#i rarely ever draw instruments so i hope they look ok

[skilled-plaque]

I have more art to give cool artists on here!

This oc is @luna-vixen-art's, I feel like since he's a drummer, Samuel might get along with him since he plays the guitar lol

[bisexualcrowley]

Fairytale of New York

Pairing: Jack Kline x Reader (Gender non-specified)

Summary: Jack gives you something you’ve always dreamt of while walking through a park on Christmas eve

Content/warnings: Fluff, songfic, little bit of angst, censored use of the F slur in song lyrics, can be read as romantic or platonic

Word count: 2, 581

A/N: I absolutely recommend you listen to the song while reading, I know it’s not really everyone’s taste but I feel that it adds to the mental image, plus there's a bunch of instrumental bits that I think are worth being included :) // Originally wrote this as a Jack fic, but felt that Jack fit better

The snow fell in a light drifting throughout the city, glistening in the glow of the streetlights and setting the scene for what in most movies would be seen as the perfect Christmas eve. It was quiet, peaceful, the soft noises of traffic heard behind the sound of slow Christmas music playing soothingly from a shop across the street.

Since becoming a hunter, you hadn’t really been much for the holidays, especially religious ones, but tonight as you walked side by side with Jack through the little park, boots crunching in the fallen powder with snowflakes dusting your hair as you made your way to a nearby pizza joint to meet Sam Dean and Cas, it felt different, the way Christmas should feel.

Tonight it didn’t matter that the apocalypse was approaching, the thought was shoved to the back of your head along with everything else that had gone wrong. Tonight was just snow, food, gifts, and family, and you found yourself smiling as you made your way along the path.

You were so caught up in your thoughts, or lack of them, that it took you a moment to realize you had been walking by yourself for a few seconds, and quickly doubled back to where the nephilim was standing.

You were concerned at first, his still figure bringing all sorts of unpleasant thoughts to mind, but your worries quickly evaporated when you drew closer to your friend. A peaceful smile graced his features, eyes closed and face tilted upwards, snowflakes hitting his skin and melting, the fair few settling softly on his eyelashes.

“...Jack?” You called quietly, hesitating at the idea of disturbing him but knowing he wouldn’t want to be late to dinner with the Winchesters.

Luckily, the nephilim’s peaceful expression cracked into a toothy grin as he turned his head to face you, a light dusting of snow falling from his hair onto his nose and making you giggle.

“It’s so beautiful, isn’t it Y/n. I never took the time to experience a snowfall properly before now, and it’s just... Well it’s just incredible. God did a good job with this one” He murmured happily, his gaze returning to the sky, this time followed by your own.

It had been years since you sat back and allowed yourself to enjoy a moment like this, year after year of hunting taking priority over and over again, and you were glad that there was time for it tonight. Jack was right, the sight truly was beautiful, the crystals of ice glistening as they blew through the sky and settled on every surface in sight.

You had just opened your mouth to respond when a familiar melody filled the air, and you paused in your thoughts. Fairytale of New York, The Pogues. You hadn’t heard this one in years, though you never forgot it, your teenage daydreams always somewhere in the back of your mind.

Apparently Jack had found your silence alarming and turned his attention back to you, finding you lost in thought, a troubled expression having replaced your smile from before.

“You look upset, Y/n, are you alright?” Your friend questioned, a concerned expression gracing his usually happy features, and his worry drawing a dry chuckle from your lips.

“It’s nothing Jack, lets just keep going, Sam and Dean are probably already at the pizza place” You replied in a dreary voice, sighing as the song progressed from purely instrumental to include vocals, the piano echoing sweetly in the darkened street and Shane Macgowan’s somewhat rough voice flooding your ears.

It was Christmas Eve babe

In the drunk tank

An old man said to me, won't see another one 

Turning away from Jack, you moved to cross away from the park, but found yourself held back by the angel’s hand landing firmly on your shoulder, forcing your gaze back in his direction.

“Honestly, it’s stupid, lets just keep going please” Your voice came out tight and clipped and the sound made you wince, hoping Jack didn’t think of it as rude. Luckily, in that sense, your friend didn’t seem to be offended, but unluckily it made him push the subject further.

And then he sang a song

The Rare Old Mountain Dew

“You've never been good at lying to me, Y/n, it’s clear that this isn’t stupid. Please, talk to me.” 

You shot him a defeated smile, the ache in your heart showing clearly in your eyes as you shoved your hands in your pockets, shifting your weight from one leg to the other.

I turned my face away

And dreamed about you 

“I dunno, Jack, It’s just this song.” You mumbled, gaze falling to the ground in hopes of avoiding the nephilim’s concerned stare.

“Ah, I understand. Cas explained this to me, how humans can connect bad memories to songs,” He nodded, his hand returning to your shoulder in a comforting gesture.

Got on a lucky one

Came in eighteen to one 

“No, it’s not that. It’s just... Ever since I was a kid I’ve always dreamt of dancing with someone to Fairytale of New York. I haven’t heard it in years, hunting kind of took over my life, but hearing it again makes me realize, as small as it is, I want it, so so badly. Being pulled close and spun around as the snow falls around me on Christmas eve, it’s so stupid but knowing the world is gonna end and I’ve never had the chance to experience it hurts like hell, Jack, and I know as a hunter I should have higher priorities, but honestly it’s all I fucking want, the only thing I wanted to do before I die and now I’m not gonna get the chance.”

I've got a feeling

This year's for me and you 

You didn’t plan to ramble on, spill such a close desire to your friend but as soon as you started speaking the dam broke, all your feelings slipping out at once. You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t notice the tears running down your cheeks, not until a gentle hand tilted your chin up, your eyes locking on Jack’s caring ones as he brushed them away.

“That’s not stupid, Y/n... Actually, I think it’s quite beautiful. There’s so much hate and greed in this world, but all you ask for is one moment in time...”

Jack’s voice was quiet but sincere as he spoke,  and though you couldn’t work up the strength to thank him, you appreciated what he had said.

So happy Christmas

I love you baby 

“It doesn’t matter, we can’t all get what we want, right?” You smiled tightly, quickly clearing your throat and turning to head towards the road again, and once more you were stopped by a strong hand pulling you back.

"Jack please, lets go, I don’t wanna talk about this anymore, ok? It’s upsetting and it’s getting cold, let’s just go meet the guys” You huffed, now slightly annoyed at the nephilim’s stubbornness, but the feeling melting almost immediately into confusion as your friend pulled your shorter frame against his own, leading one of your hands to his waist and capturing your other in his.

I can see a better time

When all our dreams come true 

“Dance with me, Y/n.” He whispered, smiling shyly at the expression on your face.

“..what?” You managed to ask, somewhat in shock at the quick movements Jack had made to settle you in such a position.

“Look, I know this probably isn’t exactly what you were hoping for, It’s barely snowing, we’re probably going to get yelled at by Dean and well, it’s me, but if the world really does end, I don’t want you to go out having not experienced the thing you’ve dreamt of all your life. I understand if you don’t want to waste the moment with me, but if you do I’d be more than happy to share it with you”

Jack chuckled at the end of his sentence, but didn’t go on, waiting for an answer as the music picked up, moving from piano to accordion.

You had to fight back tears as your friend spoke. It was hard to believe, but it was finally happening, you were finally going to get your dance, and you just beamed up at the angel, emotions overflowing with each second that passed, and as the third verse began, you nodded, Jack responding by matching your smile and settling his free hand on your waist.

They've got cars big as bars

They've got rivers of gold

But the wind goes right through you

It's no place for the old

You hadn’t danced to the song since you were a kid, twirling around in an oversized dressing gown with a broom in Bobby’s basement, and you were almost certain Jack had never even heard of it before now, but somehow the both of you knew exactly what to do, how to move. Two steps and a spin, swinging away from the angel only to be pulled back in, each switch of your hands, it was all exactly how you had always pictured it.

When you first took my hand

On a cold Christmas Eve

You promised me

Broadway was waiting for me

1 2 3 4 5 6, 1 2 3 4 5 6. You counted silently along with the patterns played, a squeal turning into a joyous laugh as a particularly passionate spin from Jack led the both of you sliding along a patch of ice, boots leaving trails in the freshly fallen snow.

You were handsome

You were pretty

Queen of New York City

When the band finished playing

They howled out for more

You hadn’t expected Jack to enjoy himself as much as he appeared to be. You figured, hey, he’s a nephilim, I’ve helped him out, he probably feels obligated to do this, right? To see that you were wrong, the elation on his face made the already indescribable moment all the better

Sinatra was swinging

All the drunks they were singing

We kissed on a corner

Then danced through the night

The rare passerby walking through the park would smile, pause for a moment to watch the two of you spin happily across the frozen ground before continuing on their way, each one chuckling to themselves over whatever joke they came up with about once upon a time being young enough to move like that

The boys of the NYPD choir

Were singing Galway Bay

And the bells were ringing out

For Christmas day

As the two of you danced, you couldn’t help but think how beautiful this scene would be in a movie, all done up in fancy clothes, cameras following each sweeping movement you made

You're a bum

You're a punk

You're an old slut on junk

Lying there almost dead on a drip in that bed

Another step. Another swing.

You scumbag, you maggot

You cheap lousy f*ggot

Happy Christmas your arse

I pray God it's our last

Jack’s hands flew to your hips, picking you up as if weighed nothing as the chorus peaked once again, spinning you in the air and making you feel like you were flying.

The boys of the NYPD choir

Still singing Galway Bay

The moment your shoes touched the ground Jack bent you down in a dip, flashing you a goofy smile at the noise you let out

And the bells are ringing out

For Christmas day

Jack smiled, and you beamed up at him

I could have been someone

Well so could anyone

You took my dreams from me

When I first found you

The music slowed slightly, and Jack traded your previous quick footsteps for a simple back and forth box step, the softening of your movements giving him a proper look at you, with your hair mussed and face rosy from the cold. Your smile stood out the most to the angel though, the unfiltered joy crinkling your eyes and releasing whatever tension you were holding before

I kept them with me babe

I put them with my own

Can't make it all alone

I've built my dreams around you

The boys of the NYPD choir

Still singing Galway Bay

And the bells are ringing out

For Christmas day 

As the instrumental section came to an end, the wall inside you that you hadn’t even realized was there finally broke down, and you followed in suit. Your arms flew around the nephilim’s neck and you clung to him as if letting go would kill you, and you sobbed. The sudden burst frightened Jack, who quickly pulled away enough to meet your eyes, but was surprised to find that you weren’t upset, but were crying tears of happiness.

“Y/n are you alright?” He whispered, tightening his hold around you as you pulled him along, your complicated waltz now replaced by the simple motions of a slow dance, weight shifting from one side to another as the song neared it’s end

You didn’t reply at first, choosing instead to smile up at Jack with teary eyes and nod rapidly before managing to choke out the words “Thank you, Jack”. 

As the final few notes finally faltered off, you pulled away from the tight embrace, looking earnestly up at your friend, who wore a warm smile as well

“Really, Jack, Thank you. So, so much, that was incredible, I can’t even-” Your voice cracked, cut off, and unable to vocalize anything more you reached out and took his hand between your own, squeezing tightly.

Luckily Jack understood what you were trying to say. He knew he couldn’t ever truly understand the level of happiness the action had brought you, but he knew he was gonna cherish the moment for the rest of his life. It was the most fun he had had in as long as he could remember, but that wasn’t why he knew it would stick with with. There was something special about sharing such a moment with someone he loved so dearly, being able to give you that happiness that made life worth living, gave the strength to keep fighting whatever the hell would be thrown at them next.

You and Jack would have been happy to stay there forever, hands clasped together and snow dusting your hair, but as always, the reminder that all good things must come to an end was brought to you by whichever shop was playing music turning their volume way up, the blasting of trumpets from rockin’ around the Christmas tree hitting you like a truck and thoroughly ruining the peaceful setting.

Your reactions were like a scene out of a movie, the simultaneous jump, staring at each other in shock and finally breaking down in peals of laughter seconds later.

“I think that means it’s time to go” you snickered, the nephilim chuckling in response, and at that the two of you took off again, making your way towards the pizza place.

Thank you, you repeated silently. Thank you

-

Tags, let me know if you want to be added <3 @cursedbobs​ @frog-tiddies​  @imagine-whatever

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, skylar102!

For @skylar102. I was overjoyed to see your likes included crack fic - which is exactly what I bring you this Christmas. You may recognise the concept and some of the scenes chosen for this fic. What can I say? You’re a very inspiring person!I hope I did the idea justice and that you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3 Much love,Your Secret Santa <3

Read On AO3

*****

Alec Lightwood: The Musical

Rolling drums accompanied him as he ran down the corridor, the sounds of woodwind and strings building as he drew closer to the doorway where he’d heard the commotion. The music drew him in and honed his focus, preparing him for the fight ahead. He strode through the doorway to find an unknown Warlock fending off a Circle member.

The Warlock was tall, almost as tall as Alec. Slender, with figure hugging clothing that hinted at the strong physique beneath. His hair was styled tall and striking, his outfit designed to draw attention. Clearly it was working, as Alec sucked in a shuddering breath. He couldn’t quite explain what he was feeling, but now wasn’t the time to let emotions cloud his judgement.

At that moment, the music broke, a scratching interlude cutting through the air and causing him to wince slightly before giving way to a new song. Alec narrowed his eyes, focussing his stare up at the corner of the room as if he could glare the speakers into submission. As if there were actual speakers there. He sighed and tried to block out the beeping and clapping, focussing instead on the Circle member in front of him.

He scoffed slightly, the arrogant Shadowhunter forgetting all his training in favour of taunting a warlock and not even noticing Alec was there. His limp grip on his seraph blade designed to look intimidating rather than actually being deadly as he waved it mockingly in front of his foe. Holding back an eye roll, Alec raised his bow, taking careful aim and loosing an arrow straight at the man’s heart.

Or he would have had the insipid voice echoing in the room not started moaning in a frankly inappropriate way, distracting him.

You got me trippin', stumblin', flippin', fumblin'

Clumsy 'cause I'm fallin' in love (in love)

This wasn’t a song he knew. Usually, in moments like this, whatever higher power decided to curse him with a personal playlist at least chose swelling instrumentals, epic and strong in their crescendos, that helped him focus on the fight - like the song that had been rudely interrupted by… Well, this. Today, apparently someone wanted to taunt him with the kind of music Izzy liked to dance around her room to.

He snapped back to attention as the Circle member yelled in pain, Alec’s arrow piercing his thigh instead. It wasn’t a lethal shot but at least it was enough to drop him to his knees, clutching the wound in agony and cutting off his frankly tedious monologue.

The warlock conjured a ball of electric blue energy, circling his hands to shape it before pushing it forwards into the rogue Shadowhunter, his shoulders flexing elegantly under the patterned material of his jacket. The circle member collapsed backwards, completely incapacitated or possibly even dead.

“Well done.” Alec almost immediately chastised himself internally for the dumb statement. As if a powerful warlock couldn’t take down a wounded Shadowhunter with ease.

Can't breathe, when you touch my sleeve

Butterflies so crazy, ummm, ummm

Whoa now? Think I'm goin' down

Friends don't know what's with me, mmm, mmm

“More like medium rare,” the Warlock responded, turning to face Alec. “I’m Magnus, I don’t think we've been formally introduced?”

The way Magnus’ body swayed as he made his way over to Alec could only be described as a saunter. Every part of his body moving in sync, like each step forward was part of a carefully choreographed, sensual dance. His warm brown eyes scanning Alec up and down, making Alec’s blood feel like lava coursing through his veins.

“Alec,” he stuttered out, cursing his own ineloquence. “Uh, we, should, uh, really, uh, probably, get, uh, you know.” He knew his face would be plastered with a dopey smile. He tried to focus on the mission, remembering all his Shadowhunter training and not let himself be distracted by how handsome Magnus was.

“We should join the party,” Magnus replied kindly, taking sympathy on Alec’s inarticulate stumbling.

You got me slippin', tumblin', sinkin', fumblin'

Clumsy 'cause I'm fallin' in love (in love)

Songs:

Moscow Symphony Orchestra - The Charge of the Light Brigade

Fergie - Clumsy

II

Alec fought to steady his breathing, schooling his features into as close to a smile as he could manage. This was supposed to be a happy occasion after all, he was marrying a good match. A woman of strong standing with the Clave, a woman who would help him restore his family’s name and lead the New York Institute to greatness.

The delicate instrumental that flowed around him was more sombre than your average wedding choice, but the music that had followed him for as long as he could remember was always in tune to his feelings as well as the wider situation. No one could ever explain where the sounds came from, no one else could hear them but he had his own radio station that followed him everywhere he went.

To his side, Brother Zachariah finished the traditional introduction. ‘No turning back now,’ he thought grimly, dragging in a deep breath. Lydia gripped her stele, reaching out to touch the tip to the ceremonial adamas block with a small smile tracing her lips. A smile that actually managed to reach her eyes. Alec supposed this was less of a compromise for her at least - she wasn’t hiding herself for the sake of a marriage. Objectively, he could see that she was beautiful. The dress hugged her lithe figure perfectly, her hair elegantly braided into an intricate style. But his observation was purely theoretical, based on appearances only with no deeper meaning behind them. It was like observing an exhibition in an art gallery or appreciating the orchestral chords currently filling his ears. He could recognise the grace and the skill, he could appreciate how other people would form a deep emotional connection, but for him it went no deeper than that.

Taking his hand, Lydia brought the glowing tip of the stele to his wrist to trace the wedded union rune when Alec’s head jerked up. At that moment the door slammed open in the distance, causing everyone else to look up in unison. A fraction of a second later, Magnus Bane appeared in the archway, halting in the middle of the aisle that Alec’s bride had not long since walked down.

Simultaneously, the instrumental had come to a stuttering halt only to be replaced by jarring guitar riffs and sirens.

And I'm glad I crashed the wedding

It's better than regretting

I could have been a loser kid

Who ran away and hid

But it's the best thing that I ever did

If Alec jumped in response, it was at least masked by the distraction Magnus Bane had caused.

Magnus held his head high, focussing his gaze on Alec. Alec felt his heart pound in his chest. In his periphery, he heard his mother speak out but her words were lost to the beat of the song filling the room for only his ears. His siblings were having a hushed conversation behind him, but all Alec could focus on was the warlock standing before him. Dressed impeccably as always, his hair swept high with just a hint of magenta glinting in the tips, his eyes lined with his customary makeup. This. This was what Alec was meant to feel when he looked at Lydia. The steady beat of his pulse, sure and certain. The thrum of electricity that vibrated across every inch of his skin. The way his breath caught in his throat. The sheer force of attraction.

His mom was stalking up the aisle towards the warlock, the set of her shoulders displaying just how angry the intrusion had made her. Magnus merely raised his hand, halting her in her lecture and moving further towards Alec. The display of determination and power frayed at the last of Alec’s resolve. Both Jace and Lydia were reaching out to him with words of support and encouragement. Lydia’s smile was wide but no longer touching her eyes as she tried to capture his attention.

“Alec, hey, Alec,” she leaned towards him, trying to angle herself into his eye line causing him to finally look away from Magnus.

“I- I can’t breathe.” He admitted. The bowtie knotted at his throat suddenly felt suffocating to him.

“I know, it’s ok,” she reassured, her voice soft but certain even over the crashing pop-punk that still assaulted his senses.

'Cause true love lasts forever

And now we're back together

As if he never met her

So looking back

I'm glad I crashed the wedding

“I can’t do this,” he admitted. “I thought we were doing the right thing but this isn’t it.” His words came out rushed, his breath constricting in his throat. He tried to keep his panic at bay but he felt trapped, surrounded by his family, his colleagues and clave delegates a like. There were too many people here expecting too much of him but he couldn’t go through with this.

“You don’t have to explain,” Lydia pursed her lips together.

“Lydia I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you deserve to be happy.” She reached out to cup his cheek, reassuring him with a soft smile. “OK? I’ll be fine.”

He could feel guilty about this later, find a way to make it up to her. Even though he knew deep down that he wasn’t just freeing himself from a future that wouldn’t make him happy, he was also freeing her.

He turned and scanned the room before his eyes settled on the one person that truly mattered in this situation, the one person who made whatever battles he was about to face feel manageable. It might be ridiculous, he might barely know Magnus but still, something told him this was a risk worth taking. He stepped down from the altar, putting a physical distance between himself and the ceremony he’d almost gone through with.

Magnus made no move, no indication of his intentions. Alec gulped, realising this was his move to make. He’d pushed the Warlock away so many times, ignoring their obvious chemistry. Now he had to be the one to make the next move.

Resolved, he pushed forward, long strides carrying him swiftly up the aisle. He saw his mom making her way towards him but he brushed past her, focussed only on the man in front of him.

He grabbed Magnus by the lapels of his jacket, pulling him in close and pressed their lips together. Ignoring everyone around him he focussed on this moment, their first kiss. The first of many he hoped. He felt the tension leave his body as Magnus’ lips moved against his. Around him the lyrics continued to echo, cementing in his mind that he’d made the right choice.

'Cause true love lasts forever (true love lasts forever)

Songs:

Chopin - Piano Sonata No. 2 in B Flat Minor

Busted - Crashed the Wedding

III

Alec knew that Max wasn’t the only person he loved who he could lose that day but the relief that his baby brother was alive, talking and already focussed on catching the bad guy was overwhelming. The moment was accentuated by a hum of soft piano music, hopeful notes filled with joy and family and love - a delicate yet mellow melody.

As Magnus made his excuses and turned to leave, the notes of the piano seemed to follow him, an air of yearning filling the room, a cloud threatening to overshadow Alec’s momentary relief. Izzy made eye contact with him, her pointed stare spurring Alec into action. With a sigh, he gave Max one last reassuring pat on the shoulder and followed Magnus from the room.

Magnus was still in the corridor, shoulders slumped and back to Alec. As had happened so often since meeting Magnus, the piano instrumental that had been moving through the day with him stuttered to a stop, almost as if someone had slammed down on the keys. Alec fought back the surprise, knowing that his relationship with Magnus needed to be the priority now. Knowing that he needed to reinforce to Magnus just how much he loved him, how serious he was about their relationship and building a better future for the entire Shadow World.

Magnus knew about his ‘condition’. He’d had no choice but to explain after a particularly ill timed joke from whatever decided his private torture for him. What should have been an intimate and emotional step in their relationship had been interrupted by Alec’s scowl as a crooning voice sang out “let’s get it on,” distracting him from his mission to divest Magnus of his clothes. It had coincided with the reveal of Magnus’ Warlock mark which had obviously not helped the tension in the room at all. Once Alec had explained rather awkwardly, Magnus had been understanding, if a little confused and they had managed to get things back on track. Magnus had even summoned a record player into the bedroom so they could share their first time together, in every way.

But even despite Magnus understanding, Alec was determined to focus on this conversation, determined to right the wrongs. They’d stumbled over communication and he wasn’t going to allow that to continue. He clasped his hands tightly behind his back, standing tall in parade rest trying to focus only on the man in front of him.

Please, tell me everything

That you think that I should know

“Thank you, so much, for being here,” Alec stumbled out. It wasn’t what he had meant to say. But it was still sincere. He still was grateful that despite all the drama surrounding their lives, Magnus was still kind enough to be here, to try to help in whatever way he could.

Magnus’s response was equally sincere, even if it felt like a brush off as he couldn’t meet Alec’s eyes as he wished Max well. As Magnus turned to leave, Alec realised this was his only chance to try to recover whatever they had.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. Blunt and to the point, but again, his tone (he hoped) conveyed the sincerity he felt in every bone in his body. Magnus paused but didn’t turn. Fists clenching by his side, Alec continued “I should have told you about the soul sword.”

It's just for show, isn't it?

It's my fault that it fell apart

The catchy guitar riffs really weren’t helping him concentrate. And the lyrics, the lyrics needled at his every insecurity. By the Angel, if he ever worked out who was responsible for this ‘gift’ as the Silent Brothers put it, he would personally run them through with a seraph blade. Even Raziel himself would feel Alec’s wrath if that’s what it took. He needed the music to shut the hell up. He needed Magnus to turn around and tell him it was OK. He just needed this to be OK. Maybe if he admitted to his mistake, maybe they would have a shot at working it out.

