#i got bunch of rings in the mail and one of them has flames on it and it reminds me of that sick angel numbers shirt you just got

[reinventboy]

2, 11, 17, and 28 for the asks! love u senseless 🤍📮💌

hey kendall!! love you extensively 💌🤍🍓

2. pepsi box blue or cheetos bag orange?

pepsi box blue for sure, i don’t like pepsi but the color blue? so good

11. bass or drums?

hmmm ok, i’m gonna go with bass, i love drums but bass and just guitars in general have my heart <3 like i remember getting my first acoustic guitar when i was a kid from this shitty little pawn shop with money i had saved up and i was so ecstatic

17. an earliest obsession you remember?

from ages like 6-11 i was simultaneously obsessed with tim burton movies (and subsequently johnny depp and winona ryder) and also hello kitty, it was a really juxtaposing 6 years lmao like any time i was given a gift, for the longest time it was either tim burton/johnny depp or hello kitty related

28. an unusual song that’s your favorite?

this is such a fun question, ok, i think it has to be feed my ego or mom jeans by mickey darling. their lyrics are just so ??? sometimes and it’s so great, oh and the samples they use are so funny, especially the ones in feed my ego in the beginning and end

[symphonic-scream]

fma au chloix? Ur hcs about them are always great no matter what au

Skdidbdnsbdb

Cap and I have had many a conversation about this cause I can't shut up about this au or about them

Combing the two has made me into a monster

So, I present, as much as I can remember and be bothered to type out about them. Enjoy

Stuff to sum up what should be known: Alix is the mechanic slash automail engineer for Juleka, but she has a capacity to use alchemy and she's the only one that knows she's the last living person to know the secrets of flame alchemy. Chloe is the commander of the northern base, Fort Briggs, transferred after her mother had a huge scandal

So at one point Luka and Juleka need to head up north, and Juleka's arm and leg freeze up, and they need to call Alix up to fix it. When she arrives up North she had a drink on the train, and at first sight she's just, in Love with Chloe. She had a bunch of flowers she bought from tipsyness and there's way too much, and she bought them as "get well soon" flowers to mock Juleka but thats out the window

Chloe: hello, Mechanic, Guardian, and, Guest. Welcome to Fort Briggs. I am Major General Bourgeois, and I will be escorting you-

Alix: HEEEEY YOURE PRETTY, I GOTCHU SOME FLOWERS~

Chloe: i- I'm sorry, is she drunk??

Nathaniel: honestly I have no idea

The answer btw is no, she's not drunk, just acting drunk in case her flirting isn't well received. But, it very much is. Chloe is very intruiged, finds this actually charming. She is also basically in love at first sight

Chloe: oh noo we didn't anticipate these two random men we only have one spare room, oh where will Alix stay-

Juleka: she can share with me

Alix: *glaring and hissing* DONT. RUIN. THIS. FOR. ME.

Juleka: ...nevermind

Chloe: okay, well- ahem, I suppose I can set you up on my office couch

Well. Alix doesn't end up on the couch. I'll assume y'all can figure out where she ends up sleeping but just know. PG-13.

Plot shit happens, Alix stays in the Fort Longer. Everyone who lives there full time is weirded out cause like. Their cold, mean-affectionate leader is like a lovesick puppy suddenly, but only around or towards this snarky, little mechanic

Alix does have to go back to her apprenticeship eventually, so they do spend 6 months apart. They do mail each other letters. Chloe sends Alix scrap metal to make shit with, Alix has flowers sent up north since they tend to die. Oh, and the overly cheesy, grossly romantic letters

They don't meet up again until the final fight segment. So uh. Trying to keep away from too many spoilers for FMA, won't do those unless y'all ask and then I'd give a warning. But there is a big climax fight

So by this point the cat is out of the bag, Alix has shown she can use flame alchemy but she really doesn't do it often cause her mom wouldn't want her to use it violently

But she gotta cause big climax fight. Long story short she ends up super injuring her hand before she meets up with Chloe and they have a moment

Chloe: h-hey! You're here! I missed- oh, darling, what happened to your hand?

Alix: ah, I'm okay, love, I promise. Just, my little sacrifice for the greater good,

And Chloe takes her injured hand and kisses it all sweet,

Felix: what the fuck gross

Fight happens, fight ends, and epilogue. Chloe gets transferred back to the main city where Alix lives, and they move in together over Alix's new automail shop. They ask their friends to help them move in, all without telling them they got married.

Cause they got married

Alix made their rings herself, smelted them with her own flames to honour her mother and all that. Her dad who is alive and shit and back, he signs off on the marriage and that's that they're gross and domestic and in love forever

I hope this is what you were looking for and if not, let me know so I can talk about them even more

[crayonwriting]

01 - Mamma Mia

Summary: Maiko just wanted her good ol’ dad to walk her down the aisle. So, she invited the three men from your past in hopes of meeting him. The only problem was, which one of them is it?

Pairings: Oikawa Tooru x Reader, Bokuto Koutarou x Reader, Kuroo Tetsurou x Reader

Disclaimer: This is based on the movie directed by Phyllida Loyd and written by Catherine Johnson which is inspired by the music of the pop group ABBA.

catch up here!

"Kuroo-san?"

The said man looked up from his desk to his secretary. He was buried deep in paperwork; his sleeves rolled up to his elbows; coat off. He raised an eyebrow in question. The secretary walked into his office and handed him a cream-coloured envelope with a waxed seal. Kuroo flipped the envelope over and there at the back of it was his name, written in perfect penmanship.

“What is this?”

“Came in the mail today. It looks like an invitation of some sort.” The secretary bowed in respect and went out of the room. Kuroo was naturally curious. Without wasting any second he opened the envelope carefully and pulled out its contents. A neatly folded piece of paper was in between his fingers along with a simple, yet elegantly, designed card with the names Umeda Minoru and Obara Maiko, on it.

“A wedding?” He had said out loud. He couldn’t recall knowing anyone with those names. Although, the last name Obara sounded familiar. And he couldn’t even remember any of his friends getting married soon. He flipped open the paper and read the letter.

Hi Tetsurou!

I know it’s been a long time but I hope you can come to Maiko-chan’s wedding. It will be held in Kalokairi. Remember the small island we used to go to?

I hope you can make it.

From, 

Y/N

His heart skipped a small beat as he read your name at the bottom. That’s why the last name was familiar. Obara Y/N. He hasn’t heard anything from you for how many years and now, out of the blue, you invite him to a random girl’s—a relative, maybe? Was she your cousin?—wedding on the island where it all started. Maybe that’s why you invited him? Because the island reminded you of him.

No. That can’t be right. From what he knows, you hated his guts. Hated it since the moment he left you there. But if you were inviting him to a wedding, could it mean that you’re not mad anymore? 

With his mind going miles a minute, he checked the date on the invitation and called his secretary back in to book the soonest flight.

—

Bokuto slipped his shades on as he walked through the docks. He waved at the other boat owners as he passed by them. The sun felt warm on his skin and he just knew that this was gonna be a good day. When he reached his spot, he smiled widely, beaming at the vessel in front of him. 

"Good morning, sunshine." He greeted no one in particular. He hopped onto the deck of his beloved sailboat, running his fingers on the grabrail. He picked up the ropes lying on the ground and prepared the boat for voyage. "We're going on a trip for a few days, my sweet."

Patting his pocket, he pulled out the slightly crumpled envelope out of it. He couldn't help smiling down at the invitation in his hand. It was a bit peculiar to get a letter from you—a wedding invitation no less!—after how many years. Your brief...meeting with him only lasted for a week and yet Bokuto yearned for your presence even after that. 

Sure he's been with his fair share of women over the years but, there was no one quite like you if he had to be honest. Looking back down at the invitation, he was glad it wasn't your wedding you were inviting him to. He couldn't help but think of the 'what ifs' once he gets there…

Excitement pulsing through his veins, he prepared to set off into the sea, back to Greece.

—

"Aeropuerto por favor. Rápido." Oikawa told the cab driver as he got on. The driver understood immediately, despite Oikawa's accent. Soon enough, they were zooming through the city of Buenos Aires. He checked his bag for his passport, wallet and phone. He also caught a glimpse of the envelope he got just two days ago. He hesitated in the slightest before deciding to pull it out and re-reading the letter.

Y/N…., he had thought to himself. If there was one thing Oikawa couldn’t let go of it was volleyball. But if you were thrown into the equation, he just might give it up for you. He didn’t even know what had happened; he just met you one day and boom, he was in love. He loved you with all of his heart and he was willing to follow you wherever you wanted to go. But alas, after that one night, you just decided to disappear, leaving a small note. 

He doesn’t really know why he had said yes to this wedding. He doesn’t know what to expect when he finally gets to Kalokairi. Closure? Rekindling with an old flame? He huffed out, dismissing the idea. Only one thing is for certain: he wanted to see you. So bad.

Letting out a deep sigh, he placed the envelope back in his bag. His palms started growing sweaty at the thought of seeing you in a matter of hours.

—

A shrill scream echoed throughout the docks, catching the attention of the locals. Maiko ran at a fast pace, meeting her friends halfway, who had just got off the small motorboat from the mainland. She got to her friend Nana first,—who was the tallest in their friend group—picking up her tiny frame and spinning her in a hug. She turned to Eri—the toughest of the bunch—and gave her a hug so tight. When they parted, a soft glint on Maiko’s hand caught her friends’ eyes. 

“Maiko-chan!” Nana gushed. She held Maiko’s left hand in hers and there, a small, elegant ring sat on her ring finger, shining under the strong rays of the sun. 

“I’m jealous!” Eri pouted jokingly. “Now, I want one.”

Maiko blushed, trying to cover her face. “Stop it! I’m getting married in a few days!” She squealed in excitement. The three girls picked up the luggages and walked up the dock. Maiko wrapped her arms around both of her friends, feeling giddier than ever.

“I’m so glad you’re both here because…,” she paused, the smile on her face growing, “I have a secret.” Nana and Eri looked at each other. Their eyes grew wide in realization and knelt in front of Maiko. 

“Maiko-chan! You’re already pregnant?!” Eri shrieked. Maiko laughed loudly and dismissed the thought.

