#i think this is THE first time i have drawn jazz it’s wild to me he basically hasn’t been a major character except g1 when he has such

[bardockarts]

Your bro has got your back, Dee, he will not forget your birthday <3

[soarrenbluejay]

Since I’ve been encouraged to actually share my funny little blorbo ideas here’s another one gang;

Danny moves to Gotham on scholarship for engineering, because the Fentons may be infamous but they’re also insanely brilliant and besides both he and Jazz are showing every sign of embarrassed child of a super genius syndrome, so while the bats are keeping a close eye on him Just In Case, duke is also thinking of introducing him to the Our Parents Are Maniacs But Anyway club maybe after the first month or so.

Gotham does not go for standard dorm living bc of his ‘condition’ and lack of wanting to constantly spook/gaslight a roommate. Besides, living with two small children is a dorm sounds like a disaster in action.

So Danny signs up as a mechanic in Crime Alley, buys himself a teeny weensy lil apartment and Makes It Work. He has been all year after showing up with a de aged Dani and Dan in Amnity after all, and that had gone,,, fine? (The entire town, observing how Danny had been getting increasingly more uncomfortable around his godfather prior to the cloning incident, then just dropped off the face of the earth for several months, the first two weeks stuck in Vlad’s basement enduring horrors and the next Too Many desperately fapping around in the Ghost Zone to get everything handled. All the clones live, all 13 of them. Bunch of them are stuck in the Ghost Zone due to constant need for ectoplasm, but eh, plenty of Zone born never leave, so. One, in the future, apprentices under a green warrior lady on Pandora’s suggestion, another is working in the Eternal Library with Ghost Writer, etc etc. so Danny eventually came back to Amnity with one small child under each arm very obviously traumatized by Somethingn with vlad and doesn’t like being alone with him,,, or touched without warning,, and immediately and passionately proclaims the kids his but struggles to explain how or why,, look some very reasonable assumptions are drawn okay. So the town does the very reasonable thing and does the midwestern equivilant of excommunicating Vlad, except it’s a lot more run him out with pitchforks vibes since he’s the Mayor. Anyway)

He is immediately loved, because while non Gothamites are usually more of a pain than they’re worth, everyone in a while someone even from out of town will just fit in so nicely it’s uncanny for everyone involved. Addams family vibes, it’s referred to as ‘making it home’, just personal hc. He is protective of all the kids playing in the parks and street girls that can totally take care of themselves on their corners but find it HILARIOUS when he just tackles a dick like a wild animal full force no warning. He can fix anything it seems, but refuses to work with weapons. Reasonable enough, people get twitchy about gangs sometimes. Danny mentions being not against Hood or anything, but he’s not going to work for him, littles to take care of and all, but had past experience with ‘Dora and that inheritance mess with her brother he was being a real prick about’ so everyone assumes it’s the equivilant of him having Done His Time and being plenty good for a life time and respects it as long as none of that petty midwestern small town hotshots bring any of that shit over here. And they don’t, because said individuals are on the other side of the mortal veil, so happy day.

See I really love deaged!Dan because he’s just a grumpy lil guy. But he’s also killed millions. He’s so protective of his loved ones, but held back by blending in and also being Smol that it comes off more bitey kitten than anything else. Dani, of course, is a terror, so she fits right in with the crowd.

And sorry gang, but a bunch of kids on their own in Gotham in a poor side of the city just isn’t going to get any attention: that’s just business as usual really. What first gets attention on Danny is not his ‘condition’ or being mistaken for a meta (which he legally probs has an argument for even without the gene bc like these bitches don’t know how metaism works anyway so) or alien (I’m 90% sure he’d be covered by the alien protection act by virtue of being half ‘not from earth’), but because Danny despite best efforts is a Weird Guy.

He grew up in what could only be described as a low level villain level and spent most of high school dealing with smack downs and spiritual invasion. He’s never really processed that any of that is not in fact Normal. Also, he’s capable of making Anything if given the insides of a toaster, blender and alarm clock, and could probably rewrite the circuits of the apartment blindfolded and improve them 1000% even if it ABSOLUTELY would not be up to code.

And sure, things slip every once in a while, bits of spectral ice here, small floating incident there, but everyone just Minds Their Buisness ya know? You really gunna mess with the guy that personally ensured that when your car got flattened by a fight with Killer Croc, you were still able to get in to work the next day by some wizardry? Really?

But Gotham is a city so cursed it’s probably in the exponents countwise, so of course there is a) a flourishing community of magic users and assorted supernatural weirdos and b) a whole lot of shit for Mega Overpowered Ghost King Danny to idly pick at day to day in order to help with his protecting other Obsession. Gotham has plenty of heroes, but by god do they need the spiritual equivilant of an electrician/priest.

Still, Danny, as a baby ancient under a facet of Kronos and KING OF THE DEAD is like, way, way out of their scope to be able to grok, so it mostly just comes off as you know, a family of banshees or something. When asked, Danny very haltingly says he was briefly dead but then revived, which neatly explains his Weird Ass aura and makes it SPECTACULARLY AWKWARD to ask further about. So everyone nods politely, and goes back to their lives after double checking no nefarious bullshit was being pulled.

Then, of course, Vlad finally tracks them down. The whole neighborhood is altered in short order because he doesn’t bother trying to hide being a Rich Bitch or how he’s sneering down his nose at people on the sidewalk. Every connects the dots when Danny paniks. Dani and Dan’s daycare are staffed with some extra, very buff set of hands within the hour. Jerry, Hood’s third in command, personally shows up to the garage Danny is working at to talk things out with him bc he knows he does t like the deal with this stuff due to past unspecified circumstances but well, they guys had already started fucking with him, you see. Stole his tires, spray painted the windows, pickpocketed him blind, and when he retreated tipped off the police to the drugs they’d planted in the glove box.

Danny might not have been born in Gotham, but he was one of them. And the Alley takes care of it own.

[remeberm3]

fixed | k.m

⎯⎯“No. I came because I couldn’t stay away.”

warnings: fluff, exes to lovers

The streets of New Orleans pulsed with their usual rhythm—jazz spilling from open doors, laughter mingling with the scent of gumbo and rain-soaked earth. Klaus Mikaelson moved through the crowd like a shadow, his presence commanding yet unnoticed. His thoughts were heavy tonight, tangled with memories of you.

You’d been a storm in his life, a wild and unpredictable force that swept in and left him spinning. For the first time in his centuries-long existence, someone had unraveled him without even trying. And now, as he wandered aimlessly, he found himself drawn back to you, as if the mere thought of your name had turned his compass.

You were sitting on the floor of your small apartment, barefoot and surrounded by scraps of paper and half-finished sketches. Your fingers were smudged with charcoal, your hair a mess of unruly waves that you had stopped caring about hours ago. This was your sanctuary—your own little bubble of creation and chaos.

Tonight, the inspiration had come in fits and starts, elusive and teasing. You’d given up trying to force it and instead let your mind wander, your thoughts drifting inevitably back to him.

Klaus.

He was a contradiction in every sense of the word. Tender and vicious. Elegant and feral. You’d fallen for him against your better judgment, and though you’d tried to tell yourself it wouldn’t work, that his world was too dark for someone like you, you couldn’t deny the way he made you feel alive in a way nothing else ever had.

A knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts. You frowned, brushing your hands on your paint-smeared jeans as you stood. It was late—too late for casual visitors.

When you opened the door, your breath caught.

There he was, standing in the dim light of the hallway, his sharp features softened by something you couldn’t quite place. He looked… unsure. Vulnerable, even.

“Hello, love,” he said, his voice low and familiar.

“Klaus.” Your name felt foreign on your own tongue, like you’d forgotten how to say it.

“May I come in?”

You hesitated for a moment, your heart battling your head. But then you stepped aside, and he walked past you, his presence filling the small space like a storm.

“I wasn’t expecting company,” you said, crossing your arms as you leaned against the door.

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” he replied, his gaze sweeping over the room. His eyes lingered on the scattered papers, the half-formed sketches. “You’ve been working.”

“I was trying to,” you admitted. “Not much luck tonight.”

He picked up one of the sketches, his fingers ghosting over the paper. “You’ve captured something here,” he said softly, his tone reverent. “There’s life in this.”

Your cheeks flushed. “I doubt you came here to critique my art.”

He set the paper down and turned to face you, his expression unreadable. “No. I came because I couldn’t stay away.”

His words hung in the air between you, heavy and charged.

“I told myself I wouldn’t come,” he continued, his voice thick with emotion. “That I should leave you in peace. But every time I close my eyes, I see you. I hear your laughter, feel the warmth of your touch. It’s maddening.”

“Klaus…”

“No, let me finish,” he said, stepping closer. “You have every reason to hate me. I’ve brought chaos into your life. I’ve made mistakes—mistakes that have hurt you. But even knowing that, I cannot deny what I feel for you.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “And what do you feel?”

“Everything,” he said simply. “You make me feel everything, love. Joy, fear, longing. You’ve taken this heart of mine, this cursed, wretched thing, and made it beat again. I didn’t think that was possible.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away. “Klaus, you can’t just show up and say things like that.”

“Why not?” he challenged, his voice soft but insistent. “It’s the truth.”

“Because it’s not fair,” you said, your voice breaking. “You can’t just walk in here and say all the right things after everything that’s happened.”

He stepped closer, so close you could feel the warmth radiating from him. “Do you think I planned this? That I sat down and rehearsed some speech to win you back? No. This is me, standing here, telling you the truth because I can’t do anything else.”

You looked away, but he gently cupped your chin, turning your face back to his. “Look at me,” he said softly. “Please.”

You met his gaze, and the intensity in his eyes nearly broke you.

“I’ve lived for over a thousand years,” he said, his voice trembling. “And in all that time, I have never felt what I feel for you. You are my greatest weakness, and my greatest strength. You are my reason.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and he caught it with his thumb, his touch so gentle it made your chest ache.

“I know I don’t deserve you,” he whispered. “But I’m asking you, with everything I have, to give me another chance. Let me prove to you that I can be the man you deserve.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Your emotions warred within you, a storm of anger, love, fear, and longing. But then you did the only thing you could.

You reached up and kissed him.

It wasn’t soft or tentative—it was fierce, a collision of everything unsaid between you. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as if he were afraid you might vanish.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting together.

“This doesn’t mean everything’s fixed,” you said softly.

“I know,” he replied, his voice low and reverent. “But it’s a start.”

And as he held you there, surrounded by the chaos of your tiny apartment, you realized that maybe, just maybe, he was right.

i have too many exes to lovers fics now

[pomefioredove]

Wahhh I love your writings so so so much and you absolutely deserve 500 and more ToT seeing your posts always makes my day!! I saw the match-up event and knew I had to join, it'll be my first time trying one of those!

It is kinda hard to describe myself... Which I guess says something about me? I'm a total homebody, finding comfort in solitude and the sort of freedom that comes with being able to express myself, by myself, with no restraint. But even then, there's nothing I don't love about the bustling nighttime, basking in the sort of romantic air of the evening as I admire the city lights and the ambience of energy.

I'm the type of person that finds myself in people. For better or for worse, my presence is determined by those I choose to be around... So overall I'm a big people pleaser and am kind of starved for good friendships and affection, having always had a hard time keeping connections or finding people that truly want to be with me, which in turn makes me a bit of a loner, I suppose... I do truly yearn though lol, so the want for connection is still there, raging within. It's almost a painful sort of pining, because I never hold a grudge.. Even if someone does wrong by me, I will always be ready to welcome them again with open arms. I'm fiercely loyal, so I long to have people reciprocate that.

I adore anything that keeps my mind going and gives me that feeling of satisfaction and indulgence... I would say I find that feeling in my passion for art, writing, and reading... analysing my favorite movies and literature, getting to notice little things about the people around me and storing them in the back of my mind as little anecdotes I can smile about. Putting myself in the shoes of others, letting my imagination go wild— that small balcony full of potted plants is so beautiful and cozy, I wonder what the interior of the home is like, then... Small, full of zen, with warm lights? That person on the sidewalk, waiting for the bus with headphones on, they look like they would like jazz, or maybe something more upbeat?

Im also a dreamer, I guess I can describe it as such haha. Im a hopeless romantic by heart, yet sometimes I find myself feeling a twinge of apprehension at the thought of truly being in a relationship... Maybe it's because it's uncharted territory, or it's because that "dreaming" side of me has that sort of "prince charming" fantasy that I've always wished for, even on a more realistic level. But even then, I know I can be patient and let time do it's thing while I focus on bettering my own future, and finding happiness and comfort in myself in the meanwhile.

I feel like maybe I've made this a bit too long haha.,,, take your time, and have a wonderful day! 🩷🩷

I match you with 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐮��� 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐚

anon I hope that you were purposefully trying to get him. I think you might actually be his soulmate oh my god

The First Impression:

Do you believe in love at first sight? Malleus does.

The connection is immediate. He's drawn to you like a moth to a flame, and conversing with you only enchants him more. Perhaps you bump into each other somewhere in the dead of night, or maybe you're just classmates, either way he simply knows.

Why He Fell:

Malleus soon finds himself purposefully seeking out your company, wanting to get closer but not sure how. This whole "friendship" thing is quite new to him, after all, and he doesn't want to scare you off.

There's no telling what exactly it is that makes him fall in love, but he falls, and he falls hard. He relishes in every moment you spend together, whether it's talking about your shared passion for the arts, or listening to you describe dreams. Your perspective on life is so... fascinating to him, he can simply never get enough of it. Your attention to detail, your appreciation of the little things, your ceaseless curiosity and active imagination, the care you feel for strangers... You quite literally change his world view.

Perhaps he's not exactly a prince charming, but he's close enough.

The Relationship:

There's a sense of understanding between the two of you when it comes to your loneliness. Later on, Malleus will question if he could tell that you felt as isolated as he did when he first saw you, if that was what drew him closer. But he doesn't put much thought into it. You enchanted him, and that's enough of a reason.

Though, perhaps, in the end, it's that shared loneliness that drives you together again and again. Your fierce loyalty, your craving for love and affection. You make each other feel safe and secure, which is all Malleus could really ask for at the end of the day.

He truly grows into himself during the course of your relationship, becoming a more stable, caring, and emotionally intelligent version of himself. You truly bring out the very best in him, and he can only hope he does the same for you.

There are awkward moments, of course, being two people that have no prior relationship experience. There's miscommunication, the occasional bruised ego, but there's truly nothing that could tear you apart. Malleus is devoted, reliant on his loved ones in such a way that perfectly mirrors your loyalty, and the both of you are quick to forgive and talk and move on. Probably the healthiest relationship to ever healthy.

He absolutely adores you from beginning to end.

[dangerouscommiesubversive]

@giraffeter asked about the WenZhou ghosts WIP file! This one is fun and I love it a lot--I actually posted a little snippet from it a couple of months ago.

The basic thing is, I love ghost stories, and I have a still in-progress series of MDZS fics in a modern-with-cultivation setting that are all about ghosts and the hunting thereof, so naturally I've been thinking about ghost stuff a lot over the past. Year or so. Good lord, have I been working on the series that long? Anyway, I also rewatched Word of Honor not long ago because I wanted my partner to see it, and they loved it as much as I do and we spent a lot time talking about it, and all of this naturally led to the idea that I should do a WoH ghost story in a setting sort of adjacent to the MDZS ones. Unlike those stories, this one doesn't have any ghost hunters--Zishu's just a mundane hitman attempting a short and eventually fatal retirement, who finds himself unexpected tangled up in the affairs of an extremely strange nightclub singer with very cold hands.