Magnus turned to him though with such hatred in his eyes. He had finally made eye contact at least. Something which felt like it should have been an achievement but there was not even a hint of the love they had shared in those eyes.

Alec reached out, desperate and voice low, “You and me, we always seem to find our way back to each other.” He reached out and gripped at Magnus’ wrist as if hoping that he could push every single ounce of love he felt for Magnus, every bit of his apology, through that single point of contact.

“Magnus, I love you.”

Well, maybe you need this

And I didn't mean to lead you on

The nasally, pre-pubescent voice continued to grate at him even as he desperately declared his love for the man in front of him. Magnus’ expression softened. It was only a slight shift but it brought Alec a brief glint of hope that maybe this could be OK. Magnus reached up and rested his hand on Alec’s cheek, normally a sign of affection. Alec leaned into the touch as Magnus responded in kind, “I love you too.”

You were everything I wanted

But I just can't finish what I've started

There's no room left here on my back

It was damaged long ago

“But…” Magnus continued, grimacing slightly and sucking in a deep breath, “as a leader, there are difficult decisions I must make to ensure the survival of my people.”

Alec shuffled from foot to foot, searching Magnus’ eyes for any sign that he had completely misheard this. Surely the incessant guitar riffs had addled his brain, this couldn’t be happening? Could it?

Though you swear that you are true

I'd still pick my friends over you

“The only thing holding me back from doing that…” Magnus continued, looking down at the floor, “is you.”

“No.” Alec begged, fighting his stoic Shadowhunter nature. This couldn’t be happening. They could make this right. They could make this work. “We can figure this out.” He had complete conviction in that at least.

“You once asked me what I was afraid of,” tears had formed in the corners of Magnus’ eyes as he looked up at Alec. “It’s this.”

Magnus turned sharply and walked towards the elevator leaving Alec alone once more, the lyrics still echoing mockingly through the corridor, for Alec at least.

Though you swear that you are true

I'd still pick my friends over you

Songs:

Jordan Rudess - The Answer Lies Within

Marvin Gaye - Let’s Get It On

New Found Glory - My Friends Over You

IV

Alec paced the ops center, grateful for Izzy and Magnus’ presence even if he still felt entirely helpless. It didn’t help that the demons that had been previously swarming the city had vanished without a trace giving him nothing in New York to distract him.

Sending Jace to Lake Lyn with only Clary for back up had been a truly terrible idea. The distance made the emotions and understanding he could normally get through the parabatai bond fuzzy at best. He knew Jace was feeling unusually stressed, that much at least was evident.

This was slightly concerning for Alec. His parabatai was normally reasonably cool under pressure, thriving on the adrenaline that usually translated to excitement pulsing through the bond. When they went on missions together, Jace’s high energy would counteract Alec’s over-cautious nature, the two of them cancelling out each other’s extreme emotions to neutralise into a collected state of deadly precision.

Whatever was happening at Lake Lyn, clearly it was enough to even rattle Jace. He pushed through the bond further, trying to glean anything more concrete than the tension that currently nudged gently at him. In the background, ominous string music drifted through the room, juddering and foreboding. It was distant enough that it didn’t distract Alec from staring at the comms screen in front of him but it was just alarming enough to have him hovering on the edge of breaking down.

As time progressed his anxiety only grew. He’d ‘opened’ the parabatai bond further than he ever had before, allowing as much reassurance to flow through, but also allowing himself to tug at his parabatai for anything Jace could offer, be it a call for help or reassuring emotions. The more he opened it, the more intense the strings got, increasing in both tempo and volume, like an approaching army ready for battle.

He gripped tight on the edge of the table, the comms room long since empty of anyone but his sister and his ex-boyfriend. He’d snapped at enough of the Shadowhunters on duty that everyone realised it was better to give him a wide berth this evening. There was still no sign of demonic activity in the city and worse, no word from Jace and Clary.

Mmm, what'd you say?

His knees buckled as the voice rang out from nowhere, pain coursing through his body. A white-hot, searing heat emanating from his heart and being pumped through his veins. His parabatai rune pulsed under his flesh, the light graze of his cotton t-shirt feeling like the drag of sandpaper against the sensitive flesh. He pulled his shirt up, watching as the black rune faded to an angry red, then a barely there pink.

Mmm, that you only meant well?

An ethereal voice, distorted and haunting filled the room chilling him to the bone as image after image of his life with Jace flashed in front of his eyes.

The first day they’d met, Alec firing an arrow that just barely missed teenage Jace. The wide eyed stare the blonde boy had given him across the training room was as piercing now as it was when he had first been on the receiving end of it.

Well, of course you did

His arms barely held him up as he scrunched his face up trying to escape both the pain ravaging his body and the onslaught of memories.

Blue flames circled round them, as they gripped each other’s arms, reciting the ceremonial words. Back then Jace had been it for Alec, his entire life wrapped up in what he thought was unrequited love. At the time, Alec had pushed through with the ceremony, despite his doubts, because he thought it was the only way he could ever be close to Jace, the best way to keep Jace by his side. Now he realised, parabatai bond or no, Jace was his brother in all but blood. His teenage crush was just that, a crush. His own confusion around his sexuality manifesting itself against the closest friend he had.

Mmm, what'd you say?

His world was crumbling around him, he felt something solid against his head before his body hit the cool, hard floor.

Jace pulling him tight to him. The soft glow of Magnus’ loft surrounding them. The palpable relief that they’d found his brother, his parabatai, his best friend.

Mmm, that it's all for the best?

Arms cradled him in the present day, against the overwhelming swell of fear and anguish he felt he could almost pretend that this was Jace’s embrace. But he knew the truth. Deep down he knew, Jace was gone.

His breath came in dry, heaving sobs. It took him a few moments to realise that the physical sensations were gone. The pain that he had felt faded to nothing, not even a dull ache that normally followed an iratze. His body felt completely fine. His heart… That was another story.

Lifting his shirt once more, he saw nothing but clear skin where once his parabatai rune had been.

Of course it is

Songs:

Jeff Wayne - War of the Worlds (Instrumental)

Imogen Heap - Hide and Seek

V

Alec fumbled at the buttons of his grey shirt, checking his reflection in the mirror. Normally he wouldn't care about his appearance but today was an important day. He needed to make sure he looked his best for this evening and he had no guarantees that he’d have time after his meetings to come back and change. His movements were accompanied by that annoyingly catchy, synth heavy pop song again. He had to fight not to hum along.

We're no strangers to love

You know the rules and so do I

A full commitment's what I'm thinking of

You wouldn't get this from any other guy

Behind him, Magnus sat propped up in their bed at the Institute. Hair soft and falling gently against his forehead in the morning light. He held the New York Times in front of him, scanning the property listings and reading out anything that could be exciting for them. Planning for their future.

Realistically this should be reassuring to hear, that he wasn’t the only one who was in this for the long haul. But Alec’s insecurities were deep-seated and hard to budge. Yes, Magnus might want to live with him, but to commit to a lifetime together? That was harder to believe.

I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling

Gotta make you understand

He tried his best to hide his nerves and focus on the information his boyfriend was giving him but Magnus knew him too well.

“Alexander?” Magnus asked, voice tinged with concern.

“Yeah, yeah that sounds great.” Truth be told, Alec had no idea what the apartment Magnus had described was like. Or it could have been a townhouse? Possibly an open plan loft come to think of it?

“Is something wrong?”

Only that I want to marry you and there’s this damn song playing on a loop every time I think about it...

At the simple question panic swelled in Alec. Spinning to face Magnus, “What, no. On the contrary, everything is perfect. Now that you’re back to your old self,” he gestured at Magnus. His smile felt anything but genuine and his tone falsely cheery. He bit back a grimace at his terrible acting skills.

“Well, let’s not get carried away,” Magnus murmured, stretching to reach the coffee mug by his side, eyes downcast.

“I just mean now that you're healthy,” Alec clarified, not missing the slight derogatory quirk of Magnus’ eyebrow over the rim of his mug.

We've known each other for so long

Your heart's been aching but

You're too shy to say it

Inside we both know what's been going on

We know the game, and we're gonna play it

“So I was thinking we could have dinner tonight, on the balcony?” He changed the subject rapidly. Spilling out the details of his date night plan before he lost his nerve entirely. “The view of the city, the head chef can prepare something special.” He tugged at the cuff of his shirt, tweaking the folds where it was rolled up against his forearm.

“How romantic,” Magnus looked up at him, a barely there smile on his face but his eyes warm as they met Alec’s, “May I ask as to the occasion?”

Never gonna give you up

Never gonna let you down

Never gonna run around and desert you

“There’s no occasion, I just thought it would be nice,” Alec bluffed.

Magnus merely smiled and looked down at his hands, only a slight quirk to his eyebrow betraying his opinion on the matter.

“What? I can’t do something nice with my boyfriend?” Alec probed.

Never gonna make you cry

Never gonna say goodbye

Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you

“I am one lucky man,” Magnus looked up at him with wide, brown eyes warm with affection.

“Not as lucky as I am,” Alec replied, fighting back the instinctual blush that still threatened to creep up his cheeks whenever he broached conversations of feelings.

“OK, I’ll see you tonight at 8 o’clock,” he confirmed, pressing a kiss to Magnus’ cheek before heading for the door.

“I’ll be there with bells on,” Magnus’ answer was almost lost to the pop beats still bouncing around the room and assaulting Alec’s ears as he closed the door behind him.

Song:

Rick Astley - Never Gonna Give You Up

+I

The couple moved slowly together drifting in gentle circles, Magnus’ chin resting gently on Alec’s shoulder, a hand warm on his lower back. Around them, their family and friends watched on as they celebrated the love they shared.

Alec felt elated - just a few short months ago he wouldn’t have believed it was possible to feel this light, to feel this free. In that time he’d met (and now married) the most incredible, magical man; they’d defeated Valentine; brought down the Circle; taken down Asmodeus; defeated Jonathon and Lillith; and somehow made it through it all stronger and happier than ever.

Magnus’ hand tightened slightly at his back, causing him to check in with the Warlock in his arms, “I’m not stepping on your feet am I?”

“How could you be? I’m walking on air.” Alec could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke. They’d got so used to the undercurrent of stress that punctuated their lives and somehow managed to bleed into even the most private moments of their relationship at times, the ability to just live in the moment was liberating.

“I’m confused though,” Magnus continued. “I thought we settled on ‘What a wonderful world’ for our first dance. Did you change the music?”

Alec stepped back, not breaking their hold but just positioning himself so he could see Magnus’ face. “You hear it too?”

I want to see that sweet smile

All of the time

And if I get you a drink, oh

You know I'll squeeze your lime

“I don’t even know what this is?” Magnus asked in confusion, tilting his head to listen closer to the strumming of the ukulele and the high pitched lilt of the woman’s voice.

“Neither do I,” Alec said, grinning in spite of the confusion. This had never happened before, not even Jace had ever heard what he heard and they, for all intents and purposes, shared a soul through their parabatai bond. “If you listen carefully, you can still hear our actual wedding song in the background. It just takes some practice to filter through to it,” he explained.

I wanna buy you things

I wanna make you laugh

When there's nowhere to sit

I'll let you sit on my lap

“Is this what it’s like all the time for you?” Magnus murmured as he pulled Alec back close to him.

“Not all the time. Only when you’re around. The rest of the time it tends to be more like elevator music or classical pieces.” The dainty, sweet sounds of the ukulele washed over him as they continued to dance to the song that only they could hear.

Like a cool breeze after a summer day

I see that smile and drift away

Little Mango

Mango my love

“Little Mango?” Magnus repeated, mischief colouring his voice.

Alec groaned and buried his head in the crook of his husband’s neck. “No. Just, no.”

“But surely this is fate’s way of telling me the perfect nickname for you?” Magnus teased back.

“This could actually be worse than pup,” Alec complained, silently cursing the whimsical lyrics for inspiring this. He prayed to Raziel that it wouldn’t stick.

When you take my hand and dance with me

There's nowhere else I'd rather be

Little Mango

Mango my love

In the end though, he wasn’t sure if he could deny his husband anything that brought such a beautiful smile to his face. After everything they’d been through together, Alec would do anything to keep the man by his side happy. Even if that meant succumbing to the nickname ‘Little Mango’.

Song:

Catey Shaw - Mango

[poemsfromthealley]

idk if it's ok to ask about wips but 2,3,10 for the stair into the sea

2. Which scene was your favorite to write in The Stair Into the Sea?

I really like the conversation Alec and Magnus have at the boathouse in Chapter Five. Every scene Maia is in because she's my runaway favourite and her voice is both a struggle and a joy.

The entire Hill-Climbing Episode is very much my aesthetic though. It draws on personal experience a lot, and I think it worked pretty much exactly as I planned. That's a rare and satisfying thing.

3. Which part of the fic was hardest to write?

The hardest thing so far has kind of been all of Chapter Six. It took me a really long time to write, it felt like it would never end, and it had a lot of small moving parts that had to gel together.

I suspect the very hardest parts are still to come: Chapter Eight will get the plot rolling in a big way, and from there on it will keep wheeling on for a while so I can only hope I've seeded everything in properly. I have one conversation I've been looking forward to AND dreading ever since I first shouted to Ruth and Mindy on twitter about this story.

10. What are some facts readers may not know about the fic?

Oh, god, everyone has oodles of backstory I've vaguely sketched out on the off-chance that I need it, but I'm trying not to frontload the fic with it just to get it out there. The fic is specifically about how Magnus and Alec meet and how that meeting ripples out into both their lives, and also there is something weird and supernatural happening in this picturesque seaside town.

Some things I try to be aware of as I write:

Magnus comes from privilege but he rejected it wholesale as a young adult. Alec comes from a different kind of privilege but he left it due to circumstance. One of these things is central to the story, but they should all inform it.

On the note of privilege: I'm not writing an Anglo-American society. The fictional nation of Idris is socioeconomically and culturally much closer to the Nordic countries, specifically. That probably creates a bit of separation between the story and the majority of readers, but I try to see it as a feature, not a bug.

The Saintshead Light is intentionally old-fashioned and lower-tech than the average lighthouse would be in the 80s. Automation had removed most of the need for on-site lightkeepers. This is partly for story reasons and partly because I've struggled to find accessible background reading on lighthouse instrumentation. So, when in doubt, blame the magical realism.

Every named character in this story is from Shadowhunters canon. I'm gonna try and stick to it until the end. The only exception so far has been that I gave George a surname.

[zukadiary]

On The Twentieth Century ~ Snow Troupe 2019

Oh boy. Oh dear. If you'd like some background, here is a fairly comprehensive Wikipedia summary, but since all signs point to this show disappearing forever (a tragedy), I will do my best to go through it roughly scene by scene in hopes of extending the memory. 

“Perfect” is a word I’m still reserving for A-cast West Side Story ‘18, but boy is this close. It’s exactly what I’ve been waiting for, what in my wildest dreams I wanted Daimongumi to be, and feared it might never be. It’s hands down the best time I’ve had with my beloved Yukigumi since Chigi retired, and god I hope they continue on something even VAGUELY resembling this trajectory (tragic nihonmono, not optimistic, but,,,). I hope I can convey even a fraction of the joy that is this show.

Firstly, although it is the site of the first time I ever saw Komu live and thus a house of very treasured memories, I do NOT objectively like Theatre Orb. The third floor is too high for musical theater, the back of the second floor should not be A-seki, and the sound is abysmal. Unless you’re close to the front on the first floor, the instrumentals overpower the vocals, and everywhere I sat, including a pretty good S, there was an unpleasant echo. Like, if you can tamp down the power of DAIMON’S voice, something is wrong with your acoustics. The only time I had an improved experience I was on the extreme side of the 4th row and basically hugging a speaker, but if that’s the range for decent audio it’s a problem. And for some of the impressive songs in this show (and also just for Japanese comprehension of the speedy dialogue), it was a shame.

Everything else was outstanding. I can’t describe how WONDERFUL it was to hear Yukigumi, the tragedy troupe no one asked for, get not just giggles but consistent roaring laughter again. The overall casting—both in taking a chance on giving this troupe this show, and assigning roles to some maybe unexpected people—was brilliant. I’ll get more into the individual performances as I go through the story, but in quick summary: 

Maaya was absolutely the star, in both the weight of her role and the extremely satisfying application of her many talents. Lily is, in my opinion, unquestionably the crown jewel of her Takarazuka career so far, and if something ever tops it we’ll be luckier than anyone has any right to be. I’d kill for more of this treatment going forward; she’s talented enough to carry a show, and I think the dynamic of the entire troupe improves when she’s in this strong of a position.  

Daimon, whom I love to death, was SO above and beyond what even I thought she’d be able to do with a comedy; I always suspected she could pull it off IF she had the perfect formula of support (which I wasn’t confident the current Yukigumi lineup could give her), but she was SO good and SO in charge and SUCH a tone-setter for the entire comedic situation, I was truly blown away.

Owen and Oliver are in my opinion the juiciest roles after Lily and Oscar, but maneuvering around rank to cast Aasa and Manaharu was brilliant. Aasa has been average for me after leaving a huge impression in Robespierre, but her performance as Owen was back to MVP status, and Oliver is an absolute jackpot role for Manaharu, who rarely gets to do much of anything. 

I wouldn’t have wanted to see Saki in any role but Bruce; he’s the big dumb just-a-pretty-face movie star, the butt of many jokes and the most slapstick of all the roles, and her exaggerated physicality was I think better suited to that style of comedy than the quick banter in the Oscar/Owen/Oliver group (also, for the sake of their dynamic, I wouldn’t have wanted Bruce to be someone physically smaller than Oscar).

That put Shou, who conceivably could have been cast higher, in the leftover train conductor role. It’s not as exciting a part, but it was perfect if only to clear the way for the other casting choices. She got to be the center of several musical numbers, and she got to tap dance!

After a little introductory tap number by the four main train boys (Tachibana, Suwa, Manomiya, and Seika), the show opens with famous Broadway producer Oscar Jaffe’s right hand men, Owen (Asami Jun) and Oliver (Mana Haruto), running from an angry mob of unpaid theater crew from Oscar's most recent abysmally failed production (again!). They all but crash into Daimon cameoing Al Capone (because Chicago in the 20s!) as he’s escorted away by a policeman. Owen is more laid back and pretty much always drunk; Oliver is high strung and also prone to drinking. As far as my off-the-cuff brain will take me, Aasa and Manaharu have not had much experience playing off each other, but they worked SO well together. They were so funny, so in sync, perfect foils for each other’s characters, even physically similar enough that they just really looked like a matching set of long-suffering assistants. Since Owen and Oliver don’t have any money, they give the angry mob the slip, and read a note from Oscar instructing them to meet him on the 20th Century Limited, a 16-hour luxury train ride from Chicago to New York, and secure Drawing Room A. Then we go into the prologue number (pics are from the little bit of digest video and like one online article they gave us).

Although in retrospect I think it kind of subconsciously stressed me out the first viewing, I LOVED the music and choreography in this. Almost all the numbers mimic the rhythm of a train chugging along, and much of the choreography—when it isn’t just tap literally designed to sound like a train—has a feeling of commuter busyness to it. It wasn’t just on theme, it also enhanced the chaotic screwball atmosphere. 

Owen and Oliver board the train to find Drawing Room A occupied. When their best middle-aged-white-lady-insisting-to-speak-to-a-manager voices claiming (falsely) that they booked the room weeks ago failed to work on the train staff, they deduce from some nearby luggage that Drawing Room A’s occupant is Congressman Lockwood (Touma Kazuki in a hilariously disgusting fat suit and combover with her shirt sticking out of her pants at all angles) reserved under a fake name. Suspicious, Owen and Oliver burst into the room under the pretense of delivering said luggage and catch the congressman fondling his much younger secretary (Sara Anna). They win the room by threatening to leak what they saw if he doesn’t leave—Riisha scrambling around in such a disheveled huff while Aasa loudly counts down from ten. Score! But just then the train starts moving and Oscar is still nowhere to be found.

Whoops. He loses his hat, Owen and Oliver pull him through the window, and despite his abject failures in both life and train boarding, he lands dramatically front and center, all pomp and ego, waxing lyrical about the glory awaiting them in New York. Poor Oliver, despite being generally more sober and organized, is also more abused.

Daimon, always so delicately pretty and deeply sad, nailed Oscar so hard I don’t have nearly enough words for it. Her eye makeup was stern and crazy (and pretty monochromatic, nice touch for the 20s vibe), her mustache was GROSS, her neurotic mannerisms were so on point and so funny. She AD LIBBED!! WELL!! I was CRYING of laughter on senshuuraku, and she wasn’t just reacting; she was DOING THE AD LIBBING. The way she fidgeted and flailed and whimpered and yelled and modulated her voice WAY high and back down again to drag us though Oscar’s manic journey was just soooooo perfect. Not that I had any doubt she’d kill the songs, but they were hard, so it was all the more impressive. As perfect as Aasa and Manaharu were together, the three of them played flawlessly off of each other too. 

Interrupting Owen and Oliver’s failing attempts to convince Oscar that they are in fact heading for insolvency rather than glory, the conductor informs the passengers that they are approaching Englewood and Oscar flips out. He reveals actress Lily Garland, his former protégé and lover, is boarding there and will be staying in Drawing Room B. He gleaned this information from a bellboy who told a maid and stalked Lily onto the train without her knowledge, but insists that in the 16 hours to NY he’ll be able to convince her to star in his next show, solving his financial problems. Owen and Oliver are Stressed.

This leads into my absolute favorite progression of scenes: a flashback introducing how Lily and Oscar came to meet. Oscar is auditioning Imelda Thornton (the goddess Satsuki Aina) for the role of Veronique, a Parisian street singer who refuses to sleep with Otto Von Bismarck so he attacks Paris and starts the Franco-Prussian war as revenge (men!). If only the photos from this scene showed the parts I want; Daimon was SO funny. Imagine like, the face you make when you try to give yourself 8 chins and take the ugliest low-angle selfie you can. Daimon was that + a thousand-yard stare of skepticism, fidgeting neurotically and tapping the arms of the director’s chair, with Oliver and Owen standing behind, simultaneously goofing off and keeping things running smoothly. Also in the picture at this point: Max Jacobs (Agata Sen), a successful Hollywood producer trying to sign Lily in the present, but in the flashback, Oscar’s (later fired) useless assistant who can’t even take Imelda’s coat correctly. Imelda, an all-ego-no-talent diva, is freaking out because her regular pianist was sick so she had to hire a substitute last minute and she’s late. Enter now Midred/soon to be Lily (Maaya) through the audience, in oversized glasses, tacky pink house dress, and matching hair cap, dropping her sheet music all over the place. Imelda is furious, Oscar is disgruntled, Max is Stressed. Mildred sits down at the piano, Imelda declares she’s going to sing “The Indian Maiden’s Lament,” and tries to begin but Mildred is still dramatically warming up her hands and shoulders. Finally she gives the ok and starts playing something completely different (Imelda, furious; Oscar, melting into a pile of gooey discontent). 

Take 2, Mildred begins playing the correct song beautifully, while Imelda sings horrendously and Oscar tries violently and wordlessly to convey to Owen and Oliver in moments of Imelda’s averted gaze that they need to stop this somehow. Imelda hits a sour note that’s just the last straw for Mildred, and she stops playing and corrects her (gorgeously, flawlessly, Maaya’s voice is a treasure). Imelda, flustered, thanks her and tries again, but isn’t any better. Mildred keeps stopping and correcting her, eventually just singing the end of the song herself, while Oscar, moving his chair closer with hilarious little Flintstone car footsteps, stares at her agape and then gives her a standing ovation. Imelda loses her cool and fires Mildred on the spot for ruining her audition; Mildred hulks out and demands her pay for the day plus train fare (Oscar, fully Team Mildred at this point, is mimicking all her movements behind her). Imelda pays and storms off, telling her assistant to call her an ambulance. Just as Mildred starts packing her things to go, Oscar declares he wants her for Veronique and asks her name.