“No, no, no! It’s not that.” She grew quiet for a moment, pulling her friends closer. “I invited my dad to the wedding.”

“You’re kidding!”

“You finally found him?”

“Uhh, not exactly.” Her friends were confused. She smiled and led them to a nearby rock by the end of the docks where they sat down. She breathed out a sigh, “You know what my mom says whenever I ask about my dad. They met in the summer, fell in love, but my dad left even before she realized she was pregnant with me. All these years, I’ve accepted that that’s all I’ll never know about him.

“But then,” she rummaged through the tote bag she brought with her, pulling out an old, worn journal. “I found this.” she said, proud.

“What is it?” Eri asked.

“It’s my mom’s old diary the year she was pregnant with me.”

“Oh my god!” Eri sat closer to Maiko as she opened the journal. “So we’re really gonna read Y/N-obasan’s journal?”

“Oh shush.” Nana dismissed, sitting on Maiko’s right side.

“July seventeenth,” Maiko started. “Kuroo—Tetsurou as he insisted to be called—rowed me over to the little island. That’s here, Kalokairi. He took me on a small picnic by the beach. We danced under the moonlight by the beach. He kissed me by the beach and…,” Maiko trailed off. Nana and Eri waited.

“And what?” Nana asked.

“That’s it. They did it.” Maiko wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. Nana and Eri burst out laughing. She smiled and continued reading, “Tetsurou’s the one for me. I just know it. I’ve never felt love like this before.”

“So, this Kuroo-san is your father?” Nana questioned. Maiko eyed her, silently telling her that there was more to the story.

“For the time that we’ve been together, Tetsurou has said he loves me, several times. But now, he’s announced that he’s actually engaged. He just left earlier this morning to get married and...I’m never gonna see him again.”

“Aww, poor obasan.” Nana pouted, sympathizing you.

The three of them continued their trek up the island, while Maiko continued to read out loud the contents of the journal.

“August fourth, what a night! I met someone. Bokuto Koutarou. He was vacationing around the mainland, visiting his aunt. I passed by and everything clicked. He rented a motorboat, so I took him to the little island. Even though I know that I’m still in love with Tetsurou, Kou is just so...WILD!” The trio widened their eyes at the comment. “One thing led to another and…”

“So there’s a Bokuto-san as well?” Maiko just grinned excitedly and continued.

“August eleventh, Oikawa Tooru appeared out of the blue. I saw him struggling to order food from a restaurant so I helped him out. He was on a layover for a flight to Buenos Aires that got delayed for a few days. So I said, why not show him the island. He was so sweet and understanding. And he’s so pretty too! Oh! I couldn’t help it! And…”

They’ve finally reached the top of the island where your villa was. You ran a small hotel on the island, which wasn’t as successful as you thought it would be seeing as there weren’t many tourists and not many people knew about the island itself. Nevertheless, you were able to care for Maiko and that was all that mattered.

“Oh my god!” Eri squealed. “Y/N-obasan was so adventurous wasn’t she?”

“I can’t blame her. I mean have you seen her? She looks good even now!” Nana sighed. A bustling sound was heard from the entrance of the villa, with you appearing not seconds later, a broom in hand. You glanced in their direction. You did a double-take when you saw your daughter’s friends, waving at you. Maiko quickly hid the journal behind her back.

“Oh! You’re here already!” You set the broom by the wall, wiping your hands down on your old overalls. “It’s been so long!”

Nana and Eri walked over to you. You engulfed them in tight hugs and sweet kisses on their cheeks. You held Eri’s face in your palms, brushing her hair away from her face. You turned to Nana, placing a hand on her cheek.

“Look at the both of you! You’re practically all grown up! I remember when you were all wreaking havoc around here.” You beamed at them, proud. “And you look like you’re already having fun!”

“We are!” Eri cheered. You hummed in response. Your mind went somewhere else for a quick moment—a memory—and you mumbled,

“I used to have fun, too.”

“Oh, we know.” Nana quipped. Maiko pinched her arm subtly. You eyed them suspiciously, not really hearing what Nana had said which Maiko was thankful for. 

“Well, I better leave you all to it. I know you have some bridesmaids duties to get to. I’ll see you all later.” You picked up your broom again and disappeared further into the villa.

When they were sure you were gone, the trio breathed out a sigh of relief. Maiko led them to her room for the moment as her friends’ belongings were getting checked into their respective rooms. They rushed inside, away from listening ears and wandering eyes.

“So, who is it?” Nana asked. “Is it Tetsurou-san, Bokuto-san or Oikawa-san?”

Maiko just shrugged her shoulders, laying down on her bed. “I don’t know.”

“Well,” Eri interjected. “Who did you invite?”

Maiko just looked at them expressively. Her smile grew wider as her friends finally realized what she had done. Eri and Nana screamed. They jumped up and down in excitement—and disbelief—at their friend. They knew how impulsive Maiko was but this was just a bit too much, wasn’t it?

“Do they know?” Nana’s eyes had widened.

Maiko rolled her eyes at her. “Of course not. Do you think I can just write to them and say, ‘Please come to my wedding. You might be my father.’? No.” She shook her head. “They think that mom sent the invite. And with what we’ve learned today, they all said yes!”

—

Kuroo was panting heavily as he stared at the ferry not too far from the jetty, buzzing away to Kalokairi. He cursed under his breath kicking at the ground. A few seconds later, another man was beside him, panting just as he was, staring at the ferry. 

“Shit.” Oikawa muttered. Kuroo scoffed and nodded in agreement.

“I know.” He said. Oikawa turned to look at Kuroo, eyeing him up and down. They trudged back to the ticketing booth and checked the schedule for the next available ferry.

“I don’t speak Greek.” Oikawa groaned, not understanding a single thing on the board.

“Deftera.” Kuroo read out loud. “Monday.” 

“Ah, shit.” Oikawa cursed. He hastily opened his bag and pulled out the invitation, checking the date of the wedding. This catches Kuroo’s eyes.

So, he’s here for the wedding too, huh. He thought to himself. “Bride or groom?” He asked the man. Oikawa looked at him, startled. It took him a moment to realize that Kuroo was also going to Kalokairi for the wedding.

“Oh, bride’s.” Oikawa answered. “Although, I haven’t actually met her.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” A loud voice called. “Up here!” Bokuto called, as he was sitting atop of the mast of his boat which was docked near the jetty. Kuroo and Oikawa looked at him, confused. 

“You guys need a ride to Kalokairi?”

taglist: @yikes-buddy​ / @ushi-please​ / @melodiamore​ / @akaashi-todoroki / @honeymoneyy​ / @minty-mangos-world​ /

a/n: thank you so much for all the support (despite me just posting the masterlist.) i’ve re-read and edited this first chapter a lot of times and i hope i’ve met your first expectations for this series. lemme tell you that first chapters are the hardest to do. i apologize if some characters seem out-of-character or weird, especially my OCs. i’m not used to OCs since i’ve only ever written reader inserts. stil, i hope you love them as much as i do!

i actually have no idea how i’m gonna steer this story so, here’s to winging it. haha! leave some comments! i love you all!

[snusbandxknifewife]

Not me seeing this post:

