#i went to a music conservatory and i don’t talk about that enough

[the-littlest-laney]

oops i was unhappy with yesterdays so i did it again

once again, i saw @ribbittrobbit do it and then i saw that @cloudmancy had a template d to indulge and then i indulged FURTHER

(i can’t help myself it’s a problem)

my qualifications for being a bard is my bachelors degree from music school

[the-stars-in-your-eyes-if]

☀︎NO DEMO YET☀︎ PLAYLIST ☀︎

☀︎SYNOPSIS☀︎

Your childhood friend has always dreamed of the big scene, of the crowd singing your lyrics, of a world tour. Max always wanted for your bands to succeed together. Until...

Well, it is was all a big stupid joke.

The real world caught up to you: you are no longer the naive child you once were. Writing a Grammy worthy album isn’t as easy as it seems and the big scene is nowhere to be seen. You navigate through life as you can, you party with your friends every Saturday and write music all week. You enjoy each one of your gigs – big and small. Your burning love for music doesn’t seem to fade. Your band brought together a solid community that crosses borders. You have fun with your band and it’s all that matter.

But you can’t help but fantasize that, someday, you’ll be at the top of the world…

Big stupid joke, right?

✮BATTLE OF THE BANDS IS BACK!✮

You thought 2020 was the end of us, uh?

You couldn’t be more wrong!

The worldwide known music contest is finally back!

We carefully chose the mentors of our beloved participants. This year will be all pink…

Make way for Pink Riot!!!

Application open to foreigners (check our website)

RATED +18

TW: explicit language, (occasional) violence, transphobia (one character is misgendered but just in one scene), use of alcohol and drugs, (soft) sexual content, parental abuse (flashback), depression, self-harm (warning will be in the "next" button), mention of suicide (same as self-harm)

☀︎FEATURES☀︎

– Customize your MC’s appearance and personality. You decide of their public image and persona.

– Your choices will define your band’s public image and popularity. Are they loved? Do they make underground or mainstream music? Are they the parents’ worst nightmare? The reference of rebellious kids?

– Decide your band’s aesthetic. Do they have one to begin with? Or do they each dress in their own style?

– Write your own lyrics!

– Engage in romantic affairs…

– ...or don’t, your choice!

– Are you going to help the people that cross your path or do you only care about yourself?

☀︎A BIT OF CONTEXT☀︎

Of course, this story is set on Earth.

But.

Racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, islamophobia, antisemitism and fatphobia will get you in court.

You are not very well seen if you do one of those things and, if you’re a celebrity/politician/public figure, it can (and will) ruin your career.

I know that this isn’t realistic at all but I need to believe that, one day, this will be real. My characters have and will go through enough trauma and bad moments, I want to give them some peace.

And it feels really good to make a world where those things will ruin the oppressor and not the oppressed.

☀︎ROs☀︎

THE HERMIT — Diesel Di Angelo (they/them)

Diesel is the soul of the band, they bring a sort of osmosis. Their calm energy somehow has a place on stage and is liked by everyone.

Diesel took their first steps in the music world with Max and MC. It was just the three of them before the band grew bigger. Diesel is a talented guitarist, they worked hard to get where they are and they don’t stop improving. They are quite reserved and don’t talk about their feelings… Who knows what lies beneath their shell?

THE MISCHIEVOUS DRUMMER — Roman Lupin (he/him)

If MC is the backbone of the band, Roman is its beating heart. He has no problem to make the public jump from the back of the stage. He’s a spark that will light a bonfire.

Roman learned to play drum from his mother. He went to the conservatory but he didn’t stuck with it. Since a young age, Roman wants to have a band and to perform all around the world. Roman is full of life and he’s the human version of a sunshine. Is there something behind that smile or is he genuinely happy?

THE LITTLE MERMAID — Isra Wafa (she/they)

Isra brings magic to the band. Her mermaid low voice is unique and enchants the public. If you think you’ve heard good bass players, just wait until you see Isra on stage.

When Isra was a child, their parents let them chose an instrument to learn and to their surprise, she chose the bass. They fell in love with this low instrument. They navigated from band to band before settling for this band her boyfriend was part of. Isra keeps ignoring their responsibilities toward her family. For how long can they pretend it doesn’t exist?

THE REBEL ANGEL — Archibald “Archie” de Beaumont (they/he)

Even with a classical training, Archie managed to switch to their band’s genre without too much troubles. All the members affirm it: Archie is a gift from the universe.

Archie popped out of nowhere to audition to be the band’s keyboardist. He was the most talented person they saw all day and the chemistry was very much here. The band doesn’t know much about Archie, but it doesn’t matter. They are a good person and a dear friend. It wouldn’t change anything to learn about their life before the band. Right?

THE MANAGER — Cal Bremont (he/him)

Cal works in the shadow to make the band shines under the spotlight of the biggest stages. The band claims it, he is the best manager you could hope for.

Cal takes his job very seriously, he has a perfect work ethic. Maybe he is a bit too close to his clients and they may not just be clients… But, well, no one is complaining. Cal is very secretive about his personal life, he never mentioned his family or anything else. Can he maintain his relationship with his friends and still keep his life a mystery?

THE RISING STAR — Max Larash (she/her or they/them)

Max moved their band to the other side of the world and they managed to impose themselves on the west coast scene. We’ll keep an eye on them as they’ll compete against their former friends…

Because of artistic divergences, Max decided to leave the band when Isra and Roman joined them and they created their own band with high school friends. Max had big dreams for Sleep Walking and their friends in MC’s band, but it didn’t turn out as Max has hoped. Sleep Walking left the country for the USA without their friends and they intentionally lost all contacts with them…

THE MUSE — Olivia “Ollie” Madden (she/her)

You may have never see her face but, as a comics fan, Ollie Madden is a name far from unknown. None other than the comics artist and writer of the most followed comics, Ollie is still a mystery to her fans.

Olivia works for Blue Pegasus, a major comics book publisher, since years. She was the comics artist on a lot of books, it took her a lot of hard work to finally publish her own series. Olivia isn’t only a famous artist, she also is a single mother. She’s taking care of a lot by herself and it often leads to forget about herself. There is nobody to remind her she’s human and not a superhero…

THE PRINCESS — Katharina "Kat" Deluca (she/her)

We don’t need to present Katharina Deluca anymore. Success and awards seem to follow every movies our Lady K touched. She confessed that her break from the cameras and greens screens was to be present for her best friend… Athena Pierce.

Also known as the Princess, Katharina is one of the biggest actresses of her generation. Between two roles worthy of an Oscar, she is also a model and the face of the infamous designer brand: Beaumont-Griffin. She is in the industry since she was 12. But, behind closed doors, Kat doesn’t seem to have a joyful life… What is she hiding from the world?

GODDESS OF MUSIC — Athena Pierce (she/her)

Athena is a legend in the industry. Everybody wants to work with her and Pink Riot. Her voice will shatter your world, there is a before and an after Athena Pierce.

Athena is the lead singer and front woman of Pink Riot. She was a star child and charmed America with her angelic voice. But, with the creation of Pink Riot, Athena is no longer the little angel of the USA. She’s now known as a freaking rebel and she is quite provocative. She flirts with the limits all the time. Her persona is loved all around the world, but who is the real Athena?

☀︎CANON EVENTS☀︎

You can customize a lot of things regarding your MC and your band. But there are a few things that are canon.

— MC is born and lives in France. Where exactly is up to you. The only place MC can’t have grow up in is Paris. (I headcanon them growing up in Perpignan or Montpellier)

— The names of MC parents can’t be choose. I tried to make them as common as possible so you can choose their origins. MC is French but their parents can be from wherever you want!

— MC's age can’t be choose.

— MC is friends with Max and Diesel since they are 6. They were in school together.

— MC’s first band is with Max and Diesel.

— During high school, MC met Roman and Isra. They joined MC’s band but Max didn’t like the kind of music their band was into so they formed their own band with other high school friends (Sleep Walking).

— The OG band (MC-Max-Diesel) exist until the fateful break up.

— MC’s band and Sleep Walking always were there for each other and gave mutual support. They also create songs and musics together, some are only instrumental and other are with vocal.

— MC speaks French and English. Feel free to add a third and even a fourth language.

— MC lives with Isra and Roman since they finished high school.

[mmvalentine]

The Pianist pt 1 | Jurdan

Modern AU. Okay so this is the first time I'm trying a Jurdan AU, dunno how's gonna go so don't get too excited okay?

*Update: Read part 2*

Jude had lived in the same apartment for years, and refused to leave. It was small, but rent controlled, and there was no way she could afford to stay in New York if she lived anywhere else. So despite the feeling that she was slowly going insane, she stayed.

The apartment building was not too far from the Juilliard school, and Jude both hated and loved this about her place. Of course all she had ever wanted to do was make music, but she was raised by a single father who remarried a woman who hated her, and a performing arts school was just never in the cards for her. She hadn’t even finished high school- left home young, went somewhere she could be surrounded art, and tried to be content living life among artists even if all she could do was wait tables for snotty rich conservatory students.

The worst of all of them was Cardan.

Cardan lived in the apartment above hers, and of course he was gorgeous and talented and stupid wealthy. From the titter around the local diner, Cardan was supposed to be some kind of wunderkind, even among the Juilliard crowd. This part, Jude did not dispute. She had listened to him practice on his grand piano at home, countless nights. What she despised was that he only seemed to play between the hours of 8pm and 4am, as if being skilled meant that one did not have to adhere to social rules of common courtesy.

What he did the rest of the day appeared, from the noises above her and from her not infrequent sightings of him around the building, was wake late, drink heavily, and sleep around. Jude was fairly sure his parents were bankrolling everything, from rent to booze, and it infuriated her.

Here she was, working three jobs just to exist near music. Sure, Cardan put the piano hours in. But if he was good now, what would he be like if he actually put effort in? What could he create if he wasn’t drunk or high all the time? How could his career fly if he was trying to make actual network connections instead of just talking girls into bed? Talent and money were wasted on Cardan and Jude hated him for it.

And then of course there was the fact that Cardan was just plain rude.

Jude told herself that this is the real reason she is typing out her eleventh email to the landlord, citing her tenant’s right to quiet enjoyment while half delirious at 2am. There were three and a half hours until she was supposed to be getting up for her first shift, and Cardan was playing like he’s got an extra pair of hands. Jude had tried to talk to other residents about this, but every time she brought up his name they just beamed and said “Yes, aren’t we lucky that Juilliard’s best student lives here, right in our apartment building!”

And so night after night, Jude lay in bed with a headache building between her eyes, composing letters of complaint in her head and only only very special occasions actually sending them.

On this particular night, Cardan played in bursts. Classical music that Jude didn’t recognise at a furious speed, then breaking off half way as if forgetting. Bright show tunes, then nothing again. Dramatic cinematic soundscapes, and then lapsing into silence. The jarring lurching was worse than when he played non-stop.

Jude found that the background light of her laptop hurt her eyes, and eventually she hit send and then went back to bed, where she pulled her pillow over her head. Every time Cardan stopped, she would just fall asleep only to be woken again, until he finally stopped altogether but Jude could no longer relax because she didn’t trust the silence.

In the end, she started doing what always helped her fall asleep. Sang her mother’s old lullabies quietly to herself, until she had calmed down enough to drift off.

///////

Cardan couldn’t sleep.

Cardan could never sleep, had had insomnia for as long as he could remember. When he was younger, it was sort of fun. He would stay up and read books under his covers with a flashlight, or write songs when everyone else was asleep.

As an adult, it just felt horrendous. All the time. He was always exhausted, his eyes always hurt, and when he tried to sleep he just lay in the dark with his thoughts running too fast around and around his head.

The alcohol used to help. A few glasses of wine before bed would make him drowsy, even if it did mean he woke up half way through the night feeling slightly dizzy. Now, it didn’t help him sleep as such, but being drunk was still better than being awake, and worse came to worse he would eventually pass out if he kept on drinking. Which was almost like sleep.

Tonight was particularly bad. His parents had let him know that they would be in town for the end of term concert, which was never good. His older siblings were all in high up and important roles- a senator, a partner in a law firm, a surgeon. And then there was him- the youngest and the dumbest and the novelty child of the family.

It didn’t actually matter that he was good and he knew it. Didn’t matter that he had started receiving media attention for his talent. He was still just playing at being musician and his parents were indulging him until he grew up and got a real job.

Cardan had tried to distract himself by spending the evening at Nicasia’s place, but she was smoking joints and he couldn’t stand the smell. So eventually he left and sat at the piano for a few hours, but nothing was coming together. Usually, his fingers remembered even if his brain didn’t, but today he was getting half way through pieces and then finding that he just… couldn’t be bothered.

Eventually, he dragged himself back to his infernal bed, with its tauntingly soft sheets but no rest to be found anywhere. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, and willing the hours away.

Until suddenly, his ears caught a whisper of a song so soft and sweet he was sure he was hallucinating. He did that sometimes, when he hadn’t slept in a few days.

But no, it was coming from somewhere below him.

Cardan got to the floor and peeled the rug back. Pressed his ear to the vent there and sure enough, he could hear a woman singing. He strained and couldn’t quite make out the words, but there was something sad and lovely about that voice.

Moving as little as possible, so as to not rustle over the sound, Cardan adjusted his position until he was lying more comfortably on the ground, and let himself relax into the song.

The next day, Cardan would not recall how long he lay there before he fell asleep, and it was a shock to be woken by the sun, still sprawled there on the carpet.

****

Literally nothing planned, no idea where this is going just thought I'd start and see where we end up! Then again, that's me almost all the time isn't it...

Also, I am Quite Stressed today so I apologise if a) I don’t make sense and b) if this story doesn’t progress as fast as we would like it to.

JURDAN MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @asteria-of-mars @swankii-art-teacher @loosingdreams @feysand-loml @cityofbookish

[anambermusicbox]

September 29 Day Countdown (26/29): 2016-2018 Radio Interviews on 动感101《小畅翻牌》

2016/12/20

(2:00) Interviewer, knowing Ukraine has renowned music schools, thought Zhou Shen went to Ukraine specifically to study music before she found out he actually was in dentistry and then switched to music; she asks why he went to Ukraine to study.

Zhou Shen: Simple! Because it’s cheap. (T/N: it’s extremely extremely cheap compared to studying abroad in other countries, and Zhou Shen’s family was quite poor)

(3:00) How did you win your parents over?

ZS: I didn’t. I told them, “Hey, I don’t think I can do this” and they were like “What?” I said, “I really can’t do this.” At first, they didn’t really understand what I was going through at the time. They said, even if I had to retake a year or two, they wanted me to keep going. They said, then take some time to improve in the language. I said, “I really can’t do this anymore,” they said no, and later I went against their wishes and applied to the music conservatory anyways.

(7:30) ZS talks about how he didn’t talk to his parents for months after switching schools, until finally his parents told him, “Then in the future, whatever you do is no longer our concern” and then hung up on him. 

ZS: (8:10) They said, okay we’re not giving you money for school, you figure it out yourself. But parents are like this: they say things but don’t go through with it. So they gave me money for tuition but nothing to cover living expenses. (*laughs*) (Interviewer: They said, whether you eat or not is no longer our concern) Yup. (*laughs*) They said they’d give me money for living expenses only if I studied medicine or language. So I had to borrow money from a classmate for food. I held out for 2 months, starved for 2 months before they said, okay since you’re this persistent, even though we’re still against this- (Interviewer: They still don’t want their son to starve to death) Right, they didn’t want to lose a kid. (*laughs*)

Interviewer: (9:00) When did their attitude finally soften towards your decision? 

ZS: After the Voice. (T/N: ZS didn’t tell his parents before he competed on the show; they found out along with the rest of the public when it aired) [...] They thought, ah okay he’ll be able to take care of himself now, he knows what he’s doing.

Interviewer: (9:50) Are they proud of you?

ZS: Oh yeah, they’re absolutely embarrassing. (*laughs*) After the episode aired, my parents- they run a small business, and customers who came by, my parents would be like, “Look :) who this is :)” and the customer would be like “…??…uuhh who is-“ “ITS HUAN YAN, OUR SON SANG IT!!!” (*laughs*) and then the customer is like “uuhhh ehhrmm….” I wanted to die from the embarrassment oh my gOD, it was so awkward. So awkward. Afterwards, I started avoiding being with them when they were with people. (*laughs*) They- they’re parents; they were happy, and then they started to worry. (*laughs*) This career... how long would I be able to do it for...

(11:50) ZS talks about how surprised he was by how popular Big Fish was; after only a few days, a lot of covers started appearing online. The singers for Big Fish and Begonia’s other OSTs were very big names, Eason Chan and Lala Hsu.

ZS: At first, they planned to have another very big name singer to sing Big Fish (T/N: it was supposed to be Faye Wong!), but because of reasons, their plan never came to fruition. The song’s lyricist, Yin Yue, she’s really too good to me. She kept insisting to the director, “Zhou Shen can sing this song, you should let him try,” but the director honestly didn’t care. The production company and the director, they wanted someone had enough influence to promote the film. (Interviewer: But congratulations to them, they ended up choosing the right person for the song! :D)

(19:30) ZS: “[After Masked Singer], my parents, they posted a WeChat moment they was quite touching—they said “Our son sang so well and seeing him work so hard—we want him to continue singing.” (Interviewer: Oh so they go online often?”) Yeah, only because I spent years teaching them.” (*laughs*) 

(19:45) ZS: “Every time I come home, my parents play my songs non-stop. I asked them, aren’t you sick of listening to it? Later I asked my sister, and she told me they play my songs all the time everyday. I felt like, wah (Interviewer: “All these years of being a host, and my own parents are the most avid viewers of my program.”) Wow… auntie uncle, I’m very sorry… (T/N: LKJNASFDFA THIS MADE ME SPIT OUT MY FOOD I WAS EATING HAHAHA) they’re gonna hate me. [...] I think, being a parent is really such hard work.”

2016/12/17

(5:30) ZS talks about how he didn’t sing at all during in his middle school years. Interviewer asks whether he ever tried to conceal his being different from everyone else.

ZS: Actually, when you listen to me talk, I- all these years I’ve already gotten accustomed to making my voice lower, it’s a force of habit. I’ve forgotten what my regular voice is supposed to be like. If I relaxed my throat while speaking it would sound like this—thinner, higher. But now I can’t go back.

(7:50) Interviewer asks whether he’ll try out different styles of music:

ZS: I think right now, people don’t know me well yet. I want people to first know who Zhou Shen is, what kind of songs he sings, and then try other genres, and only then will people want to listen. If release a song, people will be like, who’s Zhou Shen and won’t try listening to it—and if they listen and it’s a genre I’m not good at? Wow, no one’s going to listen.

2018/02/03

(1:50) ZS: “Well for one thing, I really hate my voice. (Interviewer: Why?) A male with this kind of voice is really weird. (Interviewer: It’s unique! It’s memorable. Can you find other people with this kind of voice?) Yup. My dad. (*laughs*) One time, my manager called my dad and he- “Hello?” “Oh hello auntie-” I was like “wAIT WAIT WAIT that’s my dad” (*laughs*) (Interviewer: Can he sing too?) No way, he scares people to death when he sings, he can’t sing. (*laughs*)

(7:45) After Big Fish was released:

ZS: Everyone seemed to like it, it felt- Eh? This is great. After about two weeks though, comments started to appear like: “just found out a man sang this and I feel like vomiting, I deleted this song immediately.” And it wasn’t just this one, there were many comments like it. It was extremely upsetting. I felt like, one of those characters in a sad drama, the kind that gets abandoned and they’re crying like “what did I do to you to make you treat me like this? TT^TT”

Interviewer: It’s like, even if there’s a whole pile of positive comments, if there’s one negative, that’s the one you pay attention to. Even if there are 100 nice comments—

ZS: —if there’s one hurtful comment, that’s the one that sticks with you, exactly! Everyone has this tendency.

(7:20) ZS talks about his duet with Guo Qin again (see translation from another interview talking about it here), how he was just as nervous as he was in his own blind audition and how he would’ve blamed himself if she had lost: “She’s 17—super young, makes me so mad—and she was sitting so calmly; meanwhile, I was standing there, all my limbs trembling—like, who’s supposed to be helping who here?” (*laughs*)

(14:45) About how he’s grateful that he didn’t get popular overnight: 

ZS: If I got popular overnight, I think it would’ve been over for me. Because my singing really did need improvement. Also, I think my album is really important in that in helped me get through a bottleneck period. At that time, I felt like, no matter how I sang it didn’t sound good. I felt like, can I even sing? But the process of recording this album helped me to see where I needed to improve. 