Here's the scene of them actually meeting, after an initial very alarming encounter in which Wen Kexing singled him out of the crowd while performing:

After “Mack the Knife,” the singer didn’t linger near Zishu, instead making his way back up to the stage for a final song

(There was a boy, a very strange enchanted boy…)

before taking a bow and disappearing along with his backing band. No encores for this performance, apparently. This was something of a relief to Zishu, who’d been uneasy ever since the singer had first approached his table, but just as he was signaling to the one server on duty that he was ready to pay, a shadow fell over him and the singer himself pulled out the other chair and sat down. Before Zishu could say a word, he’d signaled to the server himself, accepting an empty wine glass from the harried woman and pouring for himself from Zishu’s bottle without so much as asking.

“I’m sorry,” Zishu said, as mildly as he could, “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

The singer took a sip of wine, eyebrows rising, and then said, “We haven’t been, but I have strong feeling that we should be, and my intuition is never wrong about things like that.” He reached across the table with the hand that didn’t hold his wine glass, red nails gleaming in the light. “Wen Kexing.”

Eyeing him suspiciously, Zishu took the proferred hand and was shocked for a moment by how cold it was, although he didn’t comment. “Zhou…Xu.”

“Boss, oh my god.” Zishu very nearly jumped. The drummer from the stage, a young woman in mostly purple, had materialized at Wen Kexing’s elbow, her eyebrows and mouth drawn down into a scowl. “I look away for two seconds and you’re just, just bothering random alcoholics, I can’t let you out of my sight.”

Zishu snorted. “Excuse me?”

“Wasn’t talking to you, Mister Two-Bottles. Boss, come on—”

Despite the young woman’s tugging at his arm, Wen Kexing would not be moved, one hand coming up to his chest like a dowager clutching a pearl necklace. “Bullied! By my own baby sister! And don’t be rude, A-Xu isn’t a ‘random alcoholic,’” the air quotes made more than usually vivid by those long red nails, “we’re very dear friends.”

Zishu felt his eyebrows shoot up at the affectionate address, and then higher at what came after it. “Are we? I don’t remember that.”

“Of course we are, my intuitions are never wrong, wasn’t I just telling you that?”

“You did tell me that. I don't recall agreeing.”

“Well, why would you? We’ve only just met. But we’re going to be the closest of friends, I’d stake my life on it.”

And here is Wen Kexing's truly wild set list, which is a very satisfying-to-me combination of jazz and blues classics and more modern songs that I think sound good, or would sound good, when sung in a sort of smokey, sexy torch song style:

"Ill Wind," composer Harold Arlen

"Hot Ones," Shudder To Think, originally performed on the soundtrack for Velvet Goldmine

"Why Don't You Do Right," probable composer Kansas Joe McCoy, notable recordings including Peggy Lee, Sinead O'Connor, and Amy Irving singing as Jessica Rabbit

"I Get a Kick out of You," composer Cole Porter--WKX is, of course, singing the original lyrics, the ones that reference drug use

"Glory Box," Portishead

"Undisclosed Desires," Muse

"Fell in Love with a Girl," The White Stripes, although WKX switches "girl" for "boy" and thus is more performing the Joss Stone version

"The Ballad of Mack the Knife," composer Kurt Weill, German lyrics Bertolt Brecht, Marc Blitzstein translation (the one that Bobby Darin and Louis Armstrong were working from)

"Nature Boy," composer eden ahbez, originally performed by Nat King Cole

[woogly-boogly]

2, 4, 6 + 8 video game asks

2: top 5 games of all time?

oh boy... well in no particular order:

- Hollow Knight

- The Last of Us

- Super Mario Galaxy 2

- Drawn to Life

- The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild

honourable mention to Tears of the Kingdom and Celeste

4: best game soundtrack?

there's a lot of different genres in video game music, so it's hard to compare the whimsical adventure of the Ori and the Blind Forest soundtrack to the badass synthwave and cool jazz of the Katana Zero soundtrack... but i think for me it's gotta be either Minecraft or Hollow Knight. the Hollow Knight soundtrack has such a beautiful range of sound from the explorative tune of Greenpath to the fucking insane excitement of the Grimm fights, and the emotion of City of Tears really just speaks for itself...

but the Minecraft soundtrack is so perfect for unwinding after a bad day, i can always rely on it to make me feel the same way every time. it just hits the right way every single time

6: first game you ever played?

i have no memory of this because i was so young but when i was a toddler i had Space Invaders and would apparently get so angry at losing that my parents eventually gave the game to one of their friends so i couldn't play it anymore

8: most anticipated upcoming game?

obvious answer is Hollow Knight: Silksong, but if we're talking about games that have official release dates and aren't just dreams in the wind, i'm really keen to play The Plucky Squire. the trailer for that game looks like it's gonna be a really fun mesh of 2D and 3D adventuring and i'm all for it

anyway them's the answers, here's the questions!

[songs-about-girls-like-me]

chapter 7: the school camp pt.3, my ego balancing

We're still at the disco. After a bunch of songs, I thought I could sit down for a second and I found my way to these two steps where I had spent almost all night people-watching two years ago, when I was in 3rd grade. Then Max, a girl who was never seen with her hair down and was kind of an asshole, sat next to me. "You seem like you're enjoying yourself" She said it as if she could make me feel bad about my dancing. She knew I was in Jazz and that I took it seriously. "I am!" I smiled, acting as if I didn’t even noticed the mocking undertone. "Fair… you look kiiiinda cool, Rees" My ego was through the roof and I couldn't help but feel great about myself and my cool vibe and my cool dancing. I hadn’t expected anyone to say anything about it. Now I thought maaaaybe more people had maaaybe noticed. I grinned, unable to have a less conceited reaction. It was this type of comments what made me think Max wasn't just an asshole at all Times. Even if our first interaction ever had literally been her, questioning and making fun of something I'd drawn for our first primary school activity, a picture of our summer vacation. My drawing was great may I add, even if I had to hide it away from her and her friends (who had become friends just 10 minutes earlier). The drawing was still up on my wall cause I had really actually liked it. "What? Are you not having fun?" I said teasing her back, knowing this was the type of thing she'd despise. "I hate these things" She looked at me and understood I was being sarcastic and had outsmarted her. We laughed and then I forced her to stand up and dance with the bunch of our girl classmates. Ella included, obviously.

A song called “Chiquetere” played next, and our teacher sang it and we all cheered for him which was very random and very fun and almost "epic" cause we were 10, and I had a great laugh. Then when we went back to the dorm, the only person I managed to have as my partner to share the twin bunk beds with was one of our 20something year old camp instructors. Which balanced my ego just enough. The next day, we had the best spaghetti bolognese ever and I almost pissed my pants laughing during lunch just cause our table of classmates was that fun. Later that evening, I was the literal worst shooting an arrow cause my aim was so shit (I was 1 out of the 2 idiots who got the arrow to hit the grass intead of the huge foam target in front of us). And then at night, I was on the edge of my seat the whole Time during the bonfire cause I had a deep disgust towards this specific food and had to stay 10 metters away from anyone who had made contact with it, except Ella who I let sit just one metter away from me. I would've felt lonely if I wasn't so anxious, but I was still annoyed. I managed to have some roasted marshmallows and Ella would come sit a couple steps away from Time to Time so we could chat. She would also ask people to just leave if they got a bit too close to me. She was a real trooper, I was really glad that she understood and would yell at people for me lol.

The last morning there, I was the literal best on the last game of the camp, where we had to balance while sitting on top of a trash can type thing which was hanging transversally from a rope. It was supposed to be a wild horse, and it just tilted and turned every way the second you even touched it, throwing you to the ground on top of a pile of dry pine needles with a big thump. Ella had been better than average on it and I was ready to try my best too. When I sat on top of it and lifted my feet from the ground, I didn't move one bit and I was so surprised I thought I had done something wrong or maybe I was cheating somehow unintentionally. But I was not and I was able to stay completely still for 3 whole seconds there, and I heard a little "oh" coming from my classmates and I was also in shock of my balance. Then the thing started moving and I still got a couple more seconds up there when I used all my hands-legs coordination. Everyone was counting out loud and when I hit the ground on my back, it had been 5 whole seconds, almost 6, which was a lot. I stood up with a victory smile on my face, feeling all the pine needles getting through the knit in my clothes to my skin. My classmates cheered on for me just as they did for everyone else and some even said it had been cool. I overheard that girl called Max, the asshole, telling her friends and everyone around her that the only reason I was so good at it, was the fact that I was "so skinny". I just rolled my eyes. I knew that was not how gravity works cause even a baby would make it tilt, and it had actually been my great balance and coordination. I didn’t care to correct her but I over confirmed the fact that they were dumb. Also, Ella and I were already busy talking about how we both had been the best and then our conversation trailed off to BarbieGirl.com and making up stories about our new avatar game we were obsessed with (wait for next chapter to understand this last bit).

My family arrived a bit late but I didn't mind cause the atmosphere with my classmates still felt really exciting after spending so many days together. I told a story about my sister getting caught in a hotel elevator doors when she was very little and how funny it was when the doors opened on her perfectly without hurting her cause she was wearing a floatie and everyone was laughing hard at the story. Even the older lady in charge of the camp was hearing and was laughing with her eyes closed. I really felt great when I got the punch line right when telling a story, and people were asking me to re-tell the last bit. When my family arrived, I ran to hug them, and even my grandmother was there. The afternoon light was blue but it didn't rain, and I loved it. My sisters and I had so much horchata to drink, and I also had many slices of cake on napkins. My dad kept asking me to bring him another cake slice on a napkin and it was so fun asking "chocolate or vanilla?" and going choose one slice for him. I showed my parents around the woods and the dorm, even if my sister and myself had already showed them around years before. I could really "talk nineteen to the dozen", so I could be a talking nightmare after weekends like this.

[abloodymess]

I am a music person. One of my earliest memories is listening to Patti Smith's Horses with my Mom as we washed dishes. The Velvet Underground, weird Jazz, Chicago Blues, 70s Soul, along with all the heavy hitters of classic rock (Stones, The Who, Beatles, Kinks, etc) were always coming out the stereo my entire childhood. As a child my Dad took me to see and meet all sorts of old blues guys, he also used me to sneak back stage, it was a good gimmick and I have fond memories of standing just off stage as Bonnie Raitt was about to take the stage, and her taking a shine to the 7 year old roaming around.

Anyways, I thought this was how all kids experienced music. When we moved and I started a new school (big 4th grade) and I tried to communicate my love of music, kids my own age had no idea what I was talking about. My first sense of a disconnect between myself and my peers of this farm town. Reading Thrasher and watching skateboard videos sure planted the seeds of a whole world of modern music I had not experienced yet.

I did not come online as a modern music fan until 91. My cousin noticed I was getting drawn into metal and hard rock; he took me aside and showed me this new band called Nirvana. He had Bleach and showed me it, "you like this?, they are playing in two weeks in Chicago, want to go?" Not sure how we got my mom to say yes, but my first concert without my folks was seeing Nirvana at the 1200 person club The Metro just before the Teen Spirit video broke. I honestly was kind of scared, but the energy and the feel of the electricity in the room changed me. I knew this is something I wanted to be part of. Are there more bands like this?

91-95 felt like it should have been a lifetime, looking back its crazy how small that window really was. How fast the mainstream was able to pounce on underground bands with really progressive ideals and just decimate them. They either died (literally or financially), went back to the underground, or imploded as the machine found copies of copies that could fit in the box but were easier to deal with. If Nirvana was a Pixies rip-off, I am not sure what you would call Days of the New when they showed up in 97. God bless REM for soldiering on. (I am generalizing here because there was A LOT of music that got marketed as “Girl Music” your Tori Amos, Fiona Apples, Natalie Merchants, all of a sudden this was music for girlfriends and should be separated to the Lilith Fair while “real music” was Creed or something? and I am not even touching Hip-Hop here) There was a moment though in the early/mid 90s where it was perfectly normal to see Cibo Motto on the same stage as Soundgarden, then something changed. 

“Grunge” or whatever you want to call it was hollowed out and the imitators were fizzling out (some great singles in there but very few career groups), there was a push by radio to somehow hybrid cool DJ/Rave culture with rock culture and you got “Electronica” which was kind of soulless, but the good and pioneering electronic groups got a place in the sun. Rock though, it got hyper masculine (and not that Grunge wasn’t, but there was a sincerity and fragility that was removed) and fucking dethatched from any other feeling but anger, anything else was viewed as a weakness, there was no longer a sense of queerness or the feminine. 

By 96 I was out, I wanted nothing to do with what was going on, so I turned inward and got real into early Emo bands and old Goth records, I was a full on punk with metal leanings. Screamy boys and girls who had nothing but “feelings” and sincerity bubbling out of themselves. We formed our bands and locked ourselves in basement across the country with our own shows and did our own thing, ignoring what was going on above ground. A nice deep sub-genre of a sub-genre to keep myself with not having to associate with what I saw as the meatheads taking over. (Again, not that there wasn’t dreadful misogyny, racism, and shitty shit going on where I was). 

When I watched the documentary it was incredibly depressing. I can’t say if the documentary itself was good or bad, but the ideas presented, the where we were at that time and how we got there just kept rolling over and over in my head and how fast it happened from 94-99 a complete sea change happened. I don’t really have any insight to that, but its just staggering to go from waiting for a concert to start and having Food Not Bombs handing out flyers and a few short years later it is Girls Gone Wild getting girls to show their boobs (AND IT WAS THE SAME BAND just 2 years later and a really different fan base and energy). 

Clearly the promoters of Woodstock 99 were at best evil dummies, who after all this time showed zero reflection and just wanted to blame women and Mtv or the bands or anyone but themselves. I do not think the documentary sides with them, but presents that is what these men believe. Honestly if anyone sides with those dudes, get some help. Corporate rock sucks and even the most well meaning bands get put in horrible positions time and time again. I will never understand how Rage Against the Machine is always at the most corporate shit-shows standing there like a bunch of assholes. 

Anyways, sorry, I just needed to vomit out some words about this. I am just glad I wasn’t there, didn’t see myself reflected back, or see any of my friends. 

[wri0thesley]

Forever- Vampire!Lisa Lisa x Fem!Reader (Kinktober Day #16: Biting)

NSFW. 18+ ONLY. AFAB reader. Fem pronouns. Vampire Lisa Lisa, biting, blood, possible dub-con/hypnosis (your mileage may vary depending on how you read it - i think of this all as entirely consensual). 

You are in search of the Lady of the Island.

The man steering the boat had not wanted to take you out to Air Supplena Island. He had been most insistent of the fact that the moment your feet touched solid ground on the island, he would be turning back - his mouth had set in a grim line, his eyes shadowed. 

“I ain’t gonna be responsible for her findin’ me trespassing on her land,” he’d said. “N’ if you ask me, you’re a damn fool to be goin’ no matter what.”

You had still tipped him, of course. He had been the only man with a boat who’d been willing to even make the trip, as little time as he would spend on Air Supplena Island’s shore notwithstanding. You had sat in his boat with your hands folded in your lap and your posture ramrod-straight, anxiety gnawing through to your bones; but you would not rest. You would not turn back. You had followed the legends and the whispers of who the lady of the island was for too long and tried too hard to waste all of your hard work because your fear held you back at the last moment. 