And starting an entirely new Jurdan AU based on it lmao. Rated E for “Excessive Mentioning Of Sex Toys”

~~~

Dun dun.

Jude looks up as the front door of her father’s business, Lawn & Order, opens. The bell, added by her eldest sister in an effort to annoy their father, has been going off all day. Work is piling up on the receptionist desk and she curses to herself, knowing that more paperwork means less time outside.

A USPS delivery man walks in, hauling a hand truck nearly overflowing with boxes. Sweat drips down his face, pooling at his collar as Jude decides that maybe a little time in the AC isn’t too bad on a day as hot as this one.

“Sign here,” the obviously exhausted man says as he turns a clipboard towards her.

Funny, Madoc didn’t tell her they’d be getting a delivery today.

Still, she shrugs and absentmindedly signs the clipboard as the man unloads the hand truck with a dramatic groan. She should get up and help him, and, on any other day, she probably would. But today is for licking wounds and pouting.

The clock ticks quietly as Jude considers how she has to file papers and phone customers and clean the shop, just to go home for family dinner where her sister will undoubtedly be moaning about her cheating ass of an ex.

Not sure why she’s surprised, considering he cheated on JUDE with HER.

Taryn and Locke had been a thing officially for only three months, but they’d been sleeping together behind Jude’s back for much longer than that. The very idea makes her skin crawl and she would much rather spend her valuable time cutting someone’s lawn with nail clippers instead of playing nice with her poor heartbroken witch of a twin.

“Have a good one!” Jude clocks back into reality as the USPS man walks out the door, taking his hand truck with him and leaving her to the quiet of the AC unit and the court room tv playing in the corner.

Sighing, she gets up from her leather stool and walks around the counter to pick up the boxes. They look innocent enough, simple white USPS priority mail boxes that she expects to contain samples of seeds or maybe replacement weed whacking string trimmers. She could use some of those, the weed whacker she takes in her truck hasn’t been working as well as usual and Mrs. Mitsgunmins is kind of an asshole about precision.

She lets out a groan as she picks up the top two. The boxes are a lot heavier than she thought they’d be. Puzzled, she sets the two boxes on the counter, leaving behind the other two as she goes on a hunt for some scissors. Making it almost to her father’s office, she cusses audibly as she remembers the hunting knife she keeps in her boot.

It’s been a long fucking day.

Jude hums along to a commercial as she walks back to the counter, pulling out her knife along the way and slicing the tape of the top box. With a whistle, she opens the box and frowns at finding a bunch of little cardboard boxes stuffed inside. What the hell did Madoc order?

Her whistling stops in horror as she picks up one of the packages and spins it around, only to find bold neon print plastered along the front: XXX RECHARGEABLE NIPPLE CLAMPS

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Jude screeches at the top of her lungs as she drops the box and jumps back. Why the hell does her father need some hundred-or-so sets of rechargeable nipple clamps? Why do nipple clamps even need to be charged in the first place?

Taking a moment to steel herself, Jude moves towards the second box—staying as far away from the nipple clamps as possible—and reads the label for an explanation.

Ohhhh, these are for next door. The delivery man must’ve mixed up the addresses.

Letting out a sigh of relief, she pushes the nipple clamps back into their box and closes the lid, checking the other labels and seeing that all four boxes are meant for next door and thanking her lucky stars that Madoc didn’t suddenly decide to get his kink on.

Looking out across the driveway to the innocuous white building beside Lawn & Order, she rolls her eyes. The Sinful Serpent—complete with its shimmering golden apple sign—has been the bane of her father’s existence since it opened a year ago. Every day she has to hear about how he hates sharing space with some gross sex shop. While adult stores aren’t really Jude’s thing, she hasn’t cared too much because she hasn’t had to interact with the store or owner.

Until, she supposes, today.

She stacks the boxes back up and picks them all up with a grunt, thankful for the workout routine that her work provides as she curses the delivery man for taking his hand truck with him.

Only one car is in the parking lot of the sex shop and she celebrates the fact that nobody will see her going into the store. The last thing she needs is people recognizing her workplace on her shirt and bothering her or her dad. It’s already bad enough listening to old men ogle her when she goes to do landscaping work.

The front door is hooked up to an electronic bell that sounds like the twinkle of magic. As she pushes her way into the Sinful Serpent, she lets out a sound of surprise. Whatever she expected a sex shop to look like, this certainly isn’t it.

The entire store is decorated to look like a forest at twilight, with displays cut into bookshelves that look like giant trees and murals depicting faeries dancing through delicate nature landscapes wrapping around the walls. The lighting is low, except for where spotlights illuminate the wares. Over along one wall, by where the lingerie and exotic dancing costumes are, is a stage with a pole, the whole area bathed in blue light and covered in decor like coral. Between the entrance and exit door, the area for the registers resembles a castle.

“Give me a moment,” a voice calls out from within the castle. “I’ve got to check your ID.”

Jude panics, the very suggestion that she might be a customer in a store like this sending her brain into red alert. “I’m not here to shop!”

“The hell you here for then? Last I checked we didn’t have a gloryhole.”

She all but screams, short circuiting at being faced with a worse option than shopping at a store like this. As she tries to think of what to say, a young man pops up from behind the counter and surveys her, his kohl-lined eyes narrowed as he tries to figure out what her deal is.

He’s dressed in all black, his button up shirt undone halfway down his chest, exposing edges of tattoos that she doesn’t study enough to identify. His bottom lip and septum are pierced, as are his ears—which appear to have been elfed, because they end in sharp points. When he crosses his arms in front of his chest, his fingers are covered in glittering rings.

And he’s grinning at her.

“I uh, um,” she shakes her head, and then remembers the heavy boxes she’s hauled all the way over. “I work next door and, uh, the mailman,” she trails off again, her cheeks flaming as she lowers her voice and mutters, “I think he mixed up our addresses.”

His smile widens and his eyes look dangerous as he tilts his head. “And why would you think that?”

She glares at him and he chuckles lowly.

“We didn’t order these.”

“Can you be sure?” He asks, raising one painted nail to tap thoughtfully against his chin. “A landscaping company and adult entertainment store must have some overlap. Ropes and chains come to mind.”

“We don’t need rechargeable nipple clamps!”

“Everybody needs rechargeable nipple clamps,” he counters, his smirk replaced by reverent intensity.

She lets out a frustrated noise and slams the boxes on the counter, her back cracking in protest. “I don’t!”

“Woah! Stow the seriosity, Sunshine,” he lifts his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just playing with you.”

Grinding her teeth and digging her nails into her palms, she does her very best to keep from choking him out as he leans across the counter, his falling shirt collar exposing a necklace with a snake pendant hanging at his sternum.

She goes to spin on her heel and leave, but stops when a door—hidden behind a painting of a faun and nymph doing unspeakable things—opens, revealing a pretty young woman with blue hair pulled up into a messy bun.

“Cardan I can’t find the damn nipple clamps. I thought they were supposed to be delivered today?”

“Don’t worry, Nic,” the young man calls back with a smile. “Sunshine here brought them over.”

Jude, bristling at the title, misses how the woman momentarily blanches when she lays eyes on her. Quickly recovering and putting on a stony face, she walks over to the castle counter and inspects the opened box.

“You look familiar,” she observes and Jude zeroes in on her carefully cool tone. “Don’t you work at that coffee shop downtown? Bean There, Done That?”

“You’re thinking of my twin, Taryn.” Jude bites her tongue, doing her beat to avoid sounding annoyed at being confused with that backstabbing little—

“Sunshine here is our neighbor, Nicasia,” Cardan cheerfully announces. “She got our order and was kind enough to haul it over.”

“My name is Jude,” she grumbles.

He ignores her, leaning in conspiratorially and stage whispering in Nicasia’s ear. “She has insisted that she doesn’t need rechargeable nipple clamps, so surely they must belong to us.”

“Everyone needs rechargeable nipple clamps,” Nicasia whispers back.

“That’s what I said!”

Jude, rooted in place from the pure horror of listening to this conversation, watches as Cardan picks up a pair of scissors and opens a second box; pulling out a pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs and grinning when he notices her watching him. Nicasia raises a perfectly groomed brow at the situation before grabbing the box of nipple clamps and heading to restock the shelves.

Once again, he leans forward, fingers spinning the handcuffs around as he smirks at her. “Now that the packages are handled, what can I do you for?”

Jude frowns, sure that he misspoke. It’s then that her phone goes off and she celebrates any excuse to get the fuck out.

Emergency situation at Dr. Wullworth’s. Need you to take over cutting at the Collethes. -Madoc

“I’m good, I’ve got a lawn to trim,” she says, turning off her phone and tucking it back into her pocket.

“Awe, Sunshine, you ain’t gotta clean up for me.”

She tilts her head in confusion before shrugging and turning to leave.

“Gotta go out the other door, Sunshine,” he sighs, almost like he’s disappointed. Weird.

Jude still tries the door, but it won’t open from this side, so she grabs ahold of her pride and walks around the castle counter, moving as quickly as she can and keeping her head down to avoid getting any further education.

“Bye,” she waves her hand awkwardly as she hits the exit door.

“Bye, Sunshine.”

~~~~~

Mostly setup for the AU. Yes all the last names are keysmashes. Yes I did go on early 2 bed’s website and choose random buttons until I found a sex toy that seemed a little odd. (The nipple clamps are rechargeable because they vibrate.) Big thanks to the discord server for helping me with ideas!

Tag list: @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @hizqueen4life @slightlyrebelliouswriter23 @thewickedkings @aelin-queen-of-terrasen @cheekycheekycheeks @queen-of-glass @b00kworm @doingmyrainbow @andromeddea @jurdanhell @thesirenwashere @illyrianwitchling @courtofjurdan @clockworkgraystairs @st00pid231 @booksandlewks @fateandluminary

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

[fatesdeepdive]

Entry 25: Oops! All Supports Volume #3

You know the drill. Let’s get some more Supports done. I’ve got about 100 Hoshido Supports left and only seven more story chapters, so I’m not sure where I’ll find the time to write them.

Support: Kaden/Sakura

C: Kaden finds Sakura taking a nap and asks her to become a napping buddy.

B: Sakura and Kaden take a nap together in a meadow. Sakura falls asleep petting Kaden.

A: Sakura says she feels bad for taking naps during a war, but Kaden convinces her that napping will help them fight better.

S: Sakura reveals that she can no longer sleep without Kaden by her side. The two of them start dating, and also presumably start sleeping together in the other way.

Review: A decent, cute fluff Support.

Support: Oboro/Saizo

C: Oboro, disgusted by Saizo’s bad fashion, decides to make him look nicer.

B: Saizo runs away from Oboro as she tries to rip off his clothes and replace them with nicer ones.

A: Saizo, after being asked by Ryoma to attend a royal ceremony, begrudgingly apologizes and asks Oboro for help.

S: Oboro asks if Ryoma is the person who is most important to Saizo, then throws a fit when he says he is, because she’s in love with him and wants to be the most important person to him. Saizo says he likes her too, which is nice and all, but Oboro is acting really clingy for someone who hasn’t even started dating Saizo yet.

Review: A very fun Support Line, Oboro’s grating behavior during the S-Rank notwithstanding.

Support: Hinata/Sakura

C: Sakura is nervous after almost dying in battle. Hinata tells her that enemies always go for the weak link, which must make Sakura’s anxiety skyrocket, and offers to train her to be tougher.

B: Hinata begins training Sakura, who struggles to appear tough.

A: Hinata ends up getting hurt, because enemies attack strategically instead of avoiding people who look confident. Sakura whines about not being useful because all she does is heal and Hinata reassures her.

S: The two of them get together.

Review: Not bad. Sakura trying to be tough is fun, as is Hinata terrifying her out of stupidity. The S-Rank is really bland, though.

Support: Takumi/Rinkah

C: Takumi and Rinkah, both being assholes, get into a fight with each other. Takumi asks how secure the Flame Tribe’s alliance with Hoshido is and Rinkah grumbles about how she wishes the Flame Tribe was still independent.

B: Takumi finds Rinkah cooking for herself in the middle of the woods. They bicker some more.

A: Takumi kills a deer and gives it to Rinkah as a thank you for allying with Hoshido. Rinkah begrudgingly admits that she and Takumi make a good team.

S: Takumi and Rinkah continue hunting together. Takumi proposes to Rinkah using a precious Flame Tribe jewel given to Sumeragi years prior.

Review: An okay Support. The dialogue is good and Takumi and Rinkah bounce off each other decently well, but I wish it went further into Rinkah’s thoughts on the alliance.

Support: Hinoka/Subaki

C: Hinok and Subaki talk about how, when he trained Hinoka to be a pegasus knight, he taught her to calm her anger and bond with her steed.

B: Subaki reminds Hinoka of a time when, after Sakura got lost in the woods, Subaki stopped her from flying through a storm and saved Sakura himself.

A: Subaki and Hinoka discuss how the new recruits admire them.

S: Subaki asks Hinoka for romantic advice. She reveals she's never had a boyfriend, which is good for Subaki because he has a crush on her. The two of them hook up so they can lead the next generation together.