So if I got popular overnight, it really would’ve been over for me, because my singing wouldn’t have improved. It would’ve stopped there. (Interviewer: And you would still believe that you’re really good.) Everyone around you is praising you like (*rapid clapping*) “You sing so well!! You sing so well!! Look at how everyone wants to hire you to sing, you sing super well!!” It’s over- it would really be over. […] I quite like progressing one step at a time.

(18:10) Zhou Shen talks about how, when he got eliminated on the Voice, he wasn’t crying because he lost, but because suddenly going from spending so much time together as a team and having such camaraderie to all but four eliminated was too heartbreaking.

ZS: (20:20) When I got eliminated, I was actually really happy. I don’t like competing, and I felt I didn’t have any pressure on me anymore. I felt bad for Li Wei because I knew there would definitely be a lot more pressure on him now, because now he has to represent our entire team in the future competition. 

After our PK, he—because we both cried so hard—he said (*shrill crying voice*) “Zhou Shen I’ll carry your name and compete to the end!! TT^TT” (*Interviewer laughs*) and I replied, (*shrill crying voice*) “You shouldn’t give yourself so much pressure, don’t carry my name just sing TT^TT” (*laughs*) 

You don’t understand how hard we were crying. After the PK, there had to be a 25-minute intermission because Na-jie had to cry too. So she’s there crying in the mentor area and I’m crying in the eliminated area and Li Wei’s crying in the advancement area. [...] During the blind auditions, every single person earned their place in the team one by one, and now all of them are being taken out one by one—it was quite brutal.

2018/02/10

(1:30) Zhou Shen talks about how he has a longer process to be accepted compared to other singers, because they first have to get over the fact that a man has this type of voice before they truly listen to him sing. Some people react like, WOW amazing!! while others are on the other end of the spectrum:

ZS: Once, I was at a restaurant and at that time, they were broadcasting the blind auditions of the Voice. The restaurant owner just happened to be watching it, and when I appeared, he was like “Eh? Who’s this- WAH-“ and immediately changed the channel. I was like ??? D’: ????? “…can I have some water?” (*laughs*) He changed the channel right in front of me, you know? He didn’t recognize me. It was- (*makes disgruntled noises*) It was really upsetting.

(2:20) ZS, about being on Masked Singer: “That was the first time I felt acknowledged by the sentence ‘wow this girl sings so well!’”

(20:30) In the three years since your debut, have you ever seen a fan who, because of your songs or your voice, their life changed?

ZS: Have I seen that personally? That would be impossible, but I have read about it in letters and comments. There was one comment, this person—they had depression, the kind that they were being prescribed medication for—but they started listening to my music and slowly started to become happier, their mental health improved. I was so astonished—music is really so powerful.

Another one was- to be honest, men with this type of voice are actually not uncommon. It’s really not just me. Once, I was at karaoke with an old schoolmate—middle school or high school, I forget—and he said, “because of you, Zhou Shen, because you sang in that competition [the Voice], I’m now brave enough to sing at karaoke. It feels like, even with this kind of voice, I can sing too.” That moment—I was so moved.

2018/05/19

(3:45) ZS talks about how Gao Xiaosong was really satisfied with how the album turned out, and how Gao Xiaosong is actually really thin.

Interviewer: Why do you always have to mention that? No one is asking about whether he’s fat or thin.

ZS, joking: How else do you think I got this album—I kept complimenting him as thin (T/N: HAHAHAHAHA)

[exercise-of-trust]

@littleyarngoblin okay okay i have a paper due tomorrow and can’t spend the entire afternoon catching up on a decade of research on indigo vs woad dyeing like i want to, but i don’t want to write about pacific salmon anymore so i’m going to talk about the burgos tapestry wool instead, and i’ll yell about the history of dye later

so at some point the burgos tapestry, or, christ is born as man’s redeemer, got cut up into four huge irregular pieces (this is a massive tapestry. it’s over 25 by 13 feet and spans the entire wall of the room they have it in, it’s enormous and incredible and i don’t want to think about how much time it would have taken to weave initially but it’s gorgeous and i love it). and for a while people at the met were tossing around the idea of restoring at least the chunks? but they tried washing a section and it shrank weirdly and the whole project was shelved again. fast forward to, i think it’s the seventies? when conservators start talking about patching it up.

the problem is that the burgos tapestry is hundreds of years old and in those hundreds of years we’ve bred sheep differently so the wool commercially available today, or even forty years ago, is completely different from the wool of the tapestry itself (which, okay, that must have been such a frustrating thing, to want to fix this thing and realize that you have to undo hundreds of years of sheep breeding, but honestly that’s such a cool problem to have)

the solution they came up with was to get some wool from the national museum in prague, who also did tapestry conservation, and also had non-merino sheep, to have some basis to go off, and so the met started mailing prague and asking hey! hey could you sell us some wool?

no, said prague, we don’t have enough wool, fuck off, which is code for look-the-communist-regime-will-not-let-us-sell-you-wool-but-we-would-like-nothing-better-please-buy-our-wool.

so someone from the met went to prague and had coffee with folks over there and was told, go to this street, find this ice cream vendor, he’ll tell you where to go, and from there he got directions to go visit the musical conservatory, where he met someone else and was told okay, get on your plane, go through security in this particular line, here’s a bill to be paid to a bank account in switzerland and when you get through security you’ll meet someone who will give you the package

and then the met took their wool and used it as the basis for the massive amounts required for the rest of the project and then spent the next 35 years dyeing and spinning and stitching the tapestry back together and filling in all the missing and shittily patched sections. in conclusion if you are ever in nyc or anywhere near nyc you should go up to the cloisters and see it, it’s just to the left as you come in and honestly i was even more excited to see it than i was to see the hunt of the unicorn tapestries, the original is incredible and the amount of work that went into the restored version is mindblowing and the met is an amazing place doing amazing stuff

[pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles]

The Sweetest Taste

AU Ice Cream Shop Featuring Cake for the 5sos fic event sponsored by @maluminspace and @h0tsos

Word Count: 5,979 (I’m a long winded bitch, oops)

CW: this is smut so 18+, NSFW etc. M/M and M/F oral as well as sexual situations and strong language from the outset and throughout.

Special thanks to @adoring-lrh for helping me edit this monstrosity.

Event Masterlist

"I'm so bored," Calum complained, leaning back against the counter. 

"Me too, but I have to train you how to close so you're not leaving early," you told him but you were just as bored as him. 

Your parents had recently expanded the family business by opening up a second Cali-Cone Dream location in the touristy "historic district" downtown. Your dad's grandparents started the ice cream shop after moving to California from Missouri after World War 2.  They'd invested their life savings in the shop and helped build the boardwalk. You’d grown up in this shop, and since it was early in the season and still slow, it was up to you to train the new hires. It was a pain in the ass, but at least your parents weren't breathing down your neck. 

"If you keep complaining I'll make you clean the freezer. You'll have shrinkage for a week," you teased him. 

"Like you wouldn't find a way to fix that," he shot back, wiggling his dark eyebrows at you. 

Calum was the only new hire you liked. Jeremy was a kiss ass to your parents, Rico was boring, and Amanda was dumber than a bag of hammers. The smartest thing to come out of that girl's mouth was her boyfriend's dick. You'd already told your Mom it wasn't going to work out when you'd asked her to cut lemons for tea and she came back with oranges. Calum, however, was funny, a quick learner, and great with customers, not to mention drop-dead gorgeous.

"How is it only 3 o clock? Can we play cards or something? If I stand here much longer I'm gonna keep eating ice cream, and this is supposed to be my hot girl summer," he pouted before giving you a saucy wink. He was a total flirt and you weren't complaining. Three weeks ago he'd barely said a word, but you two had become fast friends and he'd really come out of his shell. 

"I don't think you have to worry about that," you laughed.

 The dark blue, slightly too tight, uniform t-shirt accentuated his bulging biceps, broad chest, and golden brown tan. The Cali-Cone slogan, "The Thrill of the Taste" scrawled across his back in bright red letters kept giving you dirty thoughts. 

"We could close early, maybe show me another of your secret spots." Calum leaned towards you with a smirk and you rolled your eyes.

 A week ago you'd gotten tired of him whining that there was nothing to do now that the college bars were dead since most students went home for the summer. You'd taken him out with you after you closed up shop. You'd avoided the popular rowdy country bar, and the dark thumping underground hip hop club, choosing instead to head for the beach. You took him to a spot under the boardwalk past the large boulders known as "The Breakers" where the local police patrols usually stopped.

You brought your beach bag and a popup tent you could both lounge in so bugs wouldn't eat you alive. He'd managed to sweet talk a bottle of wine out of his landlady, who knew he was only 20. It wasn't very strong, but it made you giggly and warm. Perhaps Calum lounging next to you on the blanket had something to do with that.  After a few rosé flavored kisses his hands began to wander, and you had to put an end to it.  Calum started to apologize, but you told him that the only reason you stopped was that your cycle hadn’t ended yet. 

After that, Calum laid back on the blanket and began to talk.

He told you he was in his second year studying music composition and theory at the Strozzi Conservatory. He'd recently broken up with his high school sweetheart, and it had been painful. As a result Cal decided to not go home for the summer, deciding instead to take a workshop on-campus teaching local teens. He was a bit lonely but looking forward to the tourist season.

"This is the first time I've had time to myself where I don't have to worry about what anyone else thinks about me or what I do," he told you, taking a gulp before handing you the wine to finish off. You were sitting up and he was laying across your outstretched legs looking up at you.

"Ooh the wild college years," you laughed. You had seen many sheltered middle-class suburban kids get the first taste of freedom away from their helicopter parents and lose their minds. "If you're trying to get fucked up don't buy anything on the boardwalk. I've got a friend so at least you know it's clean." 

"Nah not like that, but good to know." Calum took a deep breath, looked up at you, and then away. The shadows from the small camp lantern made him look mysterious and brooding. "Can I tell you something? I feel like I can trust you." His voice was soft and he rolled on his side concentrating on tracing lines along the skin on your legs. 

"You can tell me anything," you assured him.

"I want to--uh I guess experiment with different sorts of types of experiences with something new. I mean, obviously new. What I mean is, not what you'd expect maybe. Shit!" Calum rubbed his eyes and you held back a smile. "What I'm trying to say is that," he paused again.

"Calum, are you into guys?" You ask, not wanting to rush, but you were running out of time. You only had about half an hour before the tide would start coming in and you had to leave. 

"Is it obvious?" He asked, his eyes wide. 

"Nope, I wouldn't have guessed at all, but I've had this conversation with a friend before. I'm glad you trusted me enough to tell me, but we have to leave here in a bit." You checked your phone.

“So that’s it?” he asked. 

“Dude, it’s not that serious. Tell me who you’re scoping out and I’ll let you know what’s up. That doesn’t mean we can’t have fun as well,” you told him.

He looked so relieved, and you could only imagine what it took for him to tell you that.

Calum sat up and you started rolling up the blanket. You packed up your beach bag and Calum held the lantern as you twisted and folded the tent in three quick fluid motions before sliding it into its bag. 

"How did you do that so quickly in the dark?" Calum looked impressed.

"Practice, now come on, follow me, watch your step. It's slippery," you cautioned him.

It had gotten chilly and you were both shivering as you ran back to your car. 

"You won't tell anyone at work will you? I know it's not a big deal but I don't want everyone in my business." Calum bit his lip and you could tell he was questioning his decision.

"Dude you're fine, but what made you decide to tell me?" The question slipped out before you realized it.

He looked embarrassed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I was hoping maybe you could help me out. I don't know how to read people and I don't want to make an idiot out of myself." 

"Of course," you replied, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “Did you have anyone in mind?”

“Well there’s this lifeguard. He’s blonde and has a bird tattoo on his arm,” Calum told you. 

You cringed, knowing exactly who he was talking about. “Sorry sweetie,” you replied, “ that’s Cody and he’s not only straight, he’s a complete jackass.”

Calum slumped and looked defeated. “Don’t worry sweetie,” you reassured him. “The summer is just getting started”

A clap of thunder pulled you from your daydream.  If it was going to rain there was no chance business would pick up. You glanced over at Calum perched on the stool behind the cash register playing on his phone. His dark curls were falling across his forehead and your fingers itched to play with his hair. Being bored and horny was never fun and you were willing to bet Calum could take care of both. As if he could read your mind Cal looked up and caught your eye. The smirk that spread across his face let you know you were being too obvious, but you didn't care. 

"If you keep looking at me like that I might forget I'm on the clock,"  Calum licked his lips and looked you over. "You're lucky there are cameras."

"Oh yeah? What did you have in mind? It just so happens I know all the spots the cameras can't see," you raise your eyebrows at him, challenging him to take it further. 

The loud jingle of the bells hanging from the door startled both of you. You look up to see a familiar figure ducking through the door just before the sky opened up and began pouring rain. 

"What's up Luke? Since when are you afraid to get wet," you teased the tall blonde walking towards the counter. You'd known Luke Hemmings for years, his dad was on the city council with yours and his mom taught sixth grade. He'd been a year ahead of you in school, and you'd both played varsity basketball in high school. He'd dated several of your friends, and before that, your older sister had a tumultuous relationship with his brother Ben several years back. 

"Maybe I'm sick of the pool and want my old job back," Luke shot back. He'd worked three summers scooping ice cream next to you until he turned 18 and could work as a lifeguard on the beach. 

"Sorry, dollface, I've managed to replace you, I even found someone better looking," you replied. 

The Hemmings brothers were gorgeous and always had girls falling at their feet, but you'd never been that impressed. Not that it stopped y'all from hooking up on occasion, including once in the walk-in cooler after closing the summer before your senior year. It was a small town and you'd dated, hated, or hooked up with most of the guys your age.  Luke's history was more extensive than yours. He'd not only hooked up with you and many of your female friends, but you'd kissed many of the same boys. 

He looked from you to Calum who was standing to your right suddenly engrossed in the patterns on the tile floor. You could see the flush on his cheeks and his leg was jiggling nervously. Luke looked Calum up and down, his blue eyes lingering on the younger man before shooting you an approving grin. 

"I see you found a college boy. Can't say I blame you, much better looking than that ginger from last year," Luke snickered.

"I'm gonna go check the cooler," Calum told you, barely audibly before ducking in the back. 

You looked at Luke who was as confused as you were before excusing yourself to follow Calum. 

You barely made it around the corner before Calum popped out at you nearly scaring you to death. 

"What the hell," you squealed as he pulled you into the freezer.

"That's the guy I was telling you about," he hissed as the door shut behind you.

"What are you talking about?" 

"Remember when you drove me home the other night? You asked if I had anyone in mind so you could find out which team they played for," his voice was a panicked whisper, and his dark eyes were wide as saucers.

Then it clicked. "You were talking about Luke?" I asked, my voice louder than I meant for it to be.

"Why are you yelling? Yes, obviously that's him, except you told me his name was Dylan."

"You said tall, curly hair, with a bird tattooed on his arm. Luke doesn't have any tattoos, his mom

hates them," I replied, but doubted myself now. I hadn't seen Luke in ages, he'd always been a spoiled Mama's boy and maybe Liz finally caved.  

"That tall drink of water has a hummingbird tattooed on his arm, but that's not important right now. Have y'all hooked up?" You nodded and Calum scowled. "Figures he would be straight," he sighed.

Your brain finally caught up to the situation at hand, and you had an idea. 

"Listen to me Calum, you're gonna wait on him. Offer him a strawberry waffle cone, it's his favorite," you pushed him out of the cooler and back towards the front. 

You popped your head around the corner and whistled making Luke look up from his phone. "I'll be out in a second. I keep telling Dad this freezer needs replaced, have one on the house, but try not to scare off my new employee please," you shoot him a stern look as Calum came around the corner behind you. 

"I'll try not to bite, but I make no promises," Luke laughed before turning his attention to Calum. 

You moved just out of their sight, but still within earshot to see if your little plan worked. 

"So uh, yeah, the boss said you could have a free waffle cone. She said you like strawberry ice cream," Calum started out a squeak but he cleared his throat and continued, in a deep rough tone that gave you the shivers.

"Did she now?" Luke's voice dripped honey and you could hear him smiling. "I'm surprised she remembered, but she's good like that." 

"That's why she's the boss," Calum was cautious, and you stifled a laugh. "Have y'all known each other long? Are you close?"  

"Oh we know each other very well, and we've been close, very close sometimes. She's easy to talk to, I'm sure you know how it is," Luke answered and you had to put your hand over your mouth to hold back a laugh. You'd recognize that syrupy flirtatious tone anywhere, it was obvious Luke was seducing your new employee. You peeked around the counter to see Calum handing Luke his ice cream cone. A double scoop, perfectly dipped, pink and creamy, just barely starting to drip around the edge you watched Luke begin to lap it up while keeping his eyes on Calum.  

The power flickered as Luke leaned back against one of the tables in the dining area, half sitting half standing, his long legs crossed at the ankle. He was wearing the black swim trunks trimmed in bright red every lifeguard wore on duty and a thin white reflective windbreaker unzipped almost all the way to his waist revealing his broad bare chest. You could see Calum fidgeting nervously with the ice cream scoop while trying not to stare. Luke was not making that easy, his lips and tongue working obscenely in a way that was starting to make you horny, and you knew what he was doing and why. Poor Calum didn't stand a chance. It didn't help that he'd worn basketball shorts to work and the clingy fabric made his arousal obvious even where you were standing. 

You stepped back trying to figure out your next step. Your intention had been to introduce Luke and Calum but watching them together made your thoughts wander places they shouldn't. The rain was really coming down, sheeting the windows and sounding like pebbles being hurled against the roof. Daylight had turned dark as the storm really kicked up. You could hear the guys talking as you checked the weather on your phone. You were stuck here at least another 30 minutes as a big blob of red on the radar moved through your area. 

"She said I dare you to kiss the person on either side of you, and I didn't know if I wanted to kill her or kiss her." You heard Luke's voice and realized you'd zoned out and you headed back towards the front. 

You stepped through the swinging doors just in time to hear Calum ask, "why was that?" 

"Because the girl to his left was my friend who was absolutely gagging for Luke's cock," you answered as Calum jumped and Luke laughed.

"What was her name? Crystal? Kristen?" Luke bit the tip of the waffle cone off and sucked the remainder of the ice cream out of the bottom, glancing at you before his eyes returned to Calum. 

"Kirsten, you did end up sleeping with her, " you reminded him. "Tell him who was on the other side."

Luke licked his lips and grinned. "Keeeerstin, that's right, and that 4th of July we all did crazy things if I remember correctly. To my right however was the hottest soccer player in school who I'd had a crush on for ages." 

Calum nodded and Luke's gaze flickered your way once again, his blue eyes bright and mischievous, before he continued, "I was freaking out when we kissed but then he ended up taking me back to his house and we fooled around on his sister's swing set." 

You laughed along with Luke as you watched Calum realize what Luke said. His head snapped up, blinking rapidly and his mouth opened and closed refusing to find words before you saw him look at you, then Luke, and then back to you as everything clicked into place.

"Is that what strawberry ice cream meant? Were you setting me up?" Calum asked.

"Not a setup, but wanted to see if Luke remembered the code. Turns out there's not as dumb as he looks," you walked up to Calum stopping just inches from his chest looking up at him. "And you did say you were bored." 

"What did you have in mind?" He raised his eyebrows at you, still unable to look at Luke. 

“I mean, Luke likes strawberry ice cream, and so do you. I doubt we’re going to have many customers with this rain,” you told him. 

“They closed down the beach because of lightning so no one is coming out,” Luke chimed in. 

“That’s what I was thinking, so it sounds to me like the three of us have some time on our hands,” you replied. You looked at Calum and he nodded but his eyes burned into you.

“Are you sure you’re up for that?” he asked apparently reading your thoughts. 

“I can handle anything,” you puffed your chest out and heard Luke snicker, but you didn’t dare take your eyes off Calum.

“I’m down if y’all are,” he challenged, finally looking at Luke. 

Am I really going to do this? Your thoughts were racing and your heart was pounding as hard as the rain. CAMERAS you thought before remembering you'd been the one who updated the security system and there was a workaround.

Thunder crashed so loudly you felt it shake your bones. No one would come around today, and it made no sense to stay open or send Luke home in this storm. 

"Calum, go make sure the back door is locked, Luke if you could flip the bolt and get the blinds," you told them before you ran back into the office where money was counted. Behind the desk was the breaker box and you flipped the switch that shut off the security cameras and half the lights. 

You poked your head out at Luke and motioned for him to follow you towards the back. You bumped into Calum as he came back towards the front.

"Where are you going?" He asked

"Break room, even with this storm I'm worried about someone peeking in," you reply.

"Really?" Calum was skeptical.

"Around here you never know," Luke told him.

You flipped the light switch, but only two bulbs lit up casting the room in soft blue light with long shadows. 

"So I hear you got a tattoo, Hemmings," you said, trying to break the ice. Calum looked even more nervous than you felt, and you silently asked Luke to take charge. 