You step off his boat and onto the island proper with your purse significantly lighter and evening filtering out the last vestiges of the day’s sunlight. You turn to thank the man who brought you here, feeling unsteady and afraid - to see that he has turned around with a second glance at you. 

He thinks you are mad, and perhaps you are. 

You are slow as you approach the buildings themselves, aware that night is falling all around you. All of this, from one brief encounter in a warm speakeasy and a beautiful woman at your side? 

She had kissed you, once, and you had tasted danger on her lips and felt it when her hands had caressed the shape of you in your ugly dress. The entirety of the world had seemed to stop - everything had become unimportant to you, except her lips and the way her eyes seemed to shift ruby tones in the low candlelight. You had been dragged here by the young lady you had been hired to be the ladies companion of; whilst her parents had clearly thought you’d be a good influence on her, they had also not reckoned on the wild streak in her nature. 

So you had been dragged along to all kinds of seedy underground places she should not have known about. You had always stayed in the background, watched, tried to make sure she did not get into too much trouble, waiting to intervene just in case she overstepped that small boundary. But it had been in a smoky underground cavern in Paris (“The fashion capital of the world!” Your charge and companion had told you. “You simply must wear something more fetching than that old thing.” You had not acquiesced.) that had changed you forever. 

“Come find me,” she’d breathed against your neck, and you had felt something sharp scratch briefly across the join where your neck and shoulder met. “You could be so much more than this. I’ll show you.”

And she had gone, and you had not been able to shake her lips from your mind for months. 

Your companion had noticed but thought it prudent not to say anything; even in the free-spirited nineteen thirties, she was not quite ready to accept that she had seen your eyes glaze and your mouth part for another woman. But she had noticed your distraction; that you were less hard on her for going against her parent’s wishes, that you were wistful and maudlin and daydreaming about the night - eventually, she had taken pity on you and come to you to relieve you of your service with an early pay packet of far more than you’d expected.

“I went back,” she said, off-handedly, though her shoulders were tense. “To that seedy little place in Paris. They told me her name was Lisa Lisa - the lady of yours. They called her the Lady of the Island, though I don’t know which one. She’s Italian, apparently - or she makes her home there, now. Don’t ask me anything else. I don’t know it.”

You’d looked at her, slowly, some of your lethargy fading away as you’d felt a hum beneath your skin of promise. 

“Thank you,” you’d said - and you’d left the next day for Italy. 

It had not been easy. Though your purse was heavy with your payment for a year spent travelling Europe, you were aware that you were plain and simple and prime victim material for shoplifters and men of opportunity. You had stayed in lodgings that were out of the way, perhaps shoddier than what you could and should have afforded, giving them all the same story; you were in search of an older brother who had ran away and had last been seen in the company of a lady that he called the ‘Lady of the Island’. 

You did not get your first bite until you had found yourself in Venice, in a small art shop by a canal. The piece itself was of an island, all gothic cathedral imagery and towering columns; you’d been looking at it, and the proprietor and artist had come to stand beside you. 

“That’s Air Supplena Island,” he had said to you, obviously able to tell that you were not a local. “They say that the Lady of the Island lives there and slaughters anyone who comes close.” He had shrugged broad shoulders. “I don’t believe it myself, but people will cling to their stories, won’t they?”

You’d beseeched him to tell you more, trotting out that tired old story - that you had become tired of telling, as weeks had grown into months - and his nose had wrinkled, brows drawn down. 

“Oh, the Lady of the Island isn’t interested in men,” he’d said, and the stress he’d put on the last word had convinced you that you were on the right track. You had done your best to tamp down enthusiasm as you’d asked and probed about Air Supplena Island - and as you left, you hid your smile behind your hand as you’d bid the man a good night. 

You had wanted to employ somebody to take you to the Island as soon as you could, but you had done your best to be sensible. You asked around a little more, probing for information about this Lady - having your suspicions of her legend confirmed. 

“They say that she bathes in the blood of virgins,” one older woman had told you. “They say that she will drink a man dry if he so much as breathes in her presence,” - another. “They say that the buildings on her land are made of bones and teeth.”

They confirm what you had thought; that  the woman you met in the smoky jazz and the press of bodies is something more than human. The idea should fill you with fear. You should have gotten as far away from Italy as you could; instead, the thought of her inhumanity sets heat aflame between your thighs and makes your heart hammer in your chest. 

If she kills you, you think, you will die happy. At least you won’t dream about her any more - the silky sweep of her hair, the curve of her lips, pinpricks sliding into the soft flesh of your thighs. Your shoes sound very loud on the stone, as shadows begin to claim the island entirely. You continue to walk. 

You imagine you hear whispers, rustling, the sound of shadows converging and waiting to be told to jump upon you and consume you entirely - still, you walk. And when the foreboding wooden doors that you think give entrance to the vast majority of the building that dominates Air Supplena Island open as if by unseen forces, you do not question yourself - you walk forward, into the entrance hall. 

“I thought you’d come.”

The voice is amused. It is low, and deep - shivering with suggestion in every syllable. You recognise it as the same voice that has haunted your dreams since the first time you heard it. You stop where you are, transfixed as she seems to melt from the shadows, just as beautiful and statuesque as you remember. Her skin seems to shimmer like mother of pearl in the moonlight; her lips are redder than blood, her eyes dark and beautiful. She looks at you and smiles, and you see the faintest flash of sharp eye teeth - and immediately, a rush of confusing feelings tumblr all around inside you.

She’s beautiful. She’s terrifying. You know the rumours are true, from her easy stance and her elegance and how she looks at you like a cat stalking a canary - but you cannot find it in yourself to be afraid. Instead, you feel your thighs slick with desire and your body ache to be touched. If she wished to bathe in your blood . . . you think you would open your veins for her. All she need do is ask.

She steps towards you like a leopard hunting her prey, though you have no intention of running anywhere. Her hips move seductively with each step, her eyes not moving from you for a moment - you take in a deep, shuddering breath as she gets closer and closer to you, waiting for her to pounce. You imagine you’ll see your own neck snap as if from very far away - you wonder if the man who brought you here on his boat is even now laughing at your terrible fate.

“Oh,” she breathes, as she gets closer. “Look at you. You found me all on your own, hmm? I knew that you’d be a perfect choice.”

“Are you going to kill me?” You ask her, softly. She stops in front of you, raising a hand to your face - her thumb ghosts your cheekbone, traces the lines of your lips, and all you can do is let her. Everywhere she touches you feel trails of fire spring up in her wake, your body singing in a way that you don’t think it ever has. 

“If I were going to do that, dear heart,” she whispers, “you would have been dead before you step foot on my island.”

You swallow as she tips your face upwards, studying you in the pale moonlight. You wonder if you’re pleasing to her - the thought makes you feel curiously hot and bothered. You have never put much stock in your appearance, but if it has helped to win her attentions . . . surely you cannot be that unfortunate to look upon?

She laughs as if she can read your mind. 

“You’re extremely pleasing,” she says - and then, she kisses you. 

-

Lisa Lisa - she gives you her name like a secret, and you whisper it against the cool marble of her collarbone, marvelling at how it rolls around in your mouth - has you in her chambers in what feels like moments, though you know it must be longer. Her fingers dance over your skin, working open the buttons and hooks of your plain dress - when it falls from your body, you want to pull yourself in and shy away, but she is above you on the bed and she sighs against you, her breath cool. 

“Look at you, little flower,” she murmurs. “You’re beautiful. Ripe for the plucking.”

Her nails scratch sharp across your sides as she caresses the curve and dip of your hips and waist. Her hands take hold of your breasts, testing their warmth and weight, squeezing them so that your back arches and a soft noise of surprise escapes you. She bends her head and the sheet of her hair falls across your skin, a silky sweep that has goosebumps rising along your newly bared flesh. 

Her mouth fastens about one nipple, her tongue teasing the nubs to hardness. You have only ever touched yourself under sacrosanct cover of darkness, chaste and afraid - but Lisa Lisa is not at all shamed by how she enjoys your body. She holds you as if it’s perfectly natural to do so, and though you feel exposed, you also feel . . . beautiful. Like something precious to be held against her and kissed and stroked. 

“You’ll do beautifully,” she whispers, moving her mouth from your breast to kiss up your collarbones, to trace the fluttering pulse point in your neck. She traces your jawline with her lips, up to your ear - you gasp as she nips at your earlobe. “Oh, you were wasted anywhere but by my side.”

“What will you do to me?” You ask her, breathlessly, as she rears up onto her knees and reaches to tug off her own clothes. You are transfixed by her figure, slowly revealed to you beneath the fine fabrics she’s wearing. She’s like a Greek statue - marble, untouchable, unmarked. Only . . . she takes your hands, brings them to her hips, lets you feel how smooth and cool and soft she is. 

“Nothing you won’t like,” she says - and as she dives back down to kiss you again with the hunger of someone who’s been starved for a week, you do not doubt her. 

As she kisses you, nipping with her blunt front teeth at your lower lip, her hands urge your thighs apart. You feel ashamed to spread them - especially as you hear the wet sounds of them parting - but she breaks the kiss to inhale deeply. 

“I forget, that mortals are so warm,” she says, as one of her hands slides up your inner thigh, nails teasing at the sensitive skin. “You’re boiling to the touch, my darling. You’re hot and warm and soaking wet - did you know?” The last words are conversational, her middle finger swiping through your damp slit, briefly parting your labia lips as your hips arch and a whimper falls unbidden from your lips. 

“I haven’t done this before . . .” You say, your cheeks uncomfortably warm - and Lisa Lisa laughs, a rich, deep noise that feels like black silk running down your spine. 

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” she tells you. “I’ve done this many times - and you’ll have plenty of time to learn it too. For now . . . relax, dearest. Lay back on the bed. Let me take care of you.”

There’s a sharp edge to the words; even as you let yourself relax into the soft coverlets beneath you, you feel like she is asking for permission for more than she lets on. Still - you cannot think, at this moment, what you would deny her. Not as she spreads your thighs even wider, those same nails scratching at your skin so your spine prickles, her fingertips leaving blazing trails despite how cool they feel against you. 

She makes sweet, soft noises - like placating a baby animal - as your thighs jump as she parts the lips of your sex, exposing those slickened folds to the chill of the air. 

“Look at you,” she says, enthralled. “Oh, I have picked beautifully--”

You do not know what she means, when she speaks of choosing you. But her fingers are stroking your folds, now - teasing at your clit and your entrance, making your entire body sing, and you cannot concentrate on anything but how that feels and the way that the fabric beneath your fingers bunches up as you fist hands into sheets. 

You are sensitive. Your body reacts with shivers and shudders; little electrical currents going straight from the place between your legs to every other part of you, sending signals of white-hot pleasure to your brain. As she slides one elegant finger inside you and your sex clamps tightly about her, she laughs a noise of soft amusement. 

“We’ll train you to take more, my dear,” she says, and she pumps the lone finger in and out of you, rubbing against sensitive patches inside of you that have your hips wriggling. You’re aware that you are making little noises - whimpering and moaning, gasping out noises intended to be words. Her lips are a dark red curve in the white of her face. Her thumb swipes across your clit, rolling the bud beneath the pad, toying with the swollen little bundle until you whine. 

“You’ll take another,” she says, softly, and you nod - a sob bubbles in your throat at the brief stretch of two, scissoring you open and wider for her - but it quickly devolves into a groan as your hips cant forwards towards her, urging her to be more thorough in how she’s thrusting the fingers and and out of you. She makes a little chastising noise, clicking her tongue - but you can hear the pleasure in her tone as she murmurs. “Now, now. One thing at a time.”

It’s good. It’s so good. The way her thumb grinds against your clit, the way that her fingers rub against those sweet spots inside of you, the feeling of fullness and the sweep of her hair and the knowledge of who it is and what she is that’s making you feel like this . . . Your body seems to seize up, teetering on the edge of something - and, abruptly, fingers are pulled out of you and the pressure on your clit ceases. You whimper out a noise of confusion and distress; that you were so close to something wonderful, and had it torn away--

“One more thing, before I let you come,” Lisa Lisa says, her lips that perfect red curve again. “Creatures like me do not do things for free, you see.”

“I’ll do it,” you say, feverishly - her index finger lazily strokes your folds, toying with your clit in a way that makes you shudder and your head feel cloudy and strange. “Wh-whatever it is . . .”

Lisa Lisa leans down, kissing the mound of your sex. Your back arches as her tongue flicks out, briefly darting to taste you. She makes a noise of sheer pleasure at the wetness on her tongue that intensifies the ache inside of you and makes you feel as if a curtain is descending all over your judgement. Slowly, she laps at you again - her tongue rolling your clit luxuriously, slow rocks of pleasure overwhelming you. 

“You’d agree before hearing my terms?” She says, though she does not sound at all surprised - if anything, her tone is pleased. “You’d trust me so completely, even knowing what I am?”

She does not tell you what she is. She hasn’t - you have known since far before you stepped foot onto her island, and perhaps even before you’d made it to Italy. She knows that you know.

“You can have my blood,” you tell her, wildly, without thinking. “Just, please--”

She pulls back again. Her body moves over you like a cat once more, so that her face is close to yours and her cool breath brushes your cheek. Her breasts press against your own, one marble-smooth thigh between your own legs. 

“I want more than blood from you,” she says. “I want you to stay with me, here. Forever.” Her hands trace your hips, cold as she grasps you. “You deserve more than a boring little life and a boring little husband. I can make you a Goddess, my darling. I can make you feared and loved and reviled; I can make you like me. I can give you a life by my side.” She lowers her mouth, pressing her lips to your cheek. Your entire body feels like stone. 

“You already knew what I wanted from you, didn’t you, my clever girl?” Hands sliding over your thighs, her body moving. Your legs spread wider, urging her hand and her fingers back between them. She laughs, like a bell tolling. “You’ve known since you walked into my home.”

“Yes,” you say. “Yes. To all of it.”

(You have known, this whole time - since those first words and the promise you were made for better things than this. It had taken her touching you and feeling you and driving you to the brink of release to see it clearly, but now you can - you can see you by her side for eternity.)

“My good girl,” she breathes - and, as her fingers dive inside you again, three pressing against the walls of your sex and clenching around her, her thumb grinds back into your clit. Her fangs slide into your throat. 

Both of them feel like fireworks in entirely different ways - low between your thighs, like a man diving into the sea, your body all flaming hot wetness as a tidal wave of heat and need crash over you. In your throat, an explosion of colours and sounds as your head is tipped back and you feel the wetness and heat of your own blood cascade down your body. The rhythmic sucking of Lisa Lisa’s lips against you coupled with the rhythmic way she rocks her fingers into you.

You let your eyes close, the sensations wash over you. It’s the first of many, she said. The first day of the rest of your life. 

The two of you have an eternity now, after all.

