#wait there are unit songs on here?? or at least ones with lyrics by only members!

[atelophobicself]

what do you mean MATZ?!

also, i feel like ateez and stray kids are just sharing aesthetics now, it’s not only ateezification of skz it’s also skzfication of ateez. like, this:

could be skz promotion and i wouldn’t question it. if you don’t see it, let me have it. i love my mayfly forever.

[231114] ATEEZ THE WORLD EP.FIN : WILL Tracklist

2023. 12. 01 2PM RELEASE

[fairyniceyeah]

💎🍚 Won't let them break your heart

Title from Rock with you (Seventeen)

Summary: Lately it felt like that was all he was to them: A producer and a unit leader. Jihoon is tired of being Woozi all the time.

CW: insecurity

Whumpee: Jihoon/Woozi Caretaker: Soonyoung/Hoshi

It wasn’t like Jihoon doubted the members’ love for him...

How could he? 

They constantly told him how much they appreciated his efforts in creating the best music for them. They never missed a chance to compliment his music itself. They provided him with warm food and a place to call home (though he was barely there). They always noted how good of a unit leader he was and Seungcheol often thanked him for helping him with his duties. They let him cry all over them whenever they sang Circles and cooed over him when he pushed them aside when they tried to shower him in affection. 

Just lately …

Lately it felt like that was all he was to them: A producer and a unit leader. Somebody they could rely on and ask him for his help.

If he was honest, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had had a conversation with one of the members that wasn’t related to their work. Rationally he knew that comeback season was always busy, always the most stressful time of the year. Nobody really had time for anything but their work. The Hip-Hop Unit wrote their raps. The Performance Unit created their dances. The Vocal Unit worked on the lyrics. And Woozi did all the music, arranging, guides, recording - all on top of the dance practices and other promotion schedules.

It had been too long since he had actually been Jihoon - not Woozi.

Maybe it was different for S.Coups and Hoshi and DK and The8 and Dino. Maybe they felt like their stage names had merged with their real personality. 

But for Woozi? He longed to be Jihoon again.

It was an honor to be Woozi, of course. To have his name attached to so many songs. To have people recognize his talent. To receive awards as a group and as a producer. To be a part of Seventeen.

But being Woozi was also dreadfully exhausting, demanding, taxing, trying, strenuous.

Just … he just wished for one day where he didn’t have to be on. One day where people didn’t expect so much of him. One day of just existing with his members. 

Nobody asking anything of him.

Thinking back - all conversations he had with his members had not only been about work but even more so about what he should do and add and change and decide and…

He was tired.

He was so so tired.

But there was nothing to be done about that. He still had to edit the sample Bumzu - who was out sick - had sent him, look over Wonwoo’s and Vernon’s raps, write the rest of their lyrics, make at least a beat for the song he had been thinking about with S.Coups, find time to meet with the Vocal Unit, record two guides and they had dance practice later. 

Well, no day but today.

With a sigh, Woozi lifted his head out of his hands where he had sat slumped over on his desk. He needed to get back to work.

💎

A knock on the studio door - hours later - pulled Woozi from his work.

He looked up, rubbed his tired eyes, rolled his shoulders and stretched. Maybe he could make himself look a bit more presentable to the visitor.

“Come in”, he called, lifting his eyebrows when he found Soonyoung entering the studio, carrying a take-out bag in his hands.

“Evening”, the older man called, smiling brightly, “I come bearing gifts. Well, food. Food and my presence are the gifts. The last even more than the first.”

Woozi laughed a bit at his chingu. “Even … wait, don’t we have dance practice in …” He looked down at his phone that showed a reading of 18:06 o’clock “... six minutes ago? Fuck, we’re late.” He rushed to his feet, the lightheartedness and teasing in his voice vanishing at once. What was Soonyoung doing here, bringing food?

“Practice is canceled”, Soonyoung said, shrugging, “relax and sit back down.”

Relieved and at the same time feeling stressed, Woozi slumped back down into his desk chair. If practice was canceled he’d have more time to finish his work tonight but they’d have to do dance practice another day and nobody knew how much work he would have at that point.

He suspiciously eyed the bag that Soonyoung still held in his hands. The members mostly brought him food as a peace offering, to lull him into compliance before asking him for another thing. It was a nice gesture for them, giving him a little in return for his efforts but Woozi had come to dread the crinkling of take-out bags. And he already dreaded what Hoshi wanted from him.

“How come?”, he decided to ask, gesturing at Hoshi to take the other chair.

“Uh, well, you haven’t read the group chat, have you?”, Hoshi countered.

Woozi shook his head. He had been too preoccupied by his work to check the chat (and the time apparently) and figured if there was something important they would come by or call.

“Well, the Hip-Hop Unit went out for lunch together. They all have food poisoning.” Hoshi grimaced and shuddered. “You missed the whole show - not much to miss though except Jeonghan-hyung about to lose his sanity but that does happen every three to four business days anyhow.”

Woozi couldn’t suppress a snort at that. Their second-oldest hyung really was a mother-hen and he assumed that the Hip-Hop Unit would not be able to live that down soon. Also Jeonghan’s pain was funny at times.

Of course Woozi felt terribly bad for the sick members and he knew that their schedules would become even worse now that things would have to get pushed back or rescheduled. There was a tiny snake of anxiety wrapping itself around his chest and squeezing. He didn’t want to imagine the stress that would soon follow.

“I assume they all went home?”, Woozi asked.

“Hm”, Hoshi said, handing him a pair of chopsticks, “S.Coups+ apartment is the place to avoid. Eat.”

“I hope you got this from a different place?”, the producer quipped, not waiting for Hoshi to answer. The dancer would not be that stupid. He hoped.

“Glad you trust me”, Hoshi replied with an eye roll and dug in as well.

They ate in silence, both preoccupied by thoughts. Jihoon sighed. He really didn’t want to keep working. He didn’t want to face all the pressure and the dead-lines, the criticism. The upper management who always had something bad to say no matter what he did.

But Woozi also couldn’t disappoint his members. He was their producer, the one who they trusted to make them successful. Without his music they would have failed a long time ago. Somehow that thought wasn’t as comforting as it could have been.

Actually, no, it created even more pressure.

What were those song lyrics?

Pressure like a drip, drip, drip

That’ll never stop

Pressure that will tip, tip, tip

‘Til you just go pop

I’m pretty sure I’m worthless

If I can’t be of service

Jihoon really shouldn’t have watched so much Disney with Vernon and Joshua.

He couldn’t hold it in anymore. The question spilled out of him like a waterfall, without any chance of stopping it, so much force nothing could withstand it.

“What can I do for you, Hoshi?”

Hoshi looked up from his food and blinked. “What? Can’t I just come here and spend time with my favorite producer?” 

Going the flattery route then - explicitly mentioning the producer title. Well, food and flattery. Jihoon hadn’t expected anything less. He put his chopsticks down, noticing that he had been clutching them so harshly it was a miracle he hadn’t snapped them in half.

Still, there was something weird about Hoshi's tone - confusion, maybe. Genuinity? 

No, he must have imagined it. Well, he knew that Hoshi genuinely liked his music. But he certainly wanted something. Woozi was sure of it.

He was tired of waiting for what Hoshi was about to spring upon him. What he would have to add to his overly full schedule. What would make him spend more time holed up here alone. What would make Jihoon disappear even more.

💎

Jihoon hated himself for losing his temper like that, seeing the pained confusion on Hoshi’s face. He shouldn’t have snapped like that. The aftermath, however, was worse still.

“Just tell me why you came, Hoshi.” He had given a long-suffering sigh.