Review: Not bad. A bit bland, but it gave some good backstory information and Subaki was much less arrogant than normal.

Support: Orochi/Ryoma

C: Orochi shows off her divination cards, which were made by Kagero, a nice detail that connects this to other Supports. Orochi points out that Ryoma is dull and stern, and promises to make him laugh.

B: Orochi tells Ryoma stories about Mikoto and Kagero. They aren't that funny. Ryoma smirks.

A: Ryoma requests Orochi tell him more stories about things he hasn't noticed.

S: Ryoma asks Orochi to marry him because Orochi makes him feel like a more complete person. Also Orochi keeps talking in third person, a character trait that is annoyingly inconsistent.

Review: Not awful, but also not particularly memorable.

Support: Hayato/Mozu

C: Mozu asks Hayato to give her a charm that will make her less nervous during battle.

B: Hayato gives Mozu the charm. Mozu asks him if it's just a magic feather and he insists it's real.

A: Mozu's charm has been working perfectly, so she asks Hayato if he wants to mass produce them. Hayato explains that the magic doesn't work that way.

S: Hayato does the obligatory "I've always loved you" thing and Mozu says yes because he's dependable.

Review: Just okay. After reading this a few times, I’m still not sure if Hayato’s charms are real or not.

Support: Hana/Silas

C: Silas tells Hana that he's disappointed by how weak she is in battle. Hana retorts that she fights to protect Sakura, and Silas says that Sakura must not be fighting for, which pisses Hana off. Silas is weirdly mean in this one.

B: Hana criticizes Silas's fighting and the two of them argue about who is more loyal to their respective princess. Hana, being Hana, suggests they spar to find out who’s more dedicated.

A: The two of them draw and note that their constant sparring has made them stronger.

S: Silas proposes to Hana. She assumes he's trying to throw off her balance with the ring, which is funny. The two of them spar to decide who likes the other more.

Review: Not awful, but Silas was an asshole in the first conversation. Also I’m pretty sure this is like the third Hana conversation where she marries someone after sparring with them a bunch.

Support: Kagero/Silas

C: Silas sees Kagero making a flower arrangement. Silas, a Nohrian noble, is fascinated by how different and scary Hoshidan art is.

B: Kagero makes a cup of tea that looks and smells evil. Silas runs away.

A: Kagero makes a terrifying portrait of Silas. He calls it ugly, she gets upset, and he explains that he also sucks at painting.

S: Silas, after mailing Kagero’s paintings to his family, nobility of the nation he is rebelling against who could probably use the letters to track the army down, proposes to Kagero. Apparently, his parents think that Kagero’s art is just Hoshidan weirdness and accept their marriage.

Review: A decent Support. Part of the problem with Kagero Supports is that the audience can’t see her horrid art, but in this one there were at least good descriptions of how horrible it is. I like the idea of Nohrians being really into Kagero’s art, because Nohr as a culture seems to love spooky nightmare stuff.

Support: Azama/Felicia

C: Azama asks Felicia what it's like to be devoted to another person. Felicia explains that thinks it's natural to want to help people out. Azama is confused by this, so Felicia offers to let him work as a maid for a while.

B: Felicia attempts to teach Azama how to be a maid. Unfortunately, she's Felicia, so it goes very poorly.

A: Azama yells at Felicia while she works so she doesn't mess up. Felicia says that he's been a big help, and he has a breakdown over becoming a better person.

S: They get together.

Review: It’s weird, a lot of these raise questions about devotion then abandon them to play with characters’ quirks. Hana/Silas did the same thing. Setting that aside, this one is fine but forgettable.

[the-curse-of-fantasy]

Hateful Love - Chapter 1 (Draco Malfoy)

Draco had his chin in the palm of his hand as he was staring at the empty spot opposite him at the Slytherin table. That spot would normally be filled with a girl.

 A girl with long, jet black straight hair and beautiful sea green eyes that would change to a dark forest green if she got angry. She had no blemishes and hardly any scars on her face, she had a few freckles scattered along her skin but they were hardly noticeable. Her skin was always glowing clear and was smooth to touch. Her smile seemed to be perfect and bright, as well as infectious to a few people. She wasn’t short, she was average height with a beautiful figure. Curves in every right area. Nothing too visual under her robe which had always seemed to be slightly too big for her hands. 

She was as clever as the devil and as twice as pretty. Everything she does comes from within. From dark impulse. I guess that’s what makes her so thrilling to watch. So dangerous. Even perfect at times, but also so damn destructive. She will not dance on edge with you. She’ll push you off then jump with a smile on her face.

Do as she says, and your life might just be spared. 

She may look like your ordinary Hogwarts student but there are some dark secrets behind those sea green eyes and her bright smile. 

If you were one of the idiots that thought this girl couldn’t cause trouble then you have thought wrong. She is heartless, cold, deadly, troubled, violent, chaotic, destructive, mischievous and sinned.  

Don’t underestimate her. She may be 5ft 5 and have bright sea green eyes, soft and smooth skin, an adorable laugh, a strong and smart mind, small and delicate hands, a cute smile and a soft voice when spoken but behind all things small and wonderful is something so much darker.

Her height of 5ft 5 somehow made her seem intimidating to others if they crossed the line, those outstanding sea green eyes could turn dark and burn into anyone's skin with distaste, her adorable laugh would change into a chuckle that had “chaos” written all over it, her strong and smart mind would be used to her advantage and she would shatter every piece of their ego. Her small and delicate hands would become heavy and strong if she needed to fight. Her cute smile would twist devilish and behind it you could see that she was planning something mischievous and her soft voice would turn harsh if she raised it. 

She could be mean as heck, sweet as sugar, evil as hell, cold as ice, or loyal like a soldier. It all depends on you. You are either on her side, by her side, or in her way. Choose wisely. She came into the world screaming and kicking, covered in someone else blood, she has no problem going out that way. The more silent she is, the more dangerous she can me. She came from hell, returning is like a family reunion. 

She has flowers in her hair, demons in her head, adrenaline in her veins, madness in her mind, love in her soul and a storm in her heart. She will mess you up with no hesitation. She is a whole bunch of hot psycho. No one in Hogwarts would dare look at her the wrong way. 

She’s just a little girl with a crazy attitude, and a desire for aggression. 

Bailey was sat in the small, abandoned and cold cabin in the middle of some thick woods. She was sat at the breaking table with her chin in the palm on her hand and her eyes on the life outside the shattered window. A small cut on her lip, a cut on her forehead and bruise on her cheekbone from a previous fight she got into. 

She looked away from the window and down at the letter from Hogwarts which was from a certain boy with blue mesmerising eyes and hair white as snow. The letter read;

Dear Coleman, 

I know your probably no where near done, but I needed to write to you. I needed to make sure you’re okay. Well, I need to know that you’re alive. I couldn’t think of a world where your not here. You were never suppose to mean this much to me; I was never supposed to fall so hard. But you know what? I did, and that's the truth, that's what keeps me holding on because it hurts like hell trying to let you go. I just wish you were here so I could tell you how much I need you and how hard everyday has been without you. 

There’s a thousand reasons why I shouldn’t like you as much as I do but... I can’t think of one. I don’t want to. It hurts me the most because I know we won’t be able to be anything other than enemies. We’ve been brainwashed to hate each other but... I guess there’s something stronger than manipulation. Please, stay safe, be careful out there. 

- Malfoy. 

Bailey shook her head slightly as she let out a shaky sigh and swallowed a lump in her throat. She picked up a piece of cream coloured paper from the dusty and rubble floor and straightened it out on the table. Bailey grabbed the closest object to write with and started writing her letter in response. She wrote a few single sentences that would break his heart. She didn’t want to break his heart or hurt him in any way. Once she finished writing the last word, she dropped the utensil on the table and folded the letter. She slid the paper into an envelope and walked out the room and towards the fire place. She grabbed a piece of string from the mantle piece above the crackling orange fire and looked down at her dinosaur bone and meteorite ring which was plated with silver. She twisted it around her middle finger before tugging it off with a bit of struggle. She laced the ring onto the string and tied it at the end to form a loop. She put the make-shift necklace into the envelope and pulled the sealing flap down. 

She grabbed an orange candle stick and crouched down in the floor before dropping the letter onto the pile of dust. Bailey glanced at the burning fire before she reached her hand out to touch it. An ember landed on the palm of her hand and before Bailey could hiss in any kind of pain, a single yellow flame was in her hand. She held onto the candle stick with the hand with the flame and waited for the end to start melting and the wax dripped onto the seal of the envelope. Once there was a decent amount of wax on the paper, she dropped the candle stick and ripped a charm off of her bracelet and pressed it into the wax to seal the envelope. After a few seconds, she pulled the charm off and tossed it onto the ground before her thoughts got interrupted by the sound of glass smashing coming from the kitchen. 

Bailey grabbed the letter and hesitantly stood up as she started cautiously walking towards the kitchen. Bailey looked around before putting her hand on her Blackthorn wood wand, ready to draw at any danger. She hesitantly pushed open the door to find an owl with the feathers of an autumn sunset, flying around, knocking over glasses and cups. 

Bailey-”Dexter”

It looked at Bailey until it came in contact with a wall and fell to the floor. Bailey rolled her eyes while taking her hand off her wand and walked over to the owl. 

Bailey-”What am I going to do with you?”

The owl stood up onto it’s feet again and spread it’s wings. Bailey smiled slightly and ran her finger down it’s body. The owl carefully took the letter from Bailey’s grasp and flew out the window and went on it’s way to Hogwarts. 

Back at Hogwarts, everyone was still sat in The Great Hall, eating breakfast. Only Draco seemed to notice how long the day’s have been. How tired he’s been getting from the day’s dragging on. But, no matter what, he could never get a good nights sleep. He was always bothered by something. People were engulfed in conversations and it was like no one even remembered Bailey existed. They got taken away from their socialising by someone pointing out the owls flying through with the mail. Everyone looked up with their hands out, waiting for something to be dropped in front of them. Ron and Hermione got their usual mail form their parents and Harry borrowed Ron’s standard newspaper. 