[babyspiderling]

Tiny Dancer Michael Jackson x reader (Triumph era)

"Blue jean baby, LA Lady, Seamstress for the band"

I pulled the shining fabric through the machine, turning a square of sequin material into a shirt for one of the boys. I adjust the needle of my machine as someone opens the door. I glance up to see Michael peeking his head in. "Oh, Michael, perfect timing. I need you to try this on. And if you could get your brothers in here too, I need to do fittings on the outfits I've already finished." I hand him the shining fabric, as well as a pair of white pants. "Put these on, I'm planning on putting some sequin on the knees, and I need to see where that falls on you." I shoo him out the door as I thumb through my shelves of fabric, deciding on what to work with next. Once again my door is opened, this time four Jackson's trample through the opening. Randy and Marlon automatically move towards my designs pinned to the wall, Tito is drawn to the shining fabrics, and Jackie leans against the door frame a small smile blooming on his face. I swat Tito's hand away from the fabrics, very territorial of my materials. "Alright guys, it's fitting day!" I organized outfits by person, making it easy to select an outfit for each man and give to the correct person. I shoo them out the door as well as Michael comes back in, a perfect fit.

"Alright Mike, what do you think? Too loose anywhere, too tight anywhere? Go ahead and do a couple steps to make sure it doesn't get in the way of anything." He does his little ankle breaking shuffle, spinning a couple times. He shoves his hands into the pockets and shrugs. "Feels good, perfect fit." I smile and nod, feeling proud of getting his perfect size on the first try. I grab my swatches of silver fabric and rest on my heels in front of him. With a mouth full of pins, I feel around his legs to find his knees, pinning the fabrics in place. Leaning back, I inspect the patches, muffling out a "Heels together." as I inspect them closely to make sure the two sides are identical. I hear Michael say "Wow, you're really good at this.", and I chuckle in return. "Glad I can be of service. You like it?" He murmurs an affirmation, and he lifts me off my heels. I search his face, memorizing every single detail. My hand reaches up to his face, his weight leaning into my touch. "I love you Mike." Kissing my palm, he rests his forehead against mine. "I love you too." I enjoy his presence just a little longer before stepping away, clearing my throat. "Alright, I've got another outfit for you to try on. Careful with the pins, and I'll see you in a bit, ok?" He chuckles, kissing my cheek one last time before exiting. "Ok. I'll be careful. See you when I get done."

Rolling my eyes, I sit back down at my seat, hemming a skirt Janet had begged me to alter. Tito then entered, his sequin vest shining, and his outfit going together very well if I say so myself. He inspected himself in the mirror, almost as if trying to see what was missing. His eyes lit up and he turned towards me. "That's it! I need a cowboy hat!" My eyebrows crease and my jaw drops in confusion. "You need a what? Tito, no. You are not a country band, no one else is wearing a cowboy hat. You do not need a cowboy hat." He slides up to me, puppy dog eyes staring me in the face. "Please Y/N, it'll look really cool. Plus it'll tie the whole thing together. I've already got the vest and everything." I huff, throwing my hands up in the air. "Fine! Tito, you can get a cowboy hat, but you have to find one and I will jazz it up, understood? I am a seamstress, not a hatter." His face lights up at getting his way, hollering and spinning me. "Yes! I knew you'd agree! Thanks Y/N!" I roll my eyes playfully shoving him away. "Is there anything else wrong or missing with the outfit? Besides the cowboy hat, anyways." He turns and twists, pretending to play guitar, and does a couple steps. He shakes his head. "Nope, all good. Just need to get the hat. Which I'll go out and get when we're done here." I hand him a second outfit, sending him on his way. Marlon and Randy follow one right after the other. While hemming Randy's pants, I kept having to chide Marlon from touching my stuff. I yelled over my shoulder, "Marlon Jackson if I find a fingerprint on my fabric or designs I swear I will give you the ugliest tour outfits until the end of time." He raised his hands in surrender and took a seat.

Jackie and Michael came in about the same time, Michael letting his older brother go first. "Alright Jackie, what do you think. Anywhere too loose or too tight?" Jackie wiggles around and lifts his leg. "The pants are a little loose. But overall, it's all good." I nod, filling my mouth with pins, sitting on my heels in front of him. Jackie smirks down at me, "Babe, if you wanted to get on your knees for me, you could've just asked." I roll my eyes, pinning the inside of his pant leg tighter, pointing a pin threateningly at him. He smiles at me flexing his hands in surrender. I see out of the corner of my eye Michael shifting in his seat, a scowl deep in his face. I send a smile his way before finishing Jackie's pants.

Rocking myself back to stand, I stagger at the blood flowing back into my legs. A large pair of hands wrap around my hips to steady me, and I look up to see Michael staring down at me. I give him a reassuring smile and whisper, "I'm ok Mike, thank you." With a smile in return, he releases his grip and takes his place for hemmings. I see Jackie flick his gaze between Michael and I, his face scrunched up in concentration. I shrug it off, trying not to give anything away. "Alright, Michael, you know the drill. How's it fit?" His white pants from earlier are simply duplicated since Michael has a talent for wearing out his costumes faster than anyone else. He has a red Hawaiian print shirt tucked into it, a few buttons undone. "The pants fit, but they're a little loose on the belt line. Nothing you need to fix or anything, just a belt would make it perfect." I nod, checking over his outfit myself for loose threads, puckers in the seams, loose buttons, but find nothing wrong. "Alright, let me add that to the list with Tito's cowboy hat." At the mention of the horrible idea of a cowboy hat, Randy and Marlon are back, Tito not far behind. Marlon screeches and cackles. "Tito, you want a cowboy hat? C'mon man!" Tito huffs, and folds his arms under his chest. I roll my eyes and call out to everyone "Alright everyone. Mike, Jackie, go change. Jackie, please be careful with those pins! You three, decide which order you're going in for fittings, and then we're done for the day." I pin and adjust Tito and Marlon's outfits, Jackie and Michael returning while I finish up on Randy. "Thank you boys. Just take a seat while I finish up here." I place the last pin in Randy's sleeve, shortening it to the correct length. "Randy, are the pins comfortable enough for you to stay here for a couple minutes?" He nods and I open my mouth, "Alright guys, we're all done for the day. Please I am begging you guys, do not rip up these costumes. I'm looking at you Michael, if you rip these shirts like last time, I will send you out in whatever you have packed for tour." A few chuckles are heard and Michael smiles and rolls his eyes. They all take their leave as I sit back at my machine, ready to fix everything from today. Michael calls out to his brothers that he'll catch up, he just needs to double check something.

Slipping into my work room once more, he shuts the door behind him. He pulls me from my seat and presses me tightly against him. "Y/N, you have no idea how much I wanted to punch Jackie after he said those things to you. Why can't we tell everybody about us? At least my family? We're going on tour next month and my brothers are going to try to set me up with fans. Are you ashamed of being with me?" I stare into his eyes with a passion. "Oh god, Michael, no. Of course I'm not ashamed of you. If anything you should be ashamed of me. I'm just the band seamstress. Not to mention the fact that if we did come out about our relationship, people would wonder why in the world would you choose to be with a white girl who makes your clothes. Your father would see me as a distraction. If he found out about us, he would fire me and then kill the both of us. I love you too much to let you risk that." He shakes his head, his eyes growing glossy. "I love you too much to keep it a secret. To keep you a secret." I lean my forehead into his chest. "I'm sorry Michael. I didn't see it like that, if you'd like, we can tell your family. Just, just let me be there when you do. Ok?" He nods his head and captures my lips in a gentle kiss. Breaking away, I sit back down. "If you want, you can put some records on and we can have each other as company until I finish here. You'll just have to tell your brothers to go on without you." He nods and exits to tell his brothers goodbye, saying that I need him to stay behind to make sure everything meets his standards. Returning, he puts some old records on, teasing me for my Dolly Parton albums, and we just enjoy the music and the hum of my machine.

"Jackie! Outfit! Tito! Outfit! Marlon! Outfit! Randy! Outfit! Michael! Outfit! Please be careful tonight! We have reached the halfway point in the tour and I am very proud of the condition you are leaving these in! Have a good show tonight! And please, do not rip your shirts open!" I hand out garment bag after garment bag, the boys hurrying to change in their dressing rooms. Janet leans against the wall, her outfit designed and made by yours truly, looking good for a fifteen year old. "When I go on tour, I am definitely bringing you with me." I rolled my eyes and laughed. I place my ticket around my neck and take my place up against the barrier separating the crowd from the boys. The opening refrains of "Can You Feel It?" rang out and the crowds went absolutely wild. It was so fun just to watch them all in their element. I'd catch the boys singing to me or looking at me and I'd make the silliest faces. I accidentally almost made Randy mess up on his bongo solo on "Working Day and Night". "Shake Your Body (Down To The Ground)" finished and slowly the fans filtered out of the arena. When no one was looking, security lifted me over the barrier and back to the corridors in the backstage area.

Michael was on a high after the show like he always was. He was jumping around in the hall when I finally made my way to him. "You had a very good show tonight. I had fun, and I'm pretty sure the girl next to me was having fun too. When you winked her way, I'm pretty sure she found euphoria." He giggled and spun me around. "Goodness, I love you." With that he held me tight against him and kissed me deeply and passionately. I let myself melt into him, letting myself slip into the bliss only he provides. We break apart with the sound of Janet shrieking "What the hell?"

Taglist: @accio-boys

[putschki1969]

Wakana Covers ~ Anime Classics ~ Release

It’s officially the 9th of December in Japan which means it’s the release day of 『Wakana Covers ～Anime Classics～』! BANZAI! The album is now available for purchase in digital format in Japanese stores. 

❗Please SUPPORT Wakana and BUY her album❗ ❗BUY a PHYSICAL COPY on CDJapan❗ ❗BUY it digitally on MORA JAPAN ~ TUTORIAL (no OTOTOY this time)❗ ❗Check your local iTunes store and Spotify after midnight❗

Here’s a quick REVIEW

THIS IS A GREAT ALBUM. I LOVE IT!! The tracklist is not what I would have hoped for but then again, I only know a handful of old anime songs so it’s really no surprise that none of them made it onto the album. I wasn’t really familiar with any of Wakana’s chosen songs but to her credit, she made me fall in love with almost all of them. The only tracks I do not like are “Yatsura No Ashioto No Ballade” and “Rain” but that’s not Wakana’s fault, it’s just that I do not care for those types of songs. Wakana’s vocals are really solid throughout the album, her voice was made for classical arrangements like this and I am forever grateful we are getting a full album and a concert on top of that. There are just a few sections here and there where I am not too happy with her choice of singing style but it doesn’t take away from my enjoyment. Question: Is it just me or are the instruments (strings in particular) overly loud sometimes? Occasionally they seem to almost drown out Wakana.

Detailed review below the cut〈(•ˇ‿ˇ•)-→

1. 時には昔の話を (Toki ni wa Mukashi no Hanashi wo) Arranger: Sin; I understand why they chose this as the leading track to promote the album. Everything about it is absolutely beautiful, Wakana’s vocals, the arrangement, the lyrics, the PV (from what we have seen so far). I have mentioned it before but her “hashitta” in the second chorus(?) kills me every time. And the way the strings build up in the first and last chorus. Ahhh, be still my heart I cannot take it. Btw, I am still not sure if you consider those two last lines in each of the three verses a proper chorus or if the song just consists of three elaborate verses..? But for the sake of this review, I will call them choruses XD 2. やさしさに包まれたなら (Yasashisa ni Tsutsumareta Nara) Arranger: Miki Sakurai; Gorgeous arrangement (especially with the added tin whistle). Kinda reminds me of the Concerning Hobbits theme from LotR. I am a big fan of Celtic and folk-ish elements. Miki Sakurai apparently is a big fan too. After all, her “Yakusoku no Yoake” which she wrote for Wakana’s first album also had strong Celtic vibes. My favourite part of the song is when Wakana sings that final “meseeji” in the last chorus, the arrangement here is beautiful. Still think Wakana’s vocals are a bit too cutesy but hell, it’s a cute song so I guess it seems fitting.  3. Rain Arranger: Shu Kanematsu; Wakana sounds great but the song doesn’t do anything for me. T_T 4. いのちの名前 (Inochi no Namae) Arranger: Shu Kanematsu; OMG, this brought tears to my eyes. SO SO BEAUTIFUL. The way her voice just blends with the strings. Her vocals are a tad quiet though compared to the instruments. Or is it just me?  5. やつらの足音のバラード (Yatsura No Ashioto No Ballade) Arranger: Sin; I can’t put my finger on what exactly I don’t like about this but I can’t seem to get into it. I guess it sounds a little too jazz-y for me...or is it blues? Either way, not my cup of tea but I can see why Wakana would like it this way. And hey, she does pull it off perfectly so who am I to complain? On a side note, those lyrics are just so perfect for Wakana, she doesn’t often get the chance to sing about dinosaurs :P EDIT: Future!Sarah is coming back to revise her opinion. After listening to the album on repeat for hours on end, I now LOVE this song. It’s charming. 6. Get Wild Arranger: Sin; One of the coolest arrangements on this album!! The strings are just PERFECTION. And Wakana SLAYS!! Who would have thought she can pull off a song like that. I mean, we already knew from gettign that teaser video but this is on a whole other level. Too much awesomeness.  7. 風のとおり道 (Kaze no Toorimichi) Arranger: Miki Sakurai; Ahhhhh, so precious and mystical, such a gorgeous arrangement!! I love how we start with just Wakana’s vocals. And then Miki Sakurai adds her magical touch again by inserting all those Celtic elements. The tin whistle fits perfectly. A couple of Wakana’s high notes no longer sound good to my ears here but overall I enjoy her singing. 8. 君をのせて (Kimi wo Nosete) Arranger: Sin; The arrangement is utterly charming, both the piano as well as the strings are perfect here, Wakana’s vocals in the verses are literally flawless. I kinda find myself wishing she had sung the chorus with a different voice though. Mind you, I don’t hate the one she is using here but it’s bordering on being a teeny-tiny bit too shrill and thin for my taste. It’s still solid (and nothing at all like her strained “ring your bell” voice let’s say) but it’s not what I personally enjoy most from her. Either way, I think she is hitting her notes just fine (as far as I can tell at least) and the style fits the overall sound of the song. Pus, they made up for the slightly thin vocals by adding a little harmony layer which I appreciate.  9. 愛にできることはまだあるかい (Ai ni dekiru koto wa mada aru kai) Arranger: Sin; Most of you may know this already but I am a HUGE fan of the cello so I am happy we have such a strong cello presence here. Those cello parts are so cool. Anyways, this turned out to be one of my favourite tracks even though I didn’t think I would ever like this song based on the YouTube teaser we got a while back. There is just so much raw emotion and fierceness in Wakana’s voice, towards the end she is hitting me right in the feels. I just can’t help but be drawn to the song. I am surprised by how well she handles songs that are originally sung by males. Her covers of this and “Get Wild” are just exceptional imo. They bring out a new side of Wakana which I really love. 10. 夢のゆくえ (Yume no Yukue) Arranger: Shu Kanematsu; While I didn’t know this song before listening to Wakana’s cover version, the melody reminded me a LOT of the old anime songs I used to like back in the day. The feeling of nostalgia is super strong in this one so naturally I enjoy it quite a bit. It’s not an outstandingly beautiful song or anything but the arrangement is lovely and Wakana’s vocals are on point. 