There had been hurt in Hoshi’s eyes that Woozi had been too exhausted to even try to figure out. “I already said it. I want to hang out with you because I feel like it and I miss you. You’ve been stuck here all day.”

“Bullshit!”, Woozi had hissed through clenched teeth. “What is it? You all always come because you want something from me. A new track? A guide? Lyrics? Just tell me so I can get back to work. I’ll fit it into the schedule somehow.”

“Jihoon-ah”, Hoshi had tried to calm him down, his eyes blown wide. “I truly just didn’t want you to be all alone all day, especially since practice was canceled. Nobody has seen you all day. I promise, I really came to check in on you, see how you were doing.”

“Nobody does that”, Jihoon had whispered, staring down at his lap.

Silence held on for a couple of minutes. Woozi really tried to get his breathing under control. It was too fast, too harsh, too shallow. Everytime he tried to breathe normally it got stuck in his throat. He looked at his hands which were shaking in his lap. Or maybe it was his shoulders? His whole body? He didn’t know.

There was the taste of salt on his lips.

💎

That was it. Hoshi was leaving. Leaving him alone. Leaving him to his misery and his shame.

But instead of moving away the footsteps came closer until Jihoon could spot the washed out sneakers that Soonyoung loved to death. 

A hand came to rest on his knee as his best friend knelt down in front of him. Stubborn, Jihoon refused to look at him. He didn’t want to look at Hoshi, not after exploding so rudely on him. They were all stressed. They were all preparing for a comeback. Snapping at each other was something that was something that S.Coups pretty quickly had made sure was not tolerated and needed apologizing. Jihoon didn’t think that he could get any words out if he tried, not even apologetic ones.

“Jihoon-ah, look at me”, Soonyoung commanded quietly, his voice giving no room for argument. But Jihoon couldn’t do it. Couldn’t face more pressure, more requests, more asks. 

When he didn’t move his head and it became clear that he wouldn't, Soonyoung sighed. It didn’t sound annoyed like Jihoon had imagined it would, but … sad? He couldn’t make sense of that. 

The hand Soonyoung didn’t use to keep his balance on Jihoon’s knee moved upwards towards Jihoon’s face. Rationally Jihoon knew that Soonyoung would not hit him. None of the members would. They would protect him if anybody tried. Yet - Jihoon couldn’t help but flinch.

Soonyoung let out a whimper like a wounded animal and immediately retreated his hand. “Baby? Hoon-ah?”, he asked breathlessly, “what’s going on? Has somebody been hurting you?”

Jihoon immediately shook his head. Nobody had. Just … their behavior.

“I need you to speak with me, baby, so I can be sure”, Soonyoung whispered, “please tell me if somebody hurt you. Even if it’s just a tiny scratch I’d want to know.”

“No”, Jihoon breathed out, “nobody has hurt me.”

“I’m so happy to hear that, baby”, Soonyoung said, the relief evident in his voice, “is .. is it okay if I touch you?”

Jihoon shrugged, nodded.

“I know speaking is hard but can you confirm this verbally for me?”, Soonyoung requested. His voice was so gentle, so patient that Jihoon wanted to cry. Actually, had he even stopped?

“Yeah”, he mumbled and slowly Soonyoung brushed his long hair that had created sort of a halo around his face behind his ear. His thumb came up to wipe under Jihoon’s eyes. Maybe he was still crying. Maybe Jihoon should be concerned that he felt so detached that he couldn’t tell if he himself was crying.

Gently, leaving him the possibility to stop the movement, Soonyoung lifted Jihoon’s head so he was finally looking at the older. Jihoon gasped when he saw the pale, tear-streaked face of his best friend.

“Why are you crying?”, he asked already half-way into turning around to search for tissues.

“Why am I crying?”, Soonyoung asked incredulously, gripping into Jihoon’s hand to stop his movement, “why wouldn’t I be crying? I came here to spend some time with you only to find out I have been a terrible friend and neglected you.”

That finally stopped Jihoon’s frantic attempts to find tissues - he knew it was hysterical looking for tissues but he didn’t know how else to help. But now? 

Jihoon didn’t want Soonyoung to blame himself for something Jihoon was overreacting to. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry”, he whispered, “I … don’t know what came over me. You have been an amazing friend. You are an amazing friend. I don’t know why I reacted like this, I’m sorry.”

Soonyoung lifted his hand again to rest it against Jihoon’s burning hot cheek. He smiled up at him, the smile looking incredibly sad. 

“Hoon-ah, stop apologizing. I … I don’t … I. I don’t know how to say this. But how would you feel if you found me dancing all day every day and you just wanted to hang out only to have me expect you to burden me with even more choreographies even though I clearly was already stressed?”

“I’d feel awful, you should rest! And … I’d hate myself for making you think you were only valuable for your productive outpu … oh”, Jihoon replied, voice going quiet as he realized.

He hadn’t wanted to put Soonyoung in this position. But he couldn’t deny what conclusion Soonyoung’s mind had jumped to. What true conclusion his mind had jumped to.

“See why I am so worried?”, Soonyoung asked, his voice very gentle.

Jihoon nodded, hesitantly. He didn’t want to admit it but it did feel good to finally unburden his heart. His eyes began to water again and his throat felt tight.

“Soonyoung”, he whispered, “I am so tired.”

“I know, baby. I know. It’s okay. Rest your weight on my shoulders now.”

With a cry, Jihoon fell forward off the chair, knowing that no matter what, Soonyoung would catch him.

💎

“Tell me what’s on your mind, Hoon-ah”, Soonyoung asked, tipping his index finger against Jihoon’s temple.

It was some time later, Jihoon didn’t know how much. He’d cried in Soonyoung’s arms on the floor of his studio for so long, sobs leaving his body until he physically couldn’t cry anymore. Once he had slumped over, completely spent, Soonyoung had carried him to the couch in the corner of his studio. He’d sat down Jihoon in his lap, something the younger would have protested in any other situation. For now it felt like he couldn't ever let go of his best friend ever again. From how tight Soonyoung held him, Jihoon doubted there were any such plans in the future.

At Soonyoung’s question Jihoon exhaled. It was strangely loud in the quietness of the studio. He didn’t know how to explain without making Soonyoung cry again. He most certainly didn’t want that. The older had cried along with him, though focused on comforting Jihoon and holding him tightly.

“It’s stupid, really.” Now that everything had died down, the volcano in him had erupted, Jihoon was embarrassed. Soonyoung had come to have a good time and instead Jihoon had ended up using him as a tissue. 

“It’s not stupid if it has you this frazzled”, Soonyoung insisted and then more hesitantly: “You didn’t expect me to actually come to spend time with you. You thought I would just drop by with a new request, a new task on your already crazy schedule. We have been doing that a lot, haven’t we?”

“I mean … I guess?”, Jihoon asked, playing with the strings of Soonyoung’s comfy hoodie. His head hurt and he didn’t necessarily feel like having the conversation. He’d rather just stay here with his head resting against Soonyoung’s shoulder and just not have to work for a while. “Not too much. Just with all the other stuff I have to do and Bumzu out sick. It’s stressful right now. A small request here and there isn’t too bad.”

“Unless it’s twelve small requests upon your already insane workload, am I right?”, Soonyoung stated more than he asked. 

Jihoon shrugged. “I mean, it’s my job, right? I shouldn’t complain.”

“Your job is to be healthy above all. Yes, I know you have a lot to do with all the producing and everything else that comes with a comeback but not at the cost of your mental health. It’s not your responsibility to lighten our workload. It’s not right that your first thought when somebody comes in here is that they want something from you, not just you. I’m sorry you felt like this, like we only want you for your creative output. You are an amazing person, worth spending time with outside of work. So worth it.”