He winked at you unzipping his jacket and shrugging it off his shoulders. You noticed he was still lean and lanky but he'd definitely filled out, added some muscle definition. Sure enough, there on his right bicep was a small hummingbird. 

"I can't believe Liz finally caved," you teased.

"Honestly I just went and did it, and then dealt with the consequences. She's still mad, but nothing I can't handle," he replied. Luke looked over towards Calum. "You have way more than I ever will, can I see them?" 

Calum nodded and came up beside you. He started off nervous, but as he explained his tattoos starting with his parents’ initials on his hands, working up past his wrists, to the lovely bird with his sister's name, he explained when and where he'd gotten them. Some, like the thistle on his left bicep, had special meaning relating to friends and family. While others, like the spade and the horseshoe, were aesthetic choices. 

"Is that it?" Luke raised his eyebrows and bit his lip. 

"Nope," Calum smirked, warming to the other's man's attention. He reached behind his neck and in one swift motion pulled his shirt off over his head. You felt your pulse quicken and heard Luke suck in his breath next to you. Calum was brawnier, broad-chested with black ink on brown skin. Without realizing it you reached out to touch him, trailing a fingertip along what looked like a feather etched underneath his collarbone.

"What's this?" You asked, feeling your insides quiver when he turned his brown eyes towards you. 

"It's a silver fern, my mom's Maori from New Zealand," Calum's voice was a sultry whisper.

"And this?" Your fingers slide down to the "Choose Life" on his chest.

"It's from Trainspotting and- OH," Calum moaned as you absentmindedly tugged his nipple.

"Do that again," Luke told you, his hand sliding down over his dick now a bulge in his black and red lifeguard trunks. 

You tugged, harder this time, and were rewarded with a sound somewhere between a moan and a hiss. Calum licked his lips before his mouth hung slightly open as your fingers traveled to the other one, repeating the motion. Both men moaned in response and Calum noticed Luke palming himself through his shorts.

"Enjoying the show?" He asked with a slight smirk.

"Oh my God yes," Luke responded, squeezing his cock slightly. "All I can think about is the two of you sucking me off." 

"I'm down for that," you reply. "What do you say Cal." 

Uncertainty crept into his expression and he paused, "I want to but I've never done that before."

"If you want I can show you," you offered, the idea had you excited like never before. 

"Is that ok?" Calum asked.

Luke's blue eyes went wide. "Fuck yes, please," he whispered.

You untied the drawstring on Luke's shorts and tugged them down past his hips letting his long cock spring free. Rock hard and leaking as you wrapped your hand around the shaft, you could feel his body react to your touch. You stood on your tiptoes and playfully kissed his lips before you sank to your knees in front of him. 

You looked up at Calum who was watching your intently, lips pursed in concentration. 

"You know what you like so start there. Personally I like to tease a bit to start off," you tell him, flicking your tongue around the tip. "You wanna keep it wet and keep it moving. I think spitting is gross but if you gag a little it gets everything nice and sloppy." You took Luke's cock in your mouth getting it slick and shiny as you bobbed your head, taking him further down your throat each time until your nose was almost touching his belly. 

"Oh shit," you heard Luke's growl above you as you came back up for air. You continued pumping him with your hand as you looked up at Calum. 

"Come on, you try," you beckoned to him. 

Calum was eager now, as he kneeled next to you, looked up at Luke, and wrapped his hand around your much smaller one as you stroked Luke's cock together. 

"Oh God," Luke moaned, the sight almost sending him over the edge. 

Calum leaned forward and brushed his lips against the taut skin before his tongue darted out to get his first taste. Luke's knees started to buckle and he leaned back against the break table which was inches behind his thighs. Calum hesitated, eyeing the table before glancing at you, but both you and Luke knew the table could easily hold his weight. 

"It's fine, keep going," you pulled back and gave his arm a nudge.

"Are you sure? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have no idea what I’m doing. I almost never do,” he replied.

"You're sucking a dick not disarming a bomb, just don't bite and you'll be fine," you told him with a giggle.

Calum swirled his tongue around the tip and you saw Luke grip the table's edge, his knuckles white. Calum began sucking, softly, and slowly before gaining confidence he built up a rhythm. Luke grunted, his eyes screwed shut and his chest heaved.

"Stop," he pleaded, "you're gonna make me cum too fast." 

Calum pulled back with a pop. "I thought that was the point,"  he smirked up at the older man.

"God what I wouldn't give to let you both take turns riding me," Luke moaned, grasping his cock tightly, fighting for control. 

"What's wrong Luke?" You reached up and ran your thumb along Calum's plump bottom lip. "His pretty mouth got you all excited. Thinking about how you're the first guy he's ever sucked off? About how lucky you are?

"You keep talking like that and you're gonna make me cum in my pants," Calum warned you.

"Not yet, I wanna help with that," Luke growled. 

"We gotta finish you first," Calum grinned and got back to work. Luke cursed loudly as his cock disappeared down the other man's throat. Calum stopped and almost pulled back but kept going. 

You looked up at Luke, he was staring down at the two of you with half-open eyes. You reached up and cupped his balls, giving them a gentle tug. That sent him over the edge.

"Oh shit I'm gonna come," Luke yelled, bucking his hips. Calum tried to swallow but he started coughing so he leaned back, cum dripping from his chin and splattering on his chest. You watched Luke fight to keep his eyes on Calum before they rolled back in his head as his knees shook and his breath escaped him in ragged gasps. 

He sank to the floor next to the two of you watching as you pulled Calum in for a kiss tasting Luke on his lips. When you broke away, Luke was there kissing you first and then Calum. 

"That was so good, let us take care of you now. I bet you're ready to burst. Let's see what we're working with here," he said as he reached into Calum's shorts. You both smiled as Luke pulled out a cock that was a bit shorter but thicker than Luke's. 

"Damn Cal, you've been holding out on me," you purred in his ear as you moved behind him. 

"I would've fucked you that night on the beach if you'd let me," he admitted.

"I was indisposed, but we'll have to make up for that," you tell him before you kissed your way up his neck.

"Raise up a bit," Luke told him as he pulled his shorts up before laying on the carpet. He positioned his head just under Calum's balls blowing on them as you reached around and massaged Calum's cock. "This is gonna be all I think about tomorrow at work. I'm gonna be rock hard sitting up in that chair just thinking about what I wanna do to the two of you." 

A huge thunderclap seems to shake the building and the lights flickered as your lips found Calum's neck as you nipped at his skin. You'd been fantasizing about marking up his throat and couldn't resist leaving a mark. He whined in response and pushed back into you before moaning as Luke's mouth went to work getting Calum's cock nice and wet before sucking and humming on his balls. You continued to suck tiny bruises on Calum's flesh as Luke's mouth stayed busy alternating between working over Calum and talking dirty. 

"I'd love to watch you fuck her before I come up behind you and take that ass. Imagine being between us, having your cock buried in her pussy while you're stretched and full," Luke told him and the idea gave you the most delicious thrill. The idea of Luke fucking Calum into you had you aching for your own release, but right now you wanted to make Calum feel good. You twisted your hand slightly as you stroked his cock.  Calum's head rolled back resting on your shoulder, moaning over and over as you kept one hand on his dick and the other tugged his nipples. You couldn't see what Luke was doing but you heard sucking noises between Calum's moans. 

"I'm getting close," Calum warned you. "Oh God keep doing that," he gasped and you could hear Luke humming as he sucked. 

You jerked him faster, concentrating on the tip, tugging his nipples harder as your teeth grazed along his shoulder. 

He erupted onto Luke's chest with an "Oh God" that was both a prayer and an exultation. Luke quickly moved so he was sucking the tip and the two of you worked together to drain every drop. 

Calum slumped back against you and you peppered his skin with kisses as you felt him shudder as he came down from his high. 

"That was incredible, I don't think I can feel my legs," Calum said as he shifted so he was no longer kneeling. 

"I bet," Luke laughed as he got up. He walked over to the sink in the corner by the refrigerator and grabbed some paper towels. He got himself cleaned up before bringing some back for you and Calum. 

"Are you ok?" Luke asked when he noticed you were breathing heavily. "Do you need your inhaler?" 

You reached out your hand so he could help you up. "I'm fine, that was just intense and I got excited," you winked at him as you stood up. He pulled on your arm and caused you to stumble and fall into his chest. He wrapped you in a cuddle and bent his lips closer to your ear.

"I haven't forgotten about you princess," Luke's words made you shiver with the anticipation. You could tell your panties were soaked and your core throbbed as Luke gripped your hips and lifted you on to the break table. He stepped between your legs and put this hand under your chin and pulled you in for a kiss. Calum was still on his tongue as it tangled with yours and you tasted his essence which was sweeter than Luke's. His hands tugged at your shirt and you broke away to let him lift it over your head. He kissed you again as you fumbled with your bra, unhooking it before you tossed it across the room. Luke's mouth moved to your breasts and you saw Calum still seated on the floor as he watched you with Luke, his eyes glazed over with lust.  

When your eyes met Calum jolted out of his gaze and scrambled to his feet. You almost laughed as he tripped over his own feet as he readjusted his shorts, but at that moment Luke's mouth closed over your stiff nipple and the laugh became a moan.

Luke's fingers were clawing at your waistband and you lifted your hips as he pulled your shorts and panties down at the same time. 

The rain was beating against the roof in sheets now, but you could barely hear it over the sound of your own heartbeat.

Luke spread your legs and stepped back to show Calum. "She how pretty and wet she is for us. We gotta give her something special as a thank you. Want me to show you how to make her squirm," Luke teased, running a finger in between your soaked folds, and you pushed your hips up with a frustrated grunt. 

"Nah," Calum looked you dead in the eye with the cockiest smirk you'd ever seen in your life.

"Trust me, I know what I'm doing. I've been fantasizing about this for weeks," he was talking to Luke but his eyes were on you. "Tell me princess, do you taste as good as you look. I bet you're as sweet and juicy as a pink Starburst." 

You don't even recognize the sound that escaped your lips when Calum's mouth moved between your thighs. His tongue danced and moved in ways you'd never experienced, curling inside you before swooping up between your lips and lapping up your nectar. His pillowy lips sucked on your clit alternating with soft cool puffs of air over your fevered skin.  

Luke buried you in a flurry of kisses and you didn't know where each one was going to land, your mouth, breasts, neck, belly, shoulders, along your hairline or on your fingertips. 

Calum was relentless, barely coming up for air as he buried his face in your pleasure. You felt like a live wire as your nerves danced under your skin while Calum's tongue found every pleasure spot. Your heels beat the table in time with the storm raging outside as your orgasm started to build. You wanted to praise him or cry out but Luke covered your mouth with his. 

You arched your back almost slamming your head back on the table as Calum furiously worked on achieving your high. He wasn't going to let up until you were screaming for him, and you gladly obliged. Your climax hit you hard enough to see stars and your whole body let go.

"Damn baby," Luke's voice was in your ear but sounded very far away. 

You tried to close your legs but Calum wouldn't let you. He held them open still sucking your clit his fingers buried inside you as he coaxed another orgasm out of you.  He moaned into your skin as you drenched his face, your thighs, and the table as you came undone. He didn't stop until you were whimpering from being overstimulated, and only then did he finally pro back. 

He stood up and grabbed Luke for a kiss leaving the tall blonde as breathless as you were. The storm was still raging but your heartbeat was returning to normal. You sat up, a bit embarrassed by the mess.

"Sorry about that, can one of y'all get some towels?" You ask even though you hated to interrupt them. 

"Don't apologize," Luke stroked your thigh, and Calum did as you asked. "That was the hottest thing I've ever seen." He looked over at Calum, "will you teach me how to make her squirt like that." 

"Hell yeah," Calum answered as he gently cleaned you up. He landed a tiny kiss on your nose. "Thank you," he whispered, almost too softly to be heard. You reached down and squeezed his hand as you shared a smile. 

"How about I help y'all close up and we head back to my apartment?" Luke asked. 

"Great idea, we'll order pizza and see where the night goes."  You slid off the table, wobbled a bit but Calum wouldn't let you fall.

"Sounds like a plan, boss," Calum grinned. "Can we get ice cream too?" 

"Sure, what flavor?" You asked as you pulled your shorts up and Luke tossed your bra to you.

"Strawberry," they answered in unison before you all cracked up.

"Oh this is gonna be a great summer," you called over your shoulder as you walked out of the room.

@kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995 @ghostofmashton @sexgodashton @sublimehood @ihatetigers @calteahood @5-secondsofcolor @tea4sykes @wildmichaelflower​ @noshamenion​ @punkrockpreferences​ @rosecolouredash​ @cal-pal-cuddles​ @damselindistressanu​

[goldstarsforall]

Dream SMP Big Band AU.

This is inspired by this AU https://archiveofourown.org/series/2001253 which is about a music conservatory. However, it is classical music and I play the saxophone in a big band. So I'm doing that.

Also, big band vibes are wild, I'm pretty sure my section leader is the reincarnation of Athena, completly unironically. 

Saxophone Section

Alto 1 Wilbur Soot. He is the leader of the saxophone section and is really good at it. Came from the clarinet and the guitar but to get into the band he needed to play a jazz instrument and decided that clarinets and saxes where just shiny recorders and went from there.

Alto 2: Tommy, wanted to play Tenor but didn't. Isn't good with improv but BOY DOES HE GO FOR IT. Sits next two tenor 2 and will not shut up. His music is covered in doodles and it makes Wilbur mad. He folds it up and he does not care.

Tenor 1: Techno. Absolute beast with the Tenor, can solo like a pro, has perfect pitch. Can do the wierd growly thing. Techno is the sort of person that can pick up any instrument and play it byt ohhhhhhh boyy. Tenor Sax. Would also be the leader if he wasn't bad at social interactions.

Tenor 2: Tubbo. Is trying very hard but he's not there just yet, he is still really good but isn't good at reading the music when Phil likes to switch it up and just play whatever and he has complicated hand signs and its chaotic.

Bari Sax: Niki. Plays the bari sax. Is hella strong. She has all the music in the right order and always has a pencil. Does killer solos when she is forced to and makes heavy eye contact with the brass section. Talks a lot with Fundy because she sits in front of the piano.

MORE UNDER THE CUT

Rhythm Section

Piano: Fundy, has a lot of music and not enough stands. He has a little fox keyring on his music bag and gets called a Furry. He takes his music home to practice and gets really bored of just playing chords in the background.

Drums: Eret, his favourite instrument is the cowbell. Used to play the clarinet in the wind band with Wilbur, Tommy and Tubbo but when he got the chance to move up to the Big Band he chose the drums. Absolute hates it when he just has to tap out a 4/4 rhythm.

Bass: BadBoyHalo, has to sit behind Tommy and he does not like it. He is a classically trained double bass player but just wanted to play fun music. Is fairly calm but unironically has a switchblade in his case for no reason and now he is a local band cryptid.

Guitar: Skeppy, he is far too energetic for the rhythm section but heh is amazing. Always complains about how heavy the amp is and messes up the extender cable box which means that Fundy gets upset.

Trumpet Section

Trumpet One: Dream, Is amazing. Absolutely amazing on the trumpet. Can do all the listening and solos perfectly, has a ‘rivalry’ with Techno. All his music is in the right order and he is sooo good. Does brass band and marching on the side but really enjoys the big band because of his friends. Can transpose music written in perfect keys.

Trumpet 2: Georgenotfound. Is just vibing, he is only second because he never shows up to practice but he doesn’t need to. Kept falling asleep on the band trip and keeps forgetting where his pencil is.

Trumpet 3: Callahan. Used to play the cornet but had to move up because they needed trumpets. Is very chill about playing third because he understands that it all works together to make the sound sound nice

Trumpet 4: Awesam. He dissapeared for a while and would have been in the same position as George but he decided to be fourth so he doesn't have to worry about being in charge of anything at all. Bad idea, he is now in charge of stacking chairs.

Trombone. (For some reason all the trombone players I know are meme lords.)

Trombone 1. Quackity. Glisses unironically. He knows the trombone memes and he will play them as a warm up. He's the type of guy that would wrap his trombone with tinsel at Christmas.

Trombone 2. Purpled. This man glisses 'ironically'. Tries to avoid the sax vs trumpet drama but still. Always tries to reach the low notes but his arms aren't long enough. Just wants to play the trombone.

Trombone 3. Karl. Really wants to be second but can't move up there until either purpled or quackity quits which is not going to happen. Has sided with both the trumpets and the saxes and is loyal to no insturment wars as he has played both in the past.

Bass Trombone: Captain Puffy. Makes eye contact with Niki to stay in time. Too small for her instrument but her personality makes up for it. I imagine she always has Slide lube, and she will knock music off with her slide.

Others that don't fit in.

Philza minecraft. Band leader. He plays sax and fell in love with jazz and now just wants to help the next generation. He's the person you name drop on your personal statement. Has complicated notes and plans for the band and you have to be clued into his hand signs because halfway through a piece he will go off ink and paper and you just have to know.

For example.

New member: Where are we.

Niki: At part C again.

New member: I thought he said the repeat was to part b

Tubbo: that's what he said. But then he patted his head which means go back to the rhythm. And so Techno's gonna solo over this and then we play backing when the trumpet solo happen. Play part h, go back to D and then we play it through and repeat to B

New member: O-Kay

[thekillerssluts]

Will Butler explains how his Harvard degree developed into his second solo album

“Yeah, it’s terrifying,” Will Butler says, pondering how it feels to be releasing music away from the umbrella of Arcade Fire.

“It’s the classic thing about all writers,” he continues. “The creative process makes them wanna puke the whole time they’re writing something, then they read something back and it makes them feel worse, then a year later they read it and think ‘yeah, it’s okay’. It’s a glorious experience, but it really makes your stomach hurt.”

On the one hand Will Butler is well accustomed to this writing process, being a multi-instrumentalist in the Canadian indie-rock band fronted by brother Win - Arcade Fire. But on his own terms, it’s an entirely new process. Butler’s second solo album Generations arrives five years after his debut Policy, a collection that rattled with a ramshackle charm and what he describes now as a ‘consciously very unproduced’ sound. Arcade Fire wound down from their Everything Now tour in September 2018, leaving Butler with the last two years of playtime. Most musicians, particularly those accustomed to big album cycles, set aside their downtime for family or other musical projects. Somehow Butler’s managed to do both while also completing a masters degree in Public Policy at Harvard.

“I went to school for a variety of reasons but there was an artistic side to it too,” he says. “I have always tried to let music and lyrics emerge from the world that I’m in; you fertilise the soil and see what grows. It was a way to better understand where we are, how we got here and what's going on. You know, ‘where am I from? What's going to happen?’” Both of these questions explored in his degree are used as fuel for Generations.

It’s easy to imagine an album by somebody who’s just pursued a Public Policy MSt to form in reams of political commentary, probably set to an acoustic guitar. However, Butler instead engages character portraits soundtracked by a broad range of thrilling sonics. Opener “Outta Here” is shrouded by a monstrous bass that lurks beneath the depths of the instrumentation before bursting out midway through. “Got enough things on my plate without you talking about my salvation,” he screams.

While the cage-rattling “Bethlehem” is mania underpinned by a thrashing guitar and bubbling synths that help lift the track to boiling point.While there’s no current world leaders namechecked or any on-the-nose political commentary across the LP, the angst of its contents is instantly tangible, backed by the intellect of somebody who’s spent the past few years studying the ins and outs of government processes. A perfect combination, you could say.

This fuel was partly discovered through Butler reconnecting with the music that defined his teenage years: namely Bjork, The Clash and Eurythmics. While these influences certainly slip into frame across Generations, they were paired with something of an unlikely muse: “I got into this habit of listening to every single song on the Spotify Top 50 every six weeks,” Butler explains. “So many of them are horrible, terrifying and just awful but there’s something inspiring about how god damn avant garde the shittiest pop music is now. Just completely divorced from any sense of reality - it’s just layers upon layers upon layers - it’s amazing. It’s like Marcel Duchamp making a pop hit every single song.”

We turn from current music to current events. Navigating Covid-19 with his wife and three kids in their home of Brooklyn, a majority of 2020 has been caught up in family time for Butler. “The summer’s been easier because everybody’s outside, whereas in spring it was like ‘it’s family time because we have to lock our doors as there's a plague outside.’” While being surrounded by the trappings of lockdown since his second solo album Generations was completed in March, the album itself wriggles with the spirit of live instrumentation, which at this point seems like some sort of relic from a bygone era."I think eventually rediscovering this album back in the live setting would be amazing - we’re a really great live band, it’s a shame to not be in front of people."