Seamus-”Hey, isn’t that Bailey Coleman’s owl?”

The golden trio and the students around them looked up at the gorgeous coloured owl gliding through the room. 

Harry-”What’s it doing here? She never get’s mail. Ever”

Ron-”Maybe she’s delivering”

Hermione-”Everyone here hates her. Who would she be delivering to?”

Ron shrugged his shoulders as he looked back at his letter and Hermione and Harry mirrored his actions. Draco got taken aback when the owl landed in front of him. Draco took his hand away from his face and hesitantly grabbed a hold of the other end of the envelope while the owl gently let go of the paper. The owl flew up into the air and followed the rest of the owls out of the castle.

Draco looked down at the paper and carefully opened it. He pulled the folded paper out of the envelope and unfolded it to read. His eyes were full of joy but that quickly changed when he read those few single sentences that broke his heart. 

Dear Malfoy,

The most painful goodbyes are the ones that are never said and never explained.  One day, this pain will make sence to you.

- Coleman

He swallowed a small lump in his throat as his body ached. He felt sick to his stomach as his chest tightened. He looked around The Great Hall and to his luck, he saw no one looking in his direction. He was happy that no one could see the pain in his eyes. He went to put the letter back in the envelope but felt something inside. He pulled the string out and on the end saw Bailey’s ring she’s worn since she was five-years-old. The ring was a prize possession. It was the only thing left of her fathers. The only thing she had of his, to remember him by, was now in Draco’s hands. He twisted the ring in his fingers a few times before closing his hand around it and letting out a shaky breath.

________________________________________________________________This is Part 1 of a short story I’m working on. Again, I’m writing this with 1 follower. Which, I was very excited to receive so, thank you! Uh, if you would like to read this, then please do and tell me if you like it, lend tips if they are needed. I’m currently working on Part 2. This is not a requested piece of work, this is me writing out of pure boredom and letting my mind run wild while I type random words and hope they develop into something. I hope you enjoy it and have a good day. 

Bye! 

[queen-susans-revenge]

Ingrid Seward and her Smear Campaign Against the Duchess of Sussex

The astonishing and unabating waves of vitriol and misogynoir directed against Meghan, Duchess of Sussex in the British tabloids are really something; yesterday Elton John took to Twitter to denounce “these relentless and untrue assassinations on their character that are spuriously crafted on an almost daily basis.” He was including Harry in his remarks, but the truth is that the vast majority of the press attacks are directed at Meghan.  They began when her engagement was announced, with such odious headlines as the Daily Mail’s “Harry’s Girl Is (Almost) Straight Outta Compton -- Gang-Scarred Home of Her Mother Revealed - So Will He Be Dropping By for Tea?” and they have never let up. (As it turns out, yes, the Duke and his mother-in-law visit frequently. She usually comes to them though, because they are a prince and a princess who live in a frickin’ castle--okay okay, on the grounds of a frickin’ castle--and can’t go anywhere without a paparazzi mob.) Both the elegant and impressive Doria Ragland and her equally elegant and graceful daughter have borne the onslaught in silent dignity. It has been so ugly and unjust that the American press, and many in Hollywood, are now pushing back: Vanity Fair, The Washington Post, and Harper’s Bazaar, among other outlets, have published stories that all come to the obvious answer:

One interesting thing for Sussex fans, is that when you read the latest trash hit against Meghan, it’s often the same people saying the terrible things. Which then the other tabloids will pounce on and regurgitate and spin up into a fresh cycle of “controversy.” Piers Morgan is perhaps the most obvious culprit. A lot of the Meghan-bashing stuff comes from that douchebag. But he at least has been appropriately challenged: Jameela Jamil accurately called him “a slut-shaming, fat-shaming, misogynist, irrelevant shit stain, smeared across our country.”  Friends, netizens, fellow blanket goblins. I am not here to talk about Piers Morgan. I am here to talk about someone that I don’t think has been named and shamed enough, because just as many of these ugly stories planted in the press turn out to come from her. This is a callout post for Ingrid Seward.

Who is Ingrid Seward? She is a wretched fucking harpy, and also the editor in chief of Majesty magazine--which seems to be an online-only webzine with about the same production values as your local supermarket flyer? Anyway, nine times out of ten when a “royal expert” launches an attack on Meghan, it’s Ingrid Seward. Here’s a gallery of her greatest hits: *  Remember that whole business when Meghan came out after Archie’s birth for Trooping the Color, and people noticed she’d changed up the band of her engagement ring? At the time Ingrid Seward had a lot of sneering things to say about that, quotes that got picked up and cycled through a bunch of different outlets: “I find it a bit odd Meghan would want to alter a ring that her husband had especially designed for her...A royal engagement ring is a piece of history not a bit of jewelry to be updated when it looks old fashioned.” The implication of course here being that Meghan is not really one of us, she doesn’t understand the significance--Harry designed that ring with Diana’s stones, she’s desecrating it! (Never mind that it’s her damn ring, and that any alterations Meghan makes to her jewelry will simply add to the heritage and historicity of the pieces.) But it gets better! * So then it came out that Harry had the band changed, actually, because he gave her a second ring when Archie was born and he wanted her to be able to wear them stacked. Was there any apology from Ingrid? No, of course not. She’d successfully planted one wave of bad stories about Meghan, and she’d moved on to the next wave--the christening. * Right, remember all the kerfluffle around how Meghan and Harry wouldn’t allow press photographers at the christening? I’m not gonna say this one was entirely orchestrated by Ingrid, but man does it have her fingerprints all over it: she was very intentional about fanning up the flames of criticism, and very successful at it too. Here’s a quote from one representative bitchy piece in the Express: “Ingrid Seward, editor-in-chief of Majesty Magazine, said she felt that people were becoming a 'bit jaded' by 'stylised' pictures of the newest royal. 'I think what people want and what people are used to seeing are lovely family images of the baby in the royal Honiton lace christening gown. They won't want an arty Instagram shot of Archie's foot three days later if it's left up to the couple themselves to take pictures and release them,' she said, referring to a Mother's Day shot issued by the couple of their son on social media." * She doesn’t name Meghan directly here, but it’s exactly the same implication as before--Meghan doesn’t understand the significance. Her Hollywood, Instagram, American style marks her as not one of us. * And as usual once she’d successfully planted one negative quote somewhere, it would get picked up and amplified by other outlets. E! Online ran a piece that quoted her appearance on the Today show: "I've covered five or six christenings during my royal career and I've never come across such secrecy," Majesty magazine editor-in-chief Ingrid Seward said on Today.” The headline for the E! Online article was “The Archie Christening Controversy: Why Meghan Markle and Prince Harry Are Under Fire Yet Again.” Like yeah okay they are, but at some point don’t we get to talk about the fact that it’s always the same little squad doing the firing? * Of course in the end what Meghan and Harry actually released were lovely family images of the baby in the royal Honiton lace christening gown, just like Ingrid Seward said she wanted. 

* Was she happy? * No. Her success at generating negative coverage for the Sussexes has only made her bolder. “I would think it might bother William a little bit, because he might see the way that Harry and Meghan do things as being detrimental to the business of the monarchy as a whole,” Ingrid Seward revealed in the British documentary titled ‘William & Harry: Princes At War?’ as reported by UK’s Daily Mail on Monday.” * You can see how she gets the media machine to spin up and regurgitate and repackage her smears. That quote was actually from a Fox News piece: “Meghan Markle and Prince Harry’s ‘detrimental’ behavior ‘might bother’ Prince William, claims royal expert.” * So one bad quote from Ingrid Seward generates negative TV and press coverage along many outlets. And she’s usually just referred to as a “royal expert,” which makes her fly under the radar more than Piers Morgan. But she is the news here! There’s no actual story about William: this entire news cycle of negative coverage is generated by Ingrid Seward, just like previous bad news cycles have been spun up by her. * She never retracts her criticisms even when repeatedly proven incorrect (as with the ring and the christening photos), and other journos never stop quoting her, either. * Here’s more from her: “And of course William and Kate would have quite naturally thought, ‘Oh, she’s been married before, she’s older than Harry, I hope she’s going to make him happy.’ Anyone would think that.” No, you fucking harpy, normal people just thought “what a lovely young couple!”

* I think it is honestly very reasonable to ask why the editor in chief of Majesty magazine appears to be orchestrating a smear campaign against the Duchess of Sussex. Isn’t she supposed to be a royal fan? Aren’t we all supposed to be celebrating the pretty dresses and the sparkly tiaras? Because that’s what I’m here for. But not Ingrid. Ingrid is here for something very calculated, and very ugly.

[dillinger]

MICHELLE LAMY

MONTAGE OF A DREAM DEFERRED

After nine years and 45 exhibitions, Red Bull Space Paris is moving to new digs – but not before ceding the floor to an exceptional woman, Michèle Lamy, for one last event. The collaborative and protean sound installation, to be shown during RBMA Festival Paris, will be our farewell to Rue du Mail. 

As one of fashion's last true eccentrics, Lamy needs no introduction. Over the course of their 27-year partnership, she and husband Rick Owens have been essential in bringing radicality back into the fashion limelight.

At 1,600 years of age (as she likes to repeat,) she remains a fantastical figure, with her jewel-encrusted gold teeth, black-tipped fingers studded with esoteric rings, and trademark “third eye” highlighting her own – steel-blue – eyes. A veritable creature of her own making, she is a cross between witch, shaman and gypsy, all the while maintaining one foot in the world of art, another in fashion, one hand in design and another in architecture – her head swirling with music.

Ripped out of her bucolic Jura upbringing by the May 68 upheaval, the student of Deleuze soon embarked on a myriad of adventures. After stints as a law student, stripper, performer and (conventional) dancer, she left France at the dawn of the 1970s for the United States, drawn by its counter-culture like a moth to a flame: “I was fascinated by American music, literature, and culture. I was in love with Bob Dylan and his unusual phrasing, his way of using language,” she recalls. “Either way, French culture, for me, ended with Proust. It was American literature and music that raised me. I went from May 68 to Studio 54!” Her California dreaming of a bohemian life, surrounded by her idols, like transgender provocateur Vaginal Davis, or fashion freak Leigh Bowery, quickly became a one-way ticket for L.A., where she set up her own fashion line, LAMY, alongside a restaurant, "Les Deux Cafés," located in a former Las Palmas parking lot, with its kitchen across the street – providing a de-facto spectacle in the form of its waiters crossing the street to serve their clients. 