There definitely was a blush on his cheeks now, Jihoon was sure. He was glad nobody else was there to witness that. 

But Soonyoung wasn’t finished: “It’s okay to say no, you know? It’s okay to set boundaries.”

That was the problem of it all, wasn’t it? Woozi had never learned how to set boundaries. He had never needed to. Besides - what was he if not their producer?

“I … I’m scared, I think”, Jihoon admitted, “I know you love Woozi. I know you appreciate what I do. I am proud of what I do. It’s just … I have always been Woozi. Always been the one producing, the one in the studio, the one you all could rely on to make music. If Woozi makes a mistake, slips up, it might cause our downfall. I think … I think I forgot how to be Jihoon during this.”

Soonyoung gasped, like Jihoon had physically hurt him. Then he wrapped his arms around Jihoon tightly again, holding him in a comforting embrace, and pressed a kiss to his temple.

“Jihoon-ah. Jihoon-ah, I am so sorry I never realized how much all of this affected you. All the fear and pain you carried with you. I’m sorry we never showed you we loved Jihoon as well. Much more than we could ever love Woozi.”

Jihoon just buried his face in Soonyoung’s neck and breathed in. For the first time in a long time it didn’t hurt. He wasn’t afraid anymore. Soonyoung said the truth, he always did with matters of the heart. Jihoon had no choice but to believe him.

“Thank you, Young-ah”, he whispered, “thank you.”

“It’s alright, Jihoon-ah. We’ll get this fixed. I promise the members all love you for who you are - not your music, not your talent. For that, of course, too, but first and foremost because you are our Jihoon-ah, okay?”

Jihoon nodded. He was so tired. His eyes slipped shut against his will.

“I’ll speak with S.Coups-hyung to reduce your workload and address all this - well, as soon as he is able to keep his head out of a bucket for longer than a few minutes. We’ll find solutions to all your problems and we’ll help you where we can. You don’t have to do this alone. We’re Seventeen - we'll face this together. You can rest now, love.”

Jihoon closed his eyes and he slept.

Notes: Fun fact, this is actually my second SEVENTEEN fanfic I wrote. I just never got around to posting it... anyways, nearly a year later, here it is!

Masterlist links: Fairy's Full Masterlist Fairy's Masterlist - SEVENTEEN

[poetryandfluffycats]

One of Those Nights

A/N: this is the first fic I've ever posted on here please be kind 😭

Pairing: Leo Tsukinaga x fem! reader

Warnings: Maybe slightly ooc Leo, very mild cussing

Content: Leo has a habit of waking up with inspiration at weird hours, this is one of those times

Words: 625

Oneshot under cut!

"Wahahha! I'm a genius! Look (name), aren't I genius?"

Leo had a habit of doing this. Waking up at some ungodly hour of the night after inspiration hit him. Which was great, as his partner I loved that he was working so hard for his unit. Only problem was, these late night bursts of creativity often woke me up, and Leo would not stop blabbering until he fell back asleep himself.

I was laying ontop of the covers with my feet in the air as I watched Leo at his desk, papers sprawled out everywhere. His ginger hair was down from his usual ponytail and his green eyes sparkled with delight. He was beautiful, yes, but also quite a pain in the ass at times.

"(name) (name) (name)~ what do you think of these lyrics? Aren't they good? I can't wait to show everyone!" He flung some papers over at the bed and I barely managed to catch them.

"Yes darling, your a genius" I mumbled sleepily as I read through the scribbles on the paper. It was just a few random verses and a chorus thrown together, but it did flow nicely.

"Yes! Isn't it great! I wrote it about you, can you tell? It's a love song" He was bouncing up and down in his chair like a little kid. I couldn't help but smile at his antics.

I gently placed the paper down on the bed and rested my head in arms, creating a makeshift pillow for myself.

"Hmm" I hummed in response to Leo and closed my eyes, my tiredness slowly taking over my body. I could almost feel myself drifting into unconscious, until...

WACK!

"Ack! What-" I suddenly found myself with Leo sitting on my back, a pillow in his hand and a shit-eating grin on his face. Obviously, I wasn't getting away that easy.

"Hey! You can't go to sleep yet, I still have so many ideas to tell you about," he gave me the biggest puppy dog eyes, "Please?"

I sighed. There was just no way I could stay mad at him. Not at those eyes. Looking up at him, I smiled and caressed his cheek, rubbing my thumb against his soft skin. "Can you at least come to bed? I promise, you can still tell me all about your genius plans"

"Hmmmm" Leo leaned his head into my hand, pondering my question.

I gave him a quick peck on the lips, "Please?"

A small blush dusted his cheeks and his expression lightened, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, "okay, since you asked so nicely"

He sild off me and snuggled under the covers, making grabby hands at me to follow suit.

I rolled my eyes and sild in beside him, my chest flush against his and our faces inches apart. I wrapped my arms around him and lazily slung my leg over his, taking in the warmth of his body.

"So, tell me about these ideas of yours"

"Oh! Well I had this thought about-"

And off he went, rambling on about whatever came to his mind in the moment. I just laid there, listening to him and occasionally giving him a kiss whenever he stopped to breath.

Slowly but surely, his brainstorming slowed down, and I could see his eyelids growing heavy. He nuzzled into my chest and his speech became more slurred and incoherent as he continued, until he was nothing more than a blabbering mess.

I placed a soft kiss to his forehead, "Goodnight darling"

"Hmm, nighty night.."

With that, he was out like a light.

I smiled to myself, nuzzling my head into his ginger locs and sighing.

Maybe these late night brainstorms weren't such a bad thing.

[makur0]

Melting Innocence, Rouge Heat, Tainted Soul

synopsis — if putting on an alluring performance wasn't enough for the two members of Adam, you certainly will fulfill their desires on Valentines Day. [nagisa ran x fem! reader x ibara saegusa]

content warnings — nsfw, mdni. sub! reader, hard dom! ibara, dom! nagisa, semi-exhibitionism, dirty talk, penetration, creampie, oral, cursing, stomach bulge, breeding, slightly rushed end

author's note — part one of valentine's fest! god i want to be sandwiched between these two it isn't funny. (and surprisingly... writing to character AI's really helps my burnt out era)

word count — 2347

"HON, AREN'T YOU GOING TO SEE ADAM'S PERFORMANCE?"

Anzu turns to you, her head tilted. You finally look up from your paperwork, blinking. "...huh?"

The lead producer sighs, reaching over to close your computer. "[name], Adam? The sub-unit you produce for? Nagisa and Ibara?"

You seem dazed, not processing her words before finally jolting. "A-ah, yes! Their Valentine's Day-themed live, right? Yes, I'll be there... I think..."

You sigh, running your fingers through your hair. "I don't know, Anzu. I have too much work to even take half an hour out of my time... but then again, I was the head of this project, I should at least enjoy it..." You look so conflicted with yourself, Anzu sighs.

"Darling, [name]," The brunette tuts, bringing you up to your feet. "Go, I got the rest."

"But-"

"Shut- no. That's an order," She says sternly, and you finally yield, nodding. At this Anzu looks pleased that she finally convinced you to take a much-needed break. "Good... now, go before they start."

You quickly run out of the office, and as you leave Anzu alone, she smiles to herself slightly.

Besides... Nagisa and Ibara would be extremely dissapointed that their 'main audience' won't even be there...