The source of this energy can be traced back to the way the songs came together; they were forged and finessed at a series of shows in the early stages of the project. “It just raises the stakes. You can tell how good or how dumb a lyric is when you sing it in front of a hundred people,” he reflects. “It’s like ‘are you embarrassed because what you’re saying is true?’ or ‘is it just embarrassing?’ It’s a good refiner for that stuff. I think eventually rediscovering this album back in the live setting would be amazing - we’re a really great live band, it’s a shame to not be in front of people.”

Like his day job in Arcade Fire, Butler’s solo live group is something of a family affair - both his wife and sister-in-law feature in the band, alongside Broadway's West Side Story star, and the student of the legendary Fela Kuti drummer, Tony Allen. Together this eclectic mix of musicians conjures an infectious spirit through the raw combination of thundering synths and pedal-to-the-metal instrumentation; an apt concoction indeed for lyrics that are attempting to unhatch the bamboozling questions that surround our current times.

The timing for Butler’s decision to study Public Policy couldn’t have been more perfect, with his course starting in the Fall of 2016. “I was at Harvard for the election which was a really bizarre time to be in a government school, but it was great to be in a space for unpacking questions like ‘my god, how did we get here?!’” he reflects, with a note of mockery in the bright voice.

“I had a course taught by a professor named Leah Wright Rigueur. The class was essentially on race in America but with an eye towards policy. The class explored what was going to happen in terms of race under the next president. The second to last week was about Hilary Clinton and the last week was about Donald Trump. We read riot reports - Ferguson in 2015, Baltimore in 2016, the Detroit uprisings in the ‘60s and Chicago in 1919 - it's certainly helping me understand the last 5 years, you know. Just to be in that context was very lucky.”

As we’ve seen with statues being toppled, privileges being checked and lyrics of national anthems being interrogated in recent months, history is a complex, labyrinthine subject to navigate requiring both ruthless self-scrutiny and a commitment to the long-haul in order to correct things. The concept of Generations shoots from the same hip employing character portraits to engage in the broader picture.

The writing, at times, is beamed from a place of disconnect (“had enough of bad news / had enough of your generation”), from a place of conscious disengagement (“I’m not talking because I don’t feel like lying / if you stay silent you can walk on in silence”) and from a place of honest self-assessment (“I was born rich / three quarters protestant / connections at Harvard and a wonderful work ethic”).

“I’m rooted in history to a fault,” he says. “My great grandfather was the last son of a Mormon pioneer who’d gone West after being kicked out of America by mob violence. He wanted to be a musician which was crazy - he got 6 months in a conservatory in Chicago before his first child was born. He always felt like he could have been a genius, he could of been writing operas but he was teaching music in like tiny western towns and he had all these kids and he made them be a family band and they were driving around the American west before there were roads in the deserts - literally just driving through the desert! He would go to these small towns and get arrested for trying to skip bills and just live this wild existence.”

Butler’s grandma, meanwhile, was just a child at this point. She went on to become a jazz singer with her sisters and married the guitar player Alvino Rey. “The fact that me and my brother are musicians is no coincidence,” he smiles. “It’s not like I decided to be a musician, it’s down to decisions that were made at the end of the 19th century that have very clearly impacted where I am today. The musical side of it is very beautiful, it is super uncomplicated and a total joy to have a tradition of music in our family...but also in the American context - which is the only context I know - it's also these very thorny inheritances from the 19th century and beyond that influence why my life is like it is.

“For me it’s like, ‘I made my money because my grandpa was a small business owner’ or ‘my grandpa was a boat builder and got a pretty good contract in WW2 and was able to send his kids to college’. Both of which are so unpoetic and unromantic but it is an important thing to talk about, that's a personal political thing to talk about; there's horrifying and beautiful aspects there.”

The lament of “I’m gonna die in a hospital surrounded by strangers who keep saying they’re my kids” on “Not Gonna Die” could well be croaked by somebody on the tail end of a life lived on the American Dream. At times, Butler plays the characters off against each other, like on “Surrender,” which chronicles two flawed characters going back and forth played by Butler’s lead vocals and his female backing singers that undermine his memory; “I remember we were walking” is cut up with the shrug of “I dunno” and “maybe so”. “I found having the backing voices there gave me something to play with,” he explains. “Either something threatening to the main character or something affirming to the main character, just providing another point of view.”

Elsewhere, “I Don’t Know What I Don’t Know” explores the feeling of being unsuitably equipped to unravel the complexities that surrounds us day-to-day. “The basic emotion of that song is very much ‘I don’t know what I can do’ which is an emotion we all have,” he ponders. “There’s also the notion that follows that, like ‘maybe don’t even tell me what to do because it’s going to be too overwhelming to even do anything’.”

Some of these portraits materialised in the aftershows Butler began hosting while on Arcade Fire’s Everything Now tour which found him instigating conversations and talks by local councilman, politicians and activists on local issues. “On some of the good nights of the aftershow town halls, you’d feel that switch away from despair and into action,” he says smiling. “The step between despair and action is possible, that sentiment isn’t spelled out lyrically on the record but it’s definitely there spiritually.”

“I learned anew what a treasure it is to have people in a room. Getting humans in a room can be absurd. And we were having from 5,000 to 15,000 people in a room every night, most of them local. I’m very comfortable with art for art’s sake; I think art is super important and it’s great people can like music that's not political. It was sort of like ‘well we’re here and I know a lot of you are thinking about the world and you’re thinking about what a shit show everything is. You want to know what we can do and I also want to know what we can do!’ So I put on these after shows.”"The dream lineup would be to have a local activist and a local politician talking about a local issue because that’s the easiest way to make concrete change."

Butler would find a suitable location near the Arcade Fire gig through venue owners who were often connected to the local music and comedy scenes to host these events. “The dream lineup would be to have a local activist and a local politician talking about a local issue because that’s the easiest way to make concrete change. Arguably, the most important way is through the city council and state government. The New York state government is in Albany, New York. The shit that happens in Albany is all super important so I wanted to highlight that and equip people with some concrete levers to pull.

“In Tampa we had people who were organizing against felon disenfranchisement, like if you’ve been convicted of a felon you couldn’t vote in Florida, and something absurd like 22% of black men in Florida couldn’t vote and there were people organising to change that - this was in 2018 - and you could just see people being like ‘holy shit, I didn't even know this was happening!’

“These were not topics I’m an expert in - it’s like these are things that are happening. The thought was trying to engage, I’m sad to not be doing something similar this Fall, I mean what a time it would have been to go around America.”

Understandably the looming 2020 election is on Butler’s radar. “It doesn't feel good,” he sighs. “I’ve never had any ability to predict, like 2 weeks from now the world could be completely different from what it is today. There was always a one-in-a-billion chance of the apocalypse and now it's like a one-in-a-million chance which is a thousand times more likely but also unlikely. It’s going to be a real slog in the next couple of years on a policy side, like getting to a place where people don’t die for stupid reasons, I’m not even talking about the coronavirus necessarily just like policy in general. Who knows, it could be great but it seems like it's going to be a slog.”

There’s a moment on the closing track “Fine”, a stream-of-consciousness, Randy Newman-style saloon waltz, where Butler hits the nail on the head. “George [Washington], he turned to camera 3, he looked right at me and said...I know that freedom falters when it’s built with human hands”. It’s one of the many lyrical gems that surface throughout the record but one that chimes with an undeniable truth. It’s the same eloquence that breaks through as he touches on the broad ranging subjects in our conversation, always with a bright cadence despite the gloom that hangs over some of the topics.

The live show is without a doubt Arcade Fire’s bread and butter. While Butler questions how realistic the notion of getting people in packed rooms in the near future is, he reveals the group are making movements on LP6. “Arcade Fire is constantly thinking about things and demoing, it's hard to work across the internet but at some point we’ll get together. It probably won’t be much longer than our usual album cycle,” he says.

You only have to pick out one random Arcade Fire performance on YouTube to see Butler’s innate passion bursting out, whether it’s early performances that found him and Richard Reed Parry adorning motorbike helmets annihilating each other with drumsticks to the 1-2-3 beat of “Neighbourhood #2 (Laika)” or the roaring “woah-ohs” that ascend in the anthem of “Wake Up” every night on tour. It’s an energy that burns bright throughout our conversation and across Generations.

https://www.thelineofbestfit.com/features/interviews/arcade-fires-will-butler-new-solo-record-generations

[monstersandmaw]

Embers - Dragon Shifter Romance story, Part Four (sfw)

It’s Friday, so here's Chapter Four! Again, it's longer than I'd intended, but that's ok, right?

Last week we got to see a bit more of our prickly new horned friend and he mentioned that he might have a job for us... 

One, Two, Three

“A job?” you asked, tilting your head with interest. His quick, golden eyes tracked the movement and the harsh line of his pale mouth softened a little more.

“Yes. My department at the University is holding…” he broke off and sighed. He took off his round glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m almost embarrassed to admit to you what the event is. It’s so… cliché…”

As your own mouth twisted into an amused grin at his obvious awkwardness, Mikaeïl looked up at you and rolled his eyes.

“I don’t even know what your department is,” you said. “I don’t know what you do at the University; you could be manager of the stationary supplies for all I know…”

He bristled visibly at that, and then caught himself before he could allow his pride to get the better of him. “I am a research professor in the Department of Criminology. I specialise in forensic anthropology, especially in cases which involve magic and, or, necromancy.”

Your eyes went wide. “Holy crap,” you breathed. “I barely even know what those even words mean…” You cleared your throat and ventured, “So… like… you study dead people and what happened to them?”

He shrugged and left the conservatory to go and rescue your brewing tea before it stewed and went bitter. Over his shoulder as he walked away, red hair swinging down his back, he said, “In a nutshell. I can tell you more about it if you’re really interested.”

“I’m always interested in stuff I know nothing about,” you admitted somewhat eagerly. “I’m the cat whose curiosity will get the better of me one day, I’m sure…”

In response, you heard a low, warm, rumbling chuckle from the other side of the kitchen. There was something about it that spoke of an altogether bigger creature than Mikaeïl was, and though you had your suspicions about him, you weren’t entirely sure what he was precisely. He hadn’t been exactly forthcoming when you’d had a go at guessing earlier, shutting your ‘tiefling’ line of questioning down immediately.

A few minutes later, he returned with a china mug of tea and gracefully set it on the table beside the sofa in the conservatory, but he didn’t take a seat beside you. He remained standing with his arms hugged defensively across his slim chest, hands cupping his sharp elbows. The white shirt and black waistcoat and trousers made him look harsh and almost unfriendly, but his eyes were gentle enough.

“Well,” he said, “The department is hosting a charity event in a few months, and we’re looking for someone to design some posters for it.”

“What’s the event?” you asked. “You’re going to have to tell me eventually if you want me to work up some sketches for you…”

“It’s a murder mystery evening,” he said flatly.

“People actually do those?” you asked. “And what’s wrong with -”

“It’s the criminology department,” he said slowly, somewhat patronisingly. “It’s…” he shuddered.

Instead of elaborating, he rolled his eyes again and crossed to the glass door of the conservatory, keeping his back to you as he stared out at the lawns of the gardens beyond.

“They do a charity event - usually for rich benefactors it has to be said - every year. This year they decided to host a murder mystery event set in a 1920s jazz club…” When you didn’t immediately respond, he glanced over his shoulder at you and your amused and intrigued expression must have caught him off guard because he added, “You actually think that sounds like fun, don’t you?”

You shrugged, a bit embarrassed for being enthusiastic about it when he clearly thought it was ridiculous. “You want me to come up with some sketches? I don’t have all that long before Celia finishes her lesson, but I could rough out at least a few ideas now, if you wanted.”

“What would you charge?” he asked. “I shouldn’t ask you to go ahead before I’ve cleared it with the administrative staff of the department…”

You waved your hand. “I’ll doodle a few ideas now anyway,” you said. “I’d like to.”

He fixed you with an odd look that might have hidden a good amount of bafflement at your offer, but he nodded. “If you’d like to, then I’d be most grateful.”

You grinned and sipped your tea. “Oh, that’s delicious,” you murmured, eyeing the steaming cup for a moment.

“I’m glad.”

So, while he fell still, gazing silently out at the gardens with a thousand-mile stare on his sharply-beautiful face, you roughed out a few ideas that involved variations on a knocked over martini glass and a few splotches of blood.

It was only when the patter of small boots across the kitchen floor, closely followed by the clop of hooves, drew your attention off the page that you realised how lost you’d become in the sketches. The only thing which had halfway drawn your attention away from the soft strokes of pencil on paper had been the delicious tea.

Celia flapped her dusky brown wings in excitement and you saw that she had her flute in one hand and a sheet of music in the other. “Look!” she half-screeched, wings flapping. Her whirlwind entry of excitement and enthusiasm made Mikaeïl jump which, in turn, made Frankie chuckle. “Listen! I learned a tune!”

“Already?” you asked, abandoning the sketch pad on the sofa beside you and turning your attention completely onto her. “You going to play it for me?”

She nodded and thrust the page at you so you could hold it up for her. Frankie gave you a thumbs up over her shoulder and she brought the flute to her lips and began to play. It was… pretty ropey, but then again she’d only been learning for an hour in total. She played ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’ in a breathy, squeaky, faltering melody, and when she was done, she grinned at you in triumph.

“That’s amazing!” you said, and you meant it. “You’ve learned to read those notes and play them in that short time?”

She nodded. “It’s actually not that hard,” she said a little pompously.

“Well then, I take it you like your new teacher? You can tell your papa too when we get home.”

Her nod this time was vehement. “Frankie’s so cool,” she said and you grinned up at Frankie, whose cheeks had flushed an attractive pink.

The ovine satyr ran a hand through his woolly white blond curls and grinned. “She’s a natural, I’ve got to say,” he smiled.

“Looks like we’ll be coming back,” you said, turning to look at Mikaeïl. Your words died when you saw that he had stooped to pick up your sketch book and was holding it in his slender fingers as if it were some kind of holy relic, staring at your drawings. “Something wrong?” you asked.

He didn’t respond, and Frankie trotted over to him and dug him in the ribs. Mikaeïl’s lips peeled back into a tiny snarl, but Frankie just ignored him and looked at the page of the sketchbook and whistled. “Bloody -” he broke off, remembering that there was a child present, and finished with, “I mean… Holy smokes! You’re one talented artist!”

You kept your eyes on Mikaeïl and asked, “You like it?”

He swallowed thickly, his throat working visibly. When he met your eyes, his own were glassy and almost teary, which struck you as odd. “Yes,” he croaked, his voice rough and raw. “Very much. I’d like to hire you for this, if you want to do it.”

There was something going on beneath the surface here, you were sure of it, but you nodded slowly and agreed. “Talk to your department and let me know what the budget is. I’m not normally that expensive when I do freelance stuff anyway. Assuming the University will handle the printing costs…”

“I’d cover the difference myself anyway,” he murmured.

You shot another look at Frankie and he shrugged mutely, as nonplussed about the depth of Mikaeïl’s reaction as you were. Celia stood there, seeming a bit deflated now that the attention had moved away from her after her debut performance, so you cleared your throat and stood, finishing the last mouthful of tea and taking it over to the sink in the kitchen.

When you returned, Mikaeïl seemed to have recovered, and his usual frosty exterior had returned. “Your art style is perfect for this,” he said, handing you back your sketchbook. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Right,” you said, feeling distinctly off-balance from his strange reaction.

At a reprimanding glare from Frankie, Mikaeïl’s shoulders dropped a little and he chuckled. “May I assume you’ll be coming back next week with Celia?”

“Please?” Celia interrupted, her attention drawn by the mention of her name. “Can we?”

“You’ll have to tell your papa what you learned,” you smiled, “But I think he’ll be happy enough to let you continue your lessons with Frankie if you’re enjoying them.”

“Yes!” she hissed, pumping her fist and spreading her wings broad for a moment before tucking them in.

You had to smile, and it even drew a smirk from Mikaeïl. “Well,” you said, “I look forward to hearing from you then,” you said. “You’ve got my number after all…”

“That I have,” he said, and to your surprise, he walked past you and pulled a ragged paper napkin out of a kitchen drawer.

He held it between his finger and thumb with surprising gentleness, as though it were a lady’s favour and he a knight at a tournament, worried about smudging it. The thought immediately seemed preposterous to you and you snorted with laughter, hoping a second later that he didn’t take it the wrong way.

“Until next week,” he said, his baritone clipped and stiff, showing you out of the kitchen and escorting you to the front doors of his grand mansion.

As you and Celia headed back to your battered old car, you heard Mikaeïl give a soft ‘oof’ and a second later caught Frankie’s hissed, “You’re a fucking idiot, Kae, you know that?”

“Yes,” he said wearily. “I have been told as much once or twice in my lifetime,” came his rather melancholic response before you had closed the door and were concentrating on making sure Celia’s seatbelt was done up.

When you looked up to wave goodbye, you found that the front door had been closed and the house had fallen silent once again.

Part Five

—

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[joe-young-stories]

A Week.

Hey, new to tumblr. This is something I wrote in an enclosed, dodgy Christian community in 2018.

The last time I saw Dad in person I was seventeen, and I’d either just finished my A-levels or I was halfway through them. I’d seen him a year before, for Grandad’s funeral. After we’d got home from the wake I’d nicked a crate of Guinness, and thrown up on my suit. I’d thrown up all over the guest bed as well, and I’d left all the empty cans in the waste paper basket. I told my dad that the emotional stress of the funeral must have affected me, and I didn’t really give a shit about the fact that he knew.

This time it was summer, and it was that one week of the British summer that is actually scorching hot. Dad was waiting for me at Oxford train station for my visit. Visa Skank was there too. Visa Skank is my dad’s Russian wife, and perhaps she married him for a visa or perhaps she really loves him. I’ve never actually had anything against her. It was rude, offensive, calling her Visa Skank, but it made me feel really savage and clever back then.  This day at Oxford train station she was in her late forties, and she was wearing this shimmer- shimmer peach linen halter top harem pants combo thing with a dainty cream pashmina and a big floppy straw hat. She was basically just easy mockery.

We went straight from the station to this ultra quaint Riverside pub/restaurant garden. I had Peronis. I had a burger too. We didn’t really have a conversation because Visa had seen a picturesque riverside photo opportunity, and she had my dad take pictures of her next to a drainage sluice for almost an hour, at different angles and filter settings. At the end we walked back through the pub to get to the car and she started draping herself mystically around rustic beams and cosy fireplaces, or sat herself next to like, napkin dispensers that pleased her. And my dad took more pictures. I just wanted to get back to the house. I don’t remember too much more from the meal.

In the daytimes that followed I fell into a routine. Dad would wake up late (his teaching job at the schools wasn’t on) and he might mooch about or he might go into Oxford, or he might just go to Headington High Street. Visa Skank had a busy social schedule attending a young mum’s social club in the Florence Park Cafe. She would spend a lot of time there. I would wake up and take a walk into Central Oxford. And I would stop for a pint in the White Horse, where we used to go for Lunch when I was little. In town I would walk the old streets around the Radcliffe Camera, and this was back when I had academic ambition before I stopped caring about most things, and the scholarly atmosphere excited me. I walked past the cathedral boys’ school – my first school—and into the Eagle and Child, or the Kings Arms, or the Turf Tavern. I would read Franz Kafka stories or Iris Murdoch novels or I’d listen to pretentious students talk shit and praise myself for being more intelligent than them. After a few pints I’d saunter back over Magdelen Bridge and back up towards the house in Headington.

Dad’s house had changed a lot over the years. The retro porn PC used to be in the dining room, and all my 9 year old self used to do at my dad’s was either play SimCity on that computer or watch Dad’s porn. He’d archived literally thousands of pictures, all categorised according to hair/boobs/race etc. Albums of particular stars. I got up early at that age, and if you were proper stealth about it could get up with the dawn and watch a four second clip of a woman getting pleasured by a mechanised shoe buffer. Only if you were stealth though. The computer screen could be seen from the stairs via the dining room mirror. You had to listen for footsteps. God forbid that Visa or even Grandad would walk in. View me wanking it to Dad’s shoe buffer porn.

Now though the house layout was different. Grandad had been a cantankerous twat since Nan died, and all he ever did was sit in the living room watching cartoons and chat shows. GMTV, Pokemon, Digimon, Homes under the Hammer. That was all I ever saw him do on visits to my dad’s.  I left him to it.

But he started losing control of his faculties, and Dad and I would walk in from the pub to a stray smell of nappies, the CBBC channel playing in the background. His osteoporosis got worse. The last time he was alive I was seventeen and he’d been moved to a hospice. He was half asleep next to his colostomy bag but he murmured a greeting and a goodbye. The three of us, Grandad, Dad and me, sat in near silence for approximately fifteen minutes. “Good to see you, Grandad,” I said to him as I was leaving. Grandad had written “to a very impressive grandson” on my birthday card seven months previously.