The Café provided Los Angeles with its much-needed push into renewed relevance, drawing in a high-and-low crowd ranging from the most exotic freaks of the 90s underground to Madonna (who stopped in to celebrate a Grammy win,) and Sharon Stone, who regaled guests with impromptu musical numbers. Yet “Les Deux Cafés” was also home to a cabaret, where everything became possible, and where Michèle would satisfy her other, more secret passion for music: “It was [70s LGBT figurehead] Hélène Hazera who made everything click for me when I was hanging out with her and the rest of the Gazolines gang in the 70s,” recalls Michèle. “She told me my voice sounded like Marianne Oswald's. She played me one of the singer's songs, which was written for her on the back of a napkin by Langston Hughes. That's how I discovered this sublime poet.” Hughes, the charismatic gay poet who has been a central figure of the 1920s Harlem Renaissance, has haunted Lamy ever since, prompting her to keep his poetry vital with her own musical adaptations. 

Under the masterful direction of Bobby Woods, the Deux Cafés Cabaret quickly became a den of possibility – and extremes. “Our band was called the Deux Love Orchestra, a sort of house band to the restaurant,” explains Bobby. “Our weekend shows, which eventually became a weekly packed-house kind of affair, would go on into the early morning, and feature lots of renowned surprise guests. Larry Klein, who won a bunch of Grammys, was part of the band, and his ex-wife Joni Mitchell stopped by to sing a few times, as did Boy George. It was incredible, a hot mess – one time, a bunch of lambs even joined the party! But the highlight was always Michèle's performance. Her smoky voice converged with the lyrics and poetry to create a surreal atmosphere, and the whole audience was subjugated. We recorded a number of LPs, some of them live from the Cabaret. At the time, Michèle and Rick lived in his apartment across the street, which only had a toaster for a kitchen – so all dinners where toast-based. Rick started having runway shows in the Cabaret, with the Deux Love Orchestra providing the soundtrack as the models worked the catwalk.”

In 2003, Lamy would turn the page on her L.A. adventure and move to Paris with Owens, who remains one of the fashion's capital most audacious figures. The couple moved into the “Palais,” an immense town house just a stone's throw from the National Assembly, that was once the property of the Socialist Party. The unreal palace was designed, decorated and organized from floor to ceiling as per the couple's wishes: raw concrete walls left bare or covered in artwork, African busts and brutalist furniture – and, of course, a pulsating electronic soundtrack. Thus opened a new chapter in Lamy's life, which she would summarize with grace in an Oyster Magazine interview: “In my twenties, I wanted to escape my rich provincial upbringing, so I abandoned studies as a defence attorney to striptease. I was involved in the May, 1968 protests in Paris, and in the early seventies I wanted to be Bob Dylan. My thirties were spent living the Californian Dream surrounded by artists, and giving birth to my daughter Scarlett Rouge. My forties were an entrepreneurial era in Los Angeles where I met my honey, Rick Owens, and I will spend my fifties enjoying life with him.”

Over the last decade, Michèle, who listens only to electronic music and hip-hop, has become a muse for some of today's most brilliant musicians. She thus collaborated with artist Matthew Stone and gay rapper Zebra Katz for one of Owens' shows; was featured as an unnaturally magnetic figure in the video for FKA Twigs' M3LL155X; commissioned food-based music from UNKLE's James Lavelle for her Bargenale multimedia installation at the 2015 Venice Biennale; shared a passion for boxing with Mos Def; got involved in the creative process of A$AP Rocky's “At. Long. Last. A$AP” – even if she regrettably failed to put him in a dress; she scored hip-hop darling Dexter Navy's “Paris Now – Saint” short for Red Bull Music Academy; guested on Tangiers’ latest “Black Asteroid”; produced and starred in the video for Christeene's “Butt Muscle”. And of course, she counts Kanye West as one of her die-hard fans: “we get along famously,” she laughs. “He thinks he's white, and I think I'm black!”

The renaissance woman/modern-day muse could not refuse Red Bull Studios Paris invitation to record a score for her installation “Montage of a Dream Deferred,”which she created as a living homage to Langston Hughes. “But I am not a singer, or a musician, or a composer. Music for me is a meeting of the minds, a matter of performance, collaboration – and whimsy,” claims Michèle. “So, I jumped at the opportunity to take part in this project, without really having an idea of what I would do. At the same time, the contemporary artist Nico Vascellari invited me to collaborate with him on his Scholomance show at the Palais de Tokyo. That's how the idea for this collaboration took shape.”

It was thus in the intimate atmosphere of Red Bull Studios Paris that the Lavascar project was born: eight tracks full of brutal percussion and industrial soundscapes amid which Michèle's voice, all the way to her demonic laughter, takes on a new spatiality: “Michèle gave me her full support and trust,” says Vascellari, “and I told her I wanted to work with her on something very primitive and intuitive, based on rhythm and vocals, which, in a way, are humanity's first instruments. But I also wanted to try and capture what is inexpressible about her, her incredible presence and magnetism. As she moved and danced in the studio, her rings and jewelry would knock against each other, and I felt it necessary to document and record this energy. Now, when I listen to these eight tracks, the image that comes to mind is of Michèle in a cave, surrounded by wild animals raring to eat her alive, and with only her noise and her poetry to keep them at bay.”

Montage of a Dream Deferred, an exhibition and recording by Michèle Lamy, in collaboration with Nico Vascellari, Matthew Stone, Matt Lambert, Scarlett Rouge. Limited edition vinyl (500 copies,) available at the opening. 

From september 25th to october 20th Opening reception september 25th 6pm-9pm ​Red Bull Space Paris, 12 rue du Mail, 75002 Paris

[spaz8550]

Stay

Ch 37

By 8 that night the last of the guests were gone and after a few cleaning spells Sinead's house was back to it's original condition. Trent had offered to take Danny into London with them since he was flying out early the next morning.

"You take care of yourself." Danny said pulling Sinead into a tight hug. Unlike all her other friends, Danny wasn't thrilled with the idea of her working at Hogwarts.

"Danny, it's perfectly safe. I'm safer there then here."

"At least here you're close to Maggie, Bill, Trent, and Sophia."

"Danny, please I don't want to argue with you."

"Fine, call me or e-mail if you need anything and I'll be on the next flight."

"Your going to be far too busy with your clients to worry about me. Anyway I'm having dad and Uncle G come out for Thanksgiving so Jerry and Becs will feel more at home if you'd like to come."

"I'll see how work is going. Maybe it's better if I come for Christmas."

Sinead shook her head.

"I need to get changed so I can go."

"Alright, talk to you soon." He kissed her forehead as Sophia forced him into the floo with Danny.

"See you later." Sophia said watching the green flames take her husband away. She then entered the fireplace with Danny's bag and was gone moments later.

Sinead hurried getting ready and then walked outside to apparate into London. She apparated not far from the first stop on the list and made her way into the station looking around and not seeing Harry, it was listed that her frequented the cafes and when she found it empty Sinead moved on to the second stop. She smirked seeing Harry chatting to a girl who worked in the cafe. After giving him some time to talk to her Sinead made her way inside.

"Sinead, what are you doing here?" Harry asked.

"I've come to get you. Our presence is requested by your Headmaster." Harry glanced at the girl who was filling up someone else's coffee.

"Come on, we're going to be late." Harry followed Sinead out of the cafe and she lead him to an area which was darker.

"Take my arm, we're going to apparate."

Harry took Sinead's arm and when he opened his eyes they were in a small village and Albus Dumbledore was standing before them.

"Come, we are on a tight schedule." Albus led the way to a house. 

"Horace!" He asked walking inside to see the house destroyed.

Sinead's wand was out and she was standing in front of Harry. Albus spotted a chair and poked it. The chair transformed back into a man.

"Let me begin the introductions. Harry and Sinead, this is an old colleague and friend Horace Slughorn. Horace, you no doubt know who Harry is and I'm betting you know of Sinead's work."

"Sinead…..Sinead O'Neil? I hear you just opened a shop in Hogsmeade, it's a pleasure to meet both you and Harry." He said shaking their hands.

"Glad to meet you." Sinead said with a smile.

"Mind if I use the loo?" Albus said as Horace pointed in towards the back of the house.

"Harry, I taught your mother. She was one of my more talented students. See, she's right here on the front of the bunch." Horace pointed out a few important people as Harry looked on slightly impressed.

"Horace, do you mind if I take this? I do love knitting patterns." Albus said holding up a muggle knitting magazine. "Come Harry and Sinead. We should be going?"

"So soon? You just got here."

"I know a lost cause when I see one. Maybe Sinead will be willing to take the position of Potions Mistress, I already offered her a part time position and-"

"I accept but I want a raise and Professor Merrythought's old office."

"Thank you, Horace. I think that you'll find Sinead to be a great help." Albus escorted Sinead and Harry outside.

"Do you need me-"

"If you could take Harry to the Weasley's." Sinead nodded as Albus disappeared.

"Ready?" Sinead asked as Harry took her arm. They apparated on the edge of the Weasley's property and Sinead lowered the wards to let them in. As they entered the kitchen Molly came bustling over.

"Oh Harry, welcome." She said hugging him and sending him upstairs.

"Everything ok?"

"Yes, we were just recruiting a Potions professor."

"You?" Molly asked beaming.

"No, not me. Horace Slughorn is returning to his old post."

"It still makes me feel better with you on the grounds even if it is part time."

"I should be getting home, I have a lot to get to tomorrow."

"Ok, thank you for the party today. It's the first time in awhile that I have seen everyone so happy."

"That was the aim of it. Just give everyone some time to relax and be happy." Sinead and Molly said goodbye and Sinead walked over to the floo and arrived back at her house moments later.