I wish I could share with you all the sound that both of them made saying “Mildred Plotka,” pronounced “Mildred BLEGCH” with copious spit. I’m embarrassed to admit I just spent a good 30 minutes? trying to chase down a vivid childhood memory—I was 11, and watching Spaceballs on TV with my bff, and in the combing the desert scene they censored “we ain’t found shit” not with a bleep but with some absurd SCHMUSCHSG noise, and my bff and I laughed for approximately 8 days, because we were 11 and probably eating Gushers—and in my memory this and Mildred BLEGCH were the exact same sound, and I wanted you to experience it so much I watched every combing the desert clip on youtube fruitlessly, hoping one would be this exact censorship (sorry... I’m just... Daimon was funny??? and I’m very emotional about it????). Anyway, since no one can say Mildred BLEGCH, Oscar decides her new name will be Lily Garland. After some hemming and hawing about not being an actress, Lily decides to give it a shot. The house dress tears away and we have the snazzy number “Veronique.”

Maaya was absolutely brilliant throughout the entire show, but this number hit me extra hard. Not only was she exceptional vocally through a very challenging song (dancing all the while), but her aura of a freshly hatched starlet, packed with youth and hope and freshness and naiveté and raw unpolished talent, contrasted so vividly with the successful Hollywood actress still fueled by Mildred Plotka spitfire that we see in the rest of the show; I found it VERY striking. It was subtle but so effective and truly masterful acting. Veronique ends, Daimon re-enters from the audience and tosses a bouquet (the first time I saw it she missed the stage, and Maaya, fully in character and without missing a beat, just parkour’d off the stage and grabbed it and hopped back on), and we’re ushered back into the present.

The conductor enters Oscar’s room to inform everyone that a religious nut is vandalizing the train with REPENT FOR THE TIME IS AT HAND stickers, but not to worry because they’re doing everything they can to catch the culprit; and to drop off a play that he’s written about a day in the life of a conductor (to Oscar’s annoyance). Then the train arrives at Englewood station, and Lily boards with a flurry of paparazzi, her assistant Agnes (Chikaze Karen), and her attention-whoring movie actor boyfriend Bruce (Ayakaze Sakina). Maaya (in a GORGEOUS dress) is instantly the Hollywood diva instead of the wide-eyed starlet; Saki is the comic relief in what’s already a screwball comedy. Oscar is a terrible person, so if you can imagine how big and dumb and sappy and suffocating and clumsy Bruce has to be to make you root for Oscar, Saki was all that. 

The two lovebirds put on quite a show of excessive PDA for the photographers while Agnes rolls her eyes, until it’s time for Bruce to leave the train. 

Lily falls to the floor dramatically, wailing oh WHAT will I do without him, when Bruce bursts back into the room, declaring he can’t possibly let the love of his life go to NY all by herself (Lily, all sorrow a minute before, is not 2 seconds later annoyed to see him). So he’s now along for the ride to witness Oscar’s whole scheme.

Owen and Oliver, trying to take matters into their own hands, show up in Lily’s room to beg her sincerely to do a play with Oscar, hoping she’ll pity him and his dire financial situation enough to do him a favor. 

Lily sings a whole song about how that’s never ever ever going to happen, and Bruce freaks out to learn that Oscar is on the train. Lily insists they have no romantic history, and then immediately lights up when she hears Oscar’s voice in her head. They sing a lovey duet representing that they’re still clearly both on each other’s minds. Despite the comedic and not at all tender nature of this show, and the love-hate relationship between these two characters, Daimon and Maaya’s chemistry, in my opinion, has never been better. I wouldn’t have thought it would take playing two self-centered assholes who both despise and desperately want each other to send the sparks flying, but BOY did it do the trick. 

Meanwhile, the REPENT sticker situation is getting worse, and the audience at this point realizes that the culprit is the unassuming little old Letitia Primrose—played brilliantly by Kyou Misa. 

She sings about how she’s taken it as her mission to encourage young people to repent for their sins. 

Oscar hears from Owen and Oliver that Lily is with Bruce and is despondent; he declares that he still loves her will definitely steal her back from both him and Hollywood. Oliver is fed up with his nonsense and tells Oscar he’s off his rocker (bless Manaharu and her ability to simultaneously look like a squirrelly little dude in her suit and bowtie and also not only stand up to Daimon but rile her up and get even more out of her). They get into a big fight and as Oliver storms out of the room, Oscar notices a giant REPENT sticker on Oliver’s back and chases after him to remove it. When he removes and reads it, he’s struck with divine inspiration for a new play about Mary Magdalene, a part so good Lily can’t possibly resist it.

Oscar is so sure this will work he instructs Owen to go buy him a bible so he can start writing the script immediately. Owen reminds Oscar that the train is in fact moving and they can’t really do anything at all, when they see Ms. Primrose’s bible on a chair (and all fall dramatically to the ground). Oscar takes that as a second miracle, insisting this means there will be a third, and Owen and Oliver agree to play along with his demands.

Oscar, now filled with renewed confidence, and Bruce, just as big and dumb as ever, sing a duet about how Lily is theirs (not at each other, separately in their own rooms). Both of them are just awful men.

While the two of them are non-confrontationally fighting over the same woman, Owen is in the bar trying to write a press release about the triumphant return of golden duo Oscar Jaffee and Lily Garland. Ms. Primrose picks up a crumpled draft from the floor and muses that she’d love nothing more than to sponsor some big artistic project. That gets Owen’s attention, and she reveals to him that she runs a patent medicine company and doesn’t know what to do with all her money. Owen calls to Oliver that they’ve found their third miracle!

Back in her room, Lily emerges in lime green negligee, to Bruce’s delight. Things are just getting uh sexy I guess when Oscar interrupts them and actually confronts Lily for the first time.

Bruce is furious that Lily lied about her history with Oscar, who is sitting on the couch in back of the room drinking their champagne and eating all the olives out of their martini glass as they argue. Bruce eventually storms off, slapping his headshot onto the wall as he leaves the room (Oscar immediately stands and tears it up). Lily sits down on the couch, now arguing with Oscar and angrily joining him in eating olives. Their hands touch going for the glass at the same time; Lily sternly tells him to let her go but then turns around and caresses her hand happily. Oscar takes this moment to spring his play idea on her; Lily reveals that she heard the whole story of his bankruptcy from Owen and Oliver and tells him she’s on her way to NY to sign with a reliable producer (the formerly useless Max Jacobs who Oscar himself fired). Realizing he’s out of game, Oscar starts hurling insults and they sing another spark-flying duet—Lily insisting she has everything, and Oscar insisting movies are beneath her talents and she’ll rot in Hollywood and fall into obscurity. 

Lily eventually kicks Oscar out, EARNESTLY throwing and smashing a champagne bottle against the door behind him. Oscar, without even taking a breath between Lily’s room and his, screams at his two traitors for ruining his plan and strangles poor Oliver (on senshuuraku Daimon held on for a comically long time, and Manaharu, refusing to concede that ad lib, then played dead on the floor for a good minute). Oliver and Owen save their own asses by telling Oscar about the sponsor they managed to find on board, and THAT’S ACT ONE (right before curtain, we see a tiny little plane labeled “Max Jacobs” flying above the train).

During the big ensemble number (”Life is Like a Train”) that opens act 2 we discover that the train is now absolutely covered in REPENT stickers, then Owen and Oliver take Oscar to meet Ms. Primrose.

I can’t stress enough how delightful Kyou Misa was, the perfect little ostensibly earnest but just subtly batty old lady; the way she stiffly hobbled around was adorable too. Ms. Primrose is thrilled to work with the great Oscar Jaffee, and even more thrilled to share the story of Mary Magdalene with the world, and asks him how much money he needs. Oscar nervously asks for $20,000, at which Ms. Primrose balks that that CAN’T possibly be enough and writes a check for $200,000. Oscar, Owen, and Oliver giddily sing “Five Zeros” in a manner not unlike Scrooge McDuck swimming in his gold coins, and over the course of the song Ms. Primrose bumps it up to $20,000,000 (in the 1920s!). Now they’re sure they’ll be able to lure Lily back. 

Oscar is about to go grab Lily and introduce her to Ms. Primrose when the train doctor Dr. Johnson (Kujou Asu) busts into his room with yet another manuscript (A day in the life of a doctor!). I mention this mostly because a) I LOVE ASU DEEPLY, she is so underused, and b) the three musketeers leverage this manuscript situation later on in my other favorite scene. They get rid of Johnson and Oscar finds that Lily wants to see him also. She sits him down and asks Bruce to give them some time alone (on his way out, he goes to replace his torn head shot with a new one that comically unfolds into five headshots before Oscar violently chases him the rest of the way out the door). Oscar is fuming, and Lily tenderly asks him to sit, which he does with a grumpy face and a flamboyant kick as he reluctantly crosses his legs on the sofa. Lily explains that she’s embarrassed by her behavior so far, is so grateful to Oscar for her career, and wants to help him after all... so she reaches into her bra and pulls out a check for $35 so at least he’s not dead broke. Oscar, amused, stands up and, acting as if he’s a magician, folds up the $35 check and dramatically asks Lily to blow on his hand. Out comes the $20,000,000 check.

Oscar ushers Lily into his room to prove to her that Ms. Primrose is in fact a real person who wants to sponsor his new play, if she’ll star in it. Lily, despite still generally feeling like she’d rather die than work with Oscar again, is now enticed both by the role of Mary Magdalene, which is much juicier than what she’s been allowed to do on screen, and the prospect of raking in this much money without being beholden to the jerks who run Hollywood. Faithful Oliver has already prepared a contract, and we get “Sign It Lily,” probably both the most difficult/impressive song and biggest earworm of the show. Not the best version but here, have a listen.

Oscar, Owen, Oliver, and Ms. Primrose are all bombarding Lily trying to get her to put her name on the thing (I truly don’t know when Daimon breathes), while simultaneously trying to keep Bruce and his contrary agenda out of the room (Saki gets repeatedly slammed into doors and walls, closed into closets, suffocated with pillows, etc). Lily gets overwhelmed and runs back to her room, pursued by a cocky triumphant Bruce, who yells behind him that they’ll never get her back away from movies.

Oscar gets a lightbulb moment at the word movie, and the team files one by one back into Lily’s room, smashing Bruce in the head with the door each time. Oscar tells Lily that if she agrees to do the play, he’ll shop the movie rights to whatever studio she wants (to which Ms. Primrose responds WHY BOTHER, she’ll fund the movie too). That pushes her over to yes, and she takes the contract to read carefully. The conductor enters the room notifies everyone that they are approaching Cleveland, and that Ms. Primrose’s nephew and his wife sent a telegram ahead that they’d be boarding the train there to meet her. She turns cold and hurries off alone. 

Owen, out for a celebratory entire bottle of wine, coincidentally runs into Ms. Primrose’s nephew (Machi Yuuka), who is frantically searching for his aunt. He says she hasn’t been all there since she stepped down from her position as company president, and just escaped from her mental institution. Owen asks about her money, the nephew says there is none, and Owen realizes they’re fucked.

In the frantic search for the missing Ms. Primrose, Bruce overhears Owen breaking the news to Oscar and Oliver, and tells Lily that Oscar deceived her again. She’s furious, and Oscar probably only escapes with his life because just at that exact moment, the formerly useless and fired but currently hot and successful Max Jacobs bursts through the door (Oscar yells MAX JACOBS like he’s going to burst every single blood vessel in his head and neck).

Max hopped a private plane to Cleveland to meet the train, because he has a brand new play written just for Lily (called “Babette”), and he’s so excited he can’t wait for her to get all the way to New York. Babette is a glamorous high society type role about a woman in love with two men. Lily starts reading the script, but finds herself wondering out loud if it can be changed to be more like Oscar’s. Max is incredulous and starts trash talking Oscar, and Lily slaps him REAL HARD in the face. She then catches herself yet again and and asks to be left alone to read the Babette script more carefully.

We’re taken to Lily’s wistful daydream of a classy party taking place in the Babette universe as she tries to wrap her head around the show and imagine herself in the title role. But she finds it dull, and every few pages, she has an intrusive thought about the more inspiring Mary Magdalene—one minute she’s milling through the impeccably dressed party guests, and the next she’s face to face with Owen or Oliver or Ms. Primrose dressed like an Apostle, until finally Oscar dressed as Calaf Jesus crashes the whole thing from behind. 

(Yup that’s a screenshot of the bromide sample page).

But Lily brings herself to her senses yet again, drives away all thoughts of Oscar, and agrees to sign with Max.

Oscar has lost and he’s despondent. He walks into the train bar to find Oliver sulking behind Owen who is passed out drunk in a chair. He takes out a gun (Oliver tries frantically to wake Owen), and begins a melodramatic monologue about how it’s better just to end his life now because no one wants to see him become a beggar in times square. 

Daimon hilariously mimes Oscar begging, then people throwing garbage at him, then dodging the thrown bits (on senshuuraku Aasa and Manaharu joined in with pretending to throw things). Eventually he leaves the room in despair, and Oliver asks Owen if he thinks boss would really kill himself. Owen is in the middle of saying absolutely no way when they hear a gunshot and run into the next room.

Oscar, now in a comical panic rather than a depression, is clutching his side and gasping that he’s been shot, and the heretofore still missing Ms. Primrose is in the corner of the room holding the gun by her fingertips, crying that she was just trying to put it away when it went off. 

Oliver runs to get Dr. Johnson while Owen tends to Oscar who is (again, comically) writhing in a chair and complaining that being shot by a crazy granny is not how he wanted to go, and this is my second favorite progression of scenes.

Owen offers to call the pastor for Oscar (who, by the way, cannot identify WHERE he has been shot), and Oscar gets mad. Owen then offers him ice cream. Oliver sticks his head back in the door to ask of Oscar is dead yet. Owen says not yet and brings in Dr. Johnson (Asu, my love) who at first giggles and assumes that because it’s Mr. Jaffee he’s just acting. Owen and Oliver assure him this is real, and begin moaning and wailing as Dr. Johnson examines Oscar in earnest.

He stands up, and Owen and Oliver take this to mean it’s a hopeless case, and it’s time for them to say goodbye. On senshuuraku, Daimon verrrrrrrrry slowly slid all the way down the chair, so that Aasa had to hold her up by the arms to keep her from wiping out, AND had to kick her foot to a lower step of the stage so she could stand up again. The raku digest thankfully shows a bit of this, along with the Matrix move Daimon had to pull to jump to her feet when Dr. Johnson declares that Oscar hasn’t been shot at all.

(It does not, however, convey how drawn out and hilarious this was, nor does it show the chair then toppling onto poor Aasa, and it taking her at least 3 tries to get it off her again).

Oscar then gets another harebrained idea, and tells Dr. Johnson that he read his manuscript from before and that it’s SO GOOD he wants to give him an acting lesson right then and there. Dr. Johnson is stoked. Oscar tells him to just sit in the chair, stare at him solemnly, and shake his head back and forth if anyone looks at him (Asu, over the next few minutes, gives what my admittedly biased heart firmly believes is the award winning performance of the show). Oliver and Owen are to pretend Oscar is dying. The cherry on top of senshuuraku was in the moment before this all commenced, Daimon, immediately after the chair debacle, took an extra long pause before delivering (completely straight-faced) her usual line of “I don’t want to see any hammy acting,” after which the others took a comically long pause before replying, “Yep.”

Dr. Johnson takes his place in the formerly toppled chair, Oscar grabs a pillow and lays down on the floor, Oliver and Owen go fetch Lily and start wailing again. Agnes and Bruce also follow Lily into the room and start crying themselves at the sight of Oscar “dying” on the floor. Dr. Johnson looks around from person to person in a panic and starts hyperventilating. Owen and Oliver mime at him to look sadder, Asu licks her finger and dabs tears on her cheeks and then makes the dumbest crying face I’ve ever seen, shaking her head increasingly aggressively each time someone in the room looks at her. Daimon and Maaya are weepily singing “Lilyyyyyyyy, Oscaaaaarrrr” back and forth for deadass three entire minutes. I can’t believe how much vocal control Daimon has even lying on her back on the damn floor.

Lily eventually signs the contract as Oscar’s dying wish. When Max enters the room, Oscar immediately jumps up to rub it in his face, and Lily once again is furious at being deceived. Oscar claims that with no money to offer, the only way he could rescue her from a rotted career was through trickery. **I FORGOT BECAUSE I FINISHED THIS AT 6AM AFTER BEING UP ALL NIGHT that Lily gets the last word because she hasn’t actually signed her name at all but written PETER RABBIT. They throw things and hurl vicious insults at each other and then finally realize they’re just too hot for each other after all and throw open their arms and get married.

The finale opened with Agata in a top hat and tails dancing with a stick and a bunch of musumeyaku, then there was a huge golden group tap number and a lovely waltz for the duet dance. 

I’ve been pretty upset that I had to miss BeruBara 45 and that I booked the trip I’m currently on before finding out Komu and Wataru would be returning to Bow Hall this summer, but being able to see this, especially since we’ll never see it again, was so so worth it. It was certainly a much needed boost for me personally, and it seems like it was a boost for the troupe and for Daimon and Maaya as a combi as well. I’m always torn about Broadway shows like this, because they’re SO good, and I WANT them to take on these kinds of challenges, especially when the result is so spectacular, but it’s such a bummer when they disappear forever. Many points to Harada for fitting this weird musical to Yukigumi like a perfect cozy little glove. 

[forasecondtherewedwon]

There would be a joke here about interrupting your regularly scheduled programming, but what even is that on this blog anymore? Je ne sais pas.

I wrote a fic for yet another fandom because I don’t know how to stay in just one! So, if anyone watches Deadly Class...

Rats’ Waltz

Rating: E (NSFW BELOW THE CUT) Pairing: Petra Yolga/Billy Bennett Chapters: 1/1

‘The Lady in Red’ played itself out and Petra let her arms slide down from Billy’s shoulders. His eyes darted nervously and he clasped a hand around his opposite wrist, throttling it. She wondered what was going through his mind. She’d always thought she’d known, before, but it was so different with him here in front of her. His words, the way he’d said he loved her, were easy to brush off; dismissing Billy and everything he was… that would be impossible after they’d danced, holding each other like that. If she wasn’t careful, he was going to figure out that she had a heart after all.

“How do I look?” she asked, watching his face steadily as his gaze zoomed down the length of her dress and shot back up to her eyes. It was mercury in a thermometer plunged into boiling water. It was the last ride on a condemned rollercoaster.

Billy’s laugh came out mostly through his nose.

“Like a princess.”

Petra pinched his bicep, hard, and he flinched away, almost dancing again, but more like the frantic, mosh pit shit that he and Lex practiced. The kind of dancing that god intended the populous to headbang along to.

“We could burn it off,” Billy suggested excitedly, fishing from his back pocket the lighter that had recently unleashed Lex’s pyrotechnic mayhem on the sky over Kings.

“Ah,” Petra halted him. She laid a soothing hand over Billy’s jittery one. “Good in theory, but I’m pretty sure one of those Sweet Home Ala-bitches got me with a blast of hairspray, and I’d rather my head didn’t go up in flames.”

She raised her hands level with her temples and made an exploding gesture, complete with sound-effect. Billy lowered his chosen instrument of chaos and Petra watched his nimble fingers push it deep into a front pocket of his pants. His hands were nice; she hadn’t really noticed that before. Then again, the chunky cast on his forearm generally arrested the eye.

Billy shifted, jumpy and overactive, and let out a giddy laugh.

“Me too, unless it’s metaphorically. I support your punk-given right to be a rage monster.”

Petra offered a tender half-smile.

“You had that handled tonight. You stood up for me.”

“It was retribution,” Billy said, sounding psycho-tough and stabbing a pointed index finger at the floor.

“It was anarchy.” Petra grinned. “And it was beautiful.”

He jerkily shrugged his shoulders.

“What’s a Rat got ‘cept other Rats?”

She nodded.

“You look out for your own. Your own,” Petra repeated, fainter, and reached up to cup Billy’s cheek.

He was too soft―not his face, though she doubted he’d ever shaved out of necessity―believing that she wouldn’t yell sike! or pull some other shit to punish the trust in his eyes. After she’d already hurt him, hurt him on purpose at Shabnam’s party. She was clearly bad for him and he was bad for her, a bad alliance in a place like this, not exactly hell, but maybe the clammy space between hell’s toes.

She kissed him because that seemed like a better idea than waiting to see if he’d do it first.

Billy pulled her back in, following her with his mouth when a breath snuck between them. Petra could feel him shaking, but she didn’t exactly know how to touch him. Damn green-mohawk’d livewire. He was so the opposite of casual.

“You’ve done this before, right?” she checked, drawing her face back from his.

“This this?” He puckered his lips to demonstrate kissing. Petra’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh,” Billy said, “this. Yep.” His vigorous nodding told Petra he’d caught on.

Yes, she meant sex, and yes, she knew he wasn’t a virgin. The way she’d asked probably made her seem like she didn’t know, but shit, it was supposed to have come out ringing with mockery, not soft and insecure. Ugh, she sounded tragically preteen.

“Aren’t you going to ask me?” she snapped at him.

Billy’s jaw tightened and Petra felt the whole scene teeter at the edge of a cliff she hadn’t known they were on. He’d say something about Viktor and then she’d get defensive and shut him out and then he’d get frustrated by the ineffectiveness of the way he always tried to break down her emotional walls with a battering ram even though this had never worked in their entire history and then―

“Do you… have something to contribute?” Billy asked, rocking on his heels.

Petra got her nostrils to un-flare from her pre-emptive surge of anger.

“I haven’t,” she said shortly. Less words meant less room for feelings to leak out of the corners of her mouth like drool when the dentist took too long prodding at your molars. Jesus, when had she last been to a dentist?

Billy’s features showed exaggerated confusion: forehead rumpled like bedsheets, eyes wild, etc. Petra sighed.

“Done this,” she clarified, her eyes careful on his. “Not with anyone who mattered.”

“Viktor was…?”

“There. He was there. Frankly, I’d rather get the taste of him out of my mouth sooner than later. Metaphorically,” Petra added when something caught fire behind Billy’s eyes.

“Look, we can forget all about what I said before, ok?” His confession at Shabnam’s was what Petra took this to mean. Billy laughed awkwardly, self-consciously. “Things don’t have to be that intense between us, but I also don’t wanna be mouthwash.”

“It came out wrong,” she admitted, inexplicably pissed at herself for having to apologize for something. “You wouldn’t be mouthwash.”

“Well… good,” Billy decided. “I’m a person, Petra.”

“You’re a cold-blooded lizard-man if you don’t shut up and kiss me again soon.”

“Shit,” he laughed, hesitantly cupping the sides of her head like he thought she might knee him in the nuts. Honestly, it still wasn’t completely off the table. “I know you’re not exactly overflowing with emotions, but there is this thing called romance.”

“I don’t do romance.” She hoped her eyes hadn’t just gone as wide and dreamy as it felt like they had. Fuck.

“Guess that’s all on me then.”

As his face tilted towards hers, Petra anticipated a kiss that came down hard and hungry, like the one she’d given him. Apparently, that wasn’t how things went when Billy led. She should’ve learned from the dancing.

His lips brushed hers and something deep inside her jerked loose like a vending machine dropping a soda. Petra felt fizzy. Their mouths hadn’t fully connected when Billy’s tongue skated slickly along her lower lip. What the hell. She could feel this getting her wet; normally it took several minutes of her chosen paramour’s determined fingering (post- several minutes of her determined instructions) to do that. It was her body throwing her words back at her, a reminder that no one else she’d messed around with had mattered. What a disturbing revelation though. Not only did she have feelings for Billy, she was also hot for him. The hits seriously just kept on coming.

Moaning was inevitable when Billy’s tongue stroked fully along hers and dragged it back into his open mouth. Petra half-mourned the fact that the Nazi she-devils hadn’t played dolly right down to her underwear, because the ones she was wearing were still her own and they were going to be a bitch to hand-wash with bulk-bought soap in the communal ladies’ room. A soft “uh” sound found its way out of their interlocked mouths and her hands gripped the front of Billy’s shirt. Instead of pulling back the way Petra dreaded he might, he moved his hands down from her hair, rubbing the back of her neck. Thank god he hadn’t given her some innocent startled face. Not a good complement to how badly she wanted to ride his thigh.

