens her resolve. She frowns, and walks towards him, past him.

“Am I to leave you here, or are you going to figure out how you are going to explain this to Emilia’s council as we return?”

He’s quiet. At first, she believes he did not follow, and remained where they stood before. Then she wonders if it was an apparition, the isles toying with her mind as she leaves, prying into her personal concerns and pulling her suspicions forward. But then he speaks, and it sounds as if he is right behind her. Elise doesn’t turn around.

“I’m staying.”

“I will not tell anyone about this. Mostly because I don’t wish to explain where I went.” It was stupid to bring him here. “That Lich is terrible company, I hope you know.”

She turns her head. He stares at her, empty white eyes over wan flesh, the beginning of decay around his eyes where shadows and bruises were but hours ago. His jaw appears set, gritting his teeth that he’s lost his edge over her. Her own smile is insidious.

“I know everything about this place. You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

The wind catches her gown. He hears the distant lap of the ocean.

#league of legends #vladimir #elise #karthus #vladimir/karthus

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agentharrisonofshield-a · 7 years ago

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11, 13, 20 (zen)

pride month questionnaire.

whoops this got long because I can talk about myself for hours. sorry

11. tell us about your first crush?

I don’t think I had a real crush until I started high school? I mean, not outside of celebrity crushes (the first that I remember being Jessica Alba in Dark Angel). But I started a new school for high school, so all of a sudden I was surrounded by entirely new people, and I was lost af both literally and figuratively, and it was just a lot of not funness for anxiety-prone teenage me.

Anyway, I was signed up for the women’s choir, because I like to sing even though I don’t have the best of voices. But I have always had a weakness for people who do, and gods damn did one of the older students have the voice of an angel. I do not doubt that if she’d wanted to, she could be on Broadway right now. Her name was Heather - I still remember that, even though if you’d ask me to name 10 people I had classes with for 4 years I’d blank - she had wavy light brown hair, she was two years older than me, and when she sang a solo you expected the clouds to part and sunlight to shine down on her. We actually had a class together - I was ahead of most of my classmates in Spanish so as a freshman I was in a class comprised of sophomores and juniors - and I suppose I talked to her at least once. If only in the context of a classroom exercise.

I guess she was pretty? I thought she was pretty. I knew next to nothing about her other than her name, what year she was in, that she took Spanish, and that she could sing... but damn did the whole world light up for me when she acknowledged my existence, even if it was in passing.

15. have you come out to friends and family?

I came out to my parents when I was 14 or 15 - I don’t really remember. It was a total non-event. We’d been watching something on television during dinner and it sparked a comment from my mom about a friend of mine who had recently come out as bi, and I saw an opening, and I casually remarked that after careful consideration I’d realized I was bi too. To which my parents basically said “that’s fine” and then my dad asked me to get another bottle of seltzer while I was up. And to their credit, it wasn’t a ‘brushing it off’ thing - aside from a single remark from my mother one time about “how can you know if you’ve never dated a girl” (which I shot down reasonably) they’ve never questioned me, or ceased to be supportive of me, in 17, 18 years. When I mentioned I considered myself pansexual, they asked what that was, and what the difference was from bisexual, and once I explained they just nodded.

I was out to my classmates in high school - in fact, I’m the reason my high school now has a GSA. It took me three years of gathering enough supporters, convincing a faculty member to be responsible for the group (all our extracurricular clubs had to have a faculty member behind them), and then convincing the administration to make us official, and, unfortunately, I never got to see it made official before I graduated. But the year after I graduated, my high school had its first GSA meeting.

My friends all know. Both offline and on.

I’m out at my church, and have been since I was a teenager. I was one of the members of the congregation pushing for our church to accept the label “open and accepting”, and I’m currently one of the loudest voices calling for us to break from the General Synod after their decision (after 70+ years of refusing to make one) that “marriage is between one man and one woman”.