While Grandad was dying his house was being renovated. The dining room and kitchen had been knocked together into this rustique farmhouse experience, with a big beaten up pine table, a pine dresser and a freshly installed aga. An aga in a nineteen thirties semi. There were a lot of wholesome wicker baskets bought in and gooseberry jam jars were placed in them for effect. Next door the garage was knocked down and a den/conservatory/stargazing lounge/music studio was built. The living room, where Grandad watched all the kids TV, and which I was told was always going to be “His Space” had had all the carpets ripped out and new sofas put in. Floor to ceiling bookshelves covered every wall, and they were all full of this intelligentsia Russian shit no one read. The retro porn PC was upstairs in Dad’s bedroom now, so after I got back from Oxford that last week I’d sit in the conservatory on my laptop. Sometimes if my dad was around I’d bring up an attractive female friend’s Facebook profile and wait for him to ask me about it. He’d talk about organic food and hand picking your own raspberries, and how Russian customs and traditions were the best way to live. But most of those afternoons he was upstairs in his bedroom checking his email, which took about two hours and was a pretty full-on activity for him. If Visa was at home she’d make still life displays from Kitsch crap she found in charity shops. And she’d do photoshoots. Most of the time she was out though. Presumably with the young mums.

When I was downstairs on my own I would drink from the many, many bottles available on the farmhouse shelf. I never drank in front of Dad, but I’d never bother hiding how drunk I was getting either. A little bit of gin, little bit of vodka, whiskey, white rum.

I’d always done this. When I was about twelve, thirteen, fourteen I’d go through Dads bedroom and raid his wardrobe. I’d find his extensive magazine stash and his books on “Tantric Passion”, “The Multi Orgasmic Man”, “Make Her see you Mean Commitment”. I’d find the hamper full of Bombay Sapphire bottles; I never questioned the water bottles full of urine next to his bed. I wasn’t subtle. I’d try and incite his scorn, his discipline, his parental authority. I’d find glow in the dark condoms in his bedside drawers, and I’d take them out of the packets and leave them under his pillow like a treasure hunt. I would neck a bottle of chardonnay, refill it with tap water and leave it in the fridge for him to find. He’d look at the bottle, look at me, deliberate and stammer “I must have rinsed it out for recycling and put it back on autopilot.” I don’t think he knew me well enough to confront me. He once drove me back to mums with me throwing up ass the way down the M40, and we both agreed that I must have eaten some “ropey” quiche.

I didn’t want Dad to parent me anymore; I just didn’t really care. So while Dad was upstairs checking his email I’d access the WiFi and watch naked men beat each other, and I’d masturbate and drink gin. I think on the Tuesday of that week he found me full-on passed out in the stargazing conservatory, sleeping it off. Later on he’d said something about travelling being exhausting, especially across London, and it always took a few days for the mind to properly relax on holiday. I agreed.

In the evenings we’d go out to a pub, the Vicky Arms or The Chestnut or something. I would tell Dad what A levels I was doing. I’d namedrop attractive female friends quite a lot, and talk about parties I went to with them. I’d wait for him to be like, “Are they pretty?”, “Are they into you?”, “Like yeah, get in, my son!”, “Well done, boyo!” and things like that. Visa would come with us. She’d sit there in peach tracksuit bottoms and some kind of burgundy flamenco/matador top, and she would say things like, “Never microwave food because it changes the molecules. Did you know this? We go through a recipe book and you will find meals you would like to try.” We might order popcorn from behind the bar. Visa might demand a photo shoot of her next to an inspiring sunset or whatever.

At home Dad and Visa would go to bed in Grandads old room. Nans room, now the guest bedroom, was being fitted with a “Roman balcony” so I slept on a blow up bed in the living room with all the Russian volumes. I’d drink more whiskey and watch a comedy show about teenage lesbians.

That was it, really. The last week I saw my dad was fairly uneventful. Mundane. If it wasn’t for the fact that it was the last time I saw him I doubt I would have remembered it

Only two events stand out in particular. On the Thursday of that week Dad was playing at a jazz and tango concert at a bar/club in Wantage. He did concerts like that to keep money coming in when the schools weren’t on. Visa took tango lessons down at the community centre, and she’d met a new friend and tango partner called Allan. He had had a stroke and divorce in a five year period and had taken early retirement, so I was told. So I was briefed. Briefed why? I didn’t care.

Allan met us at the house. We all sat about having a back garden beer and then Dad and I set off for Wantage. Allan’s and Visa came later, in Allan’s car, which he could still drive all post stroked up apparently. We had another pint in a pub in Wantage. Dad introduced me to the concept of a “Session Beer”. Advice I have never followed.

Dad gave me money for the evening and then left me to my own devices. I sat on the balcony and drank a lot of Stella, and from my vantage point I could see Dad playing onstage. I could see Visa and Allan as well, and she had her head on his shoulder and he was holding her close around the lower back. This didn’t look particularly tango-ey, but Visa had told me on one pub evening that tango was more about feeling than steps. “Feeling. Yes?” she had said with gusto. This was the passion of the dance I was watching, then. Dad had told me in the car that tango was Allan’s hobby, it’s what got him out the house, like his physio. I looked at Dad, and he was playing some sassy chords on the piano, watching the two of them become one with the dance. He didn’t do anything else. He just sat there, watching them get on with it. I finished one of my Stellas, and later on I thought to myself that he looked like a drooping bunch of flowers in a vase, half dead. A bit sad, maybe. A bit lacking. I was quite proud of myself for thinking of that. It felt very grown up.

Two days later we were having a back garden beer, Dad and I. The garden had changed, and where a swingset once stood there was now a very wholesome vegetable plot. Beyond that was a washing line. It was one of those washing lines with one pole in the ground, and it folded out like an upside down pyramid. You could spin it around for ease of pegging/unpegging. I looked at the washing line and remembered my eight year old self playing by it. I had been playing with a football. I was staying with him for a few weeks or so over the summer. I was out there, by myself, with the football. But I liked to pretend I was playing with all the other children I knew from school. Kids who were actually busy with their own friendship groups or who called me poofty boy by the wildlife pond. But when I was playing with them by myself they were all like, “I did not see this coming! We have not appreciated your serious skills! Hey guys, check out this Baller!” and none of them called me a poofty boy by the wildlife pond.  

I had devised a game where you had to throw the ball into the opened up washing line to score a point. Dad came outside just as I was about to land the sickest shot from ten feet away, the shot which was going to blow George and his gang away, and was going to make Sadia and Carrie-Ann think I was total boyfriend material. He asked me if I wanted anything to eat.

And I really don’t know what came over me, but I said something along the lines of “I’m playing a game. We have to get the ball off each other and get it in the net. Do you want to play?”                          

“Oh, right!” was something like he said “Yes alright then, I will”. I’d never played a game with Dad before, and we were both a bit hesitant. Like, do we just…start, or what? I chucked the ball at the line and missed, and he grabbed it. We ran around the garden, playing the game. He scored a point. I scored a point.  At one point he wrestled me to the ground to get the ball off me, and then helped me up. I remember laughing and smiling, being out of breath. I was tense, too. How did things like this come to a logical end? Did, like, the session finish?  Was there a way for this to end without Dad having to just be really rude? Like: “I’m sorry Joe, but I need to stop doing this at this point and go back to my day. You are welcome to continue though.” How did it work? After approximately fifteen minutes it mercifully started raining, and we went inside. It was the only time we ever played the game.

Sitting and having a beer with my dad that last week was the last time I looked at the garden, or indeed spent any time with him. Halfway through our drink Visa came out of the stargazing conservatory doors, and she was wearing a floor length lacy white gown, a white bonnet and silky white gloves. She was carrying a large wicker hamper, and she put the hamper down and pulled out a silver teapot. “I am English lady at tea,” she said, and she raised the teapot in the air. Then she laid the patio table for a country manor high tea, and started demanding a photoshoot. I went inside.

The next day I was due to go home. I woke up that morning to find that I’d drunk too much and pissed the blow up bed. I put my soggy boxers in a plastic bag, and I covered the damp sheet with my duvet and left it to fester.

I hardly spoke to dad after that week. There was no reason to most of the time. I rang him twice to ask for money, once to say merry Christmas can I have some money and once to tell him I’d just left rehab. In 2018 I had written to him to tell him he was a cunt and I wanted to burn his house down. “Past wounds” with my Father had become a significant part of my “Life Story” by that point, and I thought that sending such a horrible letter might activate a Life Event in some way, some dramatic finale.

Dad has always had his settings such that I can’t find him on Facebook, so I have to log in as my mum to see his profile. Him and Visa quote Oscar Wilde and Shakespeare sonnets on each other’s pages. Visa’s profile has about 64 photo albums. They’re all called things like “Casserole dishes on the patio”, “Beauty In Autumn”, “Sensuous mermaid has adventure”.  Her name isn’t actually Visa Skank. All the photo albums are silly and innocuous. When I’m drunk, or self pitying, or feeling like a victim, or all of the above I sometimes find myself thinking about the game me and Dad played with the washing line and the football.

[thepilgrimofwar]

Liminal

[Follow up to: The Door for Him Backstory for Context: The Curious Case of Apartment 547 Musical Embellishment: Go Tomorrow]

1.

Two and a half years. Two and a half, long, bloody years. Through war, famine, and the chaos that proceeded in their aftermath, Zharia had looked for her father. The Sunguard had said that he was deserter--that the final lead they had of his whereabouts was the ship that had smuggled him out of Quel’thalas at the very height of the Phoenix Wars.

But she knew Arrenir better than that. Her father did not run. When backed into a corner with nothing to lose, he’d have thrown himself into the fire over and over again until he or his enemies were dead. He must have taken that ship for a good reason, she just needed to figure out why.

For two and a half years, she had searched. Now, at last, her leads had finally brought her to Apartment 547.

Technically no one owned it anymore. All three co-owners were dead or presumed dead. Even so, getting the keys from the City Council of Dalaran was no issue, seeing that she was a blood relative to one of them. But when she slotted the key into the front door, she realized that it had not been locked.

Zharia swallowed hard, both excited and afraid of what she might find here. She prayed, Light upon Light, she prayed that she would not find her father’s corpse upstairs. Not after everything they had been through together, not after she had brought him back, and not after almost losing him to misery during The Fall. 

But Apartment 547 seemed normal. A layer of dust had taken residence upon the sheet covered furniture. The pots that Lirelle had left in their conservatory had become soil beds for new life. The kitchen and dining table, where there had been so much laughter and joy in the past, stood still with a contented silence. There was no death to be found here. No blackened stains of old blood, no smells of rot.

Zharia made her way up the stairs as rays of sunlight pierced the frosted windows of the apartment. It highlighted the dust that she was disturbing, coiling and floating upwards as she slid her palms over the guard rails. She had never visited personally but from the way Arrenir used to laugh at the time, she knew that the best years of his life were spent here. The rooms on the second floor were empty, save for the smell of sunbaked linen. Excitement had begun to fade as the fear that this was yet another pointless lead filled her heart.

But her fear quickly turned to dread when she made it to the top floor and saw the door at the end of the hallway. It was ajar.

No you fool. No, no, no.

Arrenir had told her about the doors long ago. He had wanted to get her opinion on their nature, seeing that she was a woman of logic and reason. Zharia had told him that they were the workings of a man who could not let go of a past--much like he used to be. She had warned him to be careful with them, lest they tempt him with their empty promises.

She was immune to the alluring claims that they could take you back in time, because unlike many others--often the ones who were time obsessed--she was not as naive. Zharia knew that in order to get where she was today, many things needed to have fallen in place exactly as they did. 

Even so, she could not deny that the thought of going back and fixing past mistakes was attractive, but the idea also opened up the possibility of so many other things going wrong. So in the end, she was glad to leave the past behind. It meant that the mistakes she could have made could no longer touch her. It was as Arrenir had told her, once upon a time, ‘that to fix one’s mistakes, it needed to be done in the present, not within the reach of the past.’

The man who had left the door ajar, the door at the end of the hallway, was not the man who she thought her father was. The Arrenir she knew would have never run--not from war--never from life. In a way, this revelation was so much worse than finding his body. It was suicide, only of a different kind.

Zharia stormed towards the door and pushed it wide open. The walls of the hallway seemed to narrow around her, but she ignored it. Dead, alive or something in between, she was not going to let the apartment stop her from tracking down her father.

As if sensing her intent and picking up on her desires, the hallway beyond the door warped and changed. Space seemed to compress until there was but a singular door for her. One that looked exactly as the one that had been left ajar.

“Much obliged,” she muttered as she opened it up to a hallway that led back into Apartment 547. Another Apartment 547.

2.

Everything was wrong. Because everything was right.

She could tell by hopeful chatter in Silvermoon’s streets, and by the way that eternal spring clung to the air of Eversong woods. It was as if the winter, born from the Phoenix Wars, had been nothing more fleeting nuisance instead of the catastrophe her people had suffered. Heading to the Dawnspire, Zharia passed Goldsea where its fields remained unblemished by the ravages of war, and through Autumnvale whose residents had raised a monument to the heroes who had so courageously given their lives for it.

As she gazed upon the alabaster towers of the Dawnspire Citadel, it was clear that the years had been kind to the Sunguard, this Sunguard. Here, following the war, they seemed to have the gratitude of the entire Thalassian nation in their debt. Here, they had been the Honor Guard of a new era of peace. But as abundant as it had been for the guild, the talk of passersby made it clear that it wasn’t nearly as bountiful as it had been for its leader, who apparently was expecting his third child in two years.

The old Guard had retired. Zharia gathered that from the bored receptionist who had been staring at the gates that were never breached, in the courtyard that had never seen blood. According to the girl that manned her uneventful station, the officers had all stepped away for a new generation of leaders. Officers Shadowsunder and Stormsummer had married and now looked to mend the House of Sunders of Shimmervale. The Sunfires had turned their duties to their children once more. Sunshard received a lordly commission of her own: a fleet from the crown itself. And as for Firestorm, the old man had finally settled to administer his realm of Shallowbrook. 

When it finally came to the topic of her father, after much gossipping, the receptionist was all too happy to inform her that he had too settled away from the Guard. Marrying one Lirelle Dawnbrook.

3.

Zharia paused at a lovingly crafted door to a cottage by the sea. A part of her didn’t want to knock. It would be so easy to turn around now, head back through the door at the end of the hallway and consider her father dead. But she needed to know if it was him. Really him. The man she had sought for so long.

Is where you went, you old fool?

The door swung open, revealing a war-scarred man with tied crimson hair. “Oh, Zharia? I didn’t realize you were visiting your father today,” he said with a smile.

“Sederis?” Zharia cocked her head involuntarily.

“We’re having a little reunion dinner tonight, but I suppose it wouldn’t be too much trouble if you joined us,” Sederis said, looking back into the cottage where a woman toiled away in the kitchen. “Right dear?”

“We’ll have more than enough food for her if you just leave her some!” she replied with a laugh before joining Sederis at the door. The woman wrapped an arm around her husband’s growing waistline and extended the other to shake Zharia’s hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met dear,” she said. “Ny Dawnbrook, Lirelle’s sister.”

Zharia stood still for a moment, stunned by the sight of the man who had long been dead. She hadn’t known him personally but Arrenir had spoken fondly of him, once upon a time. “Zharia,” she croaked, before shaking the offered hand. “Arrenir’s daughter.”

“Well come in,” Sederis said, welcoming her inside her father’s cottage. “He’s at the beach with Lirelle, probably catching crabs or some other nonsense!” The crimson haired man chuckled. Zharia had never seen him so happy. The times she had seen him in her own time, Sederis had always seemed to carry a weight about him. A burden that he no longer carried in either world.

She made her way inside as the couple returned to the kitchen, aiming to fill the house with the aromatic smells of roast meat and baked garlic before the sun set. It was a quaint place, with exotic plants around every corner, each of them flanked by display cases filled with beetles and bugs. 

You never put anything you loved on display. You never wore anything on your sleeve. Why now? Why here?

Her thoughts were cut short when she reached the back door to the cottage, one that opened up to a pristine beach. There, amongst white sands and gentle waves, she saw him. Arrenir Silversun, treading lightly upon rocky tidepools and pointing things out for Lirelle who followed in his wake.

He waved at her.

She waved back.

4.

“Your father will be along shortly,” said Lirelle as she arrived back at the cottage, thrusting her thumb behind her. “He got caught up wrestling a mudskipper for an aquatic crustacean he wanted.”

“Hasn’t changed a bit,” Zharia replied. “How are things?”

“Things are good, The Crows are having a well deserved break after putting down a rebellion against Lord Dumbass’ vassals over there.” Lirelle gestured in Sederis’ general direction before adding, “I told you so!”

“Yeah, yeah I know,” Sederis waved her off like a bad smell as he continued grilling dinner.

Zharia shook her head. “Sorry, I’ve...I’ve been away. Expedition overseas. A rebellion?”

Lirelle sighed as she leaned against the doorway. “You met my sister? I assume she failed to mention that she’s next in line to Dawnveil after my father eventually croaks it. Anyway, the only way she’d marry was matrilineally, and Sederis decided that he wanted to marry her.”

Sederis cleared his throat, carrying two skewers of meat in each hand. “Long story short. A few nobles got uppity because the Emberglades could end up with the Dawnbrooks in a generation. So we crushed them. End of story.” The Lord of the Emberglades leaned in to kiss his wife who batted him away, already preoccupied with a pan of paella. Seeing that he wasn’t wanted, he shifted over to Lirelle offering a peace kebab. “Thanks by the way.”

“Your gold was most welcome,” Lirelle replied with a smirk. She took a bite of her peace offering as she joined her sister in the kitchen when Arrenir finally appeared at the doorway to the cottage.

“Zharia, I didn’t know you were coming!” Arrenir bellowed as he wiped his boots on the welcome mat before taking them off.

“Neither did I,” Zharia responded.

A long silence followed, filled only by the chatter of the other guests in the kitchen as it slowly dawned upon Arrenir that something there was something amiss. She watched as the realization spread across him like fire.

“Zharia?” he said at last.

“Hello father,” she couldn’t bring herself to smile. A storm of emotions circled within her as she tried her best to speak.

“Dinner is served!” Sederis called out to them, interrupting the moment as he set a spread of food on the table.

“We’ll talk later?” Arrenir asked, as if to confirm that she would be staying long enough for them to speak.

Zharia nodded.

5.

“We visited Thandiel’s grave,” Sederis said somberly as the evening began to wind down, and drinks became uncorked. “Esheyn came with a bouquet of flowers. Biggest and brightest she’s ever grown. Personally I think the old Bloodknight would’ve much preferred a good bourbon, but I’m sure she’d appreciate the gesture nonetheless.”

“We’ll be sure to leave her some the next time we go,” Lirelle replied. “Have something decent in one of your stashes we could borrow?”

“Stashes?” Ny raised an eyebrow at her husband who merely shrugged.

“Look, I committed to drink less, not banish every hidden cache of alcohol I have,” he said.

Lirelle snorted. “He probably doesn’t even remember where half of them are. And I can tell you where the other half is hidden.” She started ticking locations off on her fingers, “Way behind in the back of the cabinet in your bathroom, under the huge pot in the kitchen that Elan never uses, in the corner of my shed…the usual.”

“Well,” Arrenir interjected. “Highdawn’s death anniversary is coming up, so that’d be the best time for us to visit. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind a second visit from the two of you,” he said with a smile.

“Will do,” Sederis said with a nod, and as the dinner drew to a close, the mellowed out Lord of the Emberglades rose to his feet and insisted on doing the dishes despite Arrenir’s protests. “Guest, or not guest, seeing that my brother is buried in paperwork and is not here...I’m the only one without more catching up to do.” The Pilgrim of War donned an apron, rolled up his sleeves, and with a weightless smile began to clean up.

“I’ll leave you two to it then,” said Ny, standing with her husband. “I’ve got to scold my sister here for not visiting home often enough.”

Lirelle stood up. “I visit plenty!”

“Ever since you two built your cottage, you’ve been coming back here between leading your campaigns with the Crows...” Ny trailed off as she left for the living room with Lirelle who chased after her elder sister with an incredulous look on her face.

Arrenir laughed at first, waving the both of them off until he was left at the dining table with Zharia. His Zharia.

She sat as she had throughout dinner, in a daze. Surrounded by the living dead, she wondered how differently their counterparts would’ve been if only they had lived.

“We should talk outside.”

6.

They sat upon the deck that overlooked the seaside. Stars dotted the skyline, reflecting off a dark and undulating sea below. Zharia couldn’t bring herself to speak at first, unsure if doing so would lead to catharsis or a gaping wound that would never close. But she needed to.

Arrenir broke the silence first, staring at the night sky as he did. “I--I never thought I’d see you again. It’s good to see you Zharia.”