Petra stayed close, pressing both palms to his chest. Well, what a pleasant surprise―this skittish little skateboarder had the gentle swell of non-steroid-enhanced muscle under here. Lean but firm. Felt like his body had adapted after so many rounds of combat class, even if his brain hadn’t. (Petra rarely saw him win a bout. He just wasn’t great at anticipating his opponents.) As she ran her hands across his chest over his t-shirt, Billy dropped his straight to her ass. Kind of amazing that he could find it under the fucking puffy dress. Petra assumed the credit went to some inherent ass-finding skill only present in teenage boys.

He pulled her in, which was when she felt his erection. Again, the dress had been deceptively puffy because, against Billy, all that fluff compressed in a manner usually only observed in spray-cheese. Petra’s heart thrummed and popped like a bassline.

“We can’t get caught,” she said, drawing back to give him a dead-serious look.

Billy rolled his eyes.

“No shit.”

“After the poisoned darts tonight, which we are definitely getting nailed for at some point, we can’t afford any more trouble from the Man.”

“Yeah, babe, talk socialist to me.” He chuckled, kissing her neck, but Petra pried him off. “Ok, ok! You’re right.”

“We can’t stay here,” she said, beginning with the obvious. “Somebody’ll be back to clean up once they get those lowlifes medical attention.”

“Can’t go to the dorms. Roommates.” His grasp on her ass loosened as he thought; it was kind of cute how Billy looked when he concentrated. Ugh, god, no. Focus on the problem, Petra.

“Plus someone would hear us and either go for snitching or blackmail.”

“Oh yeah? You think you’ll be loud?” He grinned.

“I may have left my weapons in my other ball gown, but I can still break you, Bennett,” she warned.

“Promise?”

Petra grabbed his hand and yanked, heading for the door. She stopped short of dislocating his shoulder, but she knew Billy got the message.

“So, where we goin’?” he hissed as they glanced left and right, slipping out into the hall.

“The Rats’ Nest.”

Dumb name―the bastard offspring of their group’s label and a ship’s crow’s-nest―and it had stuck since whichever Kings’ class hooligans had invented it. It was a room on the roof, where all the Rats hung out. Not a stairwell or storage, the rooftop shed was their pinnacle, their dirty confessional, their canvas for graffiti practice. Mostly, it was where guys got their first blowjobs and girls got their first sour taste of the patriarchy. It would do.

“Grim,” was Billy’s assessment. Petra wouldn’t and couldn’t argue, but it was what they had.

“Yeah, I won’t be lying on that floor. Hope missionary’s not your favourite position.”

“Have you wondered?” he asked sleazily as they climbed the stairs to the roof.

“No.” Yes. “But then again…” Petra glanced at Billy over her shoulder. “…everything about you screams ‘submissive,’ so maybe not missionary.”

He bounded up to get ahead of her, swinging the door open.

“Is that what you want?” Billy let the door close slightly so that she was delayed right next to him.

“What?” She was confused and it was better self-defence to wrap that confusion in barbed wire and come off irritated instead.

“Do you want me to be…” He glanced down, practically jumping in place as he bounced on the balls of worn sneakers. “…submissive? Is that what you like? Petra,” Billy said, suddenly staring her right in the eye, “tell me what you like.”

Her eyes widened in discomfort, almost giving her a headache, and she pushed past him, stepping out onto the roof. Clear night tonight. Not even a lingering hazy of smoke from the boys’ cheap firecrackers.

“Fuck off.”

“Ooh, you’re so scary.”

Billy danced around in front of her, walking backwards as she strode ahead.

“Why do you want both of us to feel like shit?” he prodded. “Downstairs… we were… We were getting somewhere, dammit. What do you want from me? You want me to like you, then hate you, then like you, then hate you! Do I have to say it again?”

“Just get in the Nest. I’ll blow you if you’re lucky,” she said dryly.

Billy backed into the little room’s door and crossed his arms.

“No. I love you.”

Petra sighed impatiently.

“You wanna get laid or not?”

“Be a bitch all you like,” he said. “I’m still going to make you see this is worth something. That’s why I want it to be good. You’re not helping yourself by putting that mask back on.”

She clenched her hands into firm fists, but when she went to hammer one into Billy’s chest, all the force went out of it. Her knuckles just barely dug into his skin. His heart pounded back from underneath. They didn’t stare at each other long before Billy surged forward and kissed her.

“I love you, Pet,” he mumbled against her mouth.

“A light touch,” she offered, meeting his eyes as he drew his face back to look at her. “I’m tired of being used and abused.”

“Light touch,” he confirmed. “Got it.”

Petra took one last look at the stars, then reached around where Billy had leaned away from the door and yanked it open by its stiff handle. They entered and he found a box filled with broken bottles to keep the door ajar for the luxury of late-night, city sign light and fresh air. It still smelled like beer and something even funkier, though thankfully not like urine as the only Rats nasty enough to piss up here (all males, go fucking figure) considerately did so off the edge of the roof, hitting the occasional unsuspecting pedestrian.

Billy was watching her and Petra felt insulated with him for the second time tonight, though the first had only been an illusion provided by the music.

“This is a good idea,” he told her.

“The best.”

They were kissing again and Billy was up to his old tricks, getting every little bit of feeling out of her lips and doing it as tenderly as possible. She was insane for liking him this way, Petra realized, because only liking him was going to make her life hell. It would torment her days, find her in her sleep. He’d be kissing her like this in her dreams, the prick. She knew he would.

His hands were gentle too. Clutching at her waist, but moving eagerly to her breasts when Petra tugged the top of her dress down. (Her attackers had declared that the black straps of the bra she’d had on completely ruined this wedding cake vision they’d made of her. Like the rest of her other outfit, she bet the bra was currently bobbing in a toilet bowl.) She wondered if guys could really be like this, on the condition that they were sufficiently surprised to be getting what they wanted…

Nah, they were trash. But not Billy. His hands were warm on her as they dug inside the dress and cupped her boobs. Petra inhaled sharply through her nose when his rough thumbs circled her nipples with inhumane slowness. Her breath came loud in the small space. It felt as though they were miles from the school, or anything.

Billy gave her a last, firm kiss on the mouth, then continued pressing them into her yielding skin; up under her jaw, down her throat. Her heart beat hard. Like a total amateur, Petra gave herself away by grabbing the back of Billy’s mohawk when he smoothly licked over her nipple, but he didn’t get aggressive. He was the perfect gentleman, if that’s what you called the spastic boy you took to the blowjob spot. He was her new definition, anyway.

“Touch me already,” she blurted.

He laughed.

“Just trying to do what you said.”

“I said light, not slow.”

“That’s part of the romance,” Billy informed her, hiking up the hem of her dress.

“It sucks.”

“Thank you.”

He ran his palms up the outside of her thighs and she got goosebumps. Trying to stay calm, Petra put her hands on his shoulders―a stabilizing gesture.

“You seem taller,” she said nervously. Billy just smiled in confusion.

His hands brushed very gently over her hips and the ratty black lace of her underwear. They were a little old, but Petra hadn’t seen any she liked as much as these, and she wasn’t just going to steal cheap ones. She had standards. Better standards for what went on her body than who went in her body, most of the time. But then, tonight, she was getting it on with Billy while wearing something so truly hideous that Petra would’ve tried to murder herself if she’d been someone else and seen her wearing it.

“You look really beautiful. Nothing to do with what they did,” Billy clarified, palms rubbing over her hips, dress frothed up outrageously between them, “just… your face.”

She exhaled as he snagged her panties around hooked fingers and dragged them down.

“Lift your feet,” he requested.

“Why?” she asked, already doing it.

“Well, it’s not like the ground’s spotless and these…” He bent and retrieve them as she stepped out. “…cover a pretty sensitive area.”

It was bizarrely intimate to see Billy holding her undergarments and Petra glared so as not to blush. Prick.

“What am I supposed to do with them now? I’m lacking the over-teased heap of chemically-enlarged hair that I assume Brandy uses to solve feminine problems such as these.”

Billy shrugged.

“I’ll keep ‘em,” he offered cheerfully, stuffing her wadded up underwear into the back pocket of his pants.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Just for right now.”

“Or longer.”

“For as long as you last,” she taunted.

“I will give you the opportunity to renegotiate possession after you’ve seen me last.”

Petra let out an exaggerated, sarcastic gasp.

“Gosh! Really?”

He smiled and then leaned into her, pinning her firmly to the wall. She was pretty sure Billy felt her smile when they kissed, so she bit his lip to balance the scales. Once again, he somehow knew she didn’t mean it and was not deterred. That was how Petra realized she hadn’t broken Billy’s heart properly back at the party. Or maybe she had and he was just a quick healer. The rough cast pressing into her shoulder was a decent reminder.

“When do you get this off anyway?” she asked, touching the cast, then grazing her fingers up the black sleeve covering his arm above it.

“You almost sound like you care,” he accused, grinning and raising his eyebrows. Petra gave him an acid look.

“I’m asking for the sake of my own comfort, dweeb. If we do this again, I don’t wanna feel your plaster digging into me. Shut up,” she said to his awed expression. “I said ‘if.’”

Billy smiled and went back to kissing her. Petra kept her mouth tense and unyielding, but only for a couple of seconds. If Frenching was the kind of thing they graded at this wacko school, this idiot might actually come top of the class. She gave up on just going through the motions and fully gave back to him everything he was giving her, her arms folded around the back of his neck. Billy moaned a little and tilted his hips into her.

“Go ahead,” she panted, breaking away.

He pulled his face back just far enough that her eyes didn’t un-focus when they looked into his. Lowering one hand, then the other, he bunched the skirt of the world’s ugliest dress back into position. She could feel the texture of his pants against her thighs, but he kept his hips back now. Staring steadily into his eyes, Petra leisurely unwrapped her arms from around him and caressed down the front of his army-green T-shirt. Billy shivered and she smirked a little. She popped his button and unzipped his fly without glancing away from his face. He, meanwhile, was doing an exemplary job of not ogling her boobs. The heat from his crotch was practically enough to toast a marshmallow by, but Petra didn’t touch him yet.

“You first,” she dared.

With a visible swallow, Billy fisted the material of her skirt in one hand and slipped the other beneath it. Tentative fingertips located the poke of her hipbone. She didn’t know if he was aiming high and right on purpose, or just curious about her. Petra wondered, for a second, what it would be like to have her entire body touched by him. She wondered how it would be to touch his. The Rats’ Nest was no place for total nudity, unless you wanted to see what kind of diseases you could contract.

She stepped one foot outward, then the other. Billy took a shaky breath and inched his fingers down to cup her. It nearly killed her―worse than being stabbed, poisoned, strangled, or any of the other shit that had been done during real fights or just over the course of gaining the stellar education Kings was supposedly providing. This absolutely asshole! With his unhurried tenderness and goddamn reverent expression. Petra’s head knocked back against the concrete wall. He hadn’t even done anything yet. This was all the mere fact of his hand’s position; feeling it and knowing it was there.

The large studs on the cuff around his wrist were cold when they made contact with her abdomen, but she was pleased to have him holding her closer, more securely. It was almost like claustrophobia―this light-headedness in a small space―as Billy’s seeking fingers spread arousal over her clit. Petra thought he might mock her for being so wet (it was something she might have done, to pierce the atmosphere choking her with meaningfulness). He didn’t.

If it was up to her to play the mean card, she’d have to make a crack about how hard he was already, how desperate. Except it wasn’t funny, even in a make-fun-of-him way, when Petra gripped Billy through his underwear. He let out a shuddering exhale, clamping his eyes closed and flashing them open again a second later.

“Could you lay off that for a second?” he requested, sounding a little lightheaded himself. “This is kinda already too good to be true, and I don’t want to prematurely ejaculate all over our, you know―”

“Romance,” they said at the same time. (His tone was a little less sarcastic than hers. Ok, a lot.)

Billy grinned and kissed her with a swift peck that bumped Petra’s skull against concrete. This was still Billy, after all. But then, yes, he did have some surprises.

“I hope your hands are clean,” she said seriously as she moved her fingers to his ragged belt loops and he rubbed a little faster across her clit.

“I went to the bathroom right before we stormed the dance, and I always wash my hands. I’m a classy guy.”

Petra snorted out air, but her inhale was all moan. He was hitting her just right. She hadn’t… she hadn’t even told him what to do. If he’d just stroke the tiniest bit to the left. God, he did it.

“What’s your secret?” she gasped.

“Huh?”

She shook her head to tell him nevermind, because she was coming, stretching up on her toes in the stupid shoes that were the only things between her feet and a dirty needle or ancient glob of gum. Billy rubbed more forcefully―and swore significantly more forcefully than that―to pull her through the orgasm and out the other side. Petra didn’t specifically remember closing her eyes, or letting her head slump forward to rest on Billy’s shoulder, but evidently, those things had happened, because here she was, breathing his scent off his T-shirt.

Slowly, he removed his hand, wiping his fingers on the ass of his pants. Petra’s eyes were wide now, staring hard at nothing as she kept her head down for a minute longer, mentally getting a hold of herself. He’d touched her lightly, like she’d said. He’d paid attention to her response and adjusted his technique (though it truly baffled her to think of Billy having a technique for anything―except maybe rolling a joint) accordingly. What could she do… what could she say to that?

“I lied,” Petra admitted. She raised her head and pushed her hair the correct amount off her face.

“Well,” Billy began, smoothing a hand down her arm, “if it’s about something that’s gonna tear my heart to pieces, could you maybe save the truth for later?”

“I like rough and fast,” she said, holding eye contact. “In the past, I’ve tended to be the dominant partner because guys see the black hair, and the black clothes, and the black makeup, and that’s who they want to think I am because they don’t give a shit about who I actually am. But I’m not some Goth fantasy who wants their sexual experiences to revolve around teasing out some asshole’s kinks―a surprising amount of time literally involving their assholes. And I hate light touches,” Petra added. “Usually. Except not with… I guess not with you.”

He was staring at her. He wouldn’t quit staring at her. She was going to have to drive the heel of her horrible shoe into the top of his foot. Then he did something worse than the staring. He said her name, softly.

“Petra.”

She wrapped her arms around the back of his neck like she had when they’d danced and kissed him. He held her―tight, then tighter. Something was surging inside her and it wasn’t the desire to maim that she constantly felt around almost every person inside the building they were standing on top of. This whole thing had been a very dangerous fever dream.

They were kissing fiercely and it terrified Petra, but it was a horror she wanted to wrap herself around. She tasted it, her tongue twined with Billy’s, and nothing had ever been sweeter. Restless, she twisted with and against him, getting her hands to his hips. They broke the kiss wetly and abruptly. Petra stretched the band of Billy’s underwear away from his abdomen, then yanked them and his jeans downward. He leaned back―just his upper body.

“You want me, take me,” she said. “I want you to.”

Billy nodded rapidly and Petra found herself nodding back. She was turning in his arms as he quickly lifted her heinous skirt again. His hand came around, feeling her waist, then dove down, seeking her from the front as his hot erection prodded from behind. With less reluctance than she would’ve had not high on lust, Petra slapped her hands to the well-tagged wall and tilted her hips back. Billy quickly drove in. He was blunt and spontaneous and he started to say something, but Petra reached back and covered his mouth. No apologies necessary for giving her this. She returned her hand to the wall as he dragged back out.

“Oh, Jesus, Petra.”

His breathing sounded shivery. He bucked forward and she stretched into the feeling. Finally, Billy gave up on keeping her dress out of the way and grasped her hips with both hands.

“Please,” whipped out of her mouth before she could press it into her arm. Arms were useful tools for self-defence, physical or verbal, but she didn’t want the first kind and the second had just failed her.

Billy thrust harder and Petra’s eyelids closed briefly as her eyes rolled back. On the next forward swing of his hips, she met him in time and they released an obscene duet of pleased moans. God, they’d circled each other for so long―him: bouncing up and down, her: still and largely silent. Now, Petra considered that she shouldn’t think so harshly about his neglect to anticipate attacks. She’d been blind here. Blind, blind, blind.

She struggled to keep her eyes open. Her nerves were catching and sparking like exposed wiring, hands tensing into fists before she flattened her palms back out on the wall. Billy was in the grips of his desire. He had one arm wrapped firmly around her waist, holding her body to his, and the other making the descent to her clit, which was not so easy now that he was pounding into her, shaking them both. Petra felt his hip bones when he thrust inside and held himself there for a long second. It seemed like he was pushing as hard as he could, feeling all of her, every time. Her spine felt like he’d scratched a match straight down the length.

There was a desperate noise, a needy whimper, and Petra couldn’t place it.

“I know,” Billy told the sound. “I know, I know.” His voice cracked into a groan of craving that made her squeeze around him greedily. “I can’t… much longer.”

Petra dropped one palm from the wall and fumbled for his hand, settling his fingers optimally on her clit. He scrubbed violently and she came in seconds. Yes, he listened, and no, he did not fuck around. The orgasm left her reeling and quaking. She couldn’t tell if she was hot or cold, up or down. Billy kept stroking at her until she moved his hand away. Somehow, their fingers stayed tangled together as he tucked this arm around her too, hugging her from behind. The texture of the cast didn’t matter so much now.

“No condom, I’m guessing,” Petra said as dryly as she could while he continued to do things to her that made her jump and angle her hips for more.

“When am I ever ready for anything?” he panted, laughter just underneath.

She thought quickly as Billy’s thrusts grew shallow.

“On the dress,” she said.

“Don’t mind if I do.”

He pulled out and Petra turned quickly to face him, smoothing the skirt down for a change, to ensure it received the most coverage possible. She was less prepared for watching Billy jerk himself off, and apparently, so was Billy, his eyes a little wild and afraid. Petra slowly looked him up and down, then reached out and slid his t-shirt up his stomach to see more skin. He didn’t stop stroking.

“You look good,” she said, holding his gaze carefully.

Billy’s eyes clamped shut and his forehead crumpled. Petra guided his free hand up to her breast; he gripped. She felt a wave of flush go over her skin as he released in a jagged jet along the skirt. The top was undone anyway, so Petra wriggled out of the rest of it while Billy leaned into her, then hauled him close. She was naked, apart from her shoes.

While her hands climbed up his back under his t-shirt, Billy hiked his pants up and delicately tucked himself back in. Then he fell against her the last tiny bit of the way, his weight pushing her to the wall. Petra laughed and stroked the back of his mohawk flat, then clawed it back the other way with her fingers.

“How long are you gonna let me hold you?” he asked after a minute, speaking into her hair.

Petra turned her face to his shoulder and smiled.

“Until I think of some other way to cover myself. I’m not putting that dress back on.”

“Oh!” He let go of her. “Hang on.”

With a twitchy motion, Billy shrugged out of his black button-down shirt. It got hung up on his cast, so he rotated his arm while tugging the sleeve; Petra stood there, arms crossed over her chest. Shyly, he extended the shirt to her and she slipped into it, noticing him completely turn his head to look away. She buttoned it up. The fact that the shirt would cover her ass solved part of the problem.

Billy’s gaze squiggled over her quickly when he faced her again. His mouth tensed, probably trying to contain a smile. With a steady hand, Petra touched his cheek and lightly kissed his lips.

“I know how we get you out of here,” Billy said, his smile appearing slowly, at the same speed his eyes opened as she drew back.

He reached an arm back and hooked the neck of his t-shirt from behind, tugging it awkwardly over his head. When he got his elbows trapped and started to flail, Petra assisted his escape.

“How is this helping?” she checked, unconsciously clutching his shirt to her stomach.

“Streaking, Pet!”

“Oh god,” she groaned, but as she thought about it, she knew it would work. Mr. ‘I Climb Over Tables Instead of Walking Around Them’ was good at attracting attention.

She gave a half-nod, but Billy was already yanking his pants down, too committed to his harebrained plan to think about her agreeing or not. He caught her looking as he lowered his underwear.

“Next time,” he informed her, “we’re doing my favourite position.”

Petra was still trying to deaden the look in her eyes and keep her gaze over his left shoulder. She sighed heavily for effect.

“Fine. What is it?”

He grinned.

“Missionary.”

Startling herself, Petra let a laugh burst out and shoved Billy by the shoulder, almost toppling him as he idiotically attempted to remove his clothes without taking his shoes off. (Not that she blamed him for keeping protective footwear in place. Fucking Rats’ Nest.)

“You’re not serious,” she shot back.

“You’ll find out.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and straightened up. “Uh, can you hang onto these for me?”

She accepted the rest of his clothes, wadded into a sloppy ball.

“The panties, uh…” Billy floundered.

“You’ll get them back with everything else,” Petra promised. What the hell.

He grinned again.

“Also, next time, condoms.”

She raised an eyebrow. Not at his second use of ‘next time’ though. For Petra, that had been decided before she’d hit the first orgasm. Maybe even before they’d gotten up to the roof.

“You’re not actually going to buy them, are you?”

Billy scoffed, swinging his arms, naked apart from his sneakers, already almost in motion.

“What do you take me for? Some capitalist dupe? I’ll steal ‘em like a good boy.”

“What a relief,” she said.

“What is?”

“Just, you.”

He blushed.

“’K, if we ever wanna do this again, I gotta run.” Billy sprang forward and kissed her on the cheek. “Love you, Petra. Gimme a head start.”

She stood in the Rats’ Nest doorway, holding Billy’s clothes, and watched his bare ass as he bolted for the stairway. He flung the door open and pounded away down the stairs screeching ‘London Calling’ at the top of his lungs.

Glancing at the dress she’d intentionally walked across on her way out, Petra smiled wickedly at the thought that she could come back up here and burn it. Maybe bring Billy.

Quietly, she hopped the box of broken bottles and ran to the stairs, heading for her dorm. Billy’s voice was echoing everywhere. She wondered what trouble she was going to have to help him fight his way out of when Master Lin picked his punishment. Moron just had to be a hero.

[banditchika]

forgive me mother for i have sinned

fandom: bandori

words: 1541

pairing: tsugusayo

ao3 link

She shouldn't be doing this.

She really, really, really shouldn't be doing this, but—

She has to know. Oh, the things Lisa has seen today; she can't go on with the rest of her life without investigating this, because...

Because there's just no way. Hazawa Tsugumi? Rosy-cheeked, wide-eyed, dimpled Hazawa Tsugumi? The school council's darling and all-round cherubic sweetheart?

Lisa can't believe it. There's no way that Hazawa Tsugumi just...

She glances down at the phone and geez, she feels like she just peeped on someone doing—um. Like she saw something horribly inappropriate. Which technically, she has.

Tsugu: hey baby! Tsugu: send nudes? ;>

Lisa peeks again at the screen and gulps. She half expects Sayo to come crashing through the door, brandishing her guitar and howling loudly enough to put a shounen protagonist to shame, but nope—it's just her holding down the studio. Sayo's talking with Marina with the rest of Roselia and paying Lisa— and the fact that she's left most of her private life in the palm of her hand—no mind.

Normally, Lisa would be out there with them. A large part of her still feels like she should be; feels that this is definitely an invasion of privacy, and that the reason why Sayo's left her phone with Lisa is because of trust, and Sayo trusting her? Well, that's solid gold right there.

But this situation is anything but normal. Damn. How did comparing recipes and ingredient ratios turn into this? This has to be a joke, right?

She would have let the phone return to its lockscreen and joined Roselia outside had LINE not pinged just before Lisa could click the power button, and Lisa had learned more about her dear, sweet underclassman, and her seemingly-ever-reliable bandmate's relationship than she ever wanted to know.

... Well, she says that, but now that she's seen it, she doesn't think she'll ever be able to look at either of them the same way until she's sure.

Tsugu: ... sayo-san? :< Tsugu: baby?

It's like a little devil and angel are sitting on her shoulders; Devil Ako (because it's kinda fun to put a face to the warring parts of her conscience, and because Ako would probably appreciate it) tackles the ever-moral Angel Sayo off her perch, and before Lisa can second-guess herself, her fingers are flying across the keyboard.

Hikawa Sayo: Alright. What level of undress are you expecting? Hikawa Sayo: Gravure, topless, or full-frontal nudity?

Lisa hesitates. She's too terrified to scroll up and see if Sayo and Tsugumi really were exchanging—oh man, she can't even think it—really were doing that, but maybe... maybe if she's a little sneaky, she can satisfy her curiosity and delete the messages before Sayo sees them. It's underhanded and dirty and she feels weird and bad drawing this as her moral line, but. Listen. Her curiosity has to be satisfied.