---

You quickly make it to the Producer's section of the auditorium, meeting many other of your co-workers who are excitedly waiting for the performance. Unlike you, they came solely to... ah, simp for the two members of the popular unit Eden, Nagisa Ran and Ibara Saegusa. You didn't even recognize half of them from the project, which you sigh at. You laugh at yourself- the head of the project showing the least 'interest'...?

You take your seat away from the horny group, making yourself comfortable. Minutes before the Live starts, your phone buzzes: it's Ibara.

Ibara: Are you here? I would be gravely disappointed if you weren't.

You sigh through your nose, texting back a short, 'Yes' before shutting your phone down. Ibara should know better than to text you right before his own performance.

Finally, the lights turn off, and the stage lights up. You can't help but swell in pride of how intricate the stage is, thanks to your designing. As the two members of Adam had requested, you tied it along with their song as well as you could... as well as some suggestions that were strangely what you like...

You had decided not to look into it deeply, instead following Adam's requests.

As Ibara and Nagisa descend, somehow they quickly find you in the crowd, both sending you an unreadable look as they start the performance...

Your breath was caught in your throat.

You had no idea how... uh. Hot their vocals and choreography was.

As the head of the project, you were surprisingly only in charge of the setup of the stage and the light coordination. Then again, Ibara had requested that you pull your full attention on that...

You felt yourself heating up at the lyrics, mesmerized by their movements. If you were in a more attentive mindset, you would have noticed that they were constantly stealing glances towards you. But, paired with overall tiredness, your flustered state did not help at all.

You started to overthink as the Live carried on. They have been sending me mixed signals... No, how could they possibly fancy me? Both of them? I'm just their producer, nothing else...

So why do I feel so uncomfortably hot?

It felt like an eternity, but Adam was finally done with their performance. To say the least, you were proud of yet another successful performance, but so many other emotions were mixed into the mess... confusion, flattery, embarrassment...

Not long after Adam left the stage you feel your phone buzz again.

Ibara: Come meet us at our dressing room.

You can't- don't think much of it as you rush off before the other producers could disgust you of their horny talk, walking through the cold halls as you find Adam's dressing room. You frown, as the door stands ajar and the room is dark inside.

Funny... maybe they got another dressing room? Or did they just leave earlier?

You walk into the dressing room, completely unaware of what was about to happen...

The door shuts as your vision is obscured by the darkness of the room, and you even hear the door lock click as you feel arms wrap around you tightly. "H-hey-!?"

"Shh." It's Nagisa. "...It's just us."

A groan from another man, Ibara you realize, interrupts Nagisa. "Your Highness, I thought we agreed to keep our identities a secret as a special touch."

"...My bad."

With the little light in the room, you see Ibara's glasses reflected in it. Otherwise, he was completely invisible in the darkness. "Dear Producer, what did you think of our performance...?"

You hear his footsteps walk up towards you, and his pair of arms hook under your own and lift you up. Nagisa's body acts as a chair for you as you feel hot breath on both your neck and face... feeling yourself heat up, you completely disregard the previous question thrown at you.

Ibara tsks at your lack of response. "Hm. It looks like the cat has already got her tongue, Your Highness..."

"...I was hoping to be the first one to get her tongue."

"W-what on earth is going on?" You finally manage to get out, squirming although Nagisa's hold around you is strong, tight. "Ibara-san, Nagisa-san, is that you?"

Ibara chuckles. "Indeed it is, dear producer! I am quite glad that you had decided to attend our Live, as my plan would be in complete shambles if you haven't..."

"Plan-?"

Nagisa interrupts you, groaning. "Ibara, make it quick. I can't resist any longer."

The said male exhales. "If you insist.

"As I was saying... tonight is Valentine's day, as you're aware. And also... you seem to have been ignoring our rather obvious calls for you.

"So, we decided, tonight, we shall-"

Ibara is interrupted by your yelp, as you suddenly feel Nagisa bite down your neck, humming. The pain is brief, as he lets go as soon as he bites down, kissing the flushing mark now.

Based on his voice, Ibara is annoyed. "Your Highness, couldn't you have waited a bit longer?"

"...Mm. No." Nagisa quite plainly says, nibbling on your ear. "With her right in my grasp... I couldn't resist any longer."

The younger male sighs, then finally light filters into the room, although red(?) and dimly lit. It's not enough to blind you, just enough to see the two figures starting to swarm around you. "W-what?"

Now it's Nagisa's turn to be annoyed, as you seem to flinch away from him. "We're not going to hurt you... just simply show our want for you.

"We're quite endeared with you, little [name]. I'm quite surprised you haven't caught onto our advances..."

You stutter as Ibara suddenly sits on your own lap, and you're soon sandwiched between the two already-sweaty men, from their performance. Your head is yanked forward as Ibara takes your lips greedily, all signs of courtesy now gone as he seems to have also lost patience to reason with you. As he sees that you're not pulling away, he continues to ravish your lips, groaning softly. You still feel Nagisa's breath on your neck, watching him softly kiss all your tender spots and grinning to himself as he sees you flinch every single time.

"Mm... finally." Ibara finally breaks the long kiss, leaving you gasping like a fish out of water. "You taste just as I predicted... sultry, yet sweet."

You feel your body heat up at his comment... how long have they've been trying to pin your attention? A week? Month? Months?

You thought it was just you, pining for the two handsome idols. When in full retrospect, you weren't the only one satisfied with just the work-acquaintance relationship.

Both Nagisa and Ibara's advances and touches on you become more rushed, heated, the longer you let them do as they please. Even without you saying it, your complete submissiveness tells them loud and clear:

You like this too.

Ibara curses under his breath, shifting as his pants grow tight. "Nagisa," He completely disregards his usual title for the older male. "Lay them down. I'm getting too damn impatient now."

The said idol obliges quite easily, letting you go of his tight hold and setting you down on the wide, long couch. Usually having... ahem, sex on a couch was rather uncomfortable, but it seems that this piece of furniture would suffice well for the three of you... you wonder if they planned this deliberately.

As soon as your set down Ibara immediately hovers over you, Nagisa taking a seat near your head. As the maroon-haired male props his elbows on either side of your head, he leans dangerously close, looking quite... tempting even as his glasses slightly slide down his nose.

"Do you want to know why I didn't allow you to know about the music or the choreography?"

"..."

Ibara hums. "...well, it would just ruin this night even more for us. If you haven't connected the dots yet... those lyrics?

"About this night. About you."

You blink, your cheeks heating up profusely. "...H-how long have you've been trying to- ahem."

Nagisa speaks up. "Around a month..."

Oh dear.

The younger idol shakes his head. "The past doesn't matter now. You're here in our clutches now... god, I can't wait to just ruin you..."

He flips you over on your stomach, forcing your legs up so that your ass is in the air. You let out a faint squeak, reddening even more as your face is quite close to Nagisa's pelvis... quite close to the rather large tent in his pants.

The cold air hitting your bare ass barely bothers you as Nagisa lifts your head up slowly, shifting to his knees as he gets ready to use your mouth. As he tantalizingly takes off his pants, you feel Ibara's fingers prod at your hole, chuckling as he feels that it's decently wet... he needs it soaking, though. He's not going to just rail you for hours to start with a measly arousal.

Your whimpers are soon muffled as you slowly sink your mouth down on Nagisa's now-exposed cock, the tip angry red as the veins bulge. You barely make it halfway before you start struggling, your hands clenching onto the sofa fabric.

Ibara's fingers make their way into your hole, abusing your poor cunt as he quickly brings you to a high. You moan around Nagisa's cock, shivering as you hit your first orgasm for the night... but certainly not the last, far from it. Ibara seems to finger-fuck you faster, relishing your now-twitching finger and muffled whines. Nagisa lets out a pleased sigh, his head bobbing back as his fingers thread your hair as your moans vibrate his cock.