I think the only people I’m not 100% out to are my extended family. I swear to gods Vivian’s aunt was not based on anybody real, but apparently my aunt living in North Carolina has drunk the southern Baptist kool-aid and thinks gays are the ruin of our society. I’m sure I’ll come out to her at some point - probably in the middle of an argument next Thanksgiving. My older aunt has actually become surprisingly chill in her advancing age, so my worries about coming out to her are probably, at this point, entirely unfounded. I just need to find the right time to do it so it’s not me blurting out “by the way I have no preference in the gender or sex of my sexual partners” in a lull in conversation. My godmother... conservative Christian, always has been. Conservative in general, too. But I’ve been dropping hints, and she’s been remarkably not-fire-and-brimstone about it, so I guess there, too, it’s just a matter of when to best bring it up.

20. do you practice safe sex with the same sex?

I’ve had... one... sexual encounter with a member of the same sex and yes we practiced safe sex. Do dental dams make oral less fun on either end? Yeah they sort of do... but short of grabbing my partner and dragging her to the local Planned Parenthood before going home with her, it’s better safe than sorry. And I mean, oral’s not the end all... and safety precautions for things like fingers and toys are a lot less of a killjoy.

#answered meme #about Zen #it's technically Monday for me so hey appropriate timing #Anonymous

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fajrihanny · 7 years ago

Text

Backstreet Boys 2017 : Larger Than Life

Oh my God, we’re back again~

So a few months back, there was that little news on my Facebook that Backstreet Boys were coming back to Singapore for one night only - and it’s their only stop in Asia in 2017!

Did I rush to get the tickets? You bet I did.

But this is to note that Singapore Sports Hub ticket system sucks - that virtual waiting room just got me so nervous. I needed to open few different browsers so I got more chances in the ticket!

Anyway, I got the ticket and I upgraded myself (and Husband, of course) to the ...2nd cheapest class available. Haha.

Oh well, at least this is not our first time. I mean, we saw them back in 2015 (has it been 2 years?!) and we pretty much knew what we were expecting.

The concert was held in NATIONAL STADIUM. OK, they only opened half of the stadium for the concert but man, I was really surprised when I saw the venue! I imagined it’s going to be big and full of a blast!

But was it?

The concert was supposed to start at 8.30 pm so we did Maghrib first at home. When we reached the venue, it was close to 8 pm. We thought we still had time for some snacks cause we were both quite hungry. Alas, we didn’t.

My friend who was already inside the stadium since 7 (!!) texted me and said that the security check took a while so I better queued early. Meh.

So we ditched our original plan and went to queue early. Poor Husband who was so hungry :(. When we reached the first security check... oh man, I started to appreciate how swift security check at Star Vista. They were fast, efficient, and most importantly, everything was done in an airconditioned room!

I digress - but the weather was really killing us outside even at night.

When we finally passed the last check, it was like 8.20 pm so we rushed to our section which was.... so far at the back LOL. Even my seats back in 2015 were SO MUCH BETTER and I paid less!

Anyway, enough of my rants. Let’s get on with the concert review.

***

At 8.30 pm, the big screen played a medley/remix of Backstreet Boys’ songs. That’s new (for me). The screen also flashed lots of clips from their music video - kinda like a mash-up.

That’s how far our seats were from the stage

The medley went on for about 10 minutes before finally, the concert started with “Larger Than Life”. So apt.

The crowd went wild but I stayed calm in my seat. LOL. Age is really catching up with me now. The boys (well - men) looked all smiley and did their best to open the concert with a bang, but I noticed that everyone’s voice was too tired.

Next on the list was “The One”. Brian’s voice was a bit off and he couldn’t hit some of his notes in this song. And, as usual, the crowd cheered the loudest for Nick. Ah well, the teen heartthrob still has it. They continued with “Get Down”. Not my favorite so I tended to skip. Kevin had a long hair and meh. Seemed like they toned down some parts of the choreography - maybe to cater to their age. After all, they are all backstreet dads now. Heh. When the song was done, they started the first chat session. AJ has always been the heart of the party and this time it was no different. Nick followed afterwards and man the cheers could make my ears go deaf! He complained of how humid Singapore was that night and .... *drumroll* he also announced NEW ALBUM.

PLEASE OH PLEASE MAKE IT BLACK AND BLUE VER 2.0!