She keys in her last, killer line: the final blow.

Hikawa Sayo: Or perhaps, Tsugumi-san... you want something else today?

Read at 4:20.

Three dots appear beneath Lisa's message, and Lisa's heart plummets to her chest. What has she done. She has to apologize to Afterglow right now, immediately. Like, right this second. She has Himari and Tomoe's phone numbers. She can totally send an apology essay and like, supplicate herself in hopes of mercy.

Oh, oh, oh boy, oh—oh no. Lisa's face is on fire while Tsugumi types. She did not think this through. This was a mistake.

She should have just dropped the phone and pretended she didn't see anything, or 'fessed up at the beginning and not be able to look either Tsugumi or Sayo in the eye. Sayo's going to kill her. She's going to have Lisa stand at one end of the studio and just—just hurl her guitar at Lisa with her usual terrifying, uncanny accuracy, and Lisa's too pretty and too gay to die like this!

Her only consolation is that Sayo probably won’t end her with a bullet. Lisa's defied most lesbian stereotypes but the big U-Haul and being in love with her straight best friend; she's not about to start racking the rest of them up now.

Tsugu: yo woah Tsugu: uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

... Wait. Wait a second.

Lisa squints at the phone. Tsugumi doesn't talk like this. At least, Lisa's pretty sure she doesn't. The girl radiates good vibes and puppy energy and—seriously, it's an effort to restrain herself from patting Tsugumi's head whenever they run into each other in the hallways. There's no way someone that sweet and kind and bright types like this. Lisa can practically smell the weed.

Tsugu: ok lmao ill just b really honest with u sayo san Tsugu: this is aoba moca afterglows guitarist Tsugu: were at tsugus cafe rn n she left her phone w us while shes on shift Tsugu: i was just messing around pls dont actually send nudes Tsugu: at least until tsugus here u kno. u do u in private

Moca. Moca. Of course it's Moca.

A sigh shivers out of Lisa. She's saved! No death by guitar from Hikawa Sayo. Kind of. Sort of. Maybe.

Death by teasing from Moca, though; that's a possibility that's growing more concrete by the second now that she's the one holding someone's—that is to say, Lisa's—life in her hands.

Moca's still typing.

Tsugu: if u dont mind me saying tho Tsugu: rlly didnt expect yall 2 have gone so far n stuff Tsugu: i mean hiichan n tomochin play gay chicken all the time so its not like no one in afterglow sends nudes n stuff (dont tell them i said that~ pls~) Tsugu: but tsugus like our baby u kno Tsugu: n also our grandma who we love very much n tell all our problems 2 Tsugu: so uhhhhhhhh Tsugu: wasnt expecting this at all but dam tsugu get it Tsugu: pls dont get mad at her or kill me xoxoxo moca

Moca doesn't type again. Lisa wonders if she's feeling the same trepidation that Lisa did when she waited for "Tsugumi" to respond. Moca kind of actually has feelings, sometimes, so there's a definite possibility that even she is sweating—but also, it's Moca. She might really be ready to face the consequences for her actions (read: guitar duel with Sayo, except they're actually swinging at each other with their instruments) and expects to come out the winner.

Hikawa Sayo: Ummm Moca?? Hikawa Sayo: This is Lisa Tsugu: oh shit lisa san Tsugu: that was u? Hikawa Sayo: Yeah~ hahaha~ Hikawa Sayo: Sayo was showing me something on her phone and then ran out to do something for the band. I was going to put her phone away but then I saw your message and Hikawa Sayo Well... Hikawa Sayo: I won't tell Sayo if you don't tell Tsugumi Tsugu: got it Tsugu: ill eat the evidence lisa san dont worry theyll never have 2 kno Hikawa Sayo: Ahhh!! T-T Hikawa Sayo: I'm so relieved!! Thank you Moca!

Lisa starts to delete her messages. Tsugumi's texts begin to disappear as well. She's really glad that the app shows no records of deleted messages because—whoo, boy.

Tsugu: slurp slurp Tsugu: sorry u had 2 deal w this lisa san Tsugu: see u at work tmrr

Lisa sends, "Yeah see you!!" as Moca's last texts begin to disappear.

With everything cleared, she tosses the phone into the depths of Sayo's school bag and perches on the stage, face buried in her hands. Ugh. Ugghhh. Uggghhhhhhh. This is karma. Karmatic punishment. She's been too nosy and too meddling and this is her punishment.

She's definitely smudging her makeup right now, but after everything that's happened? She deserves it. Consider the lesson learned, because from now on, Imai Lisa is going to be a model citizen. She's not going to bother with other people's business, she'll keep her head down and just focus on bass, and school, and work, and clubs—karma had its kiss out for her this time, but she's not gonna give it another reason to try again.

Lisa peeks through her fingers at the door. While Sayo looks as pleased as she ever gets outside of texting Tsugumi or doling out rare, rare bits of praise whenever they play particularly well, Yukina's got a certain... expression on her face. It's the one she gets when someone's put bitter melon on her plate or told her that no, you can't go to the park, it's the middle of the night!

She wonders what Marina's told them that has made Sayo so pleased and Yukina so... not.

... Okay, fine. Maybe she'll meddle a little more after all.

[kachuwritings]

Seventeen as dads

This is going to be my 200 follower special requested by a lovely anon, thank you!~

I made it with bullet points, I hope you’ll enjoy!^-^

S.Coups:

The born dad, I tell you

Searching for the perfect dad?

Here he his

Choi Seungcheol aka daddy af ;)

Is already a dad of 11, so he's experienced

He'll always know what to do, like in every situation

Has a solution for literally everything

Will care so much about your kids

He always has everything ready that your son or daughter might need when going out

Literally so protective over you and the kids

Like a momma lion, if someone steps too close to you he'll attacc

But so fluffy~ towards you and the lil ones

He loves you and the kids to no end

Will teach your son to be manly and strong

Like him

Cuz he's manly and strong (but also so fluffy and he knows he can't hide it)

Is such a happy dad overall

Jeonghan:

Prettiest dad ever

Like have you seen him???

Your kids are gonna be pretty af

Them genes gurl

He'll definitely teach them being smug

But also lazy

And you're like: “Hannie noooo! Be a better role model"

But he'll just keep lying down and munching chips with the kids

They'll love him so much for this

But honestly, he'll be a great dad

Will always take care of the kids

Will teach them useful things

Like cheating their way to success *cough*

But seriously tho!! He'll be such a good dad and he'll love it

Always ready to braid or comb his daughter’s hair

Adores her hair and thinks back to the time when his hair was long

You and him will have the prettiest kids with the most beautiful hair

Joshua:

Dorkiest dad ever

Always gentle and nice tho

But can be low-key a lil bitch

Your kids will love him

Always sings them to sleep with his sweet voice while playing guitar

And you're sitting next to him, adoring him and asking yourself how you've become so lucky

Such a good dad

Like for real

He's like one of these role model dads

Going on bike rides with the kids

And teaching them how to swim

Playing games

Just being a dad

It's like his new fav thing to do

And you're glad he's around so much even tho he has such a busy schedule

Will force your kids to go to church with him (ok this is joke chill guys)

You couldn't wish for a better dad

Like Really.

Jun:

The duality of this dude will even confuse his children

One time he'll be a shy lil muffin dad

And another one he'll be an overconfident daddy-o

Don’t get fooled by this one

He'll always keep it interesting

Your kids will never be bored with him

Is a talented beb and will probably teach your kids everything they want to

He can act so he’ll probably teach your children how to act

They’ll be asking him to do improvisations and watch him act out different roles

It’s so entertaining and you realize once again how amazing your man Wen Junhui is

Like….so so soooo amazing

Is SOFT

Like so soft for you and the kids

Also low-key emotional

Don't let him cry in front of the kids or they'll get worried lmao

But you'll be such a happy family

He'll teach you and the kids everything about Chinese culture

And of course your kids will grow up being able to speak mandarin

Even if you don't stan Wen Junhui, believe me you'd want kids with him

Hoshi:

FunNieSt DaD eVer

Like Hoshi is such a cinnamon roll

He'll adore your kids to no end

Always makes them laugh and is able to cheer them up when they're sad

Probably teaches them how to dance

Like gurl, you're married to a choreographer or course your children are going to love dancing with their dad

BeCauSE

Look at this good-looking, talented, lil bun

Such a proud dad

Your children are equally as proud of him

BuTttt

Hoshi is a cinnamon roll...most of the time

There's these rare occasions when he'll get angry because he's overworked and stressed and loses his temper

Can be reallll scary when angry

Your children will be low-key shocked about his sudden change of demeanor

But he'll notice and be like: Omg I cAnT posSibLy scAre mY oWn cHildRen

And he'll immediately calm down and comfort your kids

He's a loving dad and would feel really guilty to have scared them momentarily

Wonwoo:

Ayyyyy I see him as such a cute and nerdy dad

Like, always wears his glasses and looking fluffy af

You and the kids gotta deal with his occasional dad jokes

Thinks is funny, but really isn't

He even isn't funny to a point where it becomes funny again

Buys cute lil glasses for your children to match him

You get one too, believe me

You'll be the perfect nerd family

He'll always sit with the children in the evening and reads them stories from books to fall asleep to

Since Wonwoo loves books, your children will come to love them as well

Already at a young age

Probably eager to teach your children how to read before they even enter school

I see him as this typical, cute, fluffy, nerdy dad

+SOFT AF

Woozi:

Oh oh, don't get me started with this one

Your children are going to LOVE music

He’ll teach them how to play instruments

he'll play the sweetest of melodies on the piano

Will also sing to your children when they can't fall asleep

He might look cold and unemotional

Or kinda hard on the outside

But the love he holds inside his heart for you and the kids is infinite

He might not show his affection a lot

And also is kind of a workaholic kinda dad

Because he loves his job and music and he's so dedicated

But

If he does show his affection and become clingy and cuddly

You'll feel how much your family means to him

Probably writes a song about you and the kids

You guys are his inspiration and motivation

You help him keep going

In total

Just a cute lil dad who wants to love and be loved

Also kinda manly at times tho

But overall a really caring dad

DK:

Damn...he's such a loud dad

Like sooooo loud

Probably screams louder than all your children combined

Will always play with them

They probably gonna have a screaming contest

Y'all be playing some game and he'll randomly start screaming and entertaining y’all

He's such a fun dad seriously

Always knows what your children want

And always ready to spoil them

Is also soFT

And emotional

Is sensitive and gets hurt easily

Will then sulk and pout at your kids (in a joking manner) until they feel guilty and shower him with hugs

ALWAYS TAKES YOUR KIDS ON PIGGY-BACK RIDES 1.0

And he's definitely also one of these dads who'll sing your children to sleep

Maybe you'll even join him and you'll sing together

But you also just want to listen to his beautiful voice

Is probably the most excited dad ever

Mingyu:

This tall bean lmao

Such a clumsy dad I tell you

He's a literal puppy

He's also such a big baby and he always seems to trip over his own feet

Your children will probably laugh at him tbh

But he won't be mad since he's happy he can entertain them

Even if he makes a fool out of himself

ALWAYS TAKES YOUR KIDS ON PIGGY-BACK RIDES 2.0

Like they'll love to have such a great view over the world from such a high spot

Cuz Mingyu is as tall ad a mountain

Yup

He's a fluffy bean and will make sure his children are always happy

He loves cooking for y'all

He'll cook so many delicious foods

Your children get excited and want to help him

So he'll teach them how to cook

It's such a sweet sight seeing your man cooking with your children in the kitchen

He's the kind of Disney prince dad

Like the perfect and most handsome dad ever

You couldn't wish for anything better

Minghao:

A smug dad tbh

He's a savage but also a lil bean

Such an innocent dad help

He's emotional and so caring

He'll give you and your children the whole freaking world

Always makes sure you’re all happy

Hates to see any of you unhappy

But sometimes...sometimes...

When thughao gets through to him

Your kids will be like what??just??happened???with???dad???

He'll have the most savage things to say and y'all are just lmao u for real?

Probably teaches your kids to be swaggy and savage

Also wants to teach them how to b-boy

The other half of chinaline, so your kids will grow up to know how to speak mandarin as well

Also loves to read to them like Wonwoo

Discusses books with you and the children like in a small book club

Also goes to art museums with y'all and teach you about art

You'll all draw and paint together

Your children will love to throw paint at the canvas, lemme tell you

IT'LL CREATE A MESS

But it's a happy mess, so it's okay

Coolest dad ever!!!

Fite me on this one

Seungkwan:

OVERDRAMATIC DAD OH LORD

If one of your children trips and scratches his knee

He'll act as if they're about to die

Rushes towards them and makes sure they're okay

“OMG MY BABY IS HURT"

he's so caring istg

Even if he's overreacting and overdramatic

It only shows how much he cares for all of you

Loves you and the kids to no end

Sweetest father ever

(Whenever he's not in diva!boo mode)

Also has a beautiful voice

Of course I won't forget about this

I've mentioned it a lot

BuTtttt

Will also sing your children to sleep

Will always sing

Like 24/7

Will sing when preparing breakfast for y'all

Will sing in the shower

Will sing when picking your children up from kindergarden

Will probably even sing while taking a nap istg this boi

But you and the kids love his voice

(Even if it's sometimes a lil much)

But they'll definitely want to sing along with him so he'll teach them how to sing the songs they like

So proud of you and the kids

Vernon:

Oh no this dork

He's soooooft

But also chill and relaxed

Your life will be so comfortable with him

Your kids will really take after him

Y'all are going to have lazy family movie evenings

But

Like I said

He's a dork

Probably tries to sell his mixtape to your children

And they'll be like

Dadd????

What is this???

We don't have any money???

He'll make them listen to the mixtape along with you

And they're so surprised like

Omg I didn't know my dad was so cool

He can rap??? My dad can rap???

Your kids will be so amazed

Want him to teach them how to rap

Probably writes funny little rhymes about your family life or other stuff that he'll rap to your kids

They'll have so much fun

He even tries to teach them how to write lyrics

But they'll just stare at him with big eyes

Like

Dad...how do you even write? What is the alphabet?

And you'll just look at them and giggle to yourself

Your life will be all around great with Vernon and the kids

You have such a chill family life

Y'all harmonize so well with each other

Chillest dad ever

Like your kids will never get in trouble because he's so chill

But still cares about teaching your children proper manners

Dino:

Aaaaah the baby himself has babies what

Ok i'm sorry

Chan is an adult now

He's a hard-working one

Very passionate

Very thoughtful dad

He'll know how to treat you and the children right

Your children look up to him tbh

Entertains you all with Michael Jackson impersonations

DaNcE GoD

Will probably teach your children how to dance like Hoshi

But they'll also be so eager about it

Every time they see him dance they're like

OMG DAD!!! TEACH US!!

DAD I WANNA KNOW HOW TI DANCE

And he'll be so proud

Will definitely teach them

It's gonna be so much fun and you're watching them trying to get the moves right and copying his movements

He's an active and motivated dad

Y'all are probably be the next new dancing family in town

[buddyhollyscurls]

blossom (do all 3), blush, bright, candlelight (or whenever your last dream was), cuddly, cutie pie, daylight, euphoric, fairy, garden, glow, jiggly, kisses, prince, princess, rainbow, starlight, soft, toot, whiffle, wispy (sorry there were just so many questions i liked!!!)

MY DEAREST DIANA U ARE AN ABSOLUTE TREASURE THANK YOU SO MUCH

blossom; favorite book/movie/song?:

favorite book: the pigman series by paul zindel, because of romek by david faber, and the catcher in the rye by jd salinger 

favorite movie: life is beautiful, la strada, coco 

favorite song: ironia by mana, back to black by amy winehouse, i’ve been good to you by the miracles 

blush; what was your stuffed animal as a child?: when i was about 12? or so my brother got me and my sister a gift card for build a bear workshop lol i got a bunny i named babz she has on a purple sweat suit. i kept the box and her birth certificate but my niece messed them up and lost her jacket when she was a baby :( but i still have babz she sits on my vanity in my room i don’t think i’ll ever be able to give her up. 

bright; mermaids or fairies?: definitely faires i hope to be a fairy in my next life preferably a forest one who is able to make plants grow

candlelight; what did you dream about last night?: the last dream i REMEMBER had something to do with my trying to prevent death?? IDK BLAME GOBLIN I HAD JUST FINISHED WATCHING IT AND IT WAS SERIOUSLY AFFECTED THAT SHOW FUCKED ME UP 

cuddly; what’s your favorite time period?: the 60s have always held a huge fascination for me. like i remember i used to love February bc that was when we would talk about the civil rights movement and stuff and through that i remember being like 12 and seeing documentaries about the black panthers and woodstock. 

most precious item you own: i have a lot of those babz is one, i’m a very sentimental person i have a hello kitty box filled with pics friends have given me i have a Berenstain bears book i once put in a time capsule with my sister and brother that we had to dig up super early bc we moved ummm i still have cards and stuff friends have given me one is even from my tenth birthday, drawings my niece has made me, a shoebox full of journals i’ve filled up things like that i feel if i made them or if someone gave them to me they’re super precious. my book and movies as well.

favorite album of all time: tie between back to black or stg peppers 

talk about someone u love: i’m going to talk about my nieces and nephews rn bc i love them so much: adelie is the oldest she’s ten and my favorite person in the whole world. when she was born i took care of her a lot even stopped going to school for about a year so my sister could go and we got so close bc of that she is just so funny and silly and loving i hate that my girl has to grow up i want her to be little forever. next is my nephew Malcolm he’s so energetic and he plays a bit too rough with adelie and his brother and sister but he’s a great big brother he looks out for them and he and adelie get along super well. nicole is next she is an actual angel she is the sweetest girl in this entire planet she is so nurturing and she is super helpful and gentle. and finally my nephew diego. he’s three and the exact clone of my brother i even have this ig post of a side by side photo from when my brother was little they’re wearing red shirts and i stg they even have the same smile. my little man is so cute. when he was born it took a little while for him to warm up to us bc we don’t get the chance to see him as much as we did when adelie was born. but now its a complete 180 sometimes i’ll be walking and he’ll just run up and give me a hug and it makes my heart soar 

fairy; do you have a pet?: sadly i don’t haha i want to have a senior cat or senior dog but that’ll have to wait until i get my own place. hopefully whenever i get into something called a serious relationship we can get a puppy together and raise it together but who knows when that’ll come i don’t want a puppy until then tho

garden; how many languages do you know?: outside english i know spanish and a tiny bit of italian and portuguese just barely tho lol not enough to have a conversation but i can probably pick up a few sentences i want to learn italian portuguese french (that one is SUPER HARD THO FRENCH WTF) and maybe arabic 

glow; list the top 5 things you like about yourself

1: ppl tell me i’m funny

2. i’m really honest 

3. i’m tenacious 

4. i’m very empathetic 

5. for the most part i’m a postive person i’m one of those ppl that are just everyone’s personal cheerleader 

jiggly; what do you usually like to do on weekends?: watch movies lmaoooo this weekend alone i saw train to busan, silenced, see you tomorrow, this is not what i expected, turn left turn right, and lust caution. i don’t see movies during the week (during school anyway) so usually all week i try to be like what am i watching this weekend. it’s very rare i willingly make plans over the weekend we can hang out during the week but weekends are for movies.

kisses; what romantic cliché do you wish for most?: i am a romantic sap lol i am the cheesiest person i know but for some reason i’m not into cliches i guess like hmmm i guess for me the one i want most is to fall in love with my best friend. like i meet someone and we just click and they make me do the chris evans laugh A LOTand i’m able to open up and just talk with them and gradually one day its like oh snap. so this is the person i’m supposed to be with. tight. 

prince; how would you describe your handwriting?: atrocious. sometimes i can’t even read what i just wrote. but i hear ugly handwriting is a sign of high intelligence so theres that lmaooo. 

princess; do you play any instruments? if not, are there any you wish you could play?: uuuuhhh i don’t :((((((((( if i could i wish i could play guitar (i only know a few chords) drums, piano, bass, even the sitar ok brian and george made it look sick af 

rainbow; what was the last line of the last book you read?: “For the first time ever, I think Haddock may have a point, you know.” my mad fat diary by rae earl (if u haven’t seen the show i highly rec it it’s one of my fave ever just a side note)

starlight; what was your favourite show as a child?: hey arnold ok don’t even get me started on it i’ll talk forever how great it is even now its just timeless even adults should watch it and i’ve said this before and i’ll say it a million more times helga g pataki is probably one of the most complex, interesting, well written female character EVER on any show i owe craig bartlett my entire life. 

soft; describe your favourite spot in your house: the dining room its huge and its got big windows i love looking out windows so when i write i like sitting at the table to look out every now and then sometimes i’ll just look out that window when i wake up and be like damn its a new day. 

toot; what is something you find unique about yourself?: hmmm…. i guess how idealistic i am. and how intense i feel about things. when i was a kid i thought everyone had strong feelings about something and just LOVED things all the time but getting older i realize being passionate about things esp things like books and tv and movies is really………. odd haha. like even now i will type paragraphs about a favorite movie or something that happened in a show and my friends will be like why are u like this. the same goes with how idealistic i am like thought it was normal to have so many things u want to do and see in the world but when i talk to my friends theyre like oh i just never thought about doing that so it makes me feel odd sometimes bc i know i expecet a lot out of life hahahaha. 

whiffle; if you could have a magical power, what would it be?: either flight or invisibility 

wispy; do you like the place where you grew up? do you think you will live there when you get older?: i LOVE san diego and i LOVE california (in spite of how damn expensive it is here) but even when i was little i didn’t see myself living here as an adult with a family. i just always felt like this world is so big why live in one place your whole life. one day i want to live somewhere green and have my farm with my little animals and soccer team of kids haha. like linda and paul mccartney. 

[mimir-writes]

In My Footsteps

Don’t look down, Don’t look down. Olive repeated to herself for what felt like the thousandth time that day. She clenched with bloody, chalked fingers at the wall of limestone she clung to like a bat to its mother. Olive was breathless as she reached for the climbing ax tied loosely to her belt. She gripped the handle and readied herself to make a jump to an outcropping above her. In one fluid motion, she pulled herself with the one hand on the wall and swung the ax into the soft rock high above her. Olive scrambled to bring her empty hand to a handhold but slammed onto a sharp thorn at the top and lost her grip. She hung onto the ax awkwardly which caused the hooked tool to come out of the rock ever so slightly. Olivia fell down in an instant with the ax still tied to her belt.

When Olivia got her bearing her head pulsed like a fault line and there was a dull pain in her right thigh. She but the pain off and decided to check for signs of a concussion and broken bones. There were scrapes and bruises here and there but Olivia seemed fine. She got up and took off her pack which had been thoroughly smushed against the numerous ledges that had broken Olivia’s fall. Everything was broken beyond repair and use, the sleeping bag was ripped and her granola bars had turned into cereal. The journal Olivia used to guide her journey was still intact, heavy books were most durable when properly secured. She opened the coarse pages and looked at the impeccable handwriting of her father that adorned the book from cover to cover. No matter how many times she looked at the old pencil lead it never seemed to fade, like it had been put there just moments ago. That’s her father’s handiwork, pushing so hard with the pencil that it dug into the page like it held oil beneath it. 

Olivia decided the dump the broken gear and leave it behind, it will be an easier journey and she wasn't too far from her camp, she could get to it if need be. After one step Olivia felt a sharp pain in her thigh and her hands instantly shot to it to identify the pain saw the climbing ax buried into her muscle. Looking down at the climbing implement was calming to Olivia, the shock must be wearing off. Okay, I have an ax stuck to my thigh, and I kind of need that ax right now, Olivia thought to herself standing between optimism and pessimism. This really is not the day Olivia hoped it would be. 

Olivia braced herself as she slowly pulled the instrument from her thigh and watched as the blood from the wound started running like a river. OK, this is happening now, makes sense, that’s where the blood is, She reassured herself before knowing what to do next. She picked up the shreds of her old sleeping bag and tore it into hastily made bandages to sop up the torrent of blood. 