»»—— CLICK ME 🎁 CLICK ME ——«« 

FOR PERSONAL USE ONLY. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, if you have the means, support Wakana in any way you can. Order a physical copy of her album, purchase it in digital format. Stream it legally on various streaming services. au

[dirt-cup-draco]

Sirius x Reader- Ruin

I don’t have anything too specific but would it be possible to do a pure angsty argument with a young Sirius...(wait for it) ... in the rain (Ik I’m sorry I’m so cliche). Idm what about. Just arguing outside in the pouring rain outside of Hogwarts. Maybe it started inside and then you storm (eheh) out and he follows you and just yelling at each other and all that jazz. Idk if I want it to be too cliche with a rain kiss and a makeup or just mega heartbreak and a breakup, it’s up to you I trust ya

You groaned in discontent as you listened to the persistent fall of rain, bringing your sheets up tighter around your chin as you tried to block out the cold. Your body ached and your nose was stuffed. You sniffled and cracked an eye open to see that your dorm room was entirely empty. How odd, usually the girls made quite a ruckus while they got ready. 

You bolted upright but regretted it as nausea rippled through you. Falling back against your pillows you let out an exaggerated sigh. You felt miserable and you had missed two of your classes already. That just meant you had more homework to make up and less time to relax. 

Today was not your day.

Blanket drawn over your shoulders you settled deep into the corner of the couch, the fire blazing before you but doing nothing to ease the chill you’d felt since waking some odd hours earlier. Your legs ached, having been tucked underneath you as you tried to stay on top of homework, Lily bringing you all you needed. You hadn’t even needed to ask, she had just been kind enough. 

It made you smile, but even her act of warmth couldn’t seem to cheer you up and make you feel better. You were still feeling quite ill and the rain hadn’t let up one bit. You hadn’t even changed from the night before, still in pajamas with wild hair and tired eyes. Voices floated down the hallway and caught your attention, bringing you from the daze your boredom had cast over you as you wrote a paper for herbology. 

Peter and James were laughing over something, the latter’s voice far louder than the few students who trickled into the common room behind them. Your eyes were focused on the entrance, a smile playing at your lips but falling as you watched Remus round up the stragglers of the night, portrait swinging closed behind him. 

“Remus-” You started, catching the boy’s attention but he was quick to read your expression, settling beside you on the couch. 

“Sorry love, I’m not sure where Sirius ran off to,” He admitted with a kind but reserved smile. You tried not to show how disappointed you were.

“It’s fine, just thought he’d visit or that I’d at least catch him in here some time today,” You sighed, fiddling with your quill and chewing on your lip. Your boyfriend was usually so attentive, and never ever had you dealt with the dilemma of an absent Sirius Black. He was usually right beside you, arm wrapped around your shoulders no matter what either of you had going on. 

You got sick often and he was always right there, skipping class no matter how many times you scolded him, taking care of you. Why was today different? One word from Lily and usually he appeared like magic. 

“He’s just been busy,” Remus supplied but you knew he also wasn’t sure what his friend was up to. It unnerved you more than if Remus had known, yet chosen to keep it from you. What could Sirius be up to? You didn’t have time to let your mind wander again as Remus interrupted. “Feeling better?” 

You nodded slightly as the gryffindor brought the back of his hand to your forehead, testing your temperature. A concerned look passed over the boy’s features. “You sure you’re feeling alright?” His hand trailed from your forehead to stroke your cheek and you sighed happily, his cool skin refreshing against your own. 

“I’m feeling pretty good now,” You teased, keeping his hand against your cheek. It was practically like holding an ice pack to your skin. Remus chuckled, thumb brushing over your cheekbone comfortingly. 

A stern and gravelly “ahem” came from the entrance and your attention was drawn to the familiar voice. 

“Sirius!” You grinned, pushing up from the couch to embrace your boyfriend. You were quick to wrap your arms around his middle but after a moment you realized he hadn’t done the same. “Siri?” You questioned, pulling back as Remus stayed on the couch, saying nothing. 

“Oh!” Sirius chimed in as if it had been the first time you were speaking to him. You couldn’t put a name on his expression but it left you feeling like your stomach was in knots. “Didn’t realize you’d noticed me, don’t let me interrupt!” 

His voice was sickly sweet and you bristled at the tone. “Excuse me?” You asked, needing clarification. 

“Don’t be like that,” Remus sighed, voice soft and you finally started to realize the reason for your boyfriend’s odd behavior. 

The wind howled against the castle, pushing the torrent of rain harder against the glass and nearly drowning out your friend’s chiding. 

“Don’t be like what, Moony?” Sirius asked, the nickname being spat out like it was poison in his mouth. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you making sure that- oh what’d you say love?- Y/N, my girlfriend, was feeling good. Please, continue making her feel better,” 

“Sirius!” You scolded at the implications. “What’s gotten into you?” 

“I could ask the same thing!” He argued. “I think the answer you’re looking for might be ‘your best friend’.” 

You gaped at him, mouth wide open in shock. “Sirius Black how dare you!” You seethed. “At least he has the decency to see how I’m doing! Don’t be mad just because Remus is a decent guy,” 

“Guys, come on” Remus begged softly, not wanting to see you two fight-let alone over him. “Sirius, I wasn’t trying anything with her-” 

“Sure looked like you were,” Sirius growled. “Whatever, doesn’t matter to me. Have fun with your ‘decent guy’ Y/N,” And with that, your boyfriend was strolling out of the common room. 

Your mouth was dry, throat tight. What was Sirius going on about? You couldn’t wrap your brain around it. You gaped at Remus who was pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “I”m gonna-” You motioned towards the portrait, not really sure of what had just unfolded. 

“Please do,” Remus sighed. “And Y/N? Make sure he knows you didn’t mean to compare him to me,” 

You winced but nodded. Sirius and you had been together for nearly a year and a half, longer than anyone thought, including yourself. He was amazing and you had been so terribly happy, but dating a notorious Black came with it’s ups and downs. Sirius had been destroyed by his family, his self worth and ability to trust taking the largest blow. It had been something you had both agreed to work on together, months ago. 

You knew it was an uphill battle. Fifteen months in and he hadn’t yet uttered those three words you longed to hear. You knew it was a difficult thing to be allowed into your boyfriend’s heart but you had thought you had slipped past all of his defenses long ago. You had started to question whether or not you would ever be told you were loved by him. Before tonight, Sirius had always been good at showing he cared, but you supposed caring and loving were two entirely different things.  

You more than cared. You more than cared and so that was why even if you were sick and dressed in a pair of thin pajamas with no robe, as you had forgotten to grab it from the back of the couch on your way out, you were chasing Sirius down the shifting stairs and out of the school. 

He hadn’t looked behind him yet and you hadn’t yet taken a full enough breath to call for him, intent on catching up with him. You were slowed by the force of the rain, the icy sheets falling hard against everything beneath the inky night sky. 

The moon was shielded by thick, weeping clouds and your hair was quickly plastered against your face. Your squinted against the storm but found it was no easier to spot your boyfriend than it had been a moment ago. “Sirius!” You called out, running out blindly in search of him. 

Lightning flashed brilliantly against the sky, the bone rattling grumble of thunder following quickly after. You caught a silhouette that had to be Sirius’ not too far out but his long legs were carrying him quickly. 

Your slippers were soaked and you kicked them from your feet, deciding they were only going to slow you as you sprinted after Sirius. You called his name again, chest tight and throat aching in protest as they had been all day long. He must have heard you over the onslaught of rain as he paused in his tracks. With burning eyes he looked over you, posture tense.

“Sirius, please,” You huffed, coming to stand beside him, still needing to raise your voice over the raging tempest. “Talk to me,” You begged. 

“About what? How you and Remus were-” He started but you stomped your bare foot against the sodden ground impatiently. 

“No! We weren’t doing anything,” You insisted. “Why are-”

“You were obviously doing something!” Sirius cut in as you tried to find the root of the problem. “Why else was he so close?” 

“He was checking my temperature, Siri,” You explained, eyes wide and pleading as he continued to glower. “Nothing more, he was just being sweet,” 

“Right, sweet, like Rem always is,” Sirius rolled his eyes, a bitter scoff spilling past his paling lips as the chill of the rain bit at him. “He’s just such a ‘decent guy’,”

“That isn’t a bad thing! A-and I didn’t mean that you weren’t a good guy, you’re the best there is, you’re my guy,” You promised as he was intent on using your words against you. “That was unfair of me, but you are being unfair right now too,” 

“Me?” Sirius scoffed in disbelief. “How am I being unfair? You were practically in his fucking lap! I ought to be upset, if I was acting like that you’d be livid,” 

“I wasn’t even close to being in his lap!” You yelled, throat raw. “I trust you Sirius, I would talk to you before assuming anything,” 

“Of course you’d say that, make me the bad guy for not trusting you! I bet you’re just trying to keep me under your thumb while you go around with all my friends. You’re smart Y/N, really smart.” He laughed bitterly. “Get the broken fool to trust you and then whore around with his best friends,” 

The rain was harsh and stung but nothing hurt as much as Sirius’ words. Your jaw fell slack as your lip began to quiver. Hot, fat, tears rolled down your cheeks and burned a path through the chill the rain had coated you in. “I- You- How could you say that?” You finally croaked. Your arms were tight around your own waist, hugging yourself as if you would be protected from the hurt you were experiencing. 

“How could you lie?!” Sirius begged the question. “I don’t need to put up with this! I don’t need to put up with you,” 

It felt like you’d been pushed down a flight of stairs and then kicked in the chest. All the air was stolen from your lungs. Your heart beat slowly after being stopped by Sirius’ cruel words. An apology was stopped in your mouth as Sirius continued to see things through his own misguided eyes. 

“I love you,” You found your voice was but a whisper, knees weak and stomach churning. “Sirius please, listen,” 

“No!” He sniffled, and you couldn’t tell if it was from the cold or if he was finding himself in a similar emotional state as you. If only you could get near and wipe the rain-or tears-from his cheeks. “Whatever you have to say is just going to be more lies. You were a mistake, w-we’re over!” 

A pitiful whine broke free from your throat, high and haunting. Your heart was breaking in your chest and you weren’t sure how to combat it or save yourself from the pain. It was unavoidable and sharp and you felt as if you couldn’t breathe. You doubled over, a choked sob ripping itself out of your lungs as your legs gave out from underneath you, knees sinking into the mud. Your feet had gone numb long ago and you wished the rain could numb what you were feeling on the inside. 

“Please,” You choked out, finding it hard to take a full breath. “Sirius, please,” Please listen. Please don’t leave me. Please tell me what’s hurting you. Please let me make it better. Please know I love you.

You were cold and exhausted, rain assaulting you from every side as the wind continued to freeze you and your heart pounded in sharp beats. Your chest grew tighter as you gasped for air. Your nose was blocked, lungs fighting for more air as you sobbed harder. “Please,” You tried again, with more urgency. 

Please stay by my side. Please notice how I’m hurting. Please realize I can’t breath. Please help me. Please, I can’t breathe. Please.

Your pleadings were unheard as you couldn’t voice them. Silver sparkles danced in your vision as the rest grew darker than the night sky. “Sirius-” You muttered, seeing his expression change quickly from anger and hurt to confusion and then worry. 

“Y/N?” He asked, having not realized until just now that your lips were blue against your pale skin. Your legs had been shaking earlier but now you were on the ground, hands drawn tight against yourself. Sirius spoke your name again as your eyes darted around, stopping on him for only a second before rolling around in their sockets. Whatever you were going to say was interrupted as your arms fell limp, body giving and falling against the saturated grass. 

--

“What the hell did you do?!” Remus roared as Sirius ran back into the common room, a muddy and equally sopping wet Y/N in his arms. 

“I-I-” Sirius fought for an answer, wracking his brain. You two had been fighting and he had been seeing red, he hadn’t even been sure of what you or he had been saying. He had been blinded by his jealousy and hadn’t noticed the signs that you weren’t well enough to be out in the cold for so long. “We broke up, well I broke up with her, and then she was passed out,” 

“Fucking idiot,” Remus worried as his friend laid you in front of the fire. Sirius winced at the fury in Remus’ tone. Stepping back, Sirius watched as Remus brushed your hair out of your closed eyes, your consciousness not coming back to you get. “She needs to get warm,” Remus observed.

Sirius stayed frozen on the spot. 

“Blankets, now!” Remus ordered. Sirius sprinted to his bedroom, grabbing any blanket he could find. 

The ruckus seemed to escape the rest of the castle, drowned out by the continuing gale. Sirius followed Remus’ every order, still unsure as to what was happening. He had been so out of his mind coming back to see you and Remus so comfortable that he had snapped and only now was he returning back to himself. 

Sirius realized he was scared, as he watched Remus tend to you with gentle hands. Everything about Remus was gentle and stable, loving and tender. He was far more than a decent guy, he was a brilliant man that could outshine Sirius in every way, shape and form. Sirius was scared that you were going to realize that and leave him behind, the shamed son. So, instead of letting you hurt him, he had to hurt you. At what cost? He wondered as your body was overtaken by violent shivers even as your eyes refused to open. 

Sirius sat back on the couch, hands clasped tight together as his blunt nails dug into his skin. His clothes were soaked but he hardly noticed. “I’ve fucked up,” He muttered, tears spilling over as he ran over the past half hour of his night.

“I can’t disagree,” Remus said bitterly as he stepped away from your makeshift bed in front of the fire, falling into the couch beside Sirius. Remus looked tired. “What in Merlin’s name possessed you to think that either of us could ever betray you that way?” 

Sirius rubbed his eyes furiously. “I just- I don’t know” He replied honestly. Sirius was stuck on how you had begged him to listen, begged him to see. The more he thought on it, the more sick with himself he became. “I snapped a-and I don’t even know why... She’s the best thing to ever happen to me and I fucked it all up,” Sirius choked on his words.

You were the best thing to ever happen to him without a doubt. He had been so hesitant to accept you into his life, to let you pick his walls apart brick by brick. Yet, with one smile he had been too enraptured to realize his walls had crumbled with the aftershocks of your beauty and kindness. Sirius Black loved you and it had scared him shitless. 

“I’ve been distant lately,” Sirius spoke again as Remus sat stiff beside him but his expression was softening as he watched Sirius cry. “I’m sure Y/N’s noticed. Today especially. I just realized how much she meant to me and it freaked me out, In what world could I ever have a girl like her?” 

Remus was about to cut in when Sirius cursed loudly. “Christ! I called her a- oh merlin, I am dead,” He shook with the force of his regret. 

“You called her what?” Remus questioned and whatever warmth had crept back into Sirius was sucked back out again, his skin paling as he thought over all he had accused you of. 

“I called her a whore, Rem,” Sirius cried out. “I’d fucking hate me, I do fucking hate me. What am I supposed to do? She’ll never forgive me now-” 

“She shouldn’t!” Remus seethed but put his arm over his friend’s shoulder nonetheless. “I understand- Well, no, I don’t. But! I know how much she means to you, even if everything you have done tonight is in complete opposition of that. I’ve pushed people away too and sometimes they never do forgive you,” 

Sirius chewed on his lip to keep another wave of emotion from knocking him on his ass. He didn’t expect you to forgive him. He’d called you cruel things, neglected your needs and made you chase him into the blasted storm. You’d pushed harder than you shouldve and now you were here, shivering and unconscious on the floor. 

He slid to the floor, crawling towards you as he searched for your buried hands, making sure your blankets stayed wrapped tight around you. “My darling,” Sirius cried, fingers intertwining with your own still frozen hands. “I am so sorry,” His head fell to rest on your stomach as you lay still. 