Next was Kevin and I just wanted to chop that long hair of his. After that short break, “Drowning” was played. Everyone looked so mellow. And at this point of the concert, I was starting to get annoyed at how bad the sound system was and how Brian still couldn’t hit some of his high notes right. What’s up with these?

The mellow mood continued with “Incomplete”. Meh. I am usually OK with Backstreet Boys’ slower songs but they didn’t sound... suitable for this open-air concert.

Luckily the next song was more upbeat. Now, this is weird but why was everyone so excited about “Quit Playing Games”? I mean, it’s a song about a man who got cheated on by his girlfriend! We were served with another intermission. Now it’s few slides which showed each member’s now and then. Wanna guess who got - like 50% more cheers than the others?

(Hint: it was not AJ nor Brian nor Kevin nor Howie) I was expecting more songs after those slides were over, but apparently... there was a bit of dance break. Yeah, forgot to mention that they brought a HELL lot of back dancers for this concert. Not really interested in the dancers so I took that chance to rest my voice. I haven’t stopped singing while I was having a pretty bad cold and my throat was killing me.

The dance show was finally over and... “Show Me The Meaning Of Being Lonely” was on. Oh crap.

I am always weak for this song ;_; At some point of this song, I think I got some tears in my eyes. And finally, Brian hit his high notes perfectly!

They took a lighter mood with “I’ll Never Break Your Heart”. The crowd was swaying their heads to the left and right. Awww~ I have to say though that AJ’s adlib was awesome. How come his voice was that stable - this is no joke man! Next on the setlist was “Anywhere For You” and sorry, I was just not feeling it. My least favorite song of the night.

... Or so I thought. Until next song was up and I didn’t even recognize the song?! I took my phone out and Soundhound-ed it and found out that it’s called “Darlin’”

Apparently, the stadium thought the same as me cause I swear I didn’t hear any choir from the crowd when this song was sung. Why was this song even on the list?

There was another dance show after that and I groaned - again?? Next song was “Undone” and the audience died down LOL. Maybe because this song was not nostalgic enough. But again, AJ’s voice~ <3

The men (HAH!) had another break and Brian took the crowd. “We are only halfway done!” Seriously? The concert was already on for almost an hour and according to my ticket, it’s supposed to be only for 90 minutes. No way we were getting 2 hours concert right?

Brian said that their next song was his favorite and it was...

“As Long As You Love Me”

OK WHERE WAS MY MICROPHONE.

And the best part was, THEY DID FREAKING CHAIR DANCE GUYS. Granted, it was only for mere 30 seconds but COME ON IT’S THE LEGENDARY CHAIR DANCE. PS. Anyone can guess why is it that this song is Brian’s favorite? (Hint: His wife. You are welcome)

Well, there was another intermission after the song ended. Now it’s another medley of their songs - one of those is “Everyone”- a less popular song from their ‘Black and Blue’ album. I couldn’t help but wonder why were there so many intermissions in this concert? And almost all of them were so abrupt and so disorganized. Honestly, I was a bit annoyed and feeling like this concert was really lacking in preparation.

We were left for about 20 minutes. After the intermission was done, suddenly there was a phone ringing somewhere and I knew exactly what was the next song....

“The Call”

I sang my voice out lol. I knew I was getting myself a lot of trouble but come on, it’s THE CALL. They had a lot of back dancers for this song by the way. Concert moved on with “Get It Down” and “Get Another Boyfriend”. Followed by the last intermission from Howie.

I could feel that the concert was reaching the last spurt. And I was expecting “I Want It That Way” any moment LOL. But no. It was “More Than That” which was a welcoming breather after so many dance numbers.

Next came up “Shape Of My Heart”. I pretty much lost my voice at this stage. Playback was too strong and the inconsistencies in the sound system became more and more apparent. Another dance show was up and for once - this was a number that I can appreciate. The dancers danced to “Straight Through My Heart” and “It’s Gotta Be You”. Man, their energy didn’t seem to slow down.

And finally, the intro to “I Want It That Way” was played. I ROSE FROM MY CHAIR OK. This is the legendary song from the epic 1999 - the only song from Backstreet Boys that I am willing to dance to. And I think the whole stadium agreed with me that night cause the choir was SO LOUD I didn’t think the group needs to sing at all lol.