With the bleeding taken care of, for now, Olivia looked up at the cliffside she had just fallen down and was beginning to realize how futile her situation was. I can't possibly climb with this bum leg. Thanks Dad for sending me on this journey where I will probably die, Olivia thought to herself just full of optimism. She wasn't entirely wrong in thinking that her father sent her here to die, he knew the journey was perilous and would be hard on her but not to this end. Olivia started limped towards one end of the ravine she fell into.

The fall had broken her sense of direction so where Olivia was going was anyone’s guess, certainly not hers. The high walls blocked the sun so the time of day was lost to Olivia and she neglected to check before she fell. The ravine bed was hard and rocky, the river that made it dried up decades ago and the unrelenting sun made the rock dry and it broke off easily. 

The best way isn't around or over but through! Olivia remembered the old adage her father instilled in her when she was younger. He had been an explorer his whole life and wanted to impart his sense of wonder and his world view in Olivia. He always talked about a slice of Eden he found while exploring the same mountainous range Olivia found herself trapped in now. He always went on and on about how pristine and beautiful it looked. To Olivia’s chagrin, he never went into detail about it, he kept saying that it was where Olivia would understand the world and her place in it. And now that she had come to age, he sent her here with a cryptic notebook to guide her. The gravity of it was lost on her, but she still went forward. Her father rarely lied to her.

Olivia winced at the pain in her thigh as she squeezed through a narrow passage at the end of the ravine. With a twist of her body and a bit of will power, she was able to clear the pass while keeping her makeshift bandage in place and only had a second to check before she saw the same Eden her father saw so many years ago. It was a valley lined symmetrically with trees growing fruits as blue as the ocean and yellow as the sun with a river crisscrossing the orchard. The river came to an end in a moat surrounding a massive meteorite that had to have landed there millennia ago. It was cracked into 5 pieces with vines growing between where a colony of monkeys lived. From the great distance Olivia was, she could see the colony was peaceful and the monkeys were fat and content in their home. 

Olivia pulled out the journal her father thrust into her hands the last time she had seen him. It was full of directions to guide her to this place and as she flipped to the very last page and saw a pencil drawing of the exact scene that was before Olivia. Her father had drawn the plumb fruits and the monkeys using the vines as bridges, everything that the valley had before her was on the page. At the very bottom of the page, her father had written, “And now my child if you have followed my directions to the letter this is the first time you see this page as you gaze upon the safest place on earth. It is the one place where I felt fulfilled and at peace. Look behind you and see the one who shared this journey with you and you will carry this feeling for as long as I have.” Olivia remembered all the stories her father told her of his friends and their adventures in the world and how he promised her she would be just like them. How she would follow in his footsteps and walk the same path he did.

So she finally looked all around her and saw no one but herself and the monkeys. And she didn't really feel safe or at peace, she felt alone. In fact, she always felt alone. The one-child sitting on the rug while that adult sat in their armchairs and told the same stories over and over for years. But now she was living them, but Olivia didn't know how this one ended. She looked up at the encroaching valley walls and didn't feel the same feeling of fulfillment her father and his friends described before she set out on her journey. It really felt like the walls were slowly suffocating her like she was still the child who sat complacent on the rug. Waiting for this moment, but now she felt a loss for words. Her father’s voice rang out in her head, Follow in my footsteps. Like a bell they reverberated across every fiber of her being Most of all Olivia felt scared, she didn't like how this story was ending, all of her father’s stories had a happy ending. Although she didn't know the exact ending of this one, she didn't like it. She didn't like it at all. Not one bit.

[valkerymillenia]

I ask all 50!!! Fill us with fun facts about you!

Holy shit, again?! I’m not that interesting, you know?But ok, I’ll try, I’ve already answered some though.

1: What color are your socks?

Answered.

2: Have you ever lied about your age? Why?

Answered already!

3: What is something you regret in the past month?

So much wasted time…

4: Do you believe in love at first sight?

I’ve answered this before- no, I believe in attraction at first sight; love, however, needs to be earned, grown and nourished.

5: When was the last time you wrote someone a letter on paper?

Do notes to translate conversations into paper for my deaf dad count? If so, then today.If you mean real letters… I honestly don’t remember.

6: How old were you when you first learned how to ride a bike? Who taught you?

Answered!

7: Do you get along with your parents? Why or why not?

Oh my gods, this is such a loaded question…Ok, I’ll try to keep it simple. Who am I kidding? That’s not possible.

Mom- ok so my mom is denial of any form of mental illness but she clearly has manic depression and war PTSD since forever. So as a result my mom has always been a bit aloof, irresponsible, neglectful, super permissive, a sneaky opportunist and a slightly childish and impulsive. Never thinks ahead, just goes nuts on the moment or spends too much time asleep (no in between).So my mom wasn’t the best mother in the world, she was a great caregiving and spoiling mother when we were babies but as soon as we gained minimal independence (aka around 5 years old) she just slacked off on the motherhood department. She’s not very bad, she’s just irresponsible and opportunistic and won’t interfere if we need help which doesn’t suit a mother but she’s a great person so she makes a very good friend (as long as you set boundaries and basic duties), she’s funny and sweet and a bit geeky, she’s also beautiful and used to be a model before I was born so she’s that fashion and beauty oriented friend (if fact she’s a certified beautician and taught me all she knows).So… Complicated relationship, lots of love but not the best mom (can’t blame her, grandma was a bitch).

Dad- I love him, he raised me, but I was also his main caregiver since I was 10 since he’s deaf and crippled. He’s a funny and permissive dad (except when he had explosive bouts of rage but that was a phase…a traumatic and slightly violent phase around the divorce time but short), he tried to be a provider and friend with shared interests with me. BUT he was also quite neglectful, being deaf made him very introverted, paranoid and isolated so he just let me run wild (I didn’t, I was taking care of the house and school instead) while he was cooped up playing pc games. We have that friendly daddy’s girl relationship but we both lack trust, we keep our more important thoughts to ourselves and I’m always afraid that as a deaf person he’ll misunderstand important things or judge me for whatever (and he’s always also feeling judged) so our relationship often feels shallow, he’s also the type in denial about people’s mental illness.

Biological father- Fucking complicated. As a little child he babysat me and was our neighbor so I was always hanging out and getting candy, he was also the person that cherished me the most to take hundreds of photos of me. I moved at age 5 so after that we only communicated through my grandma when she traveled between countries, he’d send me presents and worry about me. I only found out he was my progenitor when I was 10 and it took me years to accept it. Saw him again when I was 18, in fact it was like shock therapy- I spent a whole month living with him as I visited my hometown again. He likes to spoil me as much as he can and he’s very kind but also naive and stubborn and not the type that likes to talk about feelings or important things so talks between us are extremely awkward chitchat.

Stepdad- Terrible relationship. He’s the kind of person that is a caregiver for us all out of duty but then uses that to emotionally manipulate everyone. He’s small minded, old fashioned and selfish and blames everyone for his problems, he also seems to have a personal thing against me- pretty sure he doesn’t hate me but I’m his natural verbal punching bag, anything I say or do in front of him, no matter how innocent, even standing still for a moment or asking to pass the juice at dinner, he twists everything into insults and psychological abuse. Luckily my sister is his baby so she escapes his judgement but he wasn’t that much of a present parent to her either and let her run wild a lot (I’m so glad I could turn that around and teach her to be way more responsible than her parents). The only reason I don’t totally hate him is because he gave me sister, who I love most in the world.

8: What’s your favorite season?

Answered!

9: Do you currently like someone?

Yup, also answered before.

10: Have you ever used an Ouija board?

I know how but I never used it, as a Wiccan my preferred specialty for spiritual communing was pendulum scrying.

11: What’s the last song you sang?

“Havanna” by Camilla Cabello has been stuck in my head for weeks.

12: What’s your favorite scent?

Telling me to choose just one fav of anything is hard af… But here are some favs.

Fresh peppermint, lavender, petrichor, burnt eucalyptus, baby powder, sea water, freshly baked bread, and oddly enough- gasoline.

13: What’s your favorite urban legend?

Can’t choose favs but off the top of my head… La Llorona.

14: What’s a bad habit that you have?

Procrastinating.

15: What’s a strange habit that you have?

All my odd stims and ocd rituals.

16: What’s the first instrument that you learned to play?

Answered.

17: How would you describe your ‘type?’

Already answered in the previous ask meme.

18: Would you rather stay in or go out?

Both, when I go out I make it special and try to make the most of it because it’s rare… But I guess I do prefer the safety and routine of staying home.

19: What was the last thing you said to your mom?

“Never going to see what you borrowed from dad again, am I? This is why people don’t trust you, you never keep your promises…

Well, whatever! How are the stitches? You’re better, right?

Ok, put my sister on. Kisses, bye.”

20: Do you want to get married someday?

Already answered in the previous asked meme.

21: Have you ever snuck out?

Not that I needed to with my kind of parents but yeah, a couple of times.

22: Can you sing well?

I love to sing but whether I’m good or not is up to the listener, I can post a song sample if anyone wants.

23: What’s an embarrassing thing that happened this week?

Other than grovelling desperatly for help?

24: When was the last time you went sledding?

Never?

25: Have you ever/do you liked someone you know you can never be with?

Yeah.

26: Do people often mispronounce your name?

Yes! If you’re not a Portuguese speaker, I DARE you to pronounce my surname. Go ahead- Coelho.

27: Would you like to live in another country?

I do miss my home country, South Africa holds my heart… and I’ve dreamed of a stint in Japan. But all in all, I like this country, it’s…interesting, safe.

28: Do you like to watch ghost-hunting shows?

Not really, they tend to be too over the top and stereotypical. 

29: Who was the last person you said you loved to?

Boyfriend.

30: What’s something you’d like to be better at?

Follow through.

31: Have you ever stayed up to talk to someone who was sad?

Very often, Some right here on tumblr.

32: What was the last thing you cooked?

Chili con carne. Been eating leftovers of it for a whole week now.

33: Do you think you would make a good parent?

Answered already.

34: Do you have trouble sleeping at night?

Answered!

35: Where is your best friend right now?

Given the day and time, my sister is probably at dance practice now.

36: How long does it take you to get ready in the morning?

Depends if I’m making an effort (an hour) or if I’m just being casual (20min).

37: How late do you usually stay up at night?

Answered.

38: When was the last time you cried and why?

I don’t know… 

39: Have you ever won a contest?

Yes, started this year by winning a Justice League pop contest. But that was more of a giveaway... Actual contest? I won a couple b of art contests before but nothing big.

40: Can you draw well?

I have art posted here so you tell me.

41: Would you ever date someone you met on Tumblr/the internet?

Sure. I already do.

42: What was the last thing you ate?

….Bread.

43: Do you think you’re/you’d make a good boyfriend/girlfriend?

I sure hope so, I try my best… But to be honest I don’t think I’m a very good partner.

44: Have you ever had a near-death experience?

About 6 actually.

45: What do you think people think of you?

I don’t know… I’ve been told I make people feel comfortable and I’m easy to open up to? But to be honest I don’t really know.

46: What is your middle name and do you like it?

Augusto. My mom’s maiden name, because that’s how it works here (Name+ maybe 2nd name + mom’s surname + dad’s surname). 

Yes, I like it, it’s latin. But people sometimes mix it up with my paternal grandma’s first name.

47: Are you close with either of your parents?

In my own way, yes. Both mom and dad.

48: Do you like yourself?

Some days…

49: State five facts about your appearance –

-I get a lot of comments on my boobs and I really don’t mind

-I look pale because I stay inside a lot but I tan very easily, probably because my mom is dark

-I love my tattoos, I’m proud of them

-I wear glasses or contacts in important occasions 

-I have the worst time looking people in the eye

50: State five facts about your personality –

-I’m patient but full of anxiety

-I don’t have just one personality

-I try to be as unbiased and non-judgmental as possible

-I’m obsessive about random things

-I like solitude but I also like interacting (though the more non-physical the better)

[cedarmoons]

Director's Cut Meme: that scene in beloved where Solas totally draws her like a French (Orlesian???) Girl

AAAHH!! was hoping someone would pick this scene, even if you didn’t specify some 500 words. ;) 

SO. “French Girls” (as I so lovingly nicknamed that scene) was the #1 reason I wanted to write this fic. I was inspired by the knowledge that a Dalish clan is supposed to kill their Keeper if the Keeper becomes possessed (the doc name is still “Keeper Hunt”, even though that plot point didn’t end up happening) - but the image of Solas drawing Ariala’s naked back is what made beloved a 52,000+ smol book, rather than a 500-word drabble that would forever be confined to my “DRABBLES” doc.

I knew beloved was going to be a fic, while ultimately focused on Ariala, that would also include Solavellan reconciliation of some kind. But how? What would start them on that path to reconciliation? Solas is stubborn, Ariala doesn’t like to talk about her problems, it’s a giant recipe for disaster. How would I get the kids to Behave™?

The answer… was French Girls.

With that said, let’s get started! Also, listen to this on repeat, because that’s what I did while writing it. I will try to do it justice, since it’s my favorite scene in the entire fic. This is a long ass post, even though I decided to just do the first half of french girls. :)

“You’re awake,” he says, blinking again before sitting up. “You’ve been resting the whole day.” His brow furrows, mouth opening, then closing. “How are you feeling?”

Ariala wraps the blanket tighter around herself. “Fine,” she lies.

So when Solas says “You’ve been resting all day,” he means “I’ve been coming in to check on you since the vigil and you have literally been asleep all day, I’m worried about you.” Deshanna’s death is a really low point for Ariala, to the extent that it actually triggers depression. I’m modeling her depression on my own - i.e., she’s not sad so much as uninterested or uncaring about basic life things, such as getting out of bed or bathing, she becomes emotionally disconnected from things (the scientific term is “she’s empty inside”) and she sleeps a heckin’ lot.

I’ve been hinting at her depression for a while, both in chapter three and the other chapters, but it hasn’t kept her from fulfilling basic tasks like this bout will. The most explicit reference is after she’s bathed in chapter three, when she says:

The cold water is bracing against her skin, enough to drive the tiredness from her eyes, but not enough to expunge the heaviness from her limbs. When she moves, she feels as if she is wearing plate armor, not a simple tunic and leathers.

All she wants to do is sleep.

Solas knows that she’s depressed, he knows she’s the opposite of fine, but he has no idea how to help or try to stop it. And it turns out, neither will anyone else at Skyhold except two people, which will be covered in chapter 4 when I post it in ten a few years. Fun stuff!

His expression falls, as if he can sense her lie, but he swallows and nods anyway.

Ariala’s a bad liar, lol, but Solas doesn’t have the heart to try and push the issue. I mean, he just held the love of his life while she wept for her grandmother, he knows she’s not fine, but some part of him is thinking “it’s not my place.” So, he can’t really do anything but observe, and help when/if she asks. 

Basically, this is him internally:

He wants to reach for her, he wants to comfort her, but ultimately he holds himself back, and keeps himself distant.

He glances down at the bed he sits on, pushing back a corner of a skewed blanket, revealing his sketchbook and a leather drawing kit. When he opens the kit’s flap, several sharpened sticks of charcoal glint in the light. A muscle twinges in Solas’s jaw as he looks up. “I am ready to draw the vallaslin when you are,” he tells her.

She exhales. “Thank you,” she says. He nods, but his gaze slides away, over the warm red tones of the aravel interior. Ariala shifts forward, moving until her legs dangle over the edge of the bed. Solas gets himself comfortable, opening his journal and setting out his tools. Ariala watches as he takes a small knife and begins to sharpen a stick of charcoal.

“What do you want to draw first?” she asks.

“Your preference,” he says, not looking at her.

He still really, truly hates the idea of drawing her vallaslin, because her intention is to give it to other clans so that they can copy the pattern, thus potentially allowing for more elves to be marked with vallaslin, which is the last thing he wants, no matter what he told her in Crestwood.

I think Solas understands why Ariala chose to keep the vallaslin; but I also think that as time goes on he still cannot help but wish she’d chosen to discard her vallaslin. He might’ve told her that she’s perfect exactly as she is, but he can’t let go of what they meant in Arlathan. That’s just how Solas is: he understands other people’s points, but his mind is rarely changed. He is very set in his ways, which is why Ariala gets so frustrated with him sometimes.

At some point, actually, I had him arguing with Deshanna about the Dalish (something he does not really do in the fic), and Ariala gets mad at him. Here’s the deleted scene, set during a vigil, after Deshanna discusses Ellowen, a member of the clan, and Sarah, her human love in Wycome:

“I am surprised a Dalish elf could bring themselves to love a human,” Solas says, his nose wrinkling slightly.

“Why?” Deshanna asks.

He is not expecting her question. “Ah. Well, it seems only natural for elves to desire other elves. And one would think the Dalish to be protective of that custom most of all, considering their poor history with humans.”

“Solas,” Ariala says, sharply.

“Why would we blame an innocent girl for the actions of people half a continent away and a hundred hundred years dead?” Deshanna asks, her tone just as caustic.

“Because of the shape of her ears, perhaps,” Solas replies, mouth twitching. “Your people certainly have no qualms doing the same thing to city elves. Tell me, Keeper, would you have been equally supportive if Sarah had been a flat-ear?”

“Solas!” she snaps.

Every time. Every single time she thinks they’d moved past this, he shows that he is still stuck in this stupid rut.

I decided ultimately to use Solas’s comment from the Blackwall romance, not the Sera romance, because I thought him picking a fight in the middle of their vigil would be a little jarring from the rest of the atmosphere. My beta agreed, and the scene was cut, replaced with the one we have now.

Solas is also, conveniently, using his disgruntlement at doing this as a way to distract himself from dwelling on the fact that his ex, who he is definitely 100% still in love with, needs like… a thousand hugs, some blankets, and hot chocolate.

And he TOTALLY WOULD give her all those things, if, you know, he hadn’t broken up with her like two weeks before her clan was murdered.

“Face, then,” she says, and he nods.

“Let down your hair, please,” he instructs, still not looking at her. She does, staring at him as she reaches up and undoes the leather tie that keeps her haphazard bun in place. She sighs in relief as her damp hair tumbles down her shoulders, running her hands through it to smooth back the baby hairs. She massages her scalp and the back of her skull, wincing at the protests of sore muscles. Once her hair is arranged how she likes, she sets her hands at her sides, fingers knotting in the blanket she’s wrapped around herself.

When he has readied his supplies, he looks up. After a moment, he frowns, and with a flick of his hand summons magelights, which instantly flock to her face. They are bright, but not harsh; the glow is just as soft and warm as candlelight. “Tilt your chin up,” he requests. “Toward the light.”

She does, lifting her head just a little as her eyes fall shut, until the backs of her eyelids are painted golden instead of orange. There is no sound for a moment, before Solas sighs, and the bed across from her rustles, and his fingers brush ever so gently under her chin. Ariala inhales, stiffening, and opens her eyes. Solas does nothing but lift her chin higher, until her neck is arched. He swallows, and his hand drags across her cheek, fingertips gently tucking a loose strand behind her ear. His touch lingers.

Ariala’s breath catches.

If this seems sad somehow to you, it’s because Whispers was doing that sad instrumental part near the end of the song, and it hurts me. Two lines from that song I thought were particularly resonant:

In whispers, in whispers, you saylet it go, let it go — home.

and

Oh, I have seen your beauty growWhere others fade, you shine in gold

Ariala, it should be noted, is literally surrounded by golden light, whether candlelight or magelight. I am really proud of my imagery writing (I try to describe everything so that it’s as cinematic as possible) and I think it really came through in this moment— the scene as a whole, not just Ariala being bathed in golden light.

Shout-out for cinematographic writing! 

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ 

So, they’ve both been circling around each other, having little intimate moments (think when Ariala wrapped Solas’s hands, and him carrying her out of the aravel after Deshanna passes), and this is where that all comes to a head. Solas has a perfect opportunity to touch her (in lifting her chin) but he just can’t help himself from doing more — brushing her hair back behind her ear. It’s a very intimate gesture, which he knows damn well, but he can’t! help! it!

Solas: ok, this is a favor for her, I am a professional. The lighting isn’t good enough to get the details, so, ask her to lift her chin. Excellent, okay, now I can get back to business —

Solas to Solas: caress her cheek like you did when you were together and then tell her she’s perfect

They stare at each other in silence for several moments before Solas drops his hand. “Perfect,” he whispers. Her chest tightens. “Hold there, please.”

this was the moment of where I just

and then stay like that writing the entire rest of the chapter. i’m not joking, my own writing was killing me. fun fact: this was originally supposed to take place in a tent, but I like the aravel setting much better.

“Okay,” she murmurs, almost too softly to be heard. But Solas returns to his position across from her, and after forcing herself to relax, Ariala takes a deep breath and closes her eyes.

She does not know how long they stay, but at some point it begins to rain. She listens to the patter of it against the window, against the roof, and all the while the scratch of Solas’s strokes fill the silence of the aravel.

“How did you become an artist?” she asks. “Josephine told me an art scholar said it was an ancient style of the elves, dating back to Arlathan.”

Solas’s pause is only a moment long, but it is long enough. “The scholar was correct,” he says. “It was an art style of ancient Arlathan, one that took centuries to master. A spirit of Creativity taught me, and I practiced the technique when I could. My work is nothing compared to the masters of the craft.”

Now that she knows the truth, a dozen different questions come to mind, each one doing their part to undermine his excuse. If the art took centuries to master, how could he—supposedly mortal—be so good at it? How had he found a spirit of Creativity, rather than a spirit of Vanity or Pride?

How could she have ever missed the holes in his story?  

She opens her eyes and watches him, very carefully. “You use the Fade as an excuse for everything,” she says. He goes very still, staring down at the drawing, fingers tightening on the charcoal stick. Ariala watches him in silence before she says, gently, “Whatever it is, Solas, I want you to know that you can tell me.”

Solas:

Does she know? Does she know?? Her grandmother was acting weird a few days ago, maybe she figured something out and told her, but, no, she doesn’t know, because if she did know, she definitely would’ve tried to … I don’t know, kill me, maybe? I don’t know. I don’t know how she’d react but this is too cryptic and — okay, I think she doesn’t know. She shouldn’t know? But if she didn’t know, then she wouldn’t say that thing about the Fade, because that is a very specific and not incorrect accusation and if she did actually know —

Repeat for like… five minutes. He’s trying to figure out what she’s getting at, while also not giving away the fact that she got to him, which is why he just doesn’t say anything.

She doesn’t want to give away her suspicion just yet. Unlikely as it is, he might take her words for the genuine invitation they are.

Ariala hasn’t confronted Solas about being an ancient elf yet because she knows it’s his secret, so she’s waiting to see if he would trust her enough to reveal it on his own. It’s 100% a test. Is it what she should be doing? No. Is Solas going to come to her on his own? No. Does she know that? No, which is why she’s letting herself hope here.

Damn it, Solas.

She does not know how long she stays like that, listening to their quiet breaths and the sound of Solas sketching. But eventually, the stillness soothes the ragged parts of her, and her breaths deepen and slow.

“Done,” Solas says, much later. Ariala blinks herself awake, realizing she’d been half-asleep. She leans forward, and Solas turns the journal so she may see his work. Their fingers brush as she takes the journal from him.

The charcoal lines are thick, but careful, and graphite is substituted for the smaller lines. He’d drawn her with her eyes closed, and her hair isn’t crimped from the bun. Instead, her hair falls around her in loose waves, framing her face. The vallaslin is intricately drawn, branching across her forehead and down her temples, and he had drawn a larger replica of the pattern on the opposite page. Her nose is not so crooked, and her ears don’t stick out as much.

He’d drawn her to be beautiful.

Dove has a really beautiful video where an artist comes in and draws a variety of women; one drawing based on how the women describe themselves, and then one drawing based on how others describe those women. That video is what the third paragraph was inspired by. We all seem to be hyperaware of our own perceived flaws. Also, in that last line, @playwithdinos​ said “CONTROL YOUR THIRST, SOLAS.”

Other gems from dino:

“Let down your hair, please,” he instructs, still not looking at her. [I like how she’s not “isn’t it easier for you to see if it’s up” like come on Solas. COME ON.]

[…]

He swallows, and his hand drags across her cheek, fingertips gently tucking a loose strand behind her ear. His touch lingers. [Solas you are fooling no one.]