“Is it?” she spoke at last. “You ran. Away from it all. Away from reality. Away from me.”

“I did,” Arrenir replied, staring at the night sky. “I’m sorry.”

She scoffed. “Are you?”

“Yes,” Arrenir spoke quietly as he turned towards her to look her in the eyes. “I’m sorry for abandoning you without a word. I’m sorry I left you without a body to bury and with questions, millions of questions, left unanswered.”

Zharia saw that there was genuine pain in his eyes. Her father didn’t do what he did lightly, that much she could see. And as Arrenir reached over to embrace her, she flinched at first, but quickly leaned into his shoulder and descended into tears.

“Why?” Zharia sobbed, shedding tears of grief and anger. “I never mourned you because I knew you weren’t dead. But this, this, is so much worse than that! Do you understand what you’ve done? You chose to go to a place where I can’t follow. Do I mean that little to you!?”

Arrenir held her as she yelled into his shoulder. “You mean the world to me,” he said softly. “I thought by coming here, I could do better. Be a better father. Be a better soldier. Be a better man. It was only after everything--the war, the life I built here--did I realize that you wouldn’t be a part of it.”

“And yet you never came back,” Zharia sneered as she tore away from her father’s embrace. “I guess it’s because you found what you were looking for.”

Arrenir looked back at the cottage he had built. The life that he had earned for himself through fire and blood. From each plank of its construction and each display case filled with the collections he had gathered. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I did.”

“Good for you.” Zharia said as she wiped the tears from her eyes. “Because this, all of this, is wrong. It belongs in another life. To another Arrenir. A life you’ve stolen it from him by coming here.”

Arrenir shook his head. “He’d have made the same mistakes I made. Nothing would have changed.”

“Would it?” Zharia shook her head. “I’m going now, back to where you ought to have been. Where your friends are dead and where your daughter is missing a father.” She rose from the deck. “This will be the last you’ll see of me.”

Arrenir swallowed hard, trying his best to choke back his tears. “Goodbye Zharia,” he said. “It was nice seeing you again. I was hoping that you’d stay--”

“Save it,” Zharia spat and turned to leave her father behind. “You raised me well enough to know not to run from my mistakes.”

7.

After long moments spent in deep thought, Arrenir finally returned inside to find that it was quiet. The kitchen was spotless, plates and pans drying on their respective racks. The living room still bore the scent of tea, but it was clear that his guests had already gone.

“Lirelle?” he called out to his wife but received no response. After checking each room of the cottage he finally found her on the front porch that overlooked her garden.

“Who the fuck are you?” She asked.

“How much did you hear?”

“Hear? Do you think I’m blind? I figured something was up the moment she spoke to me,” Lirelle glared at him. “She came through the apartment, didn’t she?”

“She did,” Arrenir said, knowing better than to mince words with her. “And so did I.”

“I always wondered why you became less insufferable to be around all of a sudden,” Lirelle said. “I thought it was because you finally understood who I was.”

“You aren’t wrong, though the only difference is that the realization happened elsewhere.”

“So I married a dupe,” Lirelle rested her face in her hands. “You’re not even my Arrenir.”

“I am your Arrenir,” he said, folding his arms. “Your Arrenir would’ve continued to be insufferable. Trying too hard to be something he thought you wanted him to be. And failing.” “Speaking from experience?” his wife got to her feet and folded her arms. “Fail with one Lirelle, but wait, don’t worry, there’s an infinite more to choose from! All you need to do is keep crossing fucking dimensions until you succeed in pinning me down. God I’ve got to be the worst Lirelle of the lot,” Lirelle spat as rage welled up inside her. “So is that it? Is that why you came here!?”

Arrenir looked her in the eyes and held her ire-filled gaze. “No,” he said. “I came here because you died.”

“What?”

“Sunstrider Isle, fighting Dame Everleigh’s forces. But instead of crushing them together, we had parted on poor terms. You died there, with Sederis.”

Lirelle’s demeanour changed and she sat back down. “And the Crows?”

“Died with you, save for a few. Garris sent me your death letter.”

She ran her fingers through her hair and shook her head, trying to wrap her head around how differently it could have all played out. “So you came here, because your Lirelle died.”

“You’re my Lirelle,” he responded without hesitation. “The Lirelle where I came from was never mine. Neither were you until you gave yourself to me.” 

“Really?” she said skeptically. “I bet if I had died on that field, like she did, you’d just have jumped ship again. Gone to another door. Tried again. Again and again until I lived.” 

“No.”

“No?”

Arrenir shook his head. “I didn’t come here because I wanted you to live. That wasn’t my regret. My regret was that I didn’t ride out with you. I came here, to this world, because I wasn’t there with my friends when everything came to an end. I should have been. I would have been, if I wasn’t so damned selfish.” He brought his hand to her cheek, brushing her hair back behind her ear. “I came here to die with you. If you had fallen, I’d have fallen with you. Because I love you. You.”

Epilogue

“Take me home,” said Zharia as she climbed the final steps to the top floor of Apartment 547. The door at the end of the hallway waited for her, already open. She took one final look at the world she was leaving behind. A better, brighter world, but not her’s. For better or for worse, this one belonged to her father now. She had hoped for catharsis--to bring her father back--but it was clear he was no longer the man she remembered. But even so, Zharia was content with closure.

I’m glad you found what you were looking for. I’m glad you finally found yourself. I just wish I could’ve been a part of that.

Goodbye, father.

She stepped through and the door to this world closed behind her, never to be opened again.

-fin-

I’ve been meaning to write this for a long long time. First, I told myself I’d do it after the Phoenix Wars. Then I told myself I’d do it after the Guild’s last day. Again, when I told myself I’d do it after The Emberglades Civil War.

I guess it took so long because I’ve always meant for this story to be a symbolic goodbye. As the last story I’ll ever write for WoW and it suppose it was hard saying goodbye to characters that I’ve role-played as for 5 years. Some even more than that. It isn’t the end of course, I’m still game to keep role-playing them from time to time. But as for the arcs that I’ve been doing since the Emberglades Saga go, this will be the last one.

I want to thank everyone who has made these last 5 years probably the best ones of my life. Guildies, raiding buddies, friends, and everyone who suffered with me through my Emberglades Civil War Campaign. Special shout out to Sean for not only for letting me use his Roll20 system to bring that story & campaign to life but for leading the Guild that has left so many fond memories for so many people over the years.

Photo Credit: Toast_91

[lonelypond]

AU Yeah August: Café Quarantine, Part III

NicoMaki, Love Live, 3.2K, 3/4

Summary: The quarantine continues. Nico and Maki get closer, but...

Café Quarantine, Part III

Maki’s phone went off. Nico.

N: There’s muffins in the oven ( ˘▽˘)っ♨ WAKE UP before the timer goes off.

M: NO.

N: Your pad will burn down. Your parents might notice.

Pad? Oh, the slang kick. Nico was in a good mood. Maki grinned.

M: They’d have to be home.

N: You’re in a mood.

M: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

N: Go get the muffins.

M: Maybe.

N: No fever, no coughing “:♡.•♬✧⁽⁽ଘ( ˊᵕˋ )ଓ⁾⁾*+:•*∴

Maki glanced at the time. 9:30 a.m. And Nico had already baked? Maki groaned.

N: Up and at ‘em, barn burner.

M: Musicians are night people. Why aren’t you?

N: Nico is magic. And you’re too much, sugar band.

M: Please forget you ever found that jazz slang link.

N: (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

M: if I get up and deal with whatever you put in my oven, will you never refer to me as a hepkitten or barnburner again?

N: Your oven ✧(σ๑˃̶̀ꇴ˂̶́)σ and sure, square.

M: <(｀^´)>

N: 5 minutes.

M: Fine.

Maki pulled on a t-shirt and found her slippers. Muffins? Might be worth waking up for.

###

A duet, Nico jumping in to the livestream from the library. “I Get No Kick.”

Maki at the piano, her voice a sad and sober invitation,

My story is much too sad to be told But practically everything Leaves me totally cold The only exception I know is the case When I'm out on a quiet spree Fighting vainly the old ennui And I suddenly turn and see Your fabulous face

Then Nico for chorus.

I get no kick from Champagne Mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all So tell me why should it be true That I get a kick out of you

Some get a kick from cocaine I'm sure that if I took even one sniff That would bore me terrif- Ically too Yet I get a kick out of you

And Maki alone: I get a kick every time I see you standing there before me

And Nico alone: I get a kick though it's clear to see That you obviously do not adore me

Maki after an instrumental riff: I get no kick kick in a plane, oh yeah Flying too high with some girl in the sky Is my idea of nothing to do, And both for the big finish: you know what, babe I get a kick, you give me a thrill, I get a kick out of you

Maki’s phone double pinged. Hanayo. And Rin.

H; Oh my god, Maki that was like a scene from a movie. You and Nico were both so poised, so pretty, so wistful...almost like you were looking out the windows at each other from so far away.

R: TELL NICO YOU LIKE HER. Don’t just sing things.

H: But keep singing. I have so many ideas. You have such great chemistry. (●♡∀♡))ヾ☆*。

R: Kayo-chin’s typing so fast there’s sparks.

And Rin sent a video of Hanayo at her laptop, hunched over, glasses sliding down her nose, fingers moving at a faster tempo than Maki had ever played.

Then a Nico text.

N: So what’d the PR department think?

M: ((●♡∀♡))ヾ☆*。

N: Just like Nico’s plan.

M :◑.◑

N: Nico’s hungry. Did you order pizza?

M: Isn’t that your fifth meal today?

N: Nico burned off fever calories.

M: Yeah. And you don’t have any to spare.

N: Nico is muscle -(๑☆‿ ☆#)ᕗ

M: Tiny muscle.

N: Tiny muscle that can out arm wrestle you.

M: Try me.

N: Oh, Nico will.

M: I’ll order something. Do you actually want pizza?

N: No. But they get it here fast. And NICO NEEDS FOOD.

Maki had an image of Kaiju sized Nico raging through Chicago in search of snacks. It was God Tier humor. Maki played a quick series of notes, chords chasing and crashing into each other, giggling as they sped up to a sudden silence.

N: That sounded silly.

M: Are you outside the door?

N: Yes. Order my pizza.

M: Fine. And it was only as silly as you.

N: ԅ(◉෴◉ԅ)

###

Maki was now having dreams in Korean. The portal to Seoul had moved to the media room as she sped watched through Tomorrow’s Cantabile. Campus envy for start. Such a beautiful location to play. Crazy professor dude was a bit overdramatic but the music...Maki would stop watching when she couldn’t take any more not playing. And the dorms, with the piano right there....Maki would just stay put…

“Ooh, the violinist subplot is so cute.”

“No spoilers” Maki ordered, not looking behind her, where Nico was presumably lounging in the doorway.

“How come you didn’t go to a music school?”

“They call them conservatories. And because I was going to be a doctor.”

“Was.”

Maki paused the stream from her laptop to the TV screen and turned. Nico was leaning, eyes sparkling enough that Maki could imagine the “Nico won this round” smile under her extra sparkly pink mask.

“Northwestern has an excellent music program.”

“You said was.” Nico smirked.

Maki started the program up again.

###

Maki was getting frustrated. Between her parents and their “what’s your premed major choice?” hints and Nico’s dissection of her verb tenses, there was too much attention on her. And Nico was feeling better, less coughing, so they were nearly running into each other in the hall more often. After Nico’s invasion of Maki’s Tomorrow’s Cantabile viewing experience, Maki fled outside, grabbing her soccer ball and working on a few tricks. Rin hadn’t stopped by in a couple of days and Maki was starting to feel too isolated. Just dribble the ball, do some squat thrusts, roll over in the grass for a few yards, then lay on her back, staring at the sky and tossing the ball up and catching it. No sounds but birds and ball.

Maki knew she couldn’t just punt. But the more college classes took her away from music, the less she wanted to spend time in a classroom. And then Nico, with a surprise dream involving jazz, one of Maki’s favorite things. And Maki’s random Café Quarantine idea became the very real pleasure of music with Nico. Maki wanted more of that. Music with Nico, time with Nico, every night with Nico, seeing exactly how much attention Nico would pay to what Maki chose, both clothes and music, what Nico would suggest, where they would agree...Maki hummed a little, she and Hanayo had been tossing themes back and forth. Learning more about DeeDee Bridgewater after Nico’s name drop had “Lady Be Good” looping in Maki’s head and she really wanted to perform it for Nico. Hanayo had suggested “Dames” be the theme, throwing “Diamonds Are A Girl’s Best Friend” into the mix and Maki added “Satin Doll.” She hadn’t talked about this with Nico yet, but tonight’s show was getting closer and Maki was surprised Nico wasn’t out here, haranguing her to practice.

Why wasn’t Nico out here? Maki jumped up, ball tucked under her arm, and quick walked through downstairs, before heading up to the bedrooms.

She paused outside Nico’s door, no coughing, then knocked. “Nico?”

No reply. Maki opened the door a crack. There was a pile of blankets in the center of the bed, with Nico presumably underneath it. Maki glanced at her phone. Two hours ‘til showtime. No Nico tonight.

Maki closed the door quietly, and went into her room. Shower off the grass, then pick an outfit. But first, Maki dropped back onto her bed, hugging a pillow, and willing more energy to Nico.

###

Nightmare. No breath. Buried under cases of coffee, Maki gone for the weekend, the hospital coffeeshop closed, and no one going to be back for days. Or was that Maki coughing, somewhere, fading, when Nico couldn’t move, couldn’t reach her.

Nico sat up, throwing blankets off her, breaths too fast, too shallow, panic...where was she. Dark. Maki’s house, sweat, fever? Where was Maki? Grabbing a mask, an action now so automatic that even on this half awake edge of rooms too big, too empty, too dark panic, Nico knew she needed to reach out for the one on the nightstand. Loop over the ears, trip over the blanket bunched up next to the bed, hit the ground with her knee, curse, stumble toward the door and nearly into Maki, who was heading for Nico’s room, wearing what must be her pajamas, a gray and light blue flannel shirt, partly unbuttoned and what looked like gray boy shorts with a blue stripe down the hip. Nico forced her eyes away from Maki’s very long legs while the surprised redhead skipped back and squeaked.

“Nico? Are you all right?”

Nico leaned against the wall, inhaling through her nose, “Nico’s fine.”

“I heard you…”

“Nightmare.” Nico frowned, “Were you coughing?”

Maki shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest, suddenly seemingly aware of how much skin she was showing, compared to Nico’s pajama pants and frilly camisole combo.

Breathing almost back to even, Nico stood, “Sorry Nico woke you up.”

Maki shook her head, biting her lip, “Wasn’t really sleeping. Would really rather have been talking to you, but I didn’t want to…”

“Thanks for letting me sleep. Had a lot of energy this morning, but it just suddenly disappeared after lunch.”

“Recovery is slow. You have to give yourself a break.” Maki hadn’t thought to grab a mask so Nico could see her soft, concerned expression.

Nico decided she had enough energy for flirting “Nico’s doctors usually wear more.”

Nico watched Maki flush with embarrassment and backed toward her room, “ummmm…”

Nico reached out a hand for Maki’s arm, her touch gentle, “It’s okay, Nico won’t tease you.”

Maki pulled away, fingers now splayed and covering the top of her thighs, where the shirt ended. She wouldn’t look at Nico.

Right Nico, Nico scolded herself, flowers, dinner, candy...or at least a blu-ray and popcorn night first. “I’ll start tea. Maybe we can watch something funny. Nico needs a break from bad dreams.”

###

While Maki decided what to wear, Nico let the tea steep and watched tonight’s Cafe Quarantine. Floor length violet gown with embroidered chrysanthemums, and a textured crepe, artfully falling off the shoulder neckline. Nico whistled. Maki’s closet was deep and delicious. Had she actually worn them places? And which places? And with who? Nico found a sudden discomfort nudging at her, the thought of Maki in a hotel ballroom, someone’s arms around the fitted waist of her gown...Nico refocused on actual Maki at the piano, fingers sprightly as “The Girl From Ipanema” danced, Maki swaying breezes and skirts with her left hand, drifting clouds into sunshine with her right. Nico giggled, Maki was doing her own secret theme with the instrumentals, songs about “Brazil.” They’d be out of songs before Nico could suggest a Flying Down to Rio week.

“Hey.” Maki said breathily from the doorway of the kitchen.

“Nico was about to watch your second song.”

“I’ll go pick a movie.”

And Maki was gone, with a flash of pajama pant clad leg. Except that on Nico’s phone, Maki’s voice was swinging into a bluesy opening of “Lady Be Good” that turned laughing and flirty. Nico smiled, she could tell Maki was forcing herself not to wink as she sang

“I am so awfully misunderstood So lady, be good to me Oh, please have some pity I'm all-alone in this big city I tell you I'm just a lonesome babe in the wood So lady be good to me”

And then with a wink, and a brashness that surprised Nico, Maki started scatting, a huge grin between nonsense syllables, her voice dropping lower and lower, and then suddenly a sprint back to staccato, and then another wink and the final verse, daring someone to save her.

“Oh, please have some pity I'm all alone in this big city I tell you I'm just a lonesome babe in the wood So lady be good to me Oh lady be good to me”

Nico took her mug of tea and a cookie to the media room, still thinking about Maki’s performance. As stellar as Maki was on the piano, she was also starting to show real flair as a vocalist. Nico found herself imagining the duets they could do when her 10 days of isolation were up.

But Nico stuck to practical as a conversation opener. “I left water in the kettle if you want tea.”

“Thanks.” Maki got up, she’d already opened the windows and left Nico the seat closest to them, “I’ll probably just stick with milk and cookies.”

“Oh good, bring the rest of the cookies.:” Nico settled into her seat, “Hey Maki, where’d you get the idea to scat? Ella?”

“The Muppets.” And Maki was out the door. And Nico was once again intrigued by how little she could guess about Nishikino Maki’s thoughts.

###

Another Café Quarantine performed and posted. Nico was buzzing. Even in separate rooms, her duets with Maki were fire. And now Eli was on a video chat.

“You beans have so much chemistry. Nozomi can’t wait until you bring Maki over for dinner.” Eli laughed as she curved a silver bangle bracelet, “How’d you two start dating? All the ‘you were roommates” tropes. Or was it at work? Ooh, a coffeeshop AU! When’d you kiss? Where’d you kiss? Behind the counter at work, while you expertly sprayed whipped cream on a mocha? Taking a break from inventory and sharing a chocolate chip cookie? In the kitchen, wiping chocolate off her cheek.”

“Enough with your fantasies. And Nico is contagious, we are not dating. I thought Nozomi was the nosy wife.”

Eli leaned back and stretched, blonde hair in a tight ponytail. “I’m bored. Nozomi’s gotta keep working but I’m stuck at home. I need vicarious romance.”

“No. You need to put together a dance routine for a night of Café Quarantine.” Nico had decided to drag Eli back into performing. In the two years, Nico had spent at college, she’d had enough dance classes with Eli to be impressed at the ballerina’s abilities. Then Maki could play a more classical piece.

Eli leaned forward, chin in the hand propped on her knee, and sighed. “I’m out of shape.”

“For you.”

Eli shrugged in low key agreement, “I’ll think about it. Are you really not dating?”

“No.” Nico sunk back into pillows.

“Not even a not yet?”

“Maki’s a hard read.”

Eli shook her head, tapping her forehead. “You’re nuts. Do you listen to her singing?”

“That’s just music.” Nico had been telling herself this almost nightly.

“Nico.” Eli’s tone was serious, “no one sings like that if it’s just music.”

Nico sat up, her tone matching Eli’s. “Maki might, she’s a genius.”

“Plus,” Eli was very good at ignoring Nico when necessary, “she invited you to quarantine at her house and didn’t kick you out when you got sick.”

“Her dad wanted to, I think.”

Eli leaned forward, her face contorting comically, “Well, duh, Nico, another point for DATE THE HEIRESS.” Eli’s eyes brightened, “You’re in a Korean drama. Does her mother hate you? Is there an ex? Spill.”

“Don’t call her ‘the heiress.” Nico didn’t want any more attention paid to that aspect of things than she already had to. How was she supposed to compete? Would it be like dating the poolboy or the maid in Maki’s parents’ eyes.

“Maki.” Eli said simply.

“Maki.” Nico liked holding the syllables in her mouth.

“Why aren’t you dating Maki yet?”

Nico flumped back into her pillows, “Nico wants to be well.”

“Say, hey, let’s date. Then it’s settled. There’ll be time for kissing later.” Eli went back to bending silver.

“Things have to be the right temperature. Or they break.”

“Don’t throw jeweler references at me, Nico.”

“But it’s true...how about cooking references? If you take a cake out too early or too late, even by a minute, it’s not as good. And the more complicated the cake, the more a miss messes it up.” Nico groaned, almost throwing a pillow at her phone, “Plus, Nico’s exhausted. And hungry all the time.”