When the song finally finished, everyone seemed to notice that the concert was going to end soon. Oh well. Everything good will end eventually. But of course.. there’s still an encore... “Backstreet’s Back”.

Unfortunately, I was already too tired to even sing along lol.

Once the encore was done, the group waved goodbye and went to the backstage. The crowd moved fast to the exit - age is really catching up with us. Enough of nostalgia. Time to go back home and to reality.

***

Honestly, if you asked me, I don’t really like this concert. It felt too commercialized. It’s weirdly tied to WTA finals. if you buy a package of WTA finals ticket and Backstreet Boys concert, there will be freebies or upgrade if I remember correctly. Talk about profits.

With 20,000 people buying the tickets, you would expect that they would have extra screens in the Stadium - but no, there was only ONE giant screen in the middle of the stadium. And guess who couldn’t even get a look at the group? People who sat on the side - like us. I know - beggars can’t choose, but come on, we paid for our tickets.

The sound system was blah. Often times the playback was even stronger than the boys’ singing and it was so off-putting. The back dancers were such eyesores at some points of the concert - not their fault but they made the concert felt like just another Vegas show instead of a concert for Singapore fans.

The humid weather didn’t really help either. But again, this could be solved by ... I don’t know - extra fans? The organizer should have more experiences how to troubleshoot this right?

And lastly, again perhaps it’s the age, but Backstreet Boys looked so tired. They jetted to Singapore for 30 hours straight from the other side of the globe. From what I saw in their social media, they were still in the US two days before the concert! So if that’s true, they had no rest before they appeared in Singapore.

I sounded like an angry fan - but if you compare this concert with their 2015 concert, it’s like heaven vs earth. Maybe because they were a bit younger back then? Or maybe because the 2015 one was indoor and it was more intimate with only 5,000 attendees? I don’t know.

I think, twice is enough. It has been fun to sing along with the other fans but now, let me just rewatch their old videos and soak into nostalgia at the comfort of my bed.

#Fanny Talks

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naturallynelsons-blog · 8 years ago

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The Travail of Birth

I am not a particularly maternal person. I like children – other people’s.

For short periods of time.

When I’m not responsible for them in any way.

I proved that this week, when I had to watch someone’s kids for probably no more than 20 minutes. They were small: two and four, I’m guessing. I knew we were all in trouble when the parents left, and I turned to the children and said: “Hi. My name is Sarah. Let me know if I can help you with anything.” By the time another responsible adult showed up, I was ready to chew off my own arm to get out of there.

I’m at an age where most of my friends have reproduced. They wanted me to join their parenting club, but after one too many stories about the horrors of childbirth – emergency C sections, episiotomies, “I couldn’t feel my legs”, morphine (“Seriously?!?! Morphine?!?!? You volunteered to do something that ended in MORPHINE?”) – I was not eager to sign up.

Miracle of birth, my sweet patootie. The only thing NOT making your story sound like a nightmare to your own ears are those “I just gave birth” hormones, ladies. You are freaking everyone out. Okay, maybe not everyone. You are freaking me out though.

Given my apprehensions to this life-changing event, in my role as a farmer, I’ve been pretty particular about what animals I bring home. The thought of slipping on a plastic glove up to my armpit and diving into the nether regions of a cow to assist her birth is not high on my list of things to do, and given the location of my residence, trust me the vet will NOT get here on time. If you aren’t prepared for such things, do not buy the cow – even if the milk isn’t free.

Yet, here I am witnessing a birth.

My friend sold me an incubator last year. She swore, and I wholeheartedly agreed, that it would be better for me to be able to hatch chicks when I wanted them instead of waiting on those aforementioned hormones of my hens to kick in. So I loaded up the incubator a few weeks ago and waited.

The chicks were due to hatch on the fifth. The morning of February 4th, I was in my office typing away when I heard a faint squeak. I ignored it, but it happened a second time. I thought to myself: “Mouse!” As I was plotting the end of vermin, the squeak sounded again, but it sounded more like a tiny “peep” this time.

I swiveled in wonder towards the incubator. I shone my LED flashlight inside. (I couldn’t open it because I had added the post-it note to the top of it myself that said “Do not open this! No matter what! Even if you see a chick!”)