I am very lucky to have her. :)

Ariala lowers her hand, fingertips hovering over the page but not quite touching.

“Well?” Solas asks, just as quietly as he’d spoken before, but there is a note of—something in his voice. Uncertainty, maybe?

Ariala looks up and swallows hard. “It’s beautiful,” is all she says. His wariness softens, and he looks down at the floor, one of his hands crossing to clasp his opposite wrist. A muscle in his jaw twinges.

Remember, Solas has only shown her his journal once before, and she accidentally stumbled upon his everyday drawings of her. She reacted well last time, but he’s still nervous about showing her his art. and it’s adorable ;__;

So French Girls, as a whole, was an exercise in balance, above all things. I needed to balance Ariala’s emotional state after Deshanna’s death, Solas’s inner conflict about the woman he loves, the fragility of the dance between them, and how this moment would (or if it would) lead to an eventual reconciliation. I’m pretty proud of how I wrote the scene, and its aftermath, and I hope readers enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

Thanks for asking, anon!

[dxmedstudent]

Answer the odd numbers!

Oh, wow, that’s a lot XD I’ll try to do as many as I can, but I shall try to keep it briefer than usual. If something is too difficult, then I’ll skip. Let’s go! 1) Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora? My friends are trying to get me into spotify, I tend to use soundcloud more, but my preferred way of finding new music has often ended up being accidentally leaving youtube on in a tab after a song finished, and having it cycle through sort-of related music.

3) what color are your eyes?Reasonably light brown. Someone was once nice enough to tell me they look like honey, when I’m in the sun.

5) what is your relationship status? Not where I see myself in the longterm.

7) what color hair do you have?Darkish brown. I dye it almost exactly the colour it naturally is. Or was, before the Grey Hair Fairy frosted my temples with some serious silver.

9) where do you shop?The high street, and online? Nowhere particularly fancy. Occasinally I’ll be tempted by something off etsy. 11) favorite social media accountIn terms of personally, I keep up with a lot of people I don’t see often through facebook. But I really enjoy the community we have here. 13) any siblings?A younger sister and a much younger brother. I’m the dorky, embarrasing but protective eldest.

15)favorite snapchat filter? Um… I don’t use snapchat often. Hmm. Anything that lets you transform two pictures at once, because then I can pull someone else in for a selfie! XD17) how many times a week do you shower?Weird question, but the answer is; as often as I can. You want to wash the hospital off you. 19) shoe size?Either 4, 41/2 or 5 in UK sizes (so between 37 and 38 in European sizes), no idea what that is in US measurements. It’s small enough that sometimes I end up in the kiddy section.

21) sandals or sneakers? Depends on for what. Sneakers are generally good for most things, but there are times when sandals are more appropriate.

23) describe your dream dateI don’t know about dream, but a nice lunch on a sunny day, followed by a trip to a gallery or a museum, or perhaps a nice walk is 1000 times better than catching drinks in a crowded bar. As for anyone who drags someone to excercise on a ‘date’…no. Just no. 25) what color socks are you wearing? They happen to be black socks with tigers on them.

27) do you have a job? what do you do? I sometimes give hope, I always give support, but I cannot always give life when time has run out.

29) whats the worst thing you have ever done? The thing I’m most cringey about is the time I offended a classmate in primary school. I must have been 7. They asked me why I didn’t invite them to my party, and I gave them a reason that was both untrue and rude, and in the end I invited them and I came. But I’m still not sure why I did that.

31) 3 favorite boy names

I don’t know. Names I prefer in guys I’m seeing? Or for future kids? Or characters? Because those answers would all be different…

33) favorite actor?Right now, let’s say Robin Williams and Emma Thompson. I could say more, but then we’d be here all day.

35)who is your celebrity crush?I’m going to have to be really, really cliche and say Tom Hiddleston. That voice would sound compelling even if it was just reading out his shopping list, and he has really nice hands. I also think Jensen Ackles is pretty ahem, delectable, too.

37) do you read a lot? whats your favorite book? I love to read, with a passion. But I go through periods where I read a lot, and others when I read much less. Picking one book would be an impossibility.

39) do you have a nickname? what is it? Trying to find one which isn’t some derivative of my name, or just plain weird is hard.

41) top 10 favorite songsThis would probably require too much thought to answer right now.

43) what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc)Oily. Definitely wasn’t blessed on the skin front, but such is life. Weirdly, friends keep telling me they thinl I have clear skin, and I’m like ‘whose face have you been looking at?!’ Which just does to show that we’re the only ones who notice our own blemishes. Take for example, scars. I have a few (!!) on my face, and people can know me for years and not realise they are there. Then literally turn around one day and say “OMG, what happened to your FACE?” To which I reply… “Um, nothing? It’s always like this.”.

45) how many kids do you want? This is not something I’ve really thought about? Enough to keep each other company, but not so many that I’m spending the next 500 years changing nappies. So 2 or 3, I guess?

47) what type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc) Whatever kind of house I can afford. I don’t realistically see myself affording to live in London, and I don’t realistically see any chance of a big house if I live in the UK. But such is life.

49) what was the last compliment you received?On one of my recent night shifts, one of the nurses asked me where I was from. And I told her (people don’t usually know, or care, much about my country, but I see no reason to lie), and she said “I wanted to know why, because you are so confident. The way you talk” And I was taken aback. “Confident? ME? Really?!?”. To which she replied, laughing “You think you are not?”.  All this time I’ve been quite reserved, and always told by my seniors that I ought to have more faith in my clinical decisionmaking and just be more assertive, it was quite surprising to find out that someone saw me bumbling along on my night shift and thought I looked and sounded confident. 51) how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real?Probably around 7? I was apparently not amused. I can’t remember. In retrospect, perhaps it’s odd that I always knew about the birds and the bees but not about Santa.53) opinion on smoking?Not a good idea, but often understandable. Nearly always started when we are very young, in order to fit in or belong. I grew up with one parent being a smoker (they quit, yay!) and have friends who smoked since their teens, so I can understand how hard it is to give up, and what addiction means. But one thing I really don’t understand is grownups “socially smoking”. At all. It’s flirting with addiction, has no benefits, and just drains your money?  I feel that most people my age who indulge in social smoking really should probably know better. But then that applies to many things in our lives.

55) what is your dream job? To be a magical girl/superhero. Being a doctor who draws comics shall, however, suffice until I get called into service by a cute magical familiar.

57) do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels? I used to use them, but I wouldn’t say that I would stock up on the whole stash. Though I have a sad feeling that they chuck the ones you don’t use, so maybe we should all be taking them?

59) do you smile for pictures?I used to never smile for pictures, because I had over-large incisors with a noticeable gap in them, and felt really self-conscious about them for most of my life. Then I stopped caring. But lately I realised my teeth no longer look oversized, and the gap has kind of shrunken, a little to my dismay.

61) have you ever peed in the woods? Another bizarrre question. I don’t hang out in the woods, but if there were no toilets within reasonable access, then I would? Pee is aseptic and the entirety of nature does it, plus it’s hardly going to get in anyone’s way?

63) do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds?I don’t even think we HAVE Wendy’s, so I guess the golden arches win by default?65) what do you wear to bed? Pajamas, because it’s usually cold? Unless we’re talking about entertaining…

67) what are your hobbies?Answering memes and solving the internet’s problems. Sometimes I draw. 69) do you play an instrument?I cannot manipulate notes like I manipulate words. I sort of learned the recorder and piano a little bit, but despite lovely encouragement, I don’t have the time nor the patience it would take to be good at music. I find it a very attractive quality in others, though!

71) tea or coffee?Coffee in the morning, tea at teatime (duh) and hot chocolate at night.73) do you want to get married?I would like to end with a relationship that is stable, comfortable and friendship blended with being lovers. It’s not that a piece of paper has meaning, rather that being sure you want to be with someone for the forseeable future is what makes it special. Sometimes it takes being willing to discuss that bit of paper for both parties to truly know how sure they are to share each others’ lives. 75) are you going to change your last name when you get married? Definitely not intending to. Sometimes my last name is a pain, because nobody can spell it, or pronounce it. And it’s so long that hyphenating would make it even more of a pain than it already is. But I’m attached to my name, it’s a part of me and my ethnic identity, and definitely am not going into relationships with an idea that I “have to take my husband’s name”. They can take mine, if they wish. Perhaps I’d be tempted to if someone’s name was just incredibly awesome, who knows? I would rarely rule anything out before the fact. But I certainly don’t intend to.

77) do you miss anyone right now? Yep. Don’t we all?

79) do you believe in ghosts?I’ve never seen one, and I’d rather not, thanks. I believe in not tempting fate and staying in my own lane, paranormally speaking. 81) last person you calledFunnily enough, just a work colleague. I missed a call at work (we were both on call) , and called them after the shift, which is when I realised they’d called. Fortunately we’d already taken care of the situation.

83) regular oreos or golden oreos? What is a golden oreo? Regular, since I know no other kind.

85) what shirt are you wearing? The pajamas my aunt and recently deceased gran gave me for my last birthday.

87) are you outgoing or shy?Shy.

89) do you like your neighbors? My flatmates are OK, but keep themselves to themselves and work far too many shifts (no doubt they’d say the same about me!). I don’t know everyone else in the building. 91) have you ever been high? Who needs to be high when you’ve been a teenage girl?93) last thing you ate? Soba noodles. 95) summer or winter? Summer. It’s when you are warm and sunny, and can go for long rambling walks all day. Winter is too dark, I feel like I don’t get any sunlight at all in the winter

97) dark, milk, or white chocolate? All of the above. If I had to pick one, then dark?99) what is your zodiac sign?I’m a leo, but I never thought it represented me. People always assume Leos are brash, loud, confident  extroverts who wear leopard print and go to all the parties. Meanwhile, here I am with  a cat under my arm wondering why that’s meant to be me. Though, I really hate the idea of someone telling me what I’m meant to be like, horoscopes or life in general. Like, they don’t even know me. The nerve. So perhaps there’s a little bit of that kind of imperiousness about me, after all.

[flutejesus]

2-98

Sweet Jesus ok uhhhhis your room messy or clean? Ishwhat color are your eyes? i dONt fUCkiNg kNoWdo you like your name? why? No. I've never felt like it fit me. Like it was chosen for someone I'm not. That's why I rarely respond to it automatically and often go by nicknames I guess.what is your relationship status? Single with a queue to your leftdescribe your personality in 3 words or less? Fights 4 money, funwhat color hair do you have? Uhhh it's like a dirty blonde on top and black at the ends rn (first color is natural second is not)what kind of car do you drive? color? I can't afford a car sooooo nopewhere do you shop? Ross for clothing. The fridge for food. Bargain stores and amazon for anything else. I am not fancyhow would you describe your style? "Shit I forgot to- grace please leave me alone I'll comb it tomorrow I swear" (we have this conversation almost every day, grace and I)favorite social media account? Tumblr.what size bed do you have? Double mattress on a white frame. It fits me and all my pillows plus two animals so it's good.any siblings? Ugh yeah ewif you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why? Somewhere with a mountain to the north, the woods to the east, the coast to the west, and a city to the south. Don't really care beyond thatfavorite snapchat filter? The goth makeup and sunglasses one.favorite makeup brand(s)? Don't wear any. Probably should.how many times a week do you shower? Seven.favorite tv show? Game of thrones right now.shoe size? Depends on the brand. I usually go with fitting.how tall are you? No idea. Close to the 5'5" mark I believe.sandals or sneakers? Bootsdo you go to the gym? Not if I can help it.describe your dream date. There are dragons involved. I don't really care how. Ice cream is a requirement, and I don't feel guilty about not paying.how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment? Well I just cashed in my tip jar for bigger bills but haven't visited the bank yet so probs around $50, which is a lot.what color socks are you wearing? None. Socks are for those wearing shoes.how many pillows do you sleep with? Six. Minimum.do you have a job? what do you do? Just quit yesterday! how many friends do you have? Too many. I can't keep track of them all, because I am a terrible person. Will need to find a secretary to start doing roll call.whats the worst thing you have ever done? I don't wanna talk about it.whats your favorite candle scent? Like a weak flower or one of those rainy forest ones.3 favorite boy names? Uhhh ryan nick and collier3 favorite girl names? Therese Annabelle and katefavorite actor? Dylan obrienfavorite actress? Emma Watsonwho is your celebrity crush? Rn? Man kit Harrington can fuck me up any timefavorite movie? HTTYD 1 and 2do you read a lot? whats your favorite book? Not as much as I used to, unfortunately. I've always like the Artemis fowl series.money or brains? Brains for me, money for those I surround myself with do you have a nickname? what is it? George and em are popular rnhow many times have you been to the hospital? Four?top 10 favorite songs? Not today satan do you want to start a rumbledo you take any medications daily? No but I should what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc) whitewhat is your biggest fear? Spiders, my parents, jump scareshow many kids do you want? None. However my two friends who I ship even though there is no hope will have many many many and I will be the Cool Aunt whats your go to hair style? See above what type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc) its green who is your role model? There are so many but none are coming to mind so let's move onwhat was the last compliment you received? "Thank you"what was the last text you sent? "My dude we got nothing"how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real? I have no idea. what is your dream car? One that works opinion on smoking? Not in my face pleasedo you go to college? Not currently what is your dream job? Professional musician who gets payed a fuck load of money so they can retire early to teach high school bandwould you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs? I forget which is which so the one with less people in itdo you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels? Yupdo you have freckles? A fewdo you smile for pictures? If I'm not smiling before it's not happening duringhow many pictures do you have on your phone? Not a lot. Maybe fiftyhave you ever peed in the woods? Yupdo you still watch cartoons? Does anime count?do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds? I hate chicken so neitherDoes anyone actually read these things???Favorite dipping sauce? BBQ what do you wear to bed? The comfiest thing I can find that's suitable for the weather have you ever won a spelling bee? Yupwhat are your hobbies? Sleep and bandcan you draw? Nopedo you play an instrument? Yupwhat was the last concert you saw? This giant alternative rock fest thing tea or coffee? Ew neitherStarbucks or Dunkin Donuts? Donuts for life do you want to get married? Not really but the juries still out what is your crush’s first and last initial? QC are you going to change your last name when you get married? Idk depends on whose name sounds cooler what color looks best on you? Fuck if I knowdo you miss anyone right now? Yeah... (QC)do you sleep with your door open or closed? CLOSED CLOSED CLOSED WHAT ARE YOU MADdo you believe in ghosts? in a waywhat is your biggest pet peeve? Idiocy and the sound of people breathing last person you called? Gracefavorite ice cream flavor? French vanilla regular oreos or golden oreos? Regchocolate or rainbow sprinkles? Rainbowwhat shirt are you wearing? None it's too hot what is your phone background? My friends looking hot in a really goofy way :)are you outgoing or shy? Depends on my mood. How angry am I?do you like it when people play with your hair? Depends on how much I like the person. Jane no lucas yesdo you like your neighbors? I don't even know themdo you wash your face? at night? in the morning? When I shower?have you ever been high? Yuphave you ever been drunk? Yuplast thing you ate? Otter popfavorite lyrics right now? "Welcome to my panic room/ it's my dark place/ lock myself away from you/ but I can't escape"summer or winter? Summerday or night? Day. I am too blind for the darknessdark, milk, or white chocolate? Whitefavorite month? Junewhat is your zodiac sign? Metal snakewho was the last person you cried in front of? MyselfI was gonna go back and number those but I'm tired now so fuck that

[yamababy]

Sketch

Tadashi traced the tiny notes as they slowly appeared on his forearm. The raised red ridges of the musical notes meant nothing to him; he genuinely had no idea what they meant. At 8 years old, learning the complicated symbols of sound had never interested him. Until recently. As of late, the small notes had been appearing on and off every few days. Which meant his soulmate had finally started writing. Tadashi had been drawing to them for as long as he could remember. Flowers, dogs, pictures of people he knew... Anything he could think of to let them know, he was here! An only child who lived with his grandparents, Tadashi had been waiting to meet his soul mate for so long he thought he would burst if it went on any longer. the notes receded slowly as he watched. Rolling over in his bed, and wrapping his blankets closer around him, he wondered what it sounded like. The music of his soul mate. Whether the person was happy or sad; what instrument they played and how old they were; whether they thought about him sometimes too, and enjoyed his pictures. ***** Kei's long fingers, stretched and limber already from 4 years of piano, danced along his ivory keys. The old upright was his most prized possession and the closest to a friend he felt he had. It allowed him to vent and scream and pound into its keys without complaint, and didnt try to comfort or advise him if it wasnt enough to play till his fingers blistered. Kei was a 'difficult' child. An antagonist at his worst. Truthfully, Kei was an anxious child. So anxious his fear radiated into angry energy and vitriol. This, he knew, was not the way to make friends... But, everytime he opened his mouth to a stranger, irregardless of age; out spat bile. He was too young to hate himself the way he did. His comfort came from his skin. The tiny artwork that tattooed him silently and painlessly everyday for most of his life. Beautiful, intricate linework. The fading broke his heart, he wished it would stay forever. He'd never felt talented enough to reply. Even his stick men were wonky. Until he'd realised his talent was under his nose all along. He'd begun to write short melodies on his forearms. His favourites songs, things he's written. Things to show his soul mate who he was. Being 8 years old however, not realising not everyone knew music, it never occured to him that his soul mate didn't understand any of it, no matter how sweet the intent. *****

"Tsukki! Tsukki, wait up!" Tadashi ran after Kei as fast as his tiny legs could carry him, although he was certain his overly tall bestfriend couldn't hear him through his large white headphones. Tadashi reached Kei and gently wrapped his tiny hands around his larger friends wrist. The way Kei flinched at this silent greeting destroyed Tadashi's gentle heart. Kei turned towards Tadashi slowly and removed his headphones with a sigh, as if resigned to whatever was to come next. They locked eyes. "Oh, it's just you, Yamaguchi. Why didn't you shout me?" Kei sneered. "Sorry, Tsukki!" Tadashi beamed, dragging his friend towards the park. "I'm not pushing you on the swings this time..." Kei huffed. "Sure you're not, Tsukki!" Tadashi giggled gently, still manhandling his larger friend through the park gates. Kei smiled softly to himself as Tadashi ran, full pelt, at the slide. 'OK, so maybe I will....' he thought. ***** Tadashi pushed through the door of the Tsukishima household, his arms laden with his belongings and snacks for the night, spirits high for the sleepover that night, announcing his presence and removing his shoes with his toes, he traipsed in without being welcomed. He was always welcome here, it was his haven, his safe space. His favourite place in the world. He breathed in the scent. Vanilla and sweet fruit. It smelled like Tsukki here. Or Tsukki smelt like the house... Either way it was wonderful. He heard distant piano from the dining room; which meant Tsukki was definitely here. Whatever it was he was playing, it was wonderful, soft and bittersweet, flowing like water over him as he took his time making his way down the hall. He'd hate to disturn Tsukki while he was playing. He always looked so calm and content while his fingers danced over keys reading notes Tadashi still couldn't read. He'd thought many times about asking Tsukki to teach him piano, or at least to read the sheet music, but the idea of being even more of a burden was too much for him to cope with. As he approached the slightly ajar door, the velvety music came to a close. Then his left arm tingled the way it does when your soulmate sends you a message. There they were again. The beautifully drawn and prepared notes. He'd die to hear them. He peeked through the door jamb. Tsukki was writing in blue ink on his forearm. He was writing music notes. On his left forearm. NO. NOT TSUKKI. NOT A BOY. Tadashi's chest constricted. He was certain he was going to suffocate right there in the hallway, surrounded by video games and chocolate bars aged 13 years old. This was awful. He couldn't tell him. Never. They're friendship was everything to him. Maybe they were platonic soulmates? That could be a thing right? HE'D never met platonic soulmates before, or heard of them but they MUST be a thing....? Oh god no. "Yamaguchi? Why are you skulking around in my hallway?" Kei had heard the clatter of Tadashi's things hitting the floor. Tadashi's head whipped around so fast he felt his neck crack. "Sorry, Tsukki! I dropped some things..." Tadashi could feel his face burning, how humiliating. Kei clicked his tongue and bent down to retrieve the items that littered his floor. Tadashi could only stare. Tsukki was actually really attractive, in a tall, lanky, snarkier-than-thou, kind of way. Tadashi had always admired Kei's personality. that was no secret. Kei golden orbs suddenly invaded his private reverie. Since his recent growth spurt, Tadashi no longer stood quite so far below Kei's shoulder. His forehead could comfortably brush Kei's chin. But when Kei tilted his head forward, and all but glared into his freckled visage, Tadashi suddenly felt very, very small all over again. His breathe caught in his throat and his heart hammered a racy rhythm against his chest. "Are you ok, Dashi?" Kei asked, barely a whisper. 'DASHI. Oh god.' Tadashi all but shivered at the childhood nickname. it was his weakness. Tsukki only used it when they were alone; and even then it was sparing. "I'm fine, Tsukki." His voice sounded disconnected from his body. He was honestly just glad of how secure it sounded compared to the internal mess he was caging. "Well... Ok then. If you're fine you won't mind me handing you your ass in mario kart then, will you?" A rare smiled ghosted across Kei's surprisingly plump lips and he pushed off the wall behind Tadashi's head, grabbing bits and pieces from the floor as he passed them, headed to his room. Tadashi gathered the rest of his things together in a daze before following.

In the bathroom, later that night, Tadashi took his favourite marker in with him and, under the guise of a shower, he drew more than ever before. Every inch he could reach was covered in the things he loved. French fries from his favourite fast food place, a couple tiny dogs chasing after a ball, flowers and beautifully decorated cakes like the ones in his grandparents bakery that Tsukki loved so much, he even drew a few books upon a shelf; their tiny titles too small to read. He drew till his hand ached, his way of thanking Kei for the music. Knowing who write the miniscule notations suddenly made them so much more important. Tadashi knew what music really meant to Kei. It was his life the way art was Tadashi's home. He suddenly understood the time and effort Kei would have spent making sure that every note was perfect, every song choice immaculate. His taste had always been impeccable. And that was the shame of it. Kei had always had such high standards. Tadashi may pass the friendship test, but with his freckled mess of chubby cheeks and unruly hair, he was far from a catch. His one redeeming feature were his olive eyes. Even he liked them, but that didnt mean Kei would. He knew that as soul mates they were destined to fall in love. Or were already in love, or something. He didn't really understand the whole thing. Tadashi stripped the last of his clothes and stepped under the shower head, scrubbing at the remnants of his love, removing any trace that might let Kei in on his secret. A secret he intended to keep. He could love him from where he was, and that was fine.