Remus watched, anger still plenty present but he shoved it to the side. “If anyone is going to forgive you for the shit you just pulled, it’d be her,” He spoke truthfully, knowing you loved Sirius with all you had-even to a fault. “That girl adores you Sirius and she would never hurt you the way you hurt her. You may be in pain, but she is one of my dearest friends, she is like family, and if you do it again-” 

“I wont,” Sirius promised immediately, understanding what Remus was meaning to say. “I swear, if she gives me another chance after this, I won’t ever hurt her again... B-but you seem to care a great deal, are you sure you aren’t better for her?” 

“I meant what I said,” Remus sighed. “She is a friend, nothing more. Y/N’s the sister I never had. When you treat her right, you are best for her,” Standing slowly, Remus clapped Sirius on the back. “Take care of her,” And with that, he was going to his room. 

Sirius noted that your shaking had subsided, the color in your cheeks returning. Your breaths came out slow and measure, but raspy. Your voice had been scratchy since he’d confronted you and he remembered Lily mentioning how you’d been feeling like rubbish all day. Remus had only been taking your temperature. Sirius wanted to scream at himself. 

His hands shook as the smoothed your hair, gently releasing any tangles that had formed while you dried out and warmed up. He sat for another hour, watching you take those same wheezing breaths before your hand twitched in his. Sirius held his breath, not wanting to wake you. You settled back down and he shut his eyes, replaying the scene of your fight again. 

The way you had asked “How could you?” tore at his chest. Indeed, how could he treat you the way he had and still claim to love you? Maybe he was a Black after all... 

“Siri-?” 

He froze. Your voice was washed out and delicate, a whisper agains the crackling of the fire, but he had heard it. You blinked tight, your nose wrinkling in a way that he was so very fond of. Even after all that had happened his name was still the first on your lips. 

“I’m here,” He promised, hands squeezing tight around yours as you fought to open your heavy eyelids. 

“I had the worst dream-” You started but as you came to you realized you weren’t in your bed and you were cold, pajamas still slightly damp despite having dried significantly. You stiffened considerably. “It wasn’t a dream, was it?” You asked hesitantly, voice cracking as tears surfaced almost immediately. 

“It was a terrible nightmare,” Sirius choked out, hand pulling away from yours to cup your cheeks. “This entire night has been a nightmare all because of me. I have no excuse other than I was scared and that’s why I acted so monstrously. I am no gryffindor Y/N, I’m the biggest coward there is for treating you like I did. I can never apologize enough-” 

“No,” You agreed, looking around the common room instead of into his eyes. “You can’t,” 

Sirius let go of you but couldn’t move away. “I barely realized what I was doing until you were unconscious and it all came crashing down around me... I had been wandering through the halls wondering how to tell you something and it had been making me anxious and when I came back, seeing you two so close, I fucking lost it. I-I had no right to question your loyalty or your love, and I am so sorry,” 

You watched as Sirius broke down in front of you. You’d never seen him cry before now, yet he couldn’t seem to stop. His voice was as raw as yours and he wiped at his eyes every few moments, as if he could will himself to stop how he was feeling. How was this the same man from your fight?

“What made you anxious?” You asked instead. 

“I wanted to tell you I loved you,” He answered immediately and you couldn’t help but scoff. “I-I know how that sounds now... But really, I mean it. I love you Y/N, but I am not what you deserve. I know that anyone else would be better for you and tonight proved it. I brought you here from outside not having a clue what to do but Remus took care of you and- it might not be him, he explained how he feels about you, but someone else is going to come along and love you better,” 

“What are you talking about?” You sighed. “I don’t want anyone else, no matter what you just did....” 

“But I-” Sirius was stumped. “How can you forgive me?” 

“I don’t completely forgive you,” You admitted after thinking for a moment. “I’m hurt and that isn’t changing any time soon, but I do love you Sirius. Despite all that has happened I still love you. You’ve properly ruined me, it can only be you.” 

“I’ll fix what I’ve broken, Sirius promised, pressing a searing kiss to your temple as you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“You better,” You sniffled. “Now lets go to bed please,” 

Sirius rubbed your back, pulling you into his arms as he took you to his room, not daring to tell you no. 

As you both got comfortable, you realized that the rain had let up. Only a light pitter patter could be heard against the window pane.

 It was a new day. Not a perfect day, not even a good one, but it was a new start regardless and Sirius was next to you- holding you like he would never let go again, and you hoped that he never would. 

[amoveablejake]

One Year Later

And here we are. 

Exactly one year ago today A Moveable Jake was created and the first post, that introduction to the blog, was drawn up and posted. Since then this little blog of mine has continued to sail along with three pieces released every week. The first being an album of the week followed by a photograph I have taken and then rounding off the week with a longer thought piece. I thought for today’s one year special I would write about what we’ve learned from the blog over the past three hundred and sixty five days. So, shall we see if anything stayed in our heads afterall. 

What have we learned from the past fifty two album of the week pieces. Well, for starters I have learned that the albums of the week often bleed into the long form pieces and the photographic ones too. Music seems to be one of the central pillars of A Moveable Jake and I hope the blog is all the better for it. The past year has charted a wide array of blogs as we travel from down tempo jazz from the masters to Brazilian samba music to Vapourwave and ofcourse those Peanuts soundtracks. This really wouldn’t be A Moveable Jake piece without mentioning Vince Guaraldi and what I’ve learned this past year is not only that I can seemingly write about Guaraldi’s work again and again but that also he is such an integral part of my day to day and the ideas of hygge that my life revovles around. Guaraldi keeps coming up as he ties in so perfectly to ideas of hygge yes and as an extension from that peace, gentleness and stillness. Again and again over the past year we have seen pieces revolving around those ideas appear and I don’t see any chance of that letting up as they are so truly key to me as a person. Needless to say they bleed into the album of the week choices and so I’m sure we will continue to get cosy album choices from here on outwith the occasional trip down to South America. 

I think its pretty clear from the photographs that I’ve chosen to share from my archives over the past year is that Paris is always on my mind and in my daydreams. We have learned that like writing about Vince Guaraldi I keep coming back to Paris and with it my visions of quietly wandering through the streets soaking the city in. But Paris hasn’t been the only usual suspect although it definitely has been the most prominent. Berlin, well Germany as a whole, has featured quite a few times particularly over the autumn and winter months. The same actually can be said for Copenhagen and ofcourse that won’t come as a shock considering that hygge is so central to most of the pieces. As the weather has gotten warmer the photographs too have moved into warmer climates as visions of Spain have started to appear. And what we’ve learned aswell through the photographs is that aswell as my constant dreams of Paris I’m also always thinking about driving through the mountains in British Columbia and seeing seamlessly endless forests stretch out beyond the clouds that envelope the road ahead. Perhaps the most prominent lesson that has arisen from my photograph choices is that I do seem to always be daydreaming about something and as I write I often take a beat and gaze out of my window to fully lose myself in those visions. 

Now, I don’t even know where to begin with what we have learned from the longer weekend pieces from the past year. We have covered a great deal of subjects so lets see what we can remember. We’ve learned that if you were to see me out in the wild chances are I’ll be wearing a fairisle nordic jumper or a plain t-shirt and always, always with a cap. We have also learned that apparently I think I can review the rain and seasons as a whole. We have learned some of my desert island discs aswell and in 2021 we have been learning what my songs of the month are each month. We have learned that the weekend piece has the potential to be about anything but that it is quite often about football hopefully in a more narrative and considered way. We have learned that I should never write a piece before a final because that team always goes on to lose. We have learned what we can draw from those losses and how to move on to the next match. We have learned what football means to me and that Diego Maradona whilst being far from perfect really deserves his status as being a Saint. And really that has to explain why he reached out with the hand of God. 

For a moment, if I may, I would like to touch on what I have learned from writing a Moveable Jake this past year. I have learned that writing these pieces every week have quickly become staples in my calendar and offer me a chance to reflect on the subject at hand and to help formulate my feelings about it which often extend to other aspects which I don’t include in the piece. As an extension from the blog I have also started to keep a diary, lets call it a journal actually, over the past few months and this really helps me aswell. Keeping a to do list and a journal, hell just scribbling your thoughts down on a scrap piece of paper I believe is truly beneficial to your way of thinking and allows you to breathe and take a moment with your thoughts. Not to mention how hygge the activity of keeping a notebook is and that building a record of your thoughts and days will be a wonderful thing to look back on down the line. Which really, is what this blog is. The past year has all been recorded in a Moveable Jake, some in more subtle ways than others but it is all here. As I sit here now, typically gazing out of my window as I write, I will admit I am rather proud of keeping a Moveable Jake going over the past year and that I don’t have any intention to break from our regularly scheduled programming now. I suppose all that is left to say is thank you for reading and I hope that you continue to stick with the blog. 

As always, 

Jake, a man didn’t actually start doing these sign offs until the 13th of August last year so is now thinking do they deserve their own anniversary piece, 18/07/2021

[leeknow-bestboy]

If You Close One Eye - Chapter One

Ships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Bang Chan/Yang Jeongin | I.N, If you really squint you can notice Lix is into Binnie, Hyunjin was into everyone once

Characters: All the kids, The ex kid isn't here I edited him out, Other Character Tags to Be Added

Trigger warnings: panic attack, ptsd, original character death, homophobia, original character cheating, descriptive imagery.

Word count: 5277

Chapter: 1/?

Next chapter 

Tags: Murder Mystery, amateur detective minho, Soulmates, not your typical soulmate AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, Slow Burn, Slow Build, good things take time let it slowburn, minho is singlehandedly responsible for the slow burn so blame him, no soulmates in this universe only they are, criminology student minho, art student jisung, POV Third Person, chan deserves better and he does indeed get better don't worry, art references please look stuff up, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, best sibling bond ever.

"If you close one eye, you can see what your soulmate sees"

Born with one eye an unnatural golden color, Minho and Jisung have been forced to cover them up with colored lenses in order to blend into society.

The magic to their eyes? Even they still didn't know.

This is the story of how criminology major and dance minor Lee Minho found himself hopelessly in love with the serial killer, local artist Han.

[Alternatively, let's see how long I can make these two dumbasses pine without one of them snapping. Edit: they finally did]

[Also WARNING: a HUGE amount of Jeongchan ahead, it's not subtle at all! So much fluff--]

As per usual, the playground was packed; children of all ages ran wild, squalling and laughing like the little menaces they were- all of them avoiding a short kid who couldn't be older than five, seated at the very end of the sandbox and holding back tears of offense and loneliness.

It's not that he got bullied, he wasn't. His mom raised a tough kid who'd bite back when he's bit, but no one would play with him now. Not with how he looks, they'd rather scream and run.

Five year olds shouldn't worry about that.

Rubbing his left eye- the good one, he could see a woman's shoulder and hair. Her smile, bright and comforting, wording out a song with no sound.

"Jisung!" His mother's voice rang aloud, recognizable and warm in the hostile environment.

"Baby," She called again, finding him and wrapping her son in her arms. For the moment, there was no strange woman- only his own mother.

Jisung sniffled. "I hate people." -These words that shouldn't be said by a child flowed so easily from his lips, as if it was the only reasonable conclusion.

"We need to talk about something" his mother's voice, once excited and lively sounded utterly defeated. Little did he know, it was the last time. Years of telling him he's perfect just the way he is, special and unique in a good way, definitely- have ended up making no difference in the end.

That day, he learned to put on contact lenses.

.

"I know you're upset about the divorce, but you have to accept that it happened."

The woman's voice, high pitched and unpleasant, drove Minho ever so slightly closer to the edge. By now he knew no adult in the world would ever take him seriously, so what was the point in sitting here and listening to her talk?

The woman pursed her lips, plump and telling of the many times they went under the scalpel. Tapping her foot, she hazily reminded Minho of his own mother when scolding was due.

"If you don't talk to me, that's fine. Nothing's going to change. I get paid by the hour you know, I can do this all day."

That being said, she was probably stressed- no therapist had ever gotten Minho to talk, he's been changing doctors since his hallucinations began, which adds to a little over three years now.

"Minho, I can't help you like this. Tell your mother I give up."

A sense of dread spread over the eight years old. Again, another adult doesn't get it. Another one giving up on him, leaving, and suddenly he wanted her to stay. Pretty badly he did, at the time.

"I don't care that my parents broke up, I've been seeing monsters all day"

The woman blinked, stunned into silence. At the tinge of tears he rubbed his right eye- and there it was, certain as ever; drawn with a sharpie, people with horns. In a moment, a pair of hands that weren't his took the drawing away and pulled out a new one, drawing harshly a sad smiley face.

Although he was a big boy, he cried right then, scared out of his mind and very confused. He cried so hard it almost slipped off- the contact lens hiding his mother's disgrace.

Looking up, the woman made no effort to comfort or dissolve his fright. Rather, she was scribbling down the whole ordeal. Taking notes, furiously assessing and picking him apart, she finished her analysis smugly and said,

"It's time we get you a prescription, my dear"

And that was definitely not the last of it.

.

"Oppa"

Minho groaned lowly, alerting the speaker to the fact he's been woken from sleep.

"Minho oppa!" the voice persisted. Fully intent on hanging up, Minho side glanced at the caller id to make sure it wasn't important.

"Motherfucker!" the voice on the other end rose. From the corner of the bed Doongie meowed, alarmed.

"Freaking shrimp, what do you think you're calling your oppa?" He blurted. This isn't a call he should skip.

"Egg laying bastard! Answer me when I call you!" His sister's comforting voice trickled out.

"Gremlin twarp!"

"ballerina!"

"Whiny child!"

"Prune old man!"

"spoiled princess!"

"Mean hoe!"

"-!" Wheeze.

"I got you, you horrible gay bitch"

"We're both gay, Ryu" He threw back.

It's been a while since she last called.

"Well, you live alone, so I assume you're doing much gayer things than I can do at home."

Minho started, failing to hold back his horrified gasp. "Ryujin, you're eighteen!" He exclaimed. It seemed like yesterday she was still following him around, like some baby duckling.

"She's being mean Doongie, like you three don't count." He added, Ryujin electing to ignore his comment.

"How's dance going?" her tone changed, turning softer. For all their differences, dance for sure has always been something both loved and loved together. From copying idols on TV, to taking ballet and hiphop together, Jazz too.

"I'm not in college for dance and you know it" He groaned, immediately softening as well.

"I miss it a lot. I wish I could do more than minor in it.." On the other side of the call Ryujin hummed, understanding. She has always known his passion best.

"You're good at what you do too. You'd make a kickass detective." She claimed.

"I'm not taking criminology to be a detective." Why she had to be reminded was beyond him. If anything he aimed to be an officer, someone to tell kids off if they mess with the neighborhood cats.

"I'm just saying you could be!" She defended- which wasn't wrong, if he played job openings right. He did have a knack for picking apart mystery books too, but that was nothing out of the usual.

"How's grad life?" He asked with genuine interest. Nothing could ever matter to him more.

"I asked Chelle out, finally." She said, and Minho couldn't help but notice the edge evident in her voice.

"What happened? Did she let you down? Should I come over?" The questions left his lips before he could consider them, worry clouding over him.

"No, it's nothing like that. She said yes, but.. Yeah, oppa, I really wish you were here. I need to talk to you, face to face. Mom misses you too." She ended lamely. It was so unlike her, Minho couldn't find it in him to correct the fact that it was only Ryu's mom and not his.