“Still coughing.”

“Yeah.”

“Be careful. We miss you.” Eli’s sincerity was always soothing.

“I miss you.”

“I get the exhausted thing. It’s hard to think about romance when you can’t keep your eyes open. Nozomi’s working double shifts to cover our bills.” Eli held up the bracelet to show it off.

“That’s pretty. When Nico gets cleared, I’ll cook you a special dinner.”

“Thanks.” Eli chuckled, “As long as you bring your girlfriend Maki over.”

Nico chucked a pillow at her phone.

###

R: Did you tell Nico you like her yet.

M: Pick another topic.

R: Where are we going on a double date?

M: Rin.

R: What’s wrong?

M: I’m just thinking about a lot of things.

R: Don’t think. Just do. You overthink (҂⌣̀_⌣́)

Rin was right, Maki did overthink, but right now, she legitimately had at least three major issues she was juggling, including the fact that finding herself sitting and staring into space, remembering Nico’s voice and mimicking her gestures was interfering with Maki’s ability to plan anything.

M: I’m just ready for a change,

R: ( ¬_¬)

M ˚▱˚

R: Is this about your parents?

M: It’s about me. I’m going to be 21.

R: Your trust fund?

M: Not really exactly that. I just feel like I should make an I’m an adult statement.

R: Date Nico.

M: Before that.

R: Oh.

M: Yeah, oh.

R: (σ≧∀≦)σ

M: Thanks.

R: Donuts and coffee in the backyard tomorrow?

M: Not before noon.

R: (≧ω≦)ゞ

###

M; How are you feeling?

N: Tired. What are you doing?

Maki looked at her exchange with Rin.

M: Nothing.

N: Nico too.

M: Good night.

N: Great show tonight.

M (~_^)ｂ

N: See you tomorrow.

M: Donuts for breakfast.

N: Not healthy.

M: Dr. Nico needs to change her opinion, one of them will have blueberries. And toasted coconut is wonder food while coffee leads to longevity. All science-y stuff I read somewhere.

N: Σ(T□T) Dr. Nico?

M: I got the rockin pneumonia and the boogie woogie flu.

N: Will donuts fix you?

M: Yes.

N: Nico will find a recipe.

M: ♥

M: Nico…

N: ?

Maki considered typing something like, what if I quit the coffeeshop? When are you leaving? Can we have a kiss theme week?

M: Get some sleep.

N: c⌒っ╹v╹ )っ

Maki dropped her phone on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Where to start so many conversations?

A/N: And this monster of an @auyeahaugust fic continues. Take care!

[the-fiction-witch]

Cute

TV SHOW: GAME OF THRONES (AU) COUPLE: JOJEN X READER RATING: SMUT

I sat in the car with my pillow and my bag of stuff as my mother drove down the long the road beside the unending feilds. The radio wizzing and humming where it was fading in and out of stations, the smell of the feilds of crops coming though the cool crisp Aircon. Until we pulled up to the large house with the infinatly long drive way where the familiar red head stood in her grey dress. "Hi!!" Sansa smiled climbing in the car with her stuff "Hi" I smiled giving her a hug which she happily returned "You excited?" She smiled "Very," I laughed as the car contained to drive off with me and Sansa chatting the whole time till atlast we got to the large green house I thanked my mother giving her a hug before we headed up to the house giving the door a little knock and the for instantly opened "Yay!!" Meera smiled giving us both hugs "this is gonna be amazing come on come in" she says letting us inside, I looked around at the green house with plants and tools everywhere, a huge conservatory to the back leading out to the garden, I saw the TV on as her father howland was still here but he was clearly getting ready to go out. And I saw her brother jojen stood in in the open kitchen he had clearly just been getting a drink but freaked and almost dropped it as he saw us all, I blushed a little seeing him he was really cute or atleast I think so. "Ahh!! There's girls here" he says in shock "I told you I was having a sleep over!" Meera argued "arent you going to see my brother tonight?" Sansa asked as jojen and bran often hang around together mostly due to there clubs at school, "No, that's next week" he says "Fine but stay in your room!" Meera warned him as she showed us up to her room.

"He's the most wonderful boy ever, he brought me flowers last time we went to the movies" sansa explained I was a little bored sat on the floor of Meera's room hugging my pillow while the girls talked about what else but boys. "So... Your going out again?" Meera asked "Of course, we're meant to be" she says "Didn't you say that about Luke three weeks ago?" I remind "And about that Peter guy last Month?" Meera reminds "And Kim the month before?" I remind "Well this time I know" she says "Well, Marcus brought me a necklace last date night" Meera smiled showing off her rather impressive necklace "I think he might be the one" "Aww that's so sweet... I want Joffery to buy me something like that" Sansa cooes "y/n we really need to find you someone so your not single anymore" "Trust me I'm fine" I said "Well what kinda boys do you like?" "Different kinda boys, I'm not into the whole football team, muscular boys I like the... Chess team boys and the library boys" I explain "What so someone like... Meera's brother?" Sansa laughed Meera laughed too but I sat with a little bit of a shrug "Why she's serious?" Meera says stopping Sansas laughs "your kidding right? So if a line of the most sexy boys ever asked for a date you'd turn them down for a chess club boy?" "I find intelligence kinda sexy, and cute" I smiled "So... Do you think my brother is cute?" "Yeah, jojens cute" "Awwwwwww I ship them so much!" Sansa laughed Luckily the conversation moved as sansa got a texted from Joffery about them maybe sneaking over Tonight luckily as they arrived I managed to sneak away as I didn't exactly wanna be around couples anyway, they wouldn't notice I was gone not while they're boys are here. I thought about going down to watch TV but I saw another door, jojens door. I listened for a moment but didn't hear much so I pushed it gently open, his room was the same size as Meera's even if his window over looked the garden, he has some plants on his windowsill and almost every surface in his room was covered with three things, books, clothes and tissues. His double bed sat in the middle of the back wall with a record player on a side table, he sat on his bed with headphones connected to the record player by a long spiral cord often moving his head along with his music while he did work in his various books and papers. "Hi" I smiled waving a little making him jump taking his headphones off "Uhh hi" he blushed "What are you listening too?" I asked Moving to stand by his bed "Uhh nothing much just some of my dad's old record collection" he says so I took the headphones from him putting the over my own ears it was some old rock stuff that my dad listened to alot and I laughed turning it off "Very cool jojen," "Not to be rude or anything but... Why exactly are you in my room?" He asked "The boys" I sighed "Oohh... Right. Guess you didn't wanna be around the making out" "Yep, so I came to see you" I smiled sitting beside him in his bed "Uhhh okay" he blushed putting his stuff down "your Uhhh your nightie Looks nice" "Awww thanks" I smile "your PJ's are cute too... What do they say on them?" "Oh uh, the shirts just last year's University challenge shirt, and the uhh the shorts aren't really shorts there just my uhh my underwear" he blushed "Ooh sorry jojen" I blushed "It's okay, I just didn't know you'd be visiting" he blushed "I was ordered to hide in my room, so... I'm hiding" "Aww that's so sweet" I smiled quickly giving his cheek a kiss, he flushed bright red looking more scared then I has ever seen him before "Uuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhh i- I uhh I ummm" he stuttered trying to do much of anything to respond "Do you wanna hide in here together?" I  asked "we can cuddle and listen to the records?" I suggest "Uhh okay" he nodded sitting up a little more having to nervously strech over me to unplug the headphones and start the player again turning it on low enough not to disturb anyone else but loud enough so we could hear it I laid down in his bed and he carefully laid down with me. I laughed taking his hand giving it a little kiss before wrapping it around my waist, he looked even more scared so I nuzzled into his neck which helped him relax a little bit. We laid cuddled up for a while our finger tips gently exploring each other often nuzzling our heads closer to each other making little happy moaning noises "uhh y/n, can I tell you something?" He asked "Sure" I smiled "I uhh I've had a really big crush on you... For like the last ten years" "Really?" I asked Moving away and gw nodded "aww jojen I like you to" "You do!" He asked in shock "your not saying that to be nice right?" "Of course not" I laughed "Did Meera and Sansa dare you to do this?" "What no, they don't even know I'm in here" I laughed "Sorry... It just all seem a little to good to be true that's all" he blushed "How about I prove it?" I smirked he looked a little confused but I pulled him closer and kisses his sweet lips, he instantly understood what I was doing and kissed back not wanting to waste such an opportunity his hand still on my waist gently pulling me closer till I pulled back "Whoa..." "How'd I do?" I asked "Uhhh I don't really have comparison's" he blushed "Really?" I asked "Well you a lot lot better then my imagination" he blushed "You wanna do more?" "yes" he nodded very quickly "Or maybe... Did you wanna make out?" I suggest "Uhhhh okay" he nodded very nervous but very excited so I pulled him closer kissing him again moving my lips against his own which he happily copied within seconds he was hovered over me one hand behind my head and shoulders the other on my waist as I hand both of mind around his neck our kisses deep and lusty as our teenage hormones had complete control of our actions or well jojens did as I didn't have much of a say in it, as our kisses deepened more both of us often Moving our heads for better angles and moment in our kisses. I felt his hand experimentally move up a little from my waist his finger tips hovering on the bone of my bra I smiled in the kiss taking his hand and moving it so his hand made full contact with my breast, "Uuuummmm.." he groans in the kiss as he gently began fondling my boobs first just the one hand and soon enough the other hand joined in too. After a little while I moved his hands back how they where and his grip on me tightened so hardly an inch was between us, I sped up the kiss as I felt something rather hard and stiff pressing desperately to my leg "Umm jojen" I smirked as I pulled back "Ooohh my god, y/n..." He groaned desperate to kiss me again I let him the kiss starting to get very hot as I began running my hands around his fluffy blonde hair until "So that's where you snuck off to" Sansa said at jojens door with Joffery in tow we instantly pulled away putting space between us "Ooohh somebodies excited hey jojen" Joffery laughed as it was pretty obvious to everyone jojen was hard before he quickly covered himself with his blankets "A word..now" Sansa says so I got up giving jojen a kiss and going out with her as Joffery went downstairs "she's gonna kill you" "Where is she?" "In bed with her boyfriend, me and Joffery are headed downstairs, I take it you'll be fine in jojens room?" "I'll be very fine" I smiled "Okay, Don't go in Meera's room, don't come downstairs and none of us will go in there" she says handing me my stuff, I nodded before going back inside I put my stuff by his door and slipped off my bra and panties from under my nightie and as I did I noticed something he was still sat covering himself with his blankets but his eyes closed and his hand under there too "Ummm uuumm uhh y/n" he groans clearly jerking off "Jojen, you couldn't even wait for me to get back" I laughed putting my pillow on the other side of his bed and he blushed "I got desperate okay" he complained "Aww okay, wanna keep going?" I asked sitting over his thighs and he nodded little crazy "wanna feel now?" I smiled he was confused but I pulled his hands back to my boobs "Oh my god! Where uhh what happen to the bra?" "Do you really care?" "Not really no" he blushed as he fondled and groped my boobs until one of his hands slipped down to grab my butt and he realized "holy fuck that's all your wearing" "Well done jojen" I smirk he blushed but sat up slipping his shirt off and moving the blankets away leaving him naked against his bed his pale skinny body laid amungs the covers his rather tall hard cock stood begging for attention "So it's fair" he blushed "Umm jojen he's so big" I smirked kissing down his neck "but it's not really fair is it after all... I can see everything" I smirked before I went to slip my nightie off but he stopped me "Can uhh can I do it?" "Of course" I smiled and he happily took my nightie off for me his eyes looked at every inch of my naked body. And before I knew what was happening he flipped us over so my back was against the bed he sat ontop of me kissing me lustfully grabbing a condom from his bedside draw while his other hand groped my butt.

[lia-jones]

Growing Pains - Chapter Sixteen - Dummy

I finally managed to pull the zipper of my dress without tearing apart the lace on the bodice. I looked at myself in the mirror, wondering if this was the perfect attire for dinner. Cryptical as he sometimes could be, I could never exact what Victor really meant most of the time. I sighed. The dress I had picked would have to do, a short rose lace A-line dress with an illusion neckline. Dark grey high heels to match it. Not too “date night”, not too professional either.

Judging from everything we had lived, and knowing the circumstances that we were in, I wasn’t inclined to believe this was more than friendship. Perhaps Victor just wanted someone to enjoy the city with him, and I was nearby. However, I could guess a much better company would be just a phone call away. It was confusing, like most things concerning Victor. Keep it simple, Andrea, stop reading into things. It’s dinner, I thought to myself. But my heart was thumping hard, no matter what I told myself.

I had no time to wonder or ponder anymore, as I looked at the clock and it was already 6:55 pm. I had five minutes to get to the lobby, fully aware that Victor would be moody if I was late. I got my things and opened the door to leave, only to find Victor in the hallway, hand raised, prepared to knock on my door.

“Hey.” I greeted him, slightly startled. “I was just going to the lobby to meet you.”

“No need. I just got ready.” Victor seemed to be in a good mood. “Let’s go.”

We got in the car and the driver took us through the city, pulling near the Eiffel Tower. Victor got out of the car immediately, and before I got the chance to, he opened the car door for me, offering his hand to help me out. Seeing me out of the car, Victor closed the door and motioned the driver to leave.

“Shall we?” Victor offered his arm for me to take, smiling.

I smiled and took his arm, as we walked towards the Eiffel Tower. As we got closer, I realized where we were going.

“Jules Verne?” I asked.

“Yes. One of the best views in Paris, and outstanding food. I trust you’ll like it.”

The restaurant was not as refined as I predicted, but it was still very elegant, and Victor was right, the view over Paris was magnificent. We were led to a table near the window, and I felt like I was floating over the city. The waiter came to take our order, and Victor took over, asking for the tasting menu, and for the waiter to bring the wine right away.

We sat in silence for a while, as I sipped my wine and enjoyed the view.

“God, look at the moon. It’s beautiful.” I said, looking through the window “The view is amazing.”

“Breathtaking.” I heard Victor’s soft voice. I turned to him and smiled, only to see that he was staring at me. Reading me. Like he needed to memorize every detail on my face. I faced him, slightly embarrassed.

“Thank you for bringing me here. Although I don’t think I deserve the reward, I barely worked at all.”

“This is not about work, and tonight I am not your boss. We will not discuss work today.” Victor leaned slightly forward on the table. “So, tell me about yourself.”

“What’s there to know? I’m pretty ordinary.”

“I’ve seen you disarm a man in less than 30 seconds. That’s not ordinary at all.”

“Krav Maga. Obviously, an overcompensation. It just came in handy this time.” I shrugged.

“Still, although incredibly stupid, it was impressive.” Victor looked me in the eyes, hiding his smile with his glass of wine. “What other hobbies do you have? Do you play other sports?”

“Just Krav Maga and some Yoga. How about you?”

“I run, whenever I can. I also enjoy swimming, horseback riding, golf. When the weather allows it, I go rock climbing.”

“None of those are team sports. You really enjoy your solitude.” I remarked.

“I deal with enough idiots at work. I like some time for myself.”

“Yet you are here with me. You could’ve easily ditched me at the hotel.” I teased.

“You’re not an idiot.” Victor suppressed a smile.

“Oh, do I sense a compliment?” I recalled our talk at the ball.

“Just because you sometimes act like an idiot, it doesn’t mean you’re one. Besides, last time I called you an idiot I was severely reprimanded. I tend to play safe, now.” He couldn’t hide his cocky smile now. I laughed.

“To be honest, I really wanted to keep you as far as I could back then.” I made a face.

“What about now?” Victor eyed me carefully.

“You’ve shown some other layers of you. I did too. Things changed.” I walked around the question, trying not to spill the beans.

“You didn’t answer my question. How do you feel about me now?” He pressed, an expectant look on his face. For someone usually so cryptic, he was really acting forward. I decided to through caution to the wind and be just as direct.

“In all honesty, I find you hard not to love.” I stated, looking him in the eyes.

Victor’s face dropped and his eyes widened. He seemed to freeze in time for a while, if not for all the emotions I could see running behind his eyes. I could almost hear the circuits in his brain buzzing, overwhelmed with thoughts my honesty brought to light. He snapped out of it when the waiter came with our first course, clearing his throat. The dishes were served and we sat for a moment, staring at our food, the proverbial fog setting on our table.

My chest tightened with his lack of reaction. But I also felt some kind of relief. At least I knew where I was standing. And it wasn’t like I professed my undying love for him, or did something reckless like steal a kiss. I looked at Victor, who was still clearly uncomfortable and at loss for words, and cut a piece of the aspic on my plate, tasting it.

“Good.” I hummed in pleasure. “I’m not really a fan of aspic, but this is really good.”

Victor welcomed the change of subject, as he relaxed slightly, his expression becoming his usual poker face one.

“Yes, but just wait until they bring the braised salmon. It’s one of my favorite dishes here.”

“Can’t wait.” I said, smiling, trying to play it cool. “So, besides sports, what other hobbies do you have?”

“I read, listen to music, mostly classical, I cook.”

“I remember you said your mother was a pianist. Do you also play?”

“She taught me, but then I went to boarding school and my father considered it a waste of time, so I stopped.”

“It’s a shame. You have pianist fingers. I had to work extra hard, because, as my piano teacher would put it, I do not have the hands for the keys.” I said, showing him my small hands.

“You play the piano?” Victor frowned in surprise.

“Yes, since I was six. I learned the piano for 13 years, actually.”

“Thirteen years learning the piano is a very long time. You must be really good at it. What are your favorite pieces?

“Vivaldi, all four seasons. Grieg’s In The Hall of The Mountain King.” I hummed a bit of the tune and Victor nodded, recognizing it.

“Interesting choice.” Victor stated, seemingly impressed.

“Yes, I auditioned for the conservatory with that one.” I agreed. “It’s technically demanding, but it’s also very easy to visualize while playing it, it has a very natural rhythm. I like pieces that allow me to make up a story in my head while I play.”

“Why did you choose Economics instead? It seems like you had a very promising career as a musician.” Victor frowned.

“Mostly because I was tired. And you must surely know, your mother being a pianist, the kind of injuries you get when you have to practice hard on a daily basis. I had back and shoulder pain, my fingers would easily cramp with the cold… It was taking a toll on my health. I got accepted in the Conservatory, but then I also got admission to college, so I chose Economics instead.”

“Do you still play?”

“Not since I came to Loveland. I couldn’t fit the piano in my suitcase.” I joked, earning me a chuckle from Victor.

The initial awkwardness from my honest outburst seemed to fade gradually as we engaged in conversation. Victor kept asking me questions about myself, seemingly wanting to know me better and I complied, replying and asking Victor his perspective on all the subjects he brought up. Victor was incredibly sharp and knowledgeable, and the world around us seemed to fade away, and with it, time itself. When we noticed, the restaurant was almost empty.

“Shall I call the driver or do you want to walk back to the hotel, take a stroll, maybe?” Victor proposed.

“Walking would be nice. I would love to take a last look at the city.” I answered.

We walked in silence for a moment. Victor seemed to be lost in his own thoughts until he spoke again.

“What you said in the restaurant…” Victor stopped and turned to me, touching my arm. I felt self-conscious all of a sudden, avoiding his touch.

“There’s no need to make things awkward, Victor. I get it, I made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry. You don’t need to worry about me, I’m a big girl. You are not forced to feel the same way.”

Victor closed the small gap between us, holding my upper arms. I was startled by the sudden proximity, and instinctively looked down.

“Look at me, Andrea.” His voice was soft yet demanding. I didn’t comply.

He leaned his forehead against mine, forcing me to face him, but even then I couldn’t bring myself to meet his gaze. I squirmed again and he tensed his grip, as in to say I wouldn’t go anywhere.

“Look at me.” He pleaded again. “I need you to look at me. Look me in the eyes, Andrea.”

I finally mustered the courage to face him, afraid of what I would see. His expression was a calm, loving one.

“Did I ever say I didn’t feel the same way?” I didn't know what to say. “How can you not see it?” I heard his hoarse voice again.

And like it was the most natural thing in the world, he leaned in and kissed me. It was a soft kiss at first, just enough to taste the wine in his breath and feel the softness of his lips. But it didn’t take very long for me to get totally addicted to his warmth. I pressed his body harder with mine, taking his face with my hand, wanting more of him, and suddenly the fire inside him became brighter. And hungrier.

It was like something broke, something that was helping him hold his emotions back, and he lost all self-control. He was all over me, deepening the kiss with unexpected passion, one hand clasping my curls in the back of my head, the other holding my waist for dear life. I was lost in his arms. Hopelessly open and vulnerable. Gone for good.