A few days later Sinead received an owl that gave the information about the pre-school year faculty meeting and attached was another note from Albus asking if she would be willing to take on first year Potions since Horace would be overwhelmed. Sinead met up with Tonks, Sophia, and Maggie for a bit of shopping and glanced at a large ring on Maggie's finger.

"Oh my! Is that what I think it is and you didn't tell me right away?!" Sinead said as a crowd on Diagon Alley stopped to watch them.

"It is!" Maggie squealed as Sinead pulled her into a hug and the other girls started their congratulations.

"This is so awesome!" Sophia said.

"Come on we should go celebrate! Have you two set a date or anything?" Sinead asked as Maggie nodded.

"We were hoping sometime soon. You know with everything that's going on we both think it's best."

"Here or back home?"

"Here."

"If you need a place, you can have the wedding at my house."

"Really?"

"Yes, your grandmother and sister can stay at my place and I can always stay at Hogwarts." Maggie hugged Sinead.

"Your the best, will you be my maid of honor?"

Sinead grinned and nodded.

"Of course."

"Great, it's going to be a small wedding. Bill is going to ask Max to be his best man and he only has his sister and her husband to invite."

"This is going to be great. I can help you with the planing since Trent and I married quick."

"You girls are the best, if I was having a big wedding you two would be in the wedding party as well."

"We understand but I'm planning your bachelorette party since you planned my wild one when Sinead didn't want to get too crazy."

Tonks gave Sinead a smile.

"We won't be in over our head will we?" She whispered.

"No, I'll make sure of it."

The girls spent the day shopping, Maggie found a dress she liked and Sinead volunteered to pay for it as well as pay for their honeymoon as a wedding present.

"Oh Sinead, you're too good to me."

"Your like the sister I never had. I'll surprise you two with the honeymoon."

"Don't worry about Caleb, I'll asked my grandmother to stick around for a few days and she can watch him."

After the girls finished shopping they went to a bar for a few drinks. Tonks and Sinead stopped at two knowing they would need to help get Sophia and Maggie home.

Two days later was the staff meeting and Sinead was working in Hogsmeade at the shop. She had already spoke to Sarah and Max who were more than willing to be flexible with their apprenticeship. Sinead made sure everything was in order before she walked up to the castle. Severus met her inside the gates.

"I hear you'll be teaching first years." Sinead nodded with a small smile."Don't go easy on them, I won't have them spoiled when they come to my class."

"I can handle a bunch of 11 year olds, Severus. I have some news, Maggie and Bill are getting married." He was silent letting her go into detail about the plans. They arrived in the staff room just as the others were arriving. Minerva and Poppy gave Sinead a friendly hello as Albus called the groups attention.

"We have a few staffing changes this year. Severus will be taking over Defense Against the Dark Arts, Horace has returned to teach Potions years 2 through 7, and we have a new addition Sinead O'Neil has agreed to teach first year Potions and tutor those students who need additional help."

The group seemed pleased with the changes and after a few security changes Albus dismissed the group.

"Sinead, I look forward to working with you this year. I have no doubt that the first years will love you and learn a lot from you. Will you be living at Hogwarts?"

"Right now, I'll be staying here a few nights a week when I'll be tutoring later in the day but I need to be able to work with my two apprentices at my home lab."

"Two apprentices, that is very impressive."

"They are part time but both of them are doing well. They work well together and help out in my shop in Hogsmeade the days they are not working with me." Horace nodded and looked over the class schedule.

"You have a great class times, Double Potions with Gryffindor and Slytherin on Monday and a regular class on Wednesday and Friday then Double Potions with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw on Wednesday and regular classes on Monday and Friday. These classes are back to back giving me a nice break on Fridays. You have a large break on the other two days."

"Yes, I plan on going into the shop on those days to brew. I'll be working with my apprentices during that time as well as Tuesday and Thursday mornings."

To be continued with the sequel Daylight 

[ki6-7-l8r]

Errata.........

Don't recall when I was thrown into the world, does anyone? My first memory was in some kind of mansion where the sun filtered through a round stained glass window. A big man with a messy beard, wisping out like excremental cotton candy from his face stood over me. I saw a couple of fools, my parents looking up at me as I floated into the air. I was levitating, but the big fat Doktor just looked straight ahead, so ends this little wash of recall. I was around three years old in the house. I was at a neighbours house when a toy gun clipped my fingers and the metal took a chunk of skin out. I did not cry. The old neighbours; man and wife, laughed about how tough I was, and then giggled when I began to black out. For some reason I hated these people, I hurled a rock at their car when they were driving to go see a parade, put a big dent in the door. My mom spanked me so hard I saw my feet fly in the air. Sometimes I would walk around the neighbourhood and not remember leaving the house, ringing doorbells and running away. My Mom got tired of this and put me in preschool, sometimes sick, where I would barf until one of the teachers covered it up with sand. There was one teacher who was an evil looking woman with eyes like the demoness Lilith, Adam's first devil-wife. She and another woman gave me a ride home, but I don't remember ever getting home actually, I don't remember where I ended up on that ride. One day I was wandering around the neighborhood again, and I peeked through a mail-slot in a door and I saw a room with velvet red drapes. I saw an altar with an inverted pentagram, with candles which were not lit. The Chalice, The Bell, The Sword, I knew what these were but I had no words for them, I had somehow been in that house but I did not recall ever going there. Weird things happen when your only three, in some ways you are already old. I saw too the vast room filled with hooded figures! A giant Jackal-Headed statue black as night around 200 feet tall, was flanked by braziers wafting clouds of incense. Beneath the vast altar was a huge pit with low burning fires. The small sacrifices were hurled like soccer-balls; soaring through the air into the flaming pit. Pitiful cries and screams of torment were heard. In this way the forgotten ones of the maternity wards were given a manifest destiny. I was scared, but a priest told me that I "need not fear in that my hourglass had red sand." After my parents split up I ended up in a big house, bigger than the one before. I found crucifixes made out of wood and for some reason I liked to turn them upside-down and break them into peace signs, but the sides would not hold and would fall on the ground. I then found my sisters old barbies and scraped the boobs off of them against the wall so they would be flat chested. I was around 8 years old when this happened. When I was nine I developed a craving for wanting to drink human blood. My friends would cut themselves and let me drink their blood. Their parents found out about this and called my folks, and my folks were alarmed by this disturbed behavior. They took me back to the Doktor with the wispy beard that looked like cotton candy made out of shit. The Doktor told my parents that their was nothing wrong with me, just going through a weird phase. This Doktor pretended to talk with a German accent, but I knew he was faking!! He knew that I knew, and gave me a mean look. He had dead eyes. I was a teenager and an occult shop opened up where I lived. It was run by a real fortunate son, he seemed very fortunate which was strange in that the shop was not doing that well. I started doing a lot of acid in those days, and would practice black magick rites in the makeshift temple in the back. Once I did a ceremony to summon the 7 Crown Princes of Hell. Only Belial showed up, he materialized in the incense outside of the magic circle. He gave me two visions: The first one was of a witch cackling and stirring a giant cauldron, on a very dark night. The second was of a naked man taking in a giant beam of celestial fire; drinking it into his face, with his arms outstretched and his legs parted in a standing embrace. I still don't know what this signified. At the occult shop one day I also met a company man. I was 26 and it was a very bad year. Too much debauchery had caught up with me, as well as other things. I spent some time in nuthouse, but a nice shrink helped me recover. He gave me Dilantin and Centrax at the same time, it kept me in a mellow mood. After I got outta stir I moved in with a very weird madlady who indeed was legion. She was a lot of people in one person, and I did not like any of them and they did not like me. Except for two exceptions: I liked the little kid that came out as her sometimes, and the old medicine woman. The little girl told me all about the company, and how they like to turn one person into a whole bunch of people; and tell them to do things with the same body. Its a hobby of theirs, a game, maybe even a joke, but its a killing joke. I thought the story she told me was about as daft as a flying doughnut. After awhile I believed it but she was such a bitch I could not stand her and moved out. I did not care about all the spy stories, or politics at all. I was an occultist! She said she knew more about the Occult than I did. She was lying. The last thing she said was this: "Your just like all the bad people, because you think that life is meaningless!" Whatever. I was 31, and I met up again with the fortunate son in VEGAZ; another cult scene, but not too hairy. He was a big dip-waffle who tried to use me and did. But he needed me, as he was in the market for a MAGUZ. No modesty is not one of my traits. I cannot afford to let it be, due to the fact that I am a collossal failure. I learned to put myself in really great trance states and bring down demons into my body. I could still maintain control though, and could kick them out at any time. We called down voodoo loa, devils and demons as cute as the conqueror worm. We hurled astral shit through the vortex; flinging it at the enemies of the fortunate son. One of his enemies succumbed to the sorcery; a woman had an asthma attack and died. The enemy coven thought that our magick did this, and the girl's mother called the fortunate one and cursed him on the phone. The fortunate one got freaked out and sent flowers to her funeral, thus denying that he cursed her and denying the devils that slew a-one in his name. Like Peter denying the Savior the curse rebounded on Fortuno's head and his life turned into shit. I got sick of him using me, so I cursed him as well. I would drink bottles of rum and evoke the Petro Loa and dance around the altar, flinging hateful laughter and raging curses upon his worthless ass. It seemed to make things worse for him which delighted me. At this time too I met this guy who was a big fat liar who said his uncle invented Ritz crackers. He said he was related to a big-band leader with a big beat. He told me that he was levitated high up over the ocean and floated into a cave on a summit of the Na Pali Coast in Kwaii. When he got floated into the cave he met a Kahuna Shaman who instructed him in the delicacies of Sumerian Sorcery. This guy's mind was as fried-out as a toasted jaybird in a torched forest. And damn it, he made friends with another one of those people who was a bunch of people in one body! A girl who was a martial arts and weapons expert, on top of everything else! She knew about the fat liar's uncle and his big beat band: "Booker M.K. & The Ultras." One day she was flipping out and Fatso panicked and brought me down there. I told her that a mandala was one image, yet it had many facets, many in one, and one in many was still one. Finally she mellowed out. I was really scared, because she had a black belt in Karate and was a weapons expert, I on the other hand was a wuss who had only shot a B.B. gun at age 12. She was real nice to me and said that she would protect me from enemies, but Fatso got between us and kept her away. At that time I was just getting through day by day, and did not care. Although I did once bring down spirits that came through my body and cracked the inside of a crystal that I held in my hands. So goes it. Amused and bemused; this story is a tragedy in a laugh, and a laugh with a crying face. I found out later that Doktor Shit-Beard ate some Uranium 235 and bought the farm; ded of cancer. That's the funny part, so you can laugh now!! But you know, when the Romans sacked Jerusalem and routed the Second Temple in Palestine, they killed a lot of Hebrews and impaled babies on their swords. But the thing is, is that this has never stopped. There are many walking wounded amongst you, who are locked in gulags with invisible walls, tormented by translucent tech. hands, mocked by unseen voices. There are mindless masses and complicit Doktors who will just call all this madness. Perhaps this is why I thanked God, when I had that dream about the world being destroyed by nuclear weapons. I got out my last praise indeed; right at the moment where I lost all my atoms.

http://www.my-journal.com/jrn/md__1/jrn__24539/dt__1473750000

Welcome us nearly, inside soft floors of music. Through dope-heads dark recovered, through isles of the twisted.