I saw no chick. I heard no peep. I sat down. Peep. I jumped up and looked again. No chick, but an egg took a teeny, tiny roll. Peep!

I was pretty excited. I called Ron. We watched the egg roll for a while and listened to the peep. He got bored and went away, and I called my incubation jedi master. She told me that even after I heard the first peep, it could be another 24 hours until I saw a chick. So I went about my day but periodically, I checked the incubator. No chicks; just eggs. I checked before bed. No chicks; just eggs. I went to sleep.

And then, just as the minute hand scooted past midnight, we were awoken by a bevy of loud, distressed peeping. It sounded like a tiny, chicken army had landed.

We Nelson’s are not our best when experiencing: a) not enough sleep, b) being awoken in a surprising manner, or c) being woken up any time before 9am. (Yes, this happens every day. It is always unpleasant and surprising.) I, being the responsible farmer, ran upstairs to see what was the matter. Ron rolled back over.

I walked out to the great room and was promptly met by the farm guardian: our border collie, CC. Something was amiss. She knew it, and she was going to make sure I took care of it. She escorted me upstairs. On the way, we passed one of our other dogs, Sam. Sam is a giant something or other weighing in at 99 pounds. He spends part of his day making sure no vermin even consider stepping foot on our property. He has brought me many gifts of creatures both small and disturbingly large. If I had grown up here, some of them probably would have been considered pretty good for stewing up for dinner, but alas, I did not. He spends the other 20 hours a day sleeping in my office, but even he, brave and noble beast, was not going to stay and listen to that racket. He spent the rest of the night on the deck.

I shone my light into the incubator expecting a plethora of small, feathered beings. Do you know what I saw? One chick. One stinking, screaming chick. One teeny, tiny – doesn’t even weigh one ounce – bird was peeping to wake the dead. It was doing all the things it was supposed to do, and I had to NOT do the one thing I wanted to do: open the lid.

Chicks are fine for about 48 hours after hatching with no intervention on our part. Actually, trying to “help” a chick along could actually physically harm it in a permanent way – or even kill it. So as tough as it was to listen to its pathetic – and LOUD – cries of distress, I had to leave it alone. When I walked away, CC whined her displeasure that I failed to fix this situation and spent the rest of the night staring at me in consternation. I slept through it thankfully.

I was quite happy not to be home for the peepfest the next day, and by the time, Monday’s lovely morning rolled around, I had taken the peeping choir – which had grown to include six members – outside to their brooder box to introduce them to some of life’s great pleasures: food and drink.

After doing the rest of my chores, I went upstairs with my breakfast to begin work. Peep. Round two was just beginning. I took several breaks throughout the day to watch the actual hatch, and here is what I discovered.

Birth is not easy. It is incredibly difficult. There would be great struggles, and then the egg/chick combo would stop moving for a really long time. I’d give a little pep talk and a prayer, and after a while, the struggle would continue. All I could do was watch and pray and encourage. By the time the chick was fully free of its shell, it was exhausted. It just lay there in a damp, gasping little heap, and all I could do was watch.

The loud peeping from Saturday night was explained when I could watch the process in full on Monday. The loudest peeping happens after the chick has hatched, rested, regained its energy, looked around and discovered that it is most definitely not in Kansas anymore and also quite alone. The desperate, pitiful, LOUD peeping doesn’t stop until its loud peep is answered by another, quieter peep from another egg. Then the chick will huddle close to the egg, and they peep together. The first chick watches as the second struggles to break free into this exciting new world, and then, well, it’s pretty quiet. Just realizing they aren’t alone is enough to comfort them. That’s the second thing I learned. When your whole life is turned around, when everything you ever knew is gone and nothing makes sense, it is a lot easier to face when you aren’t facing it alone.

So there you have it: the miracle and struggle of birth as told by a non-maternal farmer. It’s mind blowing. To all of you who have lived it, I salute you.

The farm delivers one life lesson after another. I hope your day involves some unexpected, ordinary miracles and that if you face hard times, you have a buddy!

Keep on peeping,

Sarah – Naturally Nelson’s Farm

��PT�t

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