Victor broke the kiss panting, his eyes dark, his forehead touching mine. I achingly let go, and it took me a moment to regain my senses, only to find I couldn’t possibly utter a word. I was terrified that the faintest sound from me would break the spell, keep him away from me again, and now that I had a taste, I wanted this more than anything. Victor smiled softly, still holding me in his arms.

“Dummy.” He teased. “Not everyone wears their heart on their sleeve like you do.” He softly stroked my cheek. “But I trust now I have successfully shown you my intentions.”

“You did.” I smiled back. “Now let me show you mine.”

And I kissed him again, reigniting his fire, and instantly melting with its magical warmth.

[monbangisland]

WANT by Lala

Chapter III

PAIRING: Min Yoongi X fem. reader

WARNINGS: None 

Yoongi's P.O.V

I hate mornings, but for some reason I was awake before the alarm went off. I have a meeting with one of the professors, who asked me for help to be a tutor for the newbies who wanted piano lessons, so I had to show up on time. 

I looked at myself in the mirror, pleased with my own image. I sprayed on some cologne and got out of the apartment with just a notebook in hand. I was walking to the Music College when I saw her walking with Park Jimin. They were laughing and smiling so wide. She looked so comfortable around him. He had his arm around her shoulders and was talking to her with a sweet voice, one that I hated so much. To be honest, I didn't like him. He's always so flirty and pretends to be so kind. Everybody has a good image of Park Jimin. And just because he's sweet, nobody talks shit about him, even though he might be worse than me. This brat isn't going to steal what's mine, not this time.

I decided to walk behind them, trying to listen to their convo. He was telling her about the crazy night he had. She laughed at every single joke he made or stupid face he did, and it was starting to piss me off.

Suddenly he started to ask her about the welcome party, fueling my interest for her answer. So I just focused on trying to catch their pace, that way I could listen to what she had to tell him.

"So, how was it? Did you like it?" - he asked her and looked at her with a small grin plastered on his face.

"It wasn't that bad. I'm just not used to it yet" - she replied looking a bit uncomfortable.

"Did you speak with somebody else? Aside from Namjoon hyung?" - he asked with interest.

"Yup, a few girls and guys, but they just made small conversation and left to join their friends. And…" - she stopped, as if she was thinking what to say next.

"And? Oh come on, you met someone, didn't you?" - Jimin started to tickle her making her giggle like a little girl. 

"Jimin stop that and yes I did but I don't think he's important" - she replied still giggling at Jimin's previous acts.

"Who is this 'non important' guy? Hm" - Jimin was smirking again. Agh, I wanted to erase that smirk so badly from his face.

"I-it was Mi…"- she was about to say my name when Kim Namjoon joined them. 

" Good morning Jimin and Y/N, how are you today?" - the guy smiled at them with his dimple. Bro, why this Y/N has to be friends with so many irritable people. This is going to be harder than I thought.

"We're good hyung, I was asking her about how she felt last night" - Jimin replied to his older friend.

"Oh, about that, where were you yesterday Y/N? I looked for you like crazy and you were nowhere to be found" - Namjoon asked her.

"Oh I left early, I wasn't in the mood" - she said a little bit ashamed. 

"You should have come to me, I'm sure your perspective would have been different” - he told her and gave her a warm smile. 

“I thought of going to you but you seemed to be busy” - she replied without looking at him. 

When he was about to reply to her I just started walking faster, I had enough of that silly conversation. Before I entered the college, I glanced at her. She was saying goodbye to Jimin. I smiled to myself and kept on walking. She was going to be alone now, so it was my chance. 

I went directly to Mr. Son’s office, he was one of the best composers and the best professors I ever had during my years in this college. Since I was one of the best students in the whole school, he asked me to help him and I immediately agreed. I was so honored and excited to be chosen by him, even though he complained about my behaviour sometimes. He had told me that if I finish my last year with good grades and the students are satisfied with my job as their tutor, he would help me enter one of the most famous conservatories in Germany. So, if I wanted to keep up with my dream, I had to work hard for that.

“Good morning Mr. Son” - I greeted him politely.

“Oh, Mr. Min! It’s good to see you. Right on time. I thought you’d come late as always” - he said to me with his serious, raspy voice.

“No Mr. Son, I’m doing my best this semester” - I said to him in a professional tone.

“Well, this is a good start. I hope you can keep it up the whole semester” - he just looked at me through his glasses.

“I will, Mr. Son” - it’s all I could say to him.

“Let’s get started then. Here, I have the list of the new students who asked for piano lessons. I made this list with the hours they have available so you can choose the student or students that you can tutor according to your schedule” - he handed me a paper with ten names on it. A name immediately called my attention, it was her name. I saw her schedule and fortunately mine fitted perfectly with hers. Bingo! This is one in a million chance, no one around us, just me and her. I checked the others’ schedule and selected another student, a random guy. 

“I checked my schedule and I chose the students. One is going to be Choi Sejun and the other one is going to be Y/L/N Y/N” - I spoke with a serious tone.

“Ok, that’s all. Please, be on time to their lessons and do your best. I’ll see you every Friday to check on their progress. The lessons start today, and you’ll be seeing them twice a week” - he said while he was writing down my name in two different papers.

“Yes Mr. Son, I’ll be there on time. Is there anything else I can help you with?” - I started to stand up from my seat. 

“Oh no Mr. Min, that’s all. You can leave now, I will notify both of the students your name and the place where the piano lessons will be held.” - he started to get up from his seat and fixed his glasses.

“Thank you so much Mr. Son, I’ll see you the next Friday” - I bowed and left his office.

Perfect, I had to wait until three o’clock to see her, during this time I started to think how to get closer to her. This won’t be easy but it’ll be worth it. 

My morning went by smoothly. Just the typical stuff for first days. Professors introducing their lectures, telling the students how the classes are going to be evaluated and so on. Finally, it was lunch time, I was walking to the cafeteria when I heard heels coming in my direction. 

“Oh hello there, Min Yoongi” - it was her, Im Yoora. I had a one night stand with her last year, at the school’s Christmas party. After that she became obsessed with me. I mean, who wouldn’t, I have amazing abilities: I’m a great rapper, I’m having vocal lessons too, I’m great with the piano, and in bed, that’s just a plus. Every girl I sleep with always come back, why? because they want more. But unfortunately, I don’t sleep with the same girl twice. It’s my rule.

“What do you want?” - I asked her coldly.

“Ouch, why so cold? Aren’t you happy to see me?” - she came closer and placed her hand on my chest.

“No, I’m not” - I pulled her hand from my body. I was disgusted.

“Oh come on, Yoongi, we had fun that day. Have you forgotten about it?” - she placed her hand again on my chest and came closer to me.

“Yeah, maybe I did” - it was all I could say.

“Well maybe you need a reminder” - she closed the gap between us and kissed me harshly. I was shocked, what the hell was wrong with this bitch. I didn’t kiss her back, I didn’t want to, but in that moment someone caught my eyes. It was her, she was looking at us, a  shocked expression on her face. I pushed Yoora and looked back at Y/N. She just started walking fast and pretended she hadn’t seen anything. 

“What the hell is wrong with you? I told you I don’t sleep with the same person twice. Are you dumb? Or are you deaf?” - I was pissed, this scene was going to cost me. If Y/N saw the kiss, I’ll have to work harder to take her into my bed. Shit, I wasn’t expecting this.

“But Yoongi��” - Yoora said a little bit nervous

“No buts, I was clear to you. ONLY ONCE. Now, get out of my way, I need to have lunch IN PEACE” - I walked past her without looking back.

“You’re going to regret this Min-” - that’s the last thing I heard from her. 

Me? Regretting? Pfff, this bitch was nuts. I never regret anything I do. I just scoffed at her last phrase.

During lunch time I could feel someone looking at me. I turned my head to the right and I caught her looking. It was a pleasant feeling, and honestly, that’s what I wanted. To get her attention. When I met her eyes she just turned her head back to her food. This girl is so fun to tease. I kept on glancing at her, and she kept on looking at me. Our game was getting interesting, but as always, Mr. “Perfection” entered the scene. He came to her with a huge dimple smile, how much I hated him. He sat next to her and started to ask her about her first day, getting closer to her once in a while. What the hell? This can’t be possible, he can’t like her. She’s going to be mine first. After that, she can go to Namjoon. I stayed in the cafeteria a few more minutes, eating the last piece of my sandwich slowly. Glancing at her once again, I took my stuff and walking by next to them, even if I could go in the other direction. I could feel her glare on my back. Just as I wanted it to be.

The rest of the afternoon went by slowly. I was bored as fuck and the anxiety was killing me. Finally it was 2:45 p.m. so I started to walk to the music hall. I took my time and walked slowly. Even though I walked as slow as I could, I was there five minutes before the scheduled time. I entered the hall and saw her sitting at the piano, looking at it delighted. Her hair was behind her ears, exposing her neck. Her scent, filling the whole room, was intoxicating. Focus Min, you have to control yourself. I coughed and she turned her head to looked at me with those big eyes. Fuck, I felt exposed. 

“We meet again, Y/N” - I finally spoke.

“Hello, Min Yoongi” - was all she said.

“Are you ready to start the lesson?” - I looked at her in the eyes, but she couldn’t keep the eye contact. I smiled a little bit at this thought.

“Yes, I am” - again she wasn’t speaking too much. Maybe it was her normal self. Yesterday she had a few beers, maybe that’s why she was so talkative. 

“Ok, let’s begin. First of all, do you play another instrument or are these your first lessons?” - I asked professionally. 

“I play the Cello” - she replied and moved to the side so I could take a seat next to her.

“Cello? Interesting, so why do you want to learn piano?” - I looked at her, her face was a little bit red.

“Personal matters” - she said and cleared her throat. Wow, I wasn’t expecting that answer, I was trying to make conversation but she would cut it off. Ok then, I’ll just impress her with my skills.

“Ok, so let’s get started” - those were my last words before I turned into the ‘professional’ tutor.

While I was explaining some things to her, I made contact physically with her. I slightly touched her hand, every once in a while. She moved her hand away sometimes, but she never rejected the contact completely. I was a little bit impressed with her, she was a fast learner and was pretty smart too, I could see that. I complimented her a few times and I got the reaction that I was expecting. She blushed and looked away and just replied with a simple “thank you”. I taught her an easy sequence, this was for her to move her hands easily along the piano and for her to recognize the piano keys. 

I stood up and went to stand right next to her, watching intently. She looked good in her black sweater and those gray jeans. She was wearing boots too, that defined her legs well. She didn’t have a super complex look, but she somehow looked amazing. She messed up a few times making me go back to reality.

“Hey, is everything ok? You were doing pretty well” - I said to her.

“Sorry, I just forgot the last part of the sequence” - she said and looked at me.

“Let me help you with that” - I came closer to her and leaned. I placed my hands over hers and looked at her “may I?” - she didn’t looked at me and just nodded. I took her hands and started to lead them over the piano. I brought my face closer to her ear, and started to speak softly.

“Just follow my lead” - I could feel her perfume, intoxicating but fascinating. She again just nodded but didn’t try to pull away. 

“See, you’re doing it amazing” - I whispered in her ear. I could feel a shiver going up my spine, I was getting too excited maybe but I was pleased. I could feel her body tensing up, the blush in her cheeks was so intense now, it was working.

“You’re good, Y/N” - when I said that, she looked at my eyes. That look was filled with a lot of emotions: confusion, nervousness, happiness but the most important, desire. She pulled her hands away from mine, she was totally nervous. 

“C-can we stop here today? I have some things to do” - she was looking to the other side of the room.

“Of course Y/N, as you wish” - my voice was a raspy whisper. I got what I wanted today.

“O-ok, see you next thursday and thanks for your patience” - she said as she grabbed her things

“It was my pleasure, Y/N” - I gave her a small smile. She looked at me again and just bowed before exiting the hall. 

I smiled again to myself, this is going to be easy. There’s no way she’s going to say no to me, I’ll just keep on making small things like this until she begs for more. With that thought on mind, I left the hall with a proud smirk on my face. I was going to win this game, just as always.

A/N: thanks for the love and support you’re giving to this story. If you like the story please give me some feedback about it, I would be glad to see some of your comments. I’ll work harder and please support my friend GF too, will try to post as much as we can. 

Thank you again for your love

Lala

[thelibraryofhell]

Pretentious and Cringy: RoseBlood

For our very first condemnation to this library, we are given RoseBlood by A.G. Howard. Follow the read more for a full count of its sins and stupidity. Warning: it gets long.

This doesn’t count as a sin but great Satan the damn description is way too long! This was likely not the author’s choice though which is why it gets a pass.

This YA novel from New York Times bestselling author A. G. Howard marks the beginning of a new era for fans of the Splintered series. Rune Germain moves to a boarding school outside of Paris, only to discover that at this opera-house-turned-music-conservatory, phantoms really do exist. RoseBlood is a Phantom of the Opera–inspired retelling in which Rune’s biggest talent—her voice—is also her biggest curse. Fans of Daughter of Smoke and Bone and the Splintered series will find themselves captivated by this pulse-pounding spin on a classic tale. Rune, whose voice has been compared to that of an angel, has a mysterious affliction linked to her talent that leaves her sick and drained at the end of every performance. Convinced creative direction will cure her, her mother ships her off to a French boarding school for the arts, rumored to have a haunted past. Shortly after arriving at RoseBlood conservatory, Rune starts to believe something otherworldly is indeed afoot. The mystery boy she’s seen frequenting the graveyard beside the opera house doesn’t have any classes at the school, and vanishes almost as quickly as he appears. When Rune begins to develop a secret friendship with the elusive Thorn, who dresses in clothing straight out of the 19th century, she realizes that in his presence she feels cured. Thorn may be falling for Rune, but the phantom haunting RoseBlood wants her for a very specific and dangerous purpose. As their love continues to grow, Thorn is faced with an impossible choice: lead Rune to her destruction, or save her and face the wrath of the phantom, the only father he’s ever known.

That first paragraph would have sufficed for description and given the reader some mystery. The second could have stayed but it’s on thin ice. And we don’t have ice in hell. 

To summarize the story: Rune Germain is a 16-17 year old girl from Pleasant, Texas who is, in her own words “possessed by music”. Thanks to a rich aunt and some nepotism, she gets the chance to go to RoseBlood, a conservatory in Paris that is a refurbished opera house that, according to Rune’s online research, is the place where Gaston Leroux’s Phantom Of The Opera story really took place. Upon arrival, Rune is immediately overtaken by music and makes an enemy in Katrina Nilsson by interrupting Kat’s audition for Renata in the school’s opera. She also makes friends with a few other students who really have no bearing on either the plot or Rune’s adventures. She eventually finds her Love Interest Thorn - real name Etalon, stalking her as she goes about her day to day life, and immediately falls in love with him because they are Twin Flame and Destined by Destiny. It is soon enough revealed that Rune, Thornalon, and Erik are all psychic vampires that must feed off humans to survive. It is also soon revealed that Rune and Thornalon are Christina Nilsson’s soul reincarnated and split and that Rune “has Christine’s voice”. It also turns out that Christina and Erik got married and tried to have a child who was born premature and died. Erik was driven mad(der) by the child’s death and somehow, in the 1900′s, managed to build a contraption that kept the baby “alive” until he could track down Christine’s soul and reunite the pieces and transfer it to the baby... Needless to say, he failed, Rune and Thornalon live happily ever after, and Rune suffers no consequences from any of her terrible actions through the whole novel.

Sin count time!

Sin 1: The school name! RoseBlood.  What does it have to do with anything? There are bleeding roses later in the story but why would a school name itself RoseBlood? This choice is never explained. It has no French basis, no connection to the opera-house turned school, and no connection to Gaston Leroux’s original Phantom Of The Opera.

Sin 2: Overwrought descriptions right out of the gate.

At home, I have a poster on my wall of a rose that’s bleeding. Its petals are white, and red liquid oozes from its heart, thick and glistening warm. 

Mom looks out her window where the wet trees have thickened to multicolored knots, like an afghan gilded with glitter.

I trace the window now curtained by mud, imagining the glass cracking and bursting; imagining myself sprouting wings to fly away through the opening—back to America and my two friends who were tolerant of my strange quirks.

These are all from chapter one. It only gets worse as you go.

Sin 3: Racism. Main character Rune Germain regularly describes herself as a “gypsy”. According to her, on her father’s side, she’s a g*psy. Moving through this review, I will be censoring the word. I’m a demon of hell, not a piece of shit. Rune never says Roma or Romani in the entire book. There’s no references to Romani culture, nothing about the problems Romani people face in the modern day, nothing. Rune is also as white as a piece of paper. You can see it on the cover

And in how she describes herself.

People say we could pass for sisters. We share her ivory complexion, the tiny freckles spattered across the bridge of her nose, the wide green eyes inside a framework of thick lashes, and her hair—black as a raven’s wings.

If you look up pictures of Romani people, you see that they’re far from ivory skinned. 

It’s not only Rune. Her Aunt Charlotte does it too. The “Phantom” does it. And Roma culture is treated very poorly throughout the novel. Rune several times refers to her “g*psy blood” as “cursed” or “terrible”. One example:

Nausea sweeps through me at the thought. After our encounter, I realized why I was enchanted by the spider’s feeding rituals, that there was something in my g*psy blood—something tainted and wrong.

In this modern day and age, can’t humans stop demonizing and stereotyping an entire culture? Or using “half-g*psy” lineage to make characters “exotic” or “mystic”? No? Fine, I’ll see you down here eventually. 

Sin 4: The Love Interest’s backstory..... TRIGGER WARNING FOR FURTHER DISCUSSION OF RAPE, CHILD TRAFFICKING, AND REFERENCED CHILD SEXUAL ASSAULT.

Rune’s Love Interest is named Etalon. His mother was sexually assaulted by a psychic vampire who is apparently from Canada - I have no idea why Howard felt the need to include that - and it ruined her life to the point where she was forced to turn to prostitution to feed herself and Etalon. A man kept trying to “buy” Etalon from her because he was beautiful. She kept refusing, and eventually, she was murdered. Etalon was quickly snatched up into child trafficking where, at one point, he was forced to drink lye water to damage his vocal cords because he wouldn’t stop singing. He eventually escaped when Erik found him and took him in, renaming him Thorn. 

Love Interests with tragic backstories are a staple of the YA genre. It makes them mysterious and interesting. It often drives the main character’s interest in the aloof and unusual bad boy. Quite often, these backstories involve dead or missing parents, being turned into a vampire or werewolf, or some combination of all of these things. It’s very rare that it gets so real. Child trafficking is a very real and prevalent issue in the world and it needs attention brought to it. But not like this. Using it as a character’s backstory is something that takes a level of skill Howard simply does not have. It needs to be written with respect to victims who might read it and not just be used to give characters a compelling but otherwise unused backstory. Thornalon never displays any indicators that the time spent in this situation traumatized him. There’s no signs of PTSD or other mental health issues that might arise from what he went through. There’s also no signs that Howard donated any money from book sales to charities like Child Fund, Save The Children, or ECPAT-USA. This is a very serious topic that NEEDS more attention brought to it and Howard glossed over it like it was nothing. 

Sin 5: Underutilized setting.  Rune comes from Pleasant, Texas and moves to Paris, France. But there’s no sense of wonder from her. She never talks about how beautiful the city is or learning French. Supposedly, the school only admits American students.

“How many foreign boarding schools offer admittance only to American kids? This is a rare opportunity . . . a taste of French culture in a setting that feels like home.”

Oooor the author couldn’t be bothered to deal with French translations or expanding the student body to include a diversity? There’s no French culture anywhere in this book. Any time Rune goes into Paris, it’s skipped over. There’s nothing about it that says Paris. It could have been set in New Jersey and it wouldn’t have made much of a difference. 

Sin 6: Each chapter begins with a quote from a different author and work. Including, weirdly enough, Karl Marx... Beginning a chapter with a quote is fine, but it should be consistent. Picking a single work or author to use helps to reader see a consistency in the theme of the book. Since this is a Phantom of The Opera based story, it would make sense to use quotes from the book. Instead, the author uses a different work for each chapter, and it’s honestly just annoying. 

Sin 7: All promise, no pay off. This book has a promise of action and mystery. It’s got a fabulous premise and a setting that could be beautifully used if in the hands of the right author. But it misses the mark on good characters, action, and keeping a consistent pace. 

Punishments: For being tone-deaf and generally bad at writing, author A.G. Howard is condemned to have the dead tree in her backyard become home to her state’s buzzard population. For being a terrible protagonist, Rune Germain is condemned to find a mistake in the middle of her knitting projects just as she is about to finish them. For the terrible Phantom Iteration known as Erik, we condemn his instruments to always be just slightly out tune. And Thorn/Etalon... we order you to get a lot of therapy and a service dog. 

So let it be recorded. Today’s story time is concluded.