Kei stared in awe at his arms, legs, stomach and chest. His body tingled everywhere, the miniature art gallery that was his skin alive with his soul mates creations. Kei didn't know who they were, but their skin sketches had kept him alive some nights. When he'd been lonely as a child, they'd been there so send him some joy. A smile, an unexpected laugh, it didn't matter where they really where to Kei, they'd been there to HIM. He couldn't care less who they were either, as long as they drew for him everyday, anything. He lived only for the day he could see more than sketches that faded in minutes. He wanted something permanent, something he could hold on to. God he hoped they felt the same. ***** Tadashi woke up alone to the sound of music. Typical. Even on a Sunday Kei couldn't sleep past 7. Tadashi hauled ass out of bed and slipped on a jumper. Kei house was always so cold in the morning. He glared, bleary eyed, at the bedside clock. 7:18am. Of course it was. He stole some socks from Kei's drawer and dragged them onto his frozen feet, then made his way down the stairs to the diningroom. Things had been oddly awkward between them last night. Tadashi couldnt keep calm and Kei had been even more quiet than usual. Tadashi still couldnt resist spying on Kei playing piano though. It was a guilty pleasure of his. Watching Kei lithe fingers glide over every key in a way Tadashi knew was NOT effortless style. Memorizing the lines of Kei's face as he near grimaced into his sheet music like it owed him a favour. Tadashi had been watching for longer than he could really remember. How could he not have known before yesterday how he felt? "Tsukki?" Tadashi spoke before he really realised it was happening. "Hmmm..." Kei continued to play as he answered, his concentration clearly somewhere else. Tadashi crept across the room and slide into the space beside Kei on the stool. "Will you teach me piano?" He asked, hesitant. Kei's hand still and the room dropped into silence for the smallest of moments before he laughed. "Finally. Honestly, Yamaguchi, how anyone can go so long without learning an instrument is beyond me." Kei almost smiled as he shuffled his music. "Is now ok?" Tadashi beamed. "Sure. Not like there's anything better to do on a Sunday?" ***** Tadashi rans his eyes down his sheet music. The notes ringing in his mind as the bus jostled down the bumpy street. His pen tapped a steady rhythm against his knee and he counted pace. He was sure something was off about the beat but he couldn't pinpoint it. "Its in 4/8; not 4/4." Kei whispered into Tadashi's ear. Tadashi glanced back at the sheet and read it in the new rhythm. Kei was right. He sighed and shoved it back in his bag, he could work on it later, if he let Kei anywhere near it he'd 'fix' it. He pulled out his sketch pad and very deliberately turned so that Tsukki wouldn't be able to see what he was doing. Tadashi had very recently become addicted to watercolour pencils; he liked the way he could work on something and then adjust the colours together later. He'd also become obsessed with painting other peoples portraits, not that he'd ever tell anyone he was doing so. He just loved the people faces could convey so much emotion with a mere quirk of a brow, or the tiniest smile. It was through painting he'd finally begun to understand Kei's tiny shows of emotion. They were admittedly miniscule, but they were there. They were Tadashi's favourite things to draw. His sketchbook was a closed gallery of one Tsukishima Kei's internal reportoire. He'd been aware of his and Kei's soulmate status for almost 3 years now, and as far as he knew, Kei was still entirely oblivious. And that was how he wanted to keep it. At least for now. The bus pulled up to Fukurodani and Tadashi packed away his things. Time for training camp. "Coming, Yamaguchi?" Kei held out his hand to help Tadashi out of his window seat. Tadashi grasped it as gently as he could, he already had an unhealthy attachment to those hands... He couldn't afford to be creepy. Kei grabbed his own bag from the overhead stoarage and led the way off the bus; they were, as usual, the last off. Tadashi didn't dwell on the fact that Kei hadn't let go of his hand yet. ***** Tadashi's entire body ached. It hurt in places he didn't know he even had until today. Coach Ukai was a monster, a monster encouraged by the rampaging lunatics he'd called team mates. Training camp had never been like this in Amemaru. It was barely 10pm, but everyone in Karasuno was asleep already, exhausted from their hectic day. He could literally FEEL Tanaka and Asahi snoring, their soft palettes flapping in their throats. Good god they should see a doctor... That couldn't be healthy. Kei turned to face Tadashi in his bedroll and scooted, ever so subtly closer to his best friend. "What's up, Tsukki?" Tadashi whispered, even his throat protesting at the usage. "Can't sleep. It's so uncomfortable here." Kei croaked. He'd never been particularly good at the whole whispering thing. "Wanna get in with me?" Tadashi asked, without really having noticed what he said until it was too late. "I-I mean, we could share and put one bedroll on top of the other... to make it comfier... not, like, ya know." "No. I dont know. Explain it to me, Yamaguchi." Kei replied, the mirth lacing his voice sending a shiver straight to Tadashi's already sore heart. "Just, that, we're friends... So, it isn't weird. We shared a bed all the time as kids." Tadashi finished, lamely. He fought the urge to pull his blankets up over his face in shame. "No offence here, Dashi, but I think we're a little too tall to share nowadays, we'd have to really squish up against eachother." Kei leant over Tadashi's face to whisper into his ear. And there it was. That crazy thumping rhythm his heart beat against his ribs whenever Kei called him Dashi. The room was suddenly far too hot, small and awkward for his liking. "Yeah-yeah, you're-uh-you're right..." Tadashi mumbled into his hands, he had lost his battle against hiding his face, and was melting into his own embarrassment, face ablaze. Damage done, Kei lay back against his own bed roll and yawned. "Night, Yamaguchi." He breathed, and rolled away. Tadashi didn't reply. He thought it best that way. ***** Stupid Kuroo. Stupid, Ugly, Horrible, Asshole Kuroo. Capital letters for emphasis. How dare he touch Kei. How dare Kei let him! UCK! So maybe he was overreacting. Soulmate or not, he did not in any way OWN Kei; but that did not stop him being upset. It was only a hug, he reasoned with himself as he served the ball straight into the net. His palm was on fire. He'd long since stopped caring that the skin was cracking and bleeding in some places. It must have been at least 6 hours he'd been here. He knew he'd missed dinner and that everyone was probably already back at the lodge by now. He simply didn't care. They obviously hadn't noticed his lack of presence. Kei clearly hadn't either. Well, forget them. He had volleyball serves to do. "Yamaguchi!" Hinata threw open the gym door like a hurricane. "We've all been looking for you for hours! We thought Tsukishima was gunna cry! You should have seen it! Kiyoko-san and Yacchan took him back to the lodge to calm him down. He thought you'd run away." Hinata half-yelled as he dragged Tadashi back towards the 1st gym. ***** "DASHI, WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN!? WHAT THE HELL WERE THINKING ITS ALMOST 11 O'CLOCK AT NIGHT!? ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME!?!" Kei practically screamed in Tadashi's face the moment he entered the lodge kitchen. Tadashi almost toppled over and suffocated when Kei lunged at him and forced him into what was admittedly a rather comforting hug. "I... I just... lost track of time I guess." Tadashi lied, poorly, trying to hide his swollen, bloody palm behind his back without making it obvious. He failed. "What happened to your hand?" Kei asked, still infuriated as he gripped Tadashi's wrist and pulled him to the sink. "Too many serves..." Tadashi hissed as the cold water hit his hand. He could feel the other team member staring at them. It had to stop, he hated being stared at. "You need to be more careful, you always overwork yourself. It's not healthy, you stress yourself out and you're always getting sick or you end up like -" "Shut up, Tsukki." Tadashi near whispered. Kei stopped dead, then looked Tadashi straight in the eyes and smiled. "Sorry, Yamaguchi." he said, deadpan as he handed Tadashi a tea towel to dry his hand while he went to get bandages. Tadashi turned towards his team mates, their mouths agape and still as statues. "I'm sorry for worrying you all. It won't happen again." He smiled at them as Kei took his hand back and began to wrap it for him. ***** Kei stared at his left arm. The floral vines wrapping from his wrist to his elbow becoming more and more detailed as time went on. Whoever his soul mates was, they desperately intrigued him. They'd been drawing more recently. He was becoming more and more vehement that he needed to find them lately as well. He knew he could just ask them who they were.  He could just write the question on his arm and have done with it, but that ruined it somehow. They deliberately never exchanged words, he didnt want to change anything. But he also really, really did. Maybe he could make it a game. Like 20 questions. Then use the information to find them. He rummaged through his dresser, in search of a pen, then waited for the vine on his arm to recede back into his skin. 'How old are you?' he wrote, his breath caught in his chest. What if they didnt reply? He waited almost 20 minutes before a single strawberry appeared, followed by 14 more, then, almost as an after thought, a half strawberry at the end of the row. He literally laughed. 15 and a half, well that was one way to reply. "Do you live in Japan?" He knew it was sometimes possible for soulmates to be across the world from one another. He waited again, 10 minutes this time. A squiggled shape appeared on his arm, when it was done he realised it was a small map of japan, with what looked like miyagi prefecture circled. "In Miyagi?" He replied, hopeful. That meant they were close by. He was still in the process of wiping the ink off his arm when the smiling face appeared on his inner wrist. "I wonder if we've met." He writes back. He waited 4 hours. They didn't reply again. ***** He couldnt write back. Kei knew his handwriting as well as he knew Kei's. Tadashi put his head in his hands and sighed. Why would he start writing now? Kei had been weird since they'd returned from camp. He'd been weird AT camp too, ever since Tadashi had gone 'missing' for those few hours. Kei had always been... Affectionate. Physically speaking. Not with anyone else, or in public, which honestly Tadashi appreciated, but he'd always liked to climb into Tadashi bed during sleepovers, or drag Tadashi into his. It was easier to watch movies that way, he'd always reasoned, when Tadashi questioned it. He'd also liked to hold Tadashi hand sometimes when they were sitting on the couch together, or cuddle up to Tadashi from behind when he cooked for them, which was often as Kei's cooking usually ended with the emergency services. But lately it'd been more frequent. He'd figured out when they were children that this was how Kei made up his brash personality and was not an indication of anything else, but nowadays Tadashi had been doing everything he could to avoid being alone with Kei. He had to make sure he didn't slip up; like suddenly shoving his tongue down Kei's throat the next time he smiled at him and called him Dashi while they were supposed to be watching Death Note. "SHIT." Tadashi said out loud, to no one in particular. ***** He awoke to the sound of screaming and yelling. "Not again." Tadashi grumbled to himself as something large smashed against the livingroom wall. His grandparents sounded like they were killing eachother. He got up as quietly as he could and made his way down the hall. "YOU! This is all your fault!" His grandfather grabbed his hair from behind and yanked him into the livingroom. "Me? What did I do?" He and his grandparents had never gotten along as well as he would have liked, but this was the first time he'd ever been scared of them. "You killed them. You killed both of them." His grandmother screamed in his face, tears streaming down hers. "What? NO! They died in the fire, Grandma!" Tadashi shouted back, knowing instantly what she meant. It wasn't the first time they'd accused him of having killed his parents. His grandparents continued to scream at him. His heart breaking with every verbal barb. He didn't know what had brought this on at 6am in the morning, but he hated it. He tried to get up and run back to his room, or the front door, either way, he needed outm they pulled him back, every time he attempted to escape their fingers dug into his skin more, finger nails drawing blood from his thin arms, his grandfather, still strong in his old age from his years of being a baker lifted Tadashi effortlessly and threw him against the wall. The impact forcing his chin up and making him taste blood. He wipes blood from his chin and panics, and while his grandmother screams he takes his chance. 'Tsukki, Help me.' the blood dribbles down his arm, and he has no idea if this will work, but its all he has to go on, and he hopes for the best. ***** Kei pours cereal into his dino bowl, the early morning sun filtering through the windows and casting an orange glow against the counter top. He almost ignores the tingle on his arm, spiteful after they ignored him last night. He's glad he doesn't. 'Tsukki, help me.' Messy and smeared with dribbled lines that send terrified shivers up Kei's spine. He'd know that writing anywhere. He leaves the cereal where it is, milk splattered on the surface as he races to the door. His feet can't move fast enough, his heart pounds in his chest as he races barefoot down the 3 blocks to Tadashi's Grandparents bakery. His breath rages in his chest and he's never been so thankful that Daichi forced him to run so often and so hard. He rounds the corner to the bakery so fast he literal skids on the still damp concrete and grazes his feet. He doesn't care, it doesn't matter. Only Tadashi matters right now. He reaches the back stairs to the apart, takes them 2 at a time, and scrambles through the black plantpot for the spare key when he hears the screaming through the letter box. His hands are shaking so badly he can barely fit the key in the lock when he finds it, and practically shoulders the door through the wall. He follows the dull, wet sounds of thudding and crying in the livingroom and finds Tadashi atop his grandfather, his face so covered in blood Kei can barely recognize his bestfriend of 7 years. Tadashi stops and climbs up from his grandfather, who spits at him. "Dashi?" Kei's voice sounds as weak he suddenly feels. "Kei..." Tadashi sobs, "Kei, I'm sorry." He cries as Kei lifts him up and carries him from the room, from the building. He lets him cry all the way back to his own house. He lets him cry while he dresses the cuts and bruises that litter his face, and even while he scraped the dried blood from Tadashi's hands. Kei doesn't speak. Tadashi doesn't need that yet. He places Tadashi into his bed and wraps himself and the blankets around him, then pulls Tadashi's face into his shoulder and strokes his hair till he stops shaking. After a few hours, Tadashi's breathing has settled, and Kei begins to think he may have fallen asleep, except that as he tries to move away, Tadashi's grip on his shirt tightens, and pulls him back. "Don't go... please." Tadashi's voice is coarse. "I'm just going to pee, I'm not gunna leave the freaking country. Chill, ok?" Kei huffs, and hears a tiny chuckle in response. When he's finished in the bathroom, he goes downstairs and gets Tadashi a glass of water, and makes them both some toast, then carries it all upstairs. When he walks back into the room, he finds Tadashi sat up with his back against the pillows and his head on his knees. He places the tray gently on his nightstand and puts a hand in Tadashi's hair. As if to reassure him that he came back. "You hungry?" He asked, softly. Tadashi just shakes his head and sighs into his knees. "Shame... It's got extra butter on it, guess I'll eat it then." he says, poking Tadashi's hand with a slice. Tadashi slowly takes the slice and lifts his head just enough to take a bite, adjusting to cross his legs as he does. "You ok, Dashi?" Kei shuffles into place under the blanket next to Tadashi and hands him his water. "Yeah." Tadashi sounds sore, and tired, but not upset. "Wanna talk about it?" Kei takes back the glass Tadashi hands him and settled back into his pillows. "They think I killed my parents in the fire." "Oh." Kei says. Weren't you like... 2 years old when your parents died?" Kei was desperately trying to remember. Tadashi never spoke about it. "Yeah, some electrical fault or something. But the week before the fire I broke the fire escape window. I don't know how, I was too little to remember that, but I did, so when the fire happened my mum and dad couldn't fit through the gap in the window, so they dropped my favourite teddy and told me to go get him, my downstairs neighbours saw me and took me to the front of the building." Tadashi spoke steadily, as if reading from a page. "I don't really remember much." "I see... But... you were a baby. You clearly didn't do it on purpose." Kei stated, matter-of-factly. "They chose to let you go, they wanted you to be safe because they loved you, and that's not your fault. I get that your grandparents are upset, but what the Hell happened this morning?" "I have literally no idea. I also had no idea I was this strong either. Physically i mean, emotionally I'm somewhere between 9/11 and the Titanic in terms of wreckage, but I'm actually kind of worried I hurt him." Tadashi looked at Kei as he spoke, a pensive look crossing his freckled face. "Dashi. Why didn't you tell me if you knew?" Kei couldn't stop himself asking anymore. "I did tell you. I told you my parents died the first time you came to my house- "That you were my soul mate, Tadashi. You had to have known to send me the message to help you..." Kei sighed. "Oh. That. Right. I thought it was better that way I suppose. I thought-I thought i wasn't... good... enough." Tadashi sputtered. "You absolute moron... Wow." Kei huffed. "I spent 7 years with you for the convenience then, did I?" "Being friends is different than dating!" Tadashi defended himself with a pout and crossed his arms across his chest. "Is it? I don't think so. Not for us anyway. I'm 90% sure we've been halfway dating since middle school. Minus a few things obviously." Kei laughed. Kei slipped his arm behind Tadashi's back and yanked him into his lap. "Well, either way, there is no way in Hell i'm sending you back there. You're just gunna have to move in here with me. Not that anyone would even notice, most of your stuff lives here, and you're here at least 4 or 5 times a week..." Kei nuzzled into Tadashi's neck, the tip of his nose catching the lobe of Tadashi's ear. "I'm not here that much!" Tadashi face blazed, his cheeks aflame as he felt Kei kiss the edge of his jaw. "Do you wanna be?" Kei's lips brushed against Tadashi's ears and he melted into an incoherent puddle right there on the bed. Tadashi could only nod as Kei slotted his lips against his. So this was what home felt like.

actually really enjoyed writing this. sorry its late. and sorry it sucks ass. i tried. please dont hate me..... @akkaai

[latestnews2018-blog]

Florence Welch puts herself out there in ‘High as Hope’

New Post has been published on https://latestnews2018.com/florence-welch-puts-herself-out-there-in-high-as-hope/

Florence Welch puts herself out there in ‘High as Hope’

The 31-year-old singer says she’s made herself more vulnerable and is ready to showcase her self-acceptance in her latest album with her band

Florence Welch, of Florence and the Machine, in Manhattan, May 11, 2018. Even for an artist who makes anthems out of the confessional, the upcoming album “High as Hope” represents a new openness, and a new confidence. “It was a very physical record,” she said, “very tactile. Really, the thrill of making a sound has never left me.” (Kathy Lo/The New York Times)

The day that Florence Welch got “Always Lonely” tattooed in blocky print on her left arm, she was not lonely at all. She had spent a blissful day traipsing around New York with a close friend, visiting bookstores, savouring ice creams and coffee, feeling enamoured and alive with the city’s possibilities. She wrote a poem about it, “New York Poem (for Polly),” which contained a line that became the title of the fourth Florence and the Machine album, High as Hope:

Heady with pagan worship

of water towers

fire escapes, ever reaching

high as hope.

And yet there she was, in an East Village tattoo shop, getting that sad phrase inked on her body while her friend (Polly) looked on. Welch, the effervescent leader and songwriter of the British rock band Florence and the Machine, has made a speciality of wringing joy from despair, so she did not think twice about exposing her loneliness.

“I thought that I would just cement it,” she said, “because maybe if I just had it on there, I could own it somehow, make it a part of myself, or embrace that part that I find difficult.”

Welch, 31, is lately very ready to showcase her self-acceptance. Her New York poem is collected in Useless Magic, a book of her lyrics, poetry and drawings that’s out July 10. High as Hope, due June 29, is full of secrets she never thought she would share, let alone sing and dance about in front of fans. Even for an artist who makes anthems out of the confessional — a painful breakup fuelled How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful, the group’s last album — High as Hope represents a new openness, and a new confidence, for Welch.

“I made myself more vulnerable and made a step away from the metaphoric,” she said in a recent interview at the Bowery Hotel. “It created a creative bravery. I was like, it’s OK to put yourself out there.”

It was a path she had been on since 2015, with the No. 1 How Big, but even then “I still felt I had something to prove,” she said. “This one, I had a lot of joy in making it.”

“Florence has definitely gone through a transformation,” said her bandmate Isabella Summers, with whom Welch began playing music in her teens in South London, where she grew up. Summers, who plays keys in the group, went on to help produce and write some of Welch’s early work, including the 2009 breakout Dog Days Are Over.

“The first time I really found my sound was working with another woman, working with Isa,” Welch said. “As a young artist, you can struggle to find your voice, and it takes a while to say, ‘No, I want it to be like this.’” Now, she added: “I’m very OK with being in charge. Because I know that I know what I’m doing.”

For this album, Welch took a producing credit for the first time. She spent six months just making demos, mostly on her own. One of the most challenging songs was Hunger, the second single. Its opening line — “At 17, I started to starve myself” — is a reference to an eating disorder that Welch struggled with as a teenager. “I never thought I would talk about it,” she said. “I didn’t really talk about it with my mum until really recently. So to put it in a song — it’s like, what am I doing?”

She worried that people would be angry with her for discussing it, and tried to convince herself to take the line out — the rest of the lyrics deal more obliquely with emptiness. But the song was not as powerful without it. She thought about tossing the whole track off the album, but, she said, “It’s at the heart of it.” Her revelation stayed, and it helped her own understanding. “It definitely was a release for me,” she said. “The songs sometimes have more clarity in them than I do about my life.”

(Welch declined to go into greater detail about her eating disorder, for fear that others would model themselves after her. “When I was in it, I was always, like, hunting for information,” she said. “I want to be responsible.”)

‘A kindred spirit’

Working with producer Emile Haynie (Lana Del Rey’s Born to Die), High as Hope centres, as always, on Welch’s muscular, emotional voice, which can go from ecstatic to mournful in one lilt. The tracks build from piano and earnest percussion toward sometimes lavish instrumentation; the saxophonist Kamasi Washington did arrangements for French horn, tuba, flute and bass clarinet.

Washington, who also plays on the album, signed on quickly — he had ideas the moment he heard the demos. “The thing for me was trying to add without taking away what she had already put in there,” he said. He called Welch a kindred spirit, comparing her to another of his collaborators, Kendrick Lamar, in the purity of her love for music and her freedom to follow where the tune goes in the studio. “It was really cool, every time we’d finish recording, we’d go in the room and she’d have all new vocal parts that she’d created while we were recording the horn parts,” he said.

She starts with the lyrics, filling graph-paper journals at home, some of which are replicated in her book, complete with whimsical doodles. “I could fall in love with a plastic bag, if it paid me some attention,” goes one, with a sketch of a heart-adorned bag. The album has its share of songs about wanting, and love, though not always romantic love — Patricia is about Patti Smith, whom Welch calls her North Star. Though Welch herself is bad with directions (she gets lost even in the grid of Manhattan, she said), her music has an urbane sense of geography, skittering from scenes in a rainy Los Angeles to a bleak Chicago and a nostalgic London. And it also gets wry. The song Big God is about “obviously, an unfillable hole in the soul,” Welch said, “but mainly about someone not replying to my text.”

In a two-hour conversation, she laughed often, and robustly. In the hotel lounge, she spilled her secrets in a voice loud enough to demonstrate she did not care who else heard; she has the surprisingly rare ability, as an artist, to translate how her emotions and music intersect. “You know, having an overactive mind and overthinking stuff, and being anxious — ever since I was a kid, if I had a song that I could follow, everything would become very calm,” she said. “It was like this cocoon that I could go into.”

She was sitting on a dusty-gold velvet couch, beneath a Renaissance-looking tapestry, that, in her own vintage tapestry coat and ruffled ivory blouse, she might have slid right out of. She wore necklaces and rings on six fingers, many adorned with horseshoes, and tucked her wild, softly glowing hair over her right shoulder. Her natural colour is more mousy reddish-brown than her signature flaming tresses, she said. In concert, her energy is brash and soaring, and she moves as if the music is catapulting her — a fierceness that seems at odds, but should not be, with her romantic vibe.

Almost as soon as she came on the scene, Welch became a fashion industry darling, but her ethereal look was nearly happenstance, said Tom Beard, a director and photographer who began shooting the musician when they were students at Camberwell College of Arts in South London in the mid-2000s, and continued to create her album covers. The first photos he took of her, at a festival, she wore a pink dress and elf ears; Summers, her bandmate, remembered this period as being full of glitter. Only after Beard and Welch checked out an exhibit of Pre-Raphaelite art at the Tate museum did she transition to her much-copied flowy-boho-goddess aesthetic, he said.

For the tour after How Big, How Blue, How Beautiful, Welch experimented with a more androgynous (for her) style, all angular suits. It was, she said, a reaction to her heartbreak: “I was almost angry at the more vulnerable, feminine sides of myself, because they seemed weak.” But it felt like a pose.

Now, she said, as she’s collapsing the boundaries between her on- and offstage life, she wants to wear more real-world clothes — even sleepwear. “On this record, I was embracing the femininity, embracing the things I really liked, embracing that you can still be powerful and strong and scary in a pink nightie,” she said.

Beard, her friend since her earliest days as an artist, said she is now being more truthful than he’s ever seen. “It’s the confidence of 12 years,” he said. “What she’s putting out there is the Flo that I know and I’ve always known.”

Listening to her record in the studio, he said that he welled up. “When you’re not holding anything back, no one can hurt you anymore, can they?” he said. “Whatever was hurting her, I can just hear it in her voice, how collected she is now. She’s comfortable with the person that she is.”

Her fall tour for High as Hope is her biggest yet, with headlining stops at arenas like the Hollywood Bowl and Barclays Center in Brooklyn. At a preview show at the Brooklyn Academy of Music last month, the stage heaved with flowers and moss and baby’s breath hung overhead, like clouds. Beforehand, she had joked that the tour “could be called, like, ‘On Nightgowns and Spiritual Confusion’ because that’s what it is, I’m in a nightgown being confused about things in a loud way.”

But when she walked onstage, de-accessorised and barefoot, in a shell-pink lingerie gown and lace-edged bed jacket, there were no doubts. She stalked the floor with the fervour of a preacher, raising her arms in exaltation and executing balletic spins. In the end, she made her way into the crowd, for a communion. “Tell someone you don’t know that you love them,” she instructed. “Make it awkward.”

In real life and in performance, Welch is looking for connection. “I quite like the idea of putting really big, unanswerable spiritual questions in pop songs,” she said earlier. “We can be together in this moment, and celebrate the not-knowing, and perhaps feel closer to each other. We can jump up and down. If you just dance about it, you will feel better.”