"Tell her I'll be visiting tonight then, I'll go get ready." He said, fully intent on making the sudden drive over. It was only a two hour ride over to his father's, where Ryujin and his step mother lived too. If he headed out now, he could make it before dinner.

"Really? You don't have to, I know you hate it here-" Her attempts of taking it back wouldn't work once he set his mind to do something.

"Really really. I miss my stinky troll sister too," He insisted. No way was he leaving her be. The moment something felt off with her, he knew he had to go make sure she's fine; there aren't many things as precious in his life as she is.

"Dumbass," she relented, voice worryingly relieved. "I'll go tell mom."

He smiled, tapping his nail on the headboard, now sitting up at his bed. "Bye"

She huffed, pausing for a moment before giving her last reply. "Goodbye, oppa. I love you."

.

Minho sighed, leaning his forehead against the steering wheel.

For what little time he spent at his father's place, a surprising amount of bad memories were made. Up until his teen years he wouldn't even enter, and every time after that made for a rich history; first panic attack, first time breaking a leg falling down the stairs, coming out, taking Ryu to junior prom- door shut in his face that time, claiming she was grounded for beating up the neighbor's son. First time stung by a bee, and that weekend when his father's doberman puppy bit him in play, tore open his front lip and got sent to a dog pound despite his protest.

'Come on,' he thought. 'You can do this. Count to three-' and at three he did, opened his car door and walked up through the front gate.

"Minho! How lovely to see you." Smiled his step mom, a warm, if not a tad unnerving woman.

"Nice to so see you too. How have you been?" He asked, clean-cut manners kicking in. Dal and Byul had meanwhile made their way running over to the door, immediately rubbing against him with some level of desperation. He leaned down, rubbing Dal's small head.

"I've been well, your father too- that's right! Honey, come say hi to Minho." The short, lean woman called, still blocking the entrance to the oversized house and keeping Minho at the door. Whether this was on purpose shall forever remain a mystery- she did it every time.

"That brat has nothing to do in this house" His father's voice warmed over.

"Hi dad." He tried still, calling over the woman's shoulder. "Can I come in?"

Said obstacle smiled, moving aside at last. "Of course sweetie, Ryujin will be right over."

Taking that exchange for what it was, he made fast pace towards the kitchen. Avoiding his father has become a praised skill by now, a crucial one by all means.

"Dallie, Byulie, psps" he tried, pleased when both ran on over towards his outstretched hand. Two more allies at the ready.

Light steps cleared the remaining discomfort sullying his mood in short moments. "You!" A pair of arms tightened around his shoulders, prompting Minho to lift his little sister in a piggyback.

"You too!" He answered, relieved at feeling welcomed at last.

"I can't believe you actually came. Did you tell your mother you're over?" She asked, tactless as ever. He loves her a whole lot for that, too.

"She's not the boss of me, I'm twenty one" He announced, eyes closed in a content smile as his sister gently pet his hair like a cat.

"What about me? I'm almost nineteen, I wish I was free like you, Lino!" Exclaimed Ryujin, but really she didn't. There was a certain freedom gained from nobody caring about you that no one should be jealous of.

Letting her hop back onto the ground, Minho kept the smile on his face. She seemed fine, but he could tell better. Still, they couldn't talk before dinner- the pots and pans at the stovetop smelled just about ready, after all.

Instead he turned to face her, petting her head lovingly like she had his. "What's this? This tiny Ryuddaeng's nineteen? No way."

"Almost!" she growled. "Next month I'll be."

"Where have the times gone?" he questioned, shoving her playfully at the comments of "old man".

.

Dinner went as uncomfortably as expected, his father and he had behaved remarkably well- hadn't spoken a word to each other throughout. Minho ate neatly, made sure to compliment his step mother for every dish, and Ryujin helped by washing them after. All in all, it was successful unlike many dinners before.

Making way to the guest bedroom, Minho paused at the sight of his sister's door left slightly open. Right, yes- this would be a good time.

Knocking quietly, he waited for permission before entering and closing the door, waiting for Byul to enter alongside him. "Are you alright?"

Ryujin nodded, glancing up at him and back to the floor. He took that as a sign to take a seat down on her fancy dragon themed carpet.

"Are you really alright? Ryujin, I know we're not great communicators, but I'm still very worried. Is it dad?" At that his sister shook her head, taking a deep breath.

"Don't get mad, but I have a huge favor. You know Chelle, I swore I'll ask her out when I graduate and I did, but she…" Minho crossed and uncrossed his legs, chin finding its place resting on a knee. Byul purred, rubbing against it.

"She's missing. She's been missing for two weeks now, no one knows where she is." She explained, voice stern.

"I don't think she ran away, but her parents keep saying she did. She said nothing to me." She added, hoping he'd fill in the rest on his own.

"They're not filling in for missing person?" He asked, worry making his back stress and ace.

Ryujin nodded. "I know she's the bad girl type, but she wasn't into drugs and her friends seem fine. I keep trying to ask around but I can't, what if something serious happened?"

Minho nodded, realizing where he comes in. "You want me to investigate? See where that takes us?" He asked. For sure, that should be the police's job- but with her parents saying she ran away, would they even bother?

Ryujin kept quiet, eyes burning holes into Minho's. This was her crush, a big one- he's never liked Chelle, but now? If Ryujin cares that much… sure. It's not something he should be messing with legally, and a new project to be added atop his ever growing college work, but he'd do it for her. "Okay."

"Okay?" Ryujin asked back, relieved.

"Yes. I'll do it." He assured.

Ryujin's features softened farther, mouth breaking into a smile. "You're my new favorite person."

Minho smiled lightly, mind running full speed. "I need details. When and where she was last seen, and about her; exes, Instagram, friends and hangouts."

Ryujin's smile faded. Nonetheless she turned, pulling a notebook out of her bedside drawer.

Scribbling away the details he requested, she paused to ask a couple questions before turning back to her chore. "I know less than I thought." She admitted.

"That's fine, but I have a few more. How was her mental state, where did she study, was she on meds and did she mention any places?"

This kept on for a few hours, ending after they let an annoyed Byul out of the room - with Ryujin tiredly announcing that her brain is fried and he can ask the rest over chat when he's back in college. On his end, Minho learned one important thing:

This girl was not who she seemed to be.

.

Back at his apartment, Minho re-read all eleven papers of info they've gathered. On the way he's prepared a list of places to visit, only two of which stemmed from the info Ryujin herself had given him. Other than the school and family bistro down the street, it seemed the two have never gone out together, although Chelle was one to do so.

Good, he thought.

Scrolling through her Instagram, he noted which followers seemed to comment more, and who would show most often on highlights. Her latest post have been boring- it was landscape art of what he assumed to be a tall grass field on the outskirts of seoul. Around three months back he found a picture of some guy at the beach, shirt off and abs in clear view. Seeing as he looked nothing like Chelle, it would seem they weren't related.

Sorting through the packed comment section, someone's request to take it down stood out. Tapping on the person's icon, he realized that was probably the guy in the picture, although the account was made private. An ex? That would make a good trail.

Not having an account himself, by now Minho has used Ryujin's, but to follow guys it would seem he needs his own account.

Setting up all the necessities, he took a nice picture of Dori and made it his profile, sending the guy a follow request right away.

Now we wait.

.

"Oppa, if you have no photos or description and no followers, and he doesn't know you, did you really expect he'd approve your request?" Ryujin's laughter trickled through the speakers, as if it's been obvious. "You're going to have to find him." She pointed, before hesitantly adding, "Or I can-"

"No." Minho said, stern. "This guy could be Chelle's ex, he might be really dangerous! You don't get to follow his Instagram."

Ryujin sighed, and Minho got the sudden mental image of her rubbing the bridge of her nose as she did. "You have friends right? Ask one of them." She advised.

"I need to go, dad said I can't go out unless I finish these applications." She explained, hanging up after a round of goodbyes.

Right. He did! He has friends.

Picking his phone back up, Minho scrolled his contacts looking for either Felix or Hyunjin. The two weren't in his major, but they shared a dance class. Out of the student body, they were closest to his definition of friends.

A couple rings went by before the line picked up. "Hyung? Hello!" Felix's cheerful voice calmed the older's nerves ever so slightly.

"Felix, hi." He answered, trying to seem casual. "How are you?"

Felix took a moment before responding. "I'm great! I'm actually out with Chan hyung, is something up?"

"Who?" Minho asked, confused.

Felix took another moment. "Bang Chan. He's a fourth year in sociology, I don't think you'll know him."

Minho came close to a sob right then. "Can you pass him the phone?"

"Yeah sure." Felix agreed immediately, followed by ruttling sounds.

"Hello?" A voice sounded, accent similar to Felix's own.

"Hi! My name is Minho, I followed you on Instagram a couple days ago."

A short silence. "Oh my god." Chan exclaimed.

"No, never mind that, I need to talk to you." He rephrased.

"I have no idea who you are." Chan replied, confused.

"It's about Chelle." Minho added, hoping to learn anything from the other's reply.

"Oh." Was all he got. "Okay, I guess we should meet sometime then. How is she?"

The question caught Minho off guard.

"I, I'll tell you more when we meet. When are you free?" he asked, quickly seeking out a pen and scribbling the time and date on his wrist, phone squeezed between his ear and shoulder.

"Yeah, sounds great! See you then." He concluded, getting passed back to Felix and thanking him profoundly before hanging up.

"In my own college." He muttered after the phone found its place back on the table.

"Unbelievable."

.

Not many people occupied the café, despite its convenient location not far off the olympic park. For that reason Minho concluded, the coffee there probably sucked.

It wasn't his intention to show fifteen minutes early, but his nerves got the best of him, taking shape in miserable pacing until he deemed it late enough to leave his apartment already. Worst case scenarios running through his mind, he wasn't expecting it as someone took seat in the chair opposite of his.

"Hello. It's Minho, right?" Asked the stranger, dimples forming in an awkward smile.

"Ah." Minho voiced dumbly before quickly picking himself up adding,

"You're Chan?"

In the short time that passed between first learning of Chan's existence and actually seeing him, Minho's mind managed to fill with expectations and fears, all of which shattered right in that moment.

First of all, the guy in the picture had very defined abs and arm muscles, making it seem as if he'd be your average muscle-head, someone who could pull apart limbs off boys like Minho- a description that apparently had nothing in common with the hesitant and awkward person in front of him. Rather, he found that this Chan was a tad shorter than him, barely filling the light gray sweater he threw on.

Secondly, while the photo showed a man with straight dark brown hair, the man in front of him had soft blond curls that seemed so, so fluffy- invoking a primal urge to pet them in, Minho assumed, not only himself, but also every innocent bystander.

Lastly, by the amount of english in his Instagram description, one would expect an obvious accent, but that had been proven false on the phone call anyway. Regardless, Minho imagined a foreigner, so seeing his face up close had been a surprise on its own, especially considering the smile… he was, how would he put it? Cute.

"Yeah! Nice to meet you. I was worrying I'd be early, but it's good to see you are too." Minho could only half process the words, a glance at his phone telling him they both still had around ten minutes before the planned meetup time.

"Right! Right, I wanted to talk to you." Minho started, forcibly clearing his mind of any strange thoughts.

"You said it was about Chelle? I assume you're her new boyfriend?" Chan asked, voice a bit strained.

"No, It's not like that. I wanted to know if you've heard from her for the last couple weeks." Minho replied, quick to correct him so to not make things needlessly awkward. Right, he thought- Chan still might have had something to do with this girl's disappearance.

"Oh, well, I actually hadn't, I try not to do that anymore. We didn't end things on good terms." Chan confessed, picking Minho's interest.

"What happened?" He asked, worries picking back up.

Chan paused. "Are you her friend? This kind of thing is a little personal, I don't want it to affect your friendship."

Minho blinked, thinking up a smaller scale storm. "I live in her neighborhood. We're not very close, but some things happened that made me look for you."

Chan hesitated, saved by the waiter's interruption asking which drinks the two would have. Still suspicious, Minho only ordered a small iced americano, Chan matching with a small iced tea.

"You probably know we dated for around two months, it ended after I found she was cheating for a long time."

Minho's breath hitched, dangerously close to choking on his coffee. "She cheated on you?"

Chan's expression fluttered before he nodded, sheepish smile back on. "Kind of pathetic, isn't it? I couldn't hold her attention. At least, the others didn't know."

Minho gaped, unsure how to handle the new information. Chelle, the girl Ryujin asked him to look for. Was that her true nature? "What do you mean others?"

Chan's embarrassment grew, yet he didn't look away. "We were around.. five, I think.. that I know of. I followed her for a bit."

The awkwardness settled, leaving both speechless.

"Okay, I'm really sorry but I still need to ask you a couple more things." Minho was the first to break the silence.

"Go ahead." Chan smiled in relief.

"Were you mad? Wait, no- Can you think of anyone who could have held a grudge against her? More than, I guess, this."

Chan shook his head. "She's a really nice girl! She has some serious issues, but I liked her a lot at the time."

Minho bit his lip, ready to push on. "Chan, I'm going to be honest with you.. Chelle's been missing for over two weeks now."

If Chan was drinking at the moment, it would have been his turn to choke. "What?" he asked, voice steady.

"I got in touch with you because right now, nobody knows where she is. Or someone does know, but I don't" Minho explained, hoping his message went through alright.

"Are you sure she's not ghosting you? She might be." Chan offered. Minho stiffened. If Chelle was fine, if she was ghosting his sister- there will be hell to pay.

"I don't think so?" he continued anyway.

"I can't remember a specific person who would want to hurt her, but.. God, I'm worried. Chelle's gone? Like, kidnapped or.." Chan paused, taking deep breaths.

"If you have any information on where she could be, it would help a lot. I don't know her well, I'm not sure who else to ask either." Minho added.

"What do you want to know?" Chan asked, worry clouding his face in an unpleasant way. Minho almost felt, scratch that- he did feel really bad for the guy.

"Hangouts, friends, habits, names of other exes- mental state too, it's a little invasive but I can't find her otherwise." Chan stared, eye contact with Minho intensifying as neither averted their gaze.

"Okay." Chan replied after a while. "I don't really know you, but I guess it suits her. If anything happened, I wouldn't expect an officer anyway."

Slightly disturbed, Minho pulled his notes from his bag, offering Chan a big sheet of paper. Just like that, the two had begun- Just as Minho had with Ryujin before.

"I can't help with other Exes, I don't know any of their names. I do know where she hangs out usually." Chan supplied helpfully.

"Chelle, she's very into art. She thinks her art, only hers, is the best of the best. She considers herself an undiscovered gem, that kind of mentality. She'll do anything for exposure, and she likes compliments a lot." Chan bit his lip, pausing in his writing.

"She's not on good terms with her parents, and sometimes I remember, she said she wanted to run away. She has horrible mood swings, but when she's happy she can be the sweetest, most considerate person in the world. I think she had too much love in her, that's why…" Chan trailed off, sighing before shaking his head and writing down some more details.

"I'm not okay with that, you know? It's the worst kind of betrayal, but I'm still so worried. I never wanted anything to happen to her, I don't wish that for anyone." Minho hummed, recalling back on his previous suspicion, how ridiculous it seemed now to think that of this person.

So it went on, the two of them coming up with important details and question marks to jot down. Before they knew it the sky turned dark, an impatient barista politely asking them to leave.