Within Theatres of Perdition, we will sojourn after, to greet the dancing incubus, admire strange relations.

Unearth the Corpse of Incest Death, so we can have a festival. Weep silent pagan forests, and blaspheme all the saviours.

Let us dance around the Mayfires, and ride the maddened vine, climb secret goddess mountains, and drink the horn’ed wine.

Let’s dig up all the graveyards, reclaim relics of the doomed, assemble laughing, sacred skeletons, build temples to the Moon.

Let us know nocturnal days, lost transparent hours, sleep magic silver waves, encompass nights of flowers.

Let us weep the winsome madness, of those beyond the realms, of Space’s indifferent irony, that Time’s chalice overwhelms.

To pour primeval vision, upon partakers of the strange, who consume the droughts of clarity, the gods have doth deranged.

Let’s speak of the unspeakable, say wild atrocious things, let’s talk of God’s own truth, and the falsehood that it brings.

A Creator that’s a Liar? The Whole that is a sham? We’ll leave the dead to sleeping, the living remain Damned!

[yahoo-puck-daddy-blog]

Puck Daddy Bag of Mail: Playoff points system; buy out Girardi or Staal?

NHL

Hey everyone, with the NCAA season over, it’s time to roll out a new feature for the summer. It’s a mailbag column. People love those.

How is it possible that one team is already through to the Conference Final? Didn’t the playoffs start just, like, a week ago?

Well since we’re chugging right along, there’s a whole bunch of new pressing questions that people need answered. And folks, who better to answer questions about hockey than your old buddy RL?

No one, that’s who. So here we go:

Zachary Martindale asks via email:

“Which point system should the NHL use for its regular season?”

First of all, I have to say this question was so good because my man Zachary not only asked it, but also wrote several paragraphs comparing various point systems — and even included his own, which awarded no points for any losses and brought back ties — and had two separate charts.

The email also pointed out that under just about any system, the actual teams that made the playoffs wouldn’t change, except that a 3-2-1 system like the one the IIHF uses would have put the Islanders in over the Maple Leafs.

Personally I advocate a system where the number of points awarded per game does not change. The idea of three-point games existing in a world where you only get two points for any sort of win is galling, especially because there’s no incentive to win in regulation except to avoid giving your opponent a guaranteed point and a coin flip’s chance at one more.

I also don’t like the idea that a loss in even a 3-on-3 overtime is worth the same as a shootout loss. Theoretically, having the ability to not-lose at 3-on-3 should be rewarded more than losing at 3-on-3.

Which is why I like a 5-to-0 points system. It awards points like this:

Again, the reason I think a shootout loss should be more valuable than an overtime loss is that you pushed it as close to a coin flip as you possibly could without winning. But teams would be so desirous of coming out on the right side of that huge swing between four and one point that playing conservative at 3-on-3 wouldn’t happen.

Good question. Very fun. Will never happen.

Kung Fu Kyle asks:

“What are the most obvious moves the Blues need to make for next year?”

If we’re all agreeing Jake Allen is their goalie, then the only real changes they need to make are in their depth. They’re bringing together a pretty good collection of higher-end young players at the forward and defensive positions (though obviously they need someone besides Parayko who can get the puck up the ice reliably).

I mostly like this team’s roster.

If you can find a way to not-play some of the guys the Blues played down the stretch, both on the blue line and up front, this team gets a lot better. As long as Allen is good — and I would say he wasn’t in the Preds series — this is a pretty strong Western Conference team already, and shoring up its few remaining depth issues will help a lot.

Another change I would make is to go back in time and not-fire Ken Hitchcock but my understanding is the technology just isn’t there yet.

Dan Michaelson asks:

“Have the Preds proven that they have the best D-corps in the NHL with their performance during the playoffs?”

I don’t think they really had anything to prove in this regard in the first place. This has been the best 1-4 (with a rotating cast of minor characters in the 5-6) pretty much since the start of the second half when everything came together.

All the talk about “PK Subban might actually be more like a No. 3/4 defenseman” was obviously silly on its face, but the fact that he’s only the best on this team by a relatively slim margin, and that there’s not a huge dropoff from second-best to fourth-best tells you plenty. Add in two guys who, in the playoffs, seem to be acquitting themselves well in support roles, and you’ve got a group that will bring you plenty of success.

Ask me on any given day who the second-best defender in this group is, and it’s likely to change. I think Ellis and Ekholm are both very good No. 2/3 defenders, and while Josi is probably a little overrated, he’s still clearly a No. 2/3 as well. When you have three guys like that, you’re going to go far.

I think what’s happening here is people are actually watching the Predators now, and seeing they play fun hockey in which the defense supports the offense getting the puck up the ice to an extent most teams can’t. You watch good teams for 10 games over two-plus weeks, and all of a sudden you start to say things like, “This is the best D-corps in the NHL.”

This happens all the time when good players on lesser-known (that is, not-on-TV-as-much) teams make deep playoff runs. If the Flames hadn’t gotten crushed in the first round, people would suddenly have a lot of good things to say about Dougie Hamilton and TJ Brodie, too.

This always had the potential to be the best ‘D’ in the league. Now it is. People are just now catching up.

Mike Haley asks:

“If Mike Sullivan has one more great regular season and another 4+ playoff wins – where do you start putting him on a top coach list?”

I’m starting to wonder if he shouldn’t already. The fact that the Penguins keep rolling despite all these big injuries, the year after winning a Cup and then finishing second in the best division in the league by far, is a testament to his quality.

You can say — and believe me, people have said, “Well look who his forwards are.” It’s a great group to be sure. But we saw what Sullivan’s predecessor (I want to say his name was Mike something? Steve? Who can remember?) did with this same group: jack squat.

And look, remember when everyone said Mike Babcock was a genius despite having Lidstrom, Zetterberg, Datsyuk, and so on to send over the boards every shift? Why should Sullivan be treated any differently?

If they make another Eastern Conference Final (or more) under this guy, then follow that up with another 100-plus point season and roll over whoever they play in the first round, anyone who’s still a holdout on the “Sullivan is an elite coach” bandwagon is just mad that he’s not Canadian.

Angry 1999 Banner asks:

“If NYR can only buyout Staal or Girardi, which should it be? Basically, what’s the summer plan for to fix the blue line?”

I think the addition of Neal Pionk out of Minnesota-Duluth is a crucial one. He seemed NHL-ready this season and having the ability to bring in a guy like that on an entry-level deal is vital with the Rangers relatively close to being capped-out.

They have about $12-13 million to spend, not accounting for any rookies (like Pionk) they can bring aboard, and some RFAs they have to re-sign, including Mika Zibanejad.

If you’re only going to buy out one of those two guys — and maybe hope the other gets claimed by Vegas — I think the one you have to buy out is Girardi, because he’s used in more high-leverage minutes and is also 33, signed for three more seasons. Theoretically he has far less value than does Staal in a potential trade, though I can’t imagine there are too many Staal suitors out there either.

Other than that I don’t know how much fixing the Rangers blue line actually gets. While the supporting crew beyond Ryan McDonagh isn’t great, it’s not that bad either, especially if you put Skjei into a bigger role and maybe find a relative bargain on the open market come July (there are always good depth options available).

But the thing is, time is of the essence. People are complaining about Henrik Lundqvist in these playoffs but he’s about .930 right now. Maybe you think his below-average regular season is a harbinger of things to come, which requires more immediate triage. But again, there are a lot of Rangers contracts the team is just stuck with.

In a perfect world they’re both gone. In a more realistic one, you keep Staal and don’t let Vigneault put him on the ice in late-game situations where you’re trying to protect a lead. But that’s a whole other thing.

Finally, JR Lind asks:

“Did the Preds win surpass WrestleWar ’89 as the greatest moment in Nashville sports history?”

As we all know, WrestleWar ’89 was a largely mediocre show, which included a famously terrible TV title match between Sting and the Iron Sheik. However, the show is also really memorable because of the Heavyweight title match between Ric Flair and the champion Ricky Steamboat.

Flair spends most of the match working the knee to weaken Steamboat for his patented finishing hold, but Steamboat’s knee buckled on an attempted body slam and Flair rolled him up for the pinfall.

It’s widely considered one of the greatest matches in the history of professional wrestling, and you can watch all of it here:

  Of course, Flair and Steamboat had two other five-star matches in 1989 alone. They also, unofficially, had a match that surpassed them all at an untelevised event in Maryland the same year. You can find actual CCTV footage of that here, but the quality’s not great since it’s from 1989 and a single camera quite a ways from the ring.

Anyway, to answer the question, no, as good as the game was a 3-1 regulation win in a Predators/Blues game — no matter the stakes — does not equal this match. Is it more important? Probably, yeah, but Ryan Ellis didn’t put anyone in the Figure Four for a good three minutes, so I gotta say Flair/Steamboat are still the reigning champs.

Sorry.

Ryan Lambert is a Puck Daddy columnist. His email is here and his Twitter is here.

(All stats via Corsica unless otherwise noted.)

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