You're pushed into another orgasm again, making your moans more frequent and louder. Nagisa seems to lose his composure, gripping your hair and shoving his entire length down your throat. You choke violently, gagging as hot tears run down your cheeks as you moan shamelessly, being used as nothing but a toy for the two idols.

"God," Ibara curses, scooping up your arousal to taste it. "A little part of me wanted to fuck you on that couch on the stage, right in front of everybody.... what would you think of that, your Highness?"

"..."

Ibara sighs, looking down back at you. "Nevermind... besides, you're already here. Why should I wish for anything better? Public or not, we're still going to ruin you..."

Nagisa lets out a soft groan, pelvis jerking as he comes down your throat. You gag loudly, clutching the sofa as you feel the hot liquid go down your throat. There was so much, too much... your gag reflex triggers, and you feel yourself choking back up some of Nagisa's cum, staining your lips.

The male seems satisfied with your reaction, pulling away from your mouth and wiping your lips clean with a kiss. Just as he finishes, Ibara is taking his pants and boxers off, ready to enter his shaft into you.

He slips into you easily with a groan, your own mewl pairing perfectly. Nagisa watches with piercing eyes as you're propelled forward by Ibara's force, fucking into you erratically without giving you a change to adjust to his size. Your moans are loud, unhinged, and watery due to the previous blowjob. Your hips are about to collapse, but Ibara keeps a death-grip on them, definitely bruising them. Small groans leaves the idol, his glasses slipping further down his nose as he pounds your tight cunt.

You wail loudly, clutching onto Nagisa's thighs in front of you and leaving small crescents into his skin from your nails. Seeing you get railed so effortlessly has Nagisa heating up again, his sex hardening once more. "..."

"Fuck- you're so tight," Ibara laughs breathlessly, picking up his pace just to hear you moan even more. "How many loads will it take before you're leaking with our seed, huh dear producer?"

You whimper at that, clenching around his length. "I- I'm not sure..."

Ibara smirks at Nagisa. "Let's experiment then, shall we?"

---

It took only two loads to fill you to the brim, but the two didn't stop there.

Pounding into you, biting your skin and marking it up, abusing your poor clit and cunt, you were left a mess when they were done with you hours later. Your sex was puffy and leaking with their mixed seed, your stomach even slightly bulging of how much they managed to keep inside you. You're dazed, hazy as they managed to haul you out of the dressing room without being caught.

Nagisa looks at your dumb state. "...Can we do this again, Ibara?"

The said idol barks out a laugh. "Why, of course! You enjoyed this as much as I did, no? Just filling her up makes me so aroused~"

"...I filled her up more."

"No you didn't, Nagisa. Shut up.

Taglist: @ciderwebs @himeru-soulmate @ibaraluvr

[bubbl3zdaseaotter37]

Whumptober 2024

No. 4: HALLUCINATIONS

Hypnosis | Sensory Deprivation | “You're still alive in my head.” (Billy Lockett, More)

A/N: I'm not completely happy with it, but here you are. I got it finished in time! For this one, I focused more on the lyrics of the song than the word prompts. The first half of the song in particular really reminded me of Chell and Wheatley’s relationship, whether you ship them or not. I tried really hard to keep this one short, since I am already struggling a little to keep up with the prompts and keep my usual style/quality of writing, so I hope y’all like it!

No trigger warnings this time, but spoilers for all of Portal 2 :)

As far as Wheatley could tell, space had a way of driving one insane.

At least, he thought it did. Out here, his only benchmark of what was “sane” was his space-obsessed companion and himself. And he had proved just how absolutely splendid of a role model he was in that area. A true bastion of mental stability, he was. Especially when he had singlehandedly destroyed a massive, sprawling super facility, gone absolutely off his rockers, and tried to murder the only person who cared for his sorry metal husk in who knew how long.

“Yeah, I really am kidding myself, aren’t I?” Wheatly asked aloud, to only be answered by silence.

At some point in the last few hours – or had it been days? It was really quite hard to keep track of such linear things when you were spinning uncontrollably, handle over carapace, around the Moon which itself was spinning uncontrollably around another astrological body, the Earth, which was in turn spinning uncontrollably around a bloody massive ball of blindingly bright fire—

Wait where had he been going with that thought? Oh, right. His astronomically obnoxious companion in exile.

At some point, Kevin – that was what he had taken to calling the personality core who had been jettisoned out into the depths of space with him – had gained a little more speed than he had in orbit, and was now a good distance away from Wheatley, and out of range of his internal radio receptors. Because of course Aperture Science had thought up a way to allow Aperture Tech to communicate even in the soundless vacuum of space.

Initially, he had thought that being forced to constantly listen to Kevin’s babbling would be the thing to drive him insane. Goodbye higher reasoning skills! You would be missed. But now, Wheatley was starting to almost miss the yammering about stars, comets, and space in general.

Because with the overpowering, infinite silence of the cosmos pressing down on his audial processor, Wheatley was starting to hallucinate. At least, he thought he might be. What was really categorized as a “hallucination” was likely up to debate; maybe there was a requirement jotted down there somewhere about needing to be human, or a non-Aperture Science Technology. Either way, something wasn’t meshing right back there in the ol’ central processing unit, and it was getting to him.

It had started with small things. Little flashes of light that might have simply been attributed to the damage his lens took when She crushed him in her huge, terrifying claw-arm. The twitching remained, although there were no sparks to accompany the obnoxious bug out in the vacuum of space.

Now though, it had developed into something significantly more concerning. Periodically, Wheatley would hear the low, droning noise that flowed through the very veins of the Laboratories, the one he had never really realized was there until it was gone. It was strange, how many things one realized they had taken for granted when they were floating pointlessly through space.

The people they took for granted.

That was the other oddity, of course. There was no one to talk to out there, and no one to listen to with Kevin temporarily out of conversing distance. At least, Wheatley hoped it was temporary…

Anyways, with no one to actually speak to – a real one-on-one conversation, with a sentient being who could actually comprehend what was being said and maybe even talked back— well, maybe not that one. Ironically, the only sentient thing that ever really responded to what he said was the exact murderous supercomputer who wanted him dead more than anything in the world. Except maybe for the death of Her nemesis and 2-time vanquisher.

No, the sentient being he was thinking of was quite the opposite. He had never heard her speak during their time in the facility, not once, and yet it always felt like a conversation to him. A real give-and-take conversation. He would talk, she would listen. He would give an order, and she would either follow it or give him one of those mildly confused glances, or annoyed eyerolls, or graveside-smiles. It felt like she listened.

And with no one listening out here, no one for an astronomically long distance…

Wheatley liked to pretend that maybe, just maybe, if he ever got to talk to her again, he could change things. Maybe, he could have tried to see things another way than from his stupid, narrow viewpoint, then things would have been better.

And sometimes it was like she was really there. Really, actually there.

Like they were back on the run, speeding through the endless catwalks between the testing tracks – or just strolling. There were those dreams too, if they were considered a dream since he was a robot and couldn’t technically sleep.

They would talk— well, he would talk, and she would do the listening and reacting that she was so very skilled at. Sometimes it was just babble, a skill Wheatley had down pat; that was maybe the only thing he was good at, come to think of it. Talking. But the point was, it felt so real. And every time he twitched, or otherwise snapped back to reality, it was like being hurled into space all over again.

The worst part, of course, was knowing that this was all his own doing. It was his own, stupid fault that he couldn’t do anything right, and he would never be able to do anything right because he was a moron. A moron who couldn’t see what he had until he had singlehandedly destroyed it. And oh, how I wished I could take it all back, everything. I really swear it.

I’m sorry. That’s what I would say, if I ever saw her again. I was monstrous, and horrible, and you deserved so much better.

I’m sorry.

[kayla-marie-writes]

The prologue to one of my House of Ashes fics, "Sacrifice", and yes, I post song lyrics when they inspire the chapter. I have a writing Playlist here:

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5AZJaS9xpoNuekaUl4S34S?si=3Upqyy7BR-StR0pGmgLgHA&pi=W1BWqCX9TGeSo

Ooh, death

Won't you spare me over 'til another year?

Well, what is this

That I can't see

With icy hands getting hold of me

Well, I am Death

None can excel

I open the door to Heaven and Hell

Ooh, death

Ooh, oh death

Too late, too late

To all farewell

My soul is doomed, so heed me well

As long as God

In Heaven dwell

Your soul, your soul shall scream in Hell

Oh, death

Ooh, death

Ooh, oh death

-A Conversation With Death-Khemmis-2017-

-NICK-

"It's over," Talia murmured, sinking to the ground.

"Yeah, that's the last of them," Rachel confirms with a tired sigh.

"Salim!" Jason ran over to our new ally to check him for further injuries. "You ok?"

"I'm alright," Salim responded to him with so much tenderness that I turned away, feeling like I was interfering with their moment.

I'm shocked as hell, to say the least, that Jason had fallen for Salim. Not because of his sexuality, we know about it already, and we've chosen to protect him because of it... but because of his initial intolerance towards the Iraqi people. I was the first to meet Salim when he saved my life.

Eric and Rachel were being chased by the rest of Salim's former unit and commander, Dar. To our shock, he helped us fight them off, and he killed Dar before he could kill Eric. From what Salim told us, he had been forced to join the ambush, just as he had been forced to serve in the Ground Forces. It was his son's birthday, and he was meant to retire...

Jason had been the only holdout. Openly hostile and suspicious of Salim's motives, no matter how many times Salim had saved our lives. To his credit, Salim never gave in to it. He remained cautious and civil with Jason. I don't know what the hell happened between them, but when a hoard of vampires attacked us, one of them dragged Jason off, and Salim tore after them without a second thought.

I'm not sure how long we had been separated from them, but by the time we met again, things had changed between them...looking back, I wondered how much of that intolerance came from how he'd been raised. We know the stories of how his father reacted when Jason realized that he wasn't straight. Jason had been at war with himself long before we got here.

I guess Salim helped him through some of it, somehow. I'm not going to ask unless Jason wants to tell me. He's used to bottling things up to "be a man." It took him a long time to open up about the Green Zone, but he did. In turn, I'd confessed about my affair with Rachel, which made the team implode.

Rachel hadn't been able to tell Eric yet, even though I'd asked her to... many times. Eric and I had already fought a few times until we asked her to decide. On top of that, I'd hurt Talia, another close friend on the team. What shocked the hell out of me was when she slapped Rachel, not giving a damn about rank, and Rachel didn't reprimand her... she apologized.

Usually, I could get a read on Talia. Not this time. When I tried to pull her to the side, she recoiled as if I'd burned her. After hitting Rachel, I thought I'd be next. I waited for it: the lecture about having an affair with a married woman, the wrath I've come to know, and loathe. This time was different. She withdrew. The light in her eyes dimmed, and I realized that there was one thing worse than her anger: disappointment.

After we talked everything out, at Joey's insistence, Rachel realized that even though she had felt something with me, she wanted to reconcile with Eric. It stung, but at least she admitted that she shouldn't have gotten caught up, that she should have tried to fix things. I've been in a dark place since that checkpoint. She had been a highlight for me these past few weeks...so has Talia, who hasn't looked at me or spoken to me since.

That's when all hell broke loose, with vampires swarming us on all sides. We didn't have any more time to process what happened or deal with it. We lost Joey and Merwin in the assault. I'd thought we lost Jason, too, until we saw him again. After that, we had to put our shit on the back burner and survive.

**********************************

We fucking did it...I don't know how the fuck we survived, but we did. Well, not all of us...Merwin, Joey, and Clarice didn't make it. After what felt like the longest six minutes of my life, sunlight filtered through the hut, where we took a stand against the vampires.

"Air support is here," Eric sighs in relief.

"Shit!" Jason swore. "They-we gotta tell 'em that Salim is one of us! We can't let 'em-"

"Hey, we'll do whatever we have to!" Rachel insists. "Okay? Breathe."

"As long as they don't catch on to your relationship, it'll help our case," I added pointedly.

"Right," Salim nods. "I suppose there's intolerance all over."

"Unfortunately," Talia sighs, still not making eye contact with me. "We won't let anything happen to either one of you."

"...Thank you," Jason slurs.

We're exhausted. If I had to guess, we've been down there for twenty-four hours, maybe more. A lot went down in that temple. Hopefully, we can figure it out once we get the fuck out of here. I know I hurt Talia with what I've done, and now I'm paying for it. 

"Wait," Eric murmured. "Something's off."

"The helos have landed," Rachel frowned. "But why haven't they come inside?"

"...They've surrounded the hut," Talia realized after she perked up her ears.

"Because of Salim?" Jason wonders, throwing the man behind him. "They'll have to get through me first!"

I don't know if it was dread or fatigue, but the air felt heavier. The heat was already intense, especially when we had been trapped underground for God knows how long. Whatever CENTCOM is doing, I hope they get in here soon. I'm not doing too well. I don't think any of us are.

"Jason, please," Salim pleads. "Provoking them isn't a good..."

Before he could finish his sentence, he pitched forward and collapsed.

"Shit!" Jason swore as he caught him. "What the hell?! What's taking CENTCOM so long?!"

I ran over to the two of them as I heard Eric cry out for Rachel, who passed out, too. What the hell?

"...Gas..."

Eric and I looked down to see that Talia was right. CENTCOM was gassing the place. I don't understand why. We covered our noses and mouths, but it was too late for Jason. Unfortunately, we've already breathed some of it in, and soon, Eric and Talia were out, too. I tried to hold out for as long as possible, but I knew I couldn't for much longer.

The last thing I saw were gas masks and hazmat suits as they breached the hut...but what they said scared the shit out of me:

"Test subjects secured. Prepare for extraction."

If it interests you, it can be read here:

[c-40]

A-T-3 145 The Smiths - Hand In Glove

Yes, we may be hidden by rags But we've something they'll never have

The Smiths debut single was released May 1983 (specifically the 13th, so if you want 40-years to the day you need to wait another week.) It's probably the only single of their's that didn't top the UK indie singles chart, getting to number three. I know Blue Monday by New Order kept Hand In Glove off the top spot by being at number one, but I don't know who was number two May/June 1983

I was too young to appreciate The Smith when they emerged, I got into them when I hit my teens and then they split up! (although 1987 was a great year for releases by The Smiths.) I've read their arrival was a relief for fans who wanted music that had nothing to do with punk, and sure This Charming Man entering the UK singles chart and their appearances on Top Of The Pops felt like something different was here. I was only young but I noticed the change in fashion of people 5-10 years older than me. This was a time unlike today when youth groups were recognisable by how they dressed. From the get go Morrissey had his accessories, the quiff, then the anti-star NHS specs, hearing-aid, denim jeans with the gladioli in his back pocket, t-shirt, charity shop shirt or cardigan

The Smiths captured the indie fan/student look, but if you follow this blog you've seen were many many other acts making intelligent music unattached to punk rock such as Felt, The Pale Fountains, Strawberry Switchblade... I'd argue with hindsight The Smiths didn't fall far from punk. Morrissey was famously at the Sex Pistols first Manchester gig and he later fronted a punk band called The Nosebleeds. There are a lot of rockabilly similarities, Morrissey's quiff and the ghostly vocal on Hand In Glove are reminiscent of Joe Meek. Mike Joyce and Andy Rourke belt out the drums and bass like, say, Lonnie Donnigan's band, they're a powerful galloping rhythm section. The difference to other jangle bands at the time was The Smiths were just better, better songs, better performers, and cocksure with it. Johnny Marr is a brilliant guitarist, in his shades he has a bit of The Velvet Underground about him. Morrissey and Marr famously loved the girl groups and solo artists of the sixties, and 1960s pop in general, The Ramones adored Phil Spector and who is more punk than The Ramones. You wouldn't call The Smith a retro band like you would Oasis or other bands in the mid-1990s, only 10-years-later. The Smiths channel nostalgia to create something new for the 1980s (I'll have to think about how this might be different from a band like The Strokes or nostalgic tv series such as Mr Robot or Stranger Things). It now plainly clear Morrissey's obsession with nostalgia for the working-class of the 1960s became problematic

Morrissey, like Madonna, made a successful effort to become an icon in his own right, although unlike Madonna that star has tainted. As well as photo's of Morrissey posing as Billy Fury (Last Night I Dreamt That Somebody Loved Me) or a young Elvis (Shoplifters Of The World Unite) or some similar pop idol in the NME, Melody Maker, and Sounds, he put his own spin on Andy Warhol's Icon series (the sleeve for debut album features Joe Dallesandro from Andy Warhol's Flesh, Candy Darling appears on the sleeve of Sheila Take A Bow). This was the duotone "cover star" curated by Morrissey (often assisted by iconic graphic designer Caryn Gough) adorining every The Smiths release while they were on Rough Trade records. The Smiths "cover stars" are cultural signifiers, images are taken from kitchen sink dramas of the 1960s, as do some of Morrissey's lyrics.  "I'll probably never see you again" is a line from Salford playwright Shelagh Delaney's A Taste Of Honey and The Lion In Love, the first of many references to the playwrights work. Delaney appears as a "cover star" on two of The Smiths releases. Morrissey said in 1986 "I've never made any secret of the fact that at least 50 percent of my reason for writing can be blamed on Shelagh Delaney." What we see in Morrissey writing is the separation of working-class northern Englishness from the rest of England, he shows this fracture in England. When Morrissey nostalgically references British poets and literature he evidences the flow of immigration from Dublin to Manchester (or Liverpool, or Birmingham) indicating northern England has more in common with Ireland than the Home Counties

"There's more to life that books y'know, but not much more." These references were ambrosia to working-class autodidacts (especially those in the north) with Morrissey as our cultural gatekeeper. You can argue the signs were there but when Morrissey took his white nationalist turn it was heartbreaking, like a betrayal - I've mentioned cognitive dissonance before, changing your idea of someone is painful. Nick Cave is attending the coronation today, his wife Susie Cave is worn by Kate Middleton, and he came to the defence of Morrissey

Hand In Glove was released as a one off offer for The Smiths by Rough Trade, it was recorded at the legendary Strawberry Studios in Stockport (built by 10cc) and produced by themselves. The session was one day but Morrissey unhappy with his vocal went back in to rerecord his part

[johnhardinsawyer]

Going Back to the Well

John Sawyer

Bedford Presbyterian Church

3 / 12 / 23 – Third Sunday in Lent

Exodus 17:1-7

John 4:5-42

“Going Back to the Well”

(Will you give me a drink?)

She arrived at the theatre early and found her seat.  She was on a row of three chairs, sitting up against the wall on the left side of the balcony.  There were two empty seats to her right.  And, as it turned out, these two empty seats were our seats.  My wife and I were in Boston last Saturday to see the multi-award-winning Broadway hit, Hamilton, which is all about Alexander Hamilton and the founding of the United States of America.  We were excited to see the play, but the young woman sitting to our left in our little row of three was very excited.  As the play began, she began to sing along with every word coming from the stage.  She did have a pretty good voice, all things considered, but it was a little distracting, especially when she began singing, “Angelica. . . Eliza. . . and Peggy. . . the Schuyler sisters. . .”

If you’re unfamiliar with the play, you should know that this particular song has a major applause line that our theatre-going companion was more than happy to sing out:

‘We hold these truths to be self-evident That all men are created equal’ And when I meet Thomas Jefferson – I’m-a compel him to include women in the sequel (work!)[1]

This lyric from a play written in 2015 highlights the irony that, at the founding of our nation – a nation founded on the idea of equality – men and women were not on equal footing.  Women in the United States would have to wait until 1920 for the right to vote – a little over 100 years ago.  And this only happened after years of struggle.  We could talk about other inequalities – in pay and respect – but we would be here all day.  Alas, inequality like this has been baked into the culture, going back thousands of years.  

We see this kind of inequality firmly in place in today’s reading from the Gospel of John.  Not only does today’s story show Jesus interacting with a woman, but she is decidedly unequal in several different ways.  When Jesus and his disciples arrive in the Samaritan city of Sychar, they find themselves in not-so-friendly territory.

Just like the modern state of Israel has these zones that are primarily Palestinian, some of these zones and boundaries have been around since Old Testament times.  In today’s story, Jesus and his disciples are traveling through the Samaritan zone.  In the Bible, Samaritans are almost always referred to in disparaging terms by Jews – kind of like how Protestants and Catholics will sometimes talk about one another.  They clearly have common religious roots, but the religious tree branched off generations ago and there’s but a slim chance of it ever growing back together.  The main disagreement between Samaritans and Jews – as we heard in today’s reading – was over the proper place to pray.  Did the Temple belong on Mount Gerizim (as the Samaritans believed) or Mount Zion (as the Jews believed)?  This disagreement, along with the centuries of baggage that went along with it, was such that the author of the Gospel of John is clear:  “Jews do not share things in common with Samaritans.” (John 4:9)

Not only is the woman at the well a Samaritan – we also find out, over the course of the story, that she has a complicated history when it comes to her relationships. . . at least five husbands and a current boyfriend who is not her husband.  This amount of personal detail in the story likely would have set this poor Samaritan woman up for even more unequal treatment by those who look down their noses at details such as these.  “Five husbands and a boyfriend?  Why can’t she keep a man?” folks might have wondered.

So, here we have a Samaritan, woman, with questionable morals – or, at the very least, a questionable history – who, one might presume, would have been thought, by many, to be part of a lower caste, speaking with Jesus.  This woman, it is fairly self-evident, by those who study such things, is considered unequal to Jesus in so many obvious ways.   And yet, Jesus treats her the same as anyone else – offering her grace upon grace.  

Both of today’s scripture readings take place in a part of the world that is hot and dry – the kind of place where the ground radiates heat in waves.  It’s a “dry heat,” but it can feel like an oven.  And, if you’re thirsty, it can be so hard.  

This is why the Israelites cry out to Moses in today’s first reading, “Have you brought us out here into the wilderness to kill us with thirst?” (Exodus 17:3)[2]  “Give us water to drink,” the people say. (17:2). Alas, there is no water to be found and the people are hot and thirsty.  In today’s second reading, in the noontime heat, we find Jesus saying almost the exact same thing:  “Give me a drink.” (John 4:7). He is hot and tired out by his journey.  And when a Samaritan woman comes to draw water, Jesus doesn’t have a bucket or a jar, but he sees that she has one.  

“Can I have something to drink?” Jesus asks.  “I’m thirsty.”  “You’re asking me for something to drink?” the woman says.  “Most of the people I know wouldn’t think it proper – for a Samaritan to give a Jew something to drink.”  “If you knew who I was,” Jesus says, “and if you knew how generous God is, you would be asking me for something to drink and I would give you living water.”[3]

Just what might this “living water” be?  The Samaritan woman wants to know – and so do I.  There are several different ways to answer this question, starting with thinking about some of the different images of water in the Bible.  When John Calvin writes about this, he says that “we are like a dry and barren soil; there is no sap and no vigor in us, until the Lord water[s] us by [the] Spirit.”[4]  Also, in the Book of Hebrews, we read that we are to approach God “with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water.” (Hebrews 10:22)  Calvin continues by wondering if the living water is “the secret energy by which [God] restores life in us, and maintains and brings [the new life] to perfection.”[5]  But then he comes around to the idea that the living water is “the whole grace of our renewal” because Jesus “was sent for the purpose of bringing to us a new life.”[6]

All of this is not immediately clear to the Samaritan woman, but over the course of her conversation with Jesus, things become a little clearer.  First, she realizes that Jesus is some kind of prophet – able to see her for who and what she really is.  Next, Jesus dismantles years of resentment and disagreement between Jews and Samaritans, by saying that there will come a time when where we worship God won’t matter as much as whether we are worshiping in spirit and truth.  And, finally, the Samaritan woman says, “I know that a Messiah is coming,” to which Jesus says, “I am he, the one who is speaking to you.”  (John 4:25-26)

Anyone who reads the stories of Jesus closely will likely note that that Jesus doesn’t usually come out and admit that he is the Messiah very often.  In the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke, he is often swearing his disciples to secrecy.  But here, in today’s story, he openly shares his true identity with the one person most of us would be surprised to find would be worthy of such knowledge.  And the Spirit moves in. . .

The preacher and professor Anna Carter Florence writes,

There are always good reasons for Jesus not to talk with us. . . [but] Jesus breaks rules to talk with her. . . What rules [are] Jesus breaking to talk with us?  What social conventions is he disregarding?  What lines is he stepping across, in order to speak about what truly matters, and what may save our life?  Human beings are, by definition, rooted in social contexts and ordered by those realities.  Sometimes we let “the way it is” determine what we can or are willing to see.  Jesus has a distinct fondness for overstepping boundaries.  What traditions or customs or conventions might Jesus have to cross in order to speak to you . . . ?[7]

We hold these truths to be self-evident that all people are loved by Jesus – so much so that God so loved the world enough to send Jesus, offering salvation instead of condemnation.  This is a love, a grace, a salvation, a new life – which God has shown us is worth crossing boundaries for, worth breaking the rules of convention and culture from time to time, worth letting our gratitude and devotion show in how we live, and move, and have our being in and through the Holy Spirit’s life-changing, life-shaping, life-filling-and-spilling-over power.  This is a love that is worth singing with abandon for and offering grace in ways that are large and small.  Jesus models what this can look like for us – making a simple human connection over something as ordinary as water, or the weather, or “how are you?,” or “tell me about yourself.”  And pretty soon, barriers are broken down, grace is shared, we see one another as fellow pilgrims on the journey, children of the most high God – thirsty for grace, but willing to share what we have.  God’s grace speaks clearly across barriers of language, race, gender, sexual orientation, political persuasion, and personal prejudice.  All someone needs to know is that we are thirsty for something good, and pure, and lasting, and they are, too. . .  And the living water – that quenches our thirsty souls – begins to flow, even in the most surprising times and places.  

There is this expression that people sometimes use, saying that they are “going back to the well,” implying that they are “returning to the source.”  Sometimes, there are those who might be fearful that the well might run dry.  But the wellspring of living water – the wellspring of God’s grace – is always flowing, always washing, always blessing, always offering new life.  And Jesus is always inviting us back to the well for more and more – as much as we need and want, whenever we need and want it.

You may have noticed that in both of today’s stories – the story of the people of Israel who are thirsty in the wilderness and Jesus who is thirsty in Samaria – that we are never actually told whether or not they end up getting water to drink.  I mean, we presume that they are able to drink and have their thirst quenched, but scripture kind of leaves a lot to trust after-the-fact.  This is the way that God will often work – offering us life-giving grace that we only see working in hindsight to fulfill our needs.  In the stories, it is clear that the people are given what they need. . . just as we will.

At the intermission for Hamilton, last Saturday, I swapped places with my wife so that I could have the privilege to sit next to the singing theatregoer, who came back from the souvenir table with plenty of Hamilton swag – a sweatshirt, a mug, and some other things.  “Nice,” I said, looking at the things she had purchased.  “You must be excited to be here.”  “Oh, yes!” she said.  “Very!”  Act II began and I could hear her humming in her seat – singing along at all the right moments with abandon until the end of the play.  After the standing ovation and the applause for the cast on the stage, she sighed and said, “Well. . . I didn’t cry.  But this made my life.”  Seeing Hamilton had clearly been a life-changing experience for her – a religious experience.  Just in case you’re wondering, no, I did not use this as an opportunity to tell her about the life-changing, life-making living water of Jesus.  In the moment, the play was enough for her – just what she needed.  When it comes to what God offers, I trust that she’ll get just what she needs when the time is right – just as we all will.  Last Saturday, I just smiled at her, hoping that the grace in my smile was self-evident.  Sometimes, a glimpse of grace is all the Spirit needs to move in and bless.  

How will you and I – we, who have been offered the living water of grace – share that grace with the world?  May we do so with great love and hope and humility.  May we do so in ways that bend and break convention.  And may we do so, trusting the Spirit to move in and bless.  In the end, may God’s blessing be self-evident.  

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.  

--------

[1] Lin-Manuel Miranda, “The Schuyler Sisters (Mind at Work)” Atlantic Records, 2015.  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Schuyler_Sisters.

[2] Paraphrased, JHS.

[3] John 4:7-10 – Paraphrased, JHS.

[4] John Calvin, Calvin’s Commentaries – Vol. XVII, Harmony of Matthew, Mark, Luke; John 1-11 (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2009) 149.

[5] Calvin, 149.

[6] Calvin, 150.

[7] David L. Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, ed. Feasting on the Word – Year A, Volume 2 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010) 95.  “Homiletical Perspective,” Anna Carter Florence.

[maliciousmalfeasance]

Two years ago I wrote a song about a friend I was missing. I’d just moved back to the city I grew up in and by pure chance I ended up in a unit only two streets away from where me and said friend would practice for a day or two before going into town to busk alone in our high school holidays. At the time I was still trying to figure out who the hell I was, but had gingerly settled on the label lesbian despite the fact it didn’t really seem to fit me right. He was bi and didn’t quite know it yet, 15 and already drinking and smoking daily and dealing weed. I was, in comparison, super innocent. Refused to smoke or drink. Not even sure why, honestly? I think I was just terrified back then. I knew I didn’t fit into what everyone wanted for me, but I was still so scared to step out of line. Got there eventually. He had the confidence to lead me places I’d not be brave enough to take myself. We would sit under a particular tree outside some Asian grocers and cheap clothes stores in a particular thoroughfare of a particular cbd, right across from an old sandstone church. We’d sing hallelujah, and 9 crimes and all these slow sad duets about stuff we’d both never had a chance to experience yet. His voice was low and raspy and mine clear and high. I think we sounded pretty nice. We used to make really decent money. Like about a hundred for an hour. We’d gather up the coins