"You have my number, right?" Chan asked.

"I don't." Minho replied, glad Chan remembered. The two exchanged phones, filling in their details with some hesitation.

"Call me if you need anything, or if you find her." Chan added, eyes glinting under the streetlights.

"You too, call me if you remember anything important." Minho replied, parting with a wave goodbye and heading towards the bus station.

It was only on his way back that he recalled their first exchange through the phone, and how stupid it had been to expect anything else from a friend of Felix's, of all people.

Groaning lowly, Minho moved his bag up, staring at the paper pile stuffed inside it neatly. Ahead was, he expected, a night full of reading- all 38 new pages of details about this girl, who he found himself liking less and less with every passing statement.

.

Over an extended time period Minho had found himself visiting many different places to no avail. He tried asking around, dropping Chelle's name here and there for good measures, but it seemed that the girl had vanished into thin air. Her only legacy had been the outrageous rumors surrounding her name, such as dating kids much younger than herself and having sex to get her way in the art world. Really, Minho should have stopped there- he wanted nothing to do with this girl anymore, was happy even; happy that she didn't get to lay her hands on his sister. Yet he couldn't stop thinking, this girl.. She was missing, it was real, and not one soul other than him have made a single attempt to locate her. How could he give up now?

It had been a long day- visiting a bar from the list in the morning before moving to a café nearby and finishing one of his assignments, Minho decided to follow up on Chelle's tracks. Twelve days have passed since his meeting with Chan, and although his anxiety kept getting worse, the list of things to check kept getting shorter with every lead he crossed out.

This one had honestly been a lame lead, but he wanted to make the most out of it- a short trip out of seoul, to a grass patch stretching a couple miles that was similar to the one he saw on her Instagram. If he couldn't find her with anyone's help, he thought- maybe he should try to think like her more. This girl, where would she go? Who would she meet? What would she do? And for that this practice was important, too.

The land stretched, tall grass for as far as the eye could see. He roamed around, looking at the tall buildings that made his home from afar. From here, definitely- he recognized the scenery as the one she drew that time. Stepping back through the grass, it didn't make much of a difference from how far he's already been, but the moment felt special somehow.

Minho breathed in, a strong breeze blowing from the front and carrying the dust and pollution of the city with it. Bad air, even this far back. At least it was silent, no cars, no birds either- it felt peaceful. Minho stepped back again, pulling out his phone, intending to take a photo. A couple more steps back, and he tripped- landing on his butt in the grass.

It was there that he found her.

.

Jisung stretched, back aching after sleeping in so late.

"Good morning, and good luck falling back asleep at a normal hour." Seungmin commented. True that, Jisung managed to mess his sleep schedule pretty badly. Good thing it was friday.

Standing up, he considered responding before giving up and making his way to the kitchen.

"Ji," Seungmin spoke up once more,

"At least brush your teeth. I'm your roommate, not your mom- I shouldn't have to tell you this!" His voice, although annoyed, remained calm. He did have a point.

"Okay mom." Jisung replied, deadpan. Without another word he turned, entering the bathroom and picking up his toothbrush to do as instructed.

Life as an art major was hard- he had so much work to do in little time, and the pressure made it feel a little like a job. Nowadays his minor in music made for the only stress reliever he could put time into without guilt, and he wondered if maybe he should have chosen it for major instead. Useless thinking about it now, anyway.

Jisung went on brushing, releasing a small whine at the thought of his next assignment. Whatever- he rolled his eyes, raising a hand to rub the remains of sleep away.

Tall grass, the clear view of seoul from afar- blurring, moving, fast as if he was struck by lightning.

The toothbrush clinked loudly against the sink as it dropped, leaving Jisung with the reflection of himself in the mirror, left hand raised. He made quick way, spitting the paste and powerwalking back to their room, brushing against Seungmin on his way there.

"Jisung? Jisung, you can't just leave this here." Seungmin bristled, pausing at the sight of Jisung pulling out his sketchbook with the craze of someone going through a revelation.

He sighed, recognizing the scene in front of him. "Inspiration struck?"

Jisung hummed, wiping his mouth and beginning to sketch. This happened every once in a while, it was one of the things that made Jisung… well, Jisung.

"I'll clean up. Should I order takeout?" Seungmin asked, affection sneaking into his voice. He's a bit weird, but sometimes he was cute too.

"Thank you, please." Jisung replied absentmindedly, focused on the paper.

"I will. Okay." Seungmin concluded, fishing his phone out to call his favorite fast food handler.

To them, after all, it was nothing more than an average friday night.

[thekitchenismykingdom]

Take Me Out to the Ball Game - Lovestruck Fanfiction

Relationship: Lucien Rivercrest/Roman Tarrenglade Rating: G Summary: Roman is a huge baseball fan and goes with Lucien to see the Mariners play against the Blue Jays. A catch, a kiss, and a fun date. A/N: Lucien and Roman have such a fun dynamic  in the series. Of course I’d end up shipping them. Roman is the “idiot sandwich” to Lucien’s Gordon Ramsay lol

Cheers rang out in the stadium as the sun shone down on the rowdy fans of Seattle. Beer sloshed in cups, popcorn flew through the air, and vendors waved their pretzels around for sale. A couple, one dressed appropriately for the occasion and the other more casual, sat in the middle of the stadium behind second base. The clear baseball fan of the two held a jumbo, overpriced hot dog in one hand and a small container of a bright red jam, the same colour as his hair in fact, in the other. He poured some of the jam onto the hot dog, and when satisfied, snapped the container closed and put it away.

Examining the hot dog carefully, from the line of yellow mustard to the jam he had just put on, Roman finally took a bite.

"Mmm, I can't believe I haven't tried a hot dog until now," he said between chews. "Human food really isn't that bad!"

Lucien hummed and munched on his peanut snacks. A little too sweet for his taste, but they would do for a ball game.

"Perhaps I could convince Liora to add these to the menu..." Roman continued, musing to himself after each bite. 

Lucien stopped chewing and glanced at Roman.

"Yes, because these 'jumbo' hot dogs in tasteless buns belong next to my petit fours and raspberry charlotte."

"I would make them just as fancy as your petit fours, Lucien! They would be gourmet."

"Assuming I baked the perfect bun to go with them, maybe."

"I can jazz up any food and you know it," Roman countered with a huff. "This jam I whipped up from cooked gengan fruit adds a wonderfully complex spice and sweetness that pairs perfectly with the tangy mustard and this, ah, all beef hotdog."

Lucien smirked, but put his hand on top of Roman's and gave it a small squeeze.

"Come on, the bottom of the seventh is about to start."

--

Lucien could see the excitement in Roman's face, feel it in the way Roman gripped his hand as the game wound down to its final inning. It was the bottom of the ninth and the Mariners were losing to the Blue Jays by one run, with only one man out, and one of their best hitters was at bat.

"The Mariners are so close! A run would tie it, and another would win the whole thing!"

"I didn't think they were any good," Lucien mumbled, and Roman glared at him.

"The true point is to go on a date and watch a baseball game, but they have a chance at victory! Even bottom teams win sometimes."

The Blue Jays were also in the bottom, a fact Roman was well aware of, and Lucien sighed. 

His eyes were drawn back to the diamond with a CRACK as the batter swung and hit the ball, sending it into the corner of right field.

"Oh, oh! Fair ball! FAIR BALL!!!" Roman shouted and cheered as the batter ran across first, then second, and finally slid into third plate just as the ball went sailing into the third baseman's glove.

"SAFE!"

Roman whooped and punched his hand into his shiny baseball glove.

"Come on boys, get a homerun. A homerun!"

"Yell a little louder and maybe they'll hear you," Lucien teased, settling into his seat and stealing a sip of Roman's drink.

"Oh Lucien, at least pretend to have fun," Roman muttered, eyes rolling as he focused on the game.

"I am," he defended. "I always have fun with you." When Roman didn't respond, Lucien turned back to the game.

The second batter stepped up to the plate and rolled his shoulders before setting up. After a moment the pitcher wound up and sent a nasty screwball straight into the catcher's glove. The batter didn't even twitch.

The second pitch was a fastball, and this time the batter swung. He just missed the ball as that too went flying into the catcher's mitt. 

Roman had a hand over his mouth, rubbing his face as he shimmied to the edge of his seat. One more strike and the batter would be out.

Taking some time to loosen up, the batter kicked at some dirt on the plate and set up once more, the bat moving loosely in his grip. The pitcher wound up and unleashed a slider. The batter swung and missed as the ball suddenly dropped, once more into the catcher's mitt.

A collective groan could be heard in the stands, but Roman stayed focused on the game. The next batter made his way to home plate, a fresh trade from another team. Roman turned to Lucien and said, "This guy will do it. I know he will."

"You can predict the future now?"

"Laugh all you want, but I know we're winning this thing," Roman sniffed and turned back to the game. Lucien stared at him before looking back to the game himself, and watched a bad pitch almost miss the catcher entirely. A ball on the first pitch. 

The second pitch was a fastball and the batter just got a piece of it, fouling it. Lucien looked around to make sure no one was watching and quickly drew his sigil for a luck spell. He then sat back and watched a curveball go past the batter as the umpire signalled for a second strike.

"Oh come on, come on..." Roman said through gritted teeth. Lucien almost laughed at the sight, not really understanding Roman's interest in this human sport but happy to go to games with him all the same. He refrained from laughing, however, wanting Roman to enjoy the experience. 

The batter finally set up, planting his feet into the dirt and staring down the pitcher. With the ball in hand and having received the signal from the catcher, the pitcher finally wound up and threw a hard fastball. With the loudest CRACK of the game the ball hit the bat and went sailing into the air and over the field.

"Roman, get your glove ready! It looks like-"

"I GOT IT!!!" Roman yelled as he jumped up from his seat and caught the ball. He cheered and whooped and held up the ball in his glove as the announcers went wild.

"A two-run homerun and the Mariners take it 5-4 over the Blue Jays! What a spectacular finish!!!"

--

"Oh Lucien, I can't believe it! I knew they were going to win, of course, but to actually catch a ball from a homerun? A ball from the game-winning homerun!? It's a dream come true!" 

"And what are the odds you would catch the homerun baseball after predicting a Mariners win?"

They were walking back to the cafe hand-in-hand and Roman briefly let go to once again examine the baseball, turning it over in his hands and running his fingers over the red lacing. It seemed to Lucien he had done that at least 15 times since leaving the stadium.

"I know you had something to do with it," Roman said.

"Perhaps, but I had nothing to do with that homerun. Your man came through."

"That he did! I told you he would."

"Was it the highlight of the game for you?" Lucien asked, and Roman nodded.

"Of the game? Yes, definitely the best part. The whole thing was fantastic, except the fourth inning, and we had such great seats, and the food! I always love trying out human food when we go out."

Roman was gushing about the sheer amount of food one could purchase at a sporting event, talking about the hot dogs covered in chili and cheese, the giant salty pretzels, and massive bags of popcorn. Lucien smiled to himself, watching Roman's already bright eyes sparkle as he talked and talked about everything he liked at the game.

"-And I know it's not your favourite thing to do, but going to games together truly is some of the best time I've spent with you, Lucien. Putting up with my extreme enthusiasm and the human food-"

They stopped abruptly just outside the café and Roman grabbed Lucien's hand, turning to face him. 

"It means the world to me, and I will always be grateful for every day we spend together, every meal we eat together, just...everything. It is all so, so special to me, and I love you all the more for it."

Roman leaned forward and gave Lucien a soft kiss on the cheek, and Lucien turned his face to capture Roman's lips in a stronger kiss, chest tight with emotion at the sweet words Roman said just for him.

"You're special to me, too," Lucien murmured, keeping Roman close. "The most special person in my life. That won't change."

Roman's cheeks reddened as deep as his hair, only overshadowed by the brilliant smile on his face.

"You sweet-talker, you. Come on, I think there are some leftovers in the kitchen. Those peanuts aren't exactly filling." His smile turned into a devilish grin then, as he added, "Unless you'd prefer a different kind of-"

"Just get inside," Lucien grumbled, rolling his eyes at Roman's antics and the untimely shattering of the moment. Roman followed Lucien into the cafe, snickering all the while.

[frostsinth]

- Ends with Jazz Hands, panting. Comically slips and falls onto floor, but is too tired to rise again-

OK I FINISHED THIS BITCH! Here’s a group shot for my current (and first!) Dnd campaign group! The lines took a century, and my hand kept cramping. And let me tell you, FIVE CHARACTERS HAVE A LOT OF HANDS!! I think I only fully hid one hand of 10. But let me introduce them!!

On the far left, we have Orion Vidar; Rogue Chaotic Neutral Elf! Currently attempting to steal the Spirit Weapon (that is most definitely not his). Bi, flirtatious, and all around spontaneous trouble maker. He’s not quite sure how he ended up in the group, but as he’s slept with half of it, he’s content to stay for now. 

In the middle back: Vesper [Redacted]. Half-orc cleric, Lawful Good (I think). Running joke in the group that as the player has never picked a last name, hers is a well kept secret. A lot of her personal history is slow coming, and even her favorite color is [redacted]. She’s begrudgingly become the group mom, as she’s the only one with any common sense! Asexual, does not want anything to do with shenanigans; often stays back at the inns when the troublemakers go out. That’s her spirit weapon Orion is trying to steal.

Far right in the back; Abhilash Graystorm (MINE!). A true Neutral tiefling monk who was raised in the wilds by a band of monks displaced from their ancestral home. Abhilash has a complicated past, but all the party has discovered so far is that he is woefully naïve of the world (and not afraid to question it), and is a hoarder. Seriously, the man picks up freaking EVERYTHING and keeps it. Currently, he has a small birds egg (probably rotten by now), a multi-colored di, a small candle, a broken piece of a chandelier, a small wooden figure, and some random mirror shield. He may be attempting to take Ella’s feather from her cap here to add to his collection. He’s very playful and childish, but becomes very quiet when asked about his life prior to the group. He’s asexual as well, absolutely uninterested in anything or one that isn’t new and exciting (the boy can’t sit still).

On the bottom right is Ella Char, halfling bard extraordinaire! I believe she is a Lawful Neutral or Neutral Good. She’s sweet, bubbly, and always up for some fun. Possibly the glue that holds the group together, since she keeps the peace. Wingman to Orion, the pair get up to a lot of trouble together! However, her friendliness has gotten the group into trouble more than once, as she insists on talking to strangers and monsters rather than attacking them, losing the group the element of surprise!

Finally, on the bottom left; Mica Mossflower who is a Lawful Good barbarian class of the Otterfolk of New Riveria. Mica has a lot of wives he left behind to come on this adventure, and likes to hit things hard and fast with his sword. He’s a master carver, and wants to see the world before he goes back to settle down at home. He is pretty friendly and level headed, but simply does not get the world of “humans” as he puts it (which is funny, as no one in the group is human). Loves salmon without shame, and is one of Orion’s past sexual partners.

This was quite the undertaking with so many different characters. But I had a lot of fun doing it. I would definitely do it again. Orion and Abhilash I’ve drawn separately before, but it was my first time drawing the rest, and they had no real references. It was fun to get to try my hand at all the different varieties!

Want to commission me for your own DnD character? DM me for details! Check out my stories on my MasterList, and click the #monster doodles to check out more of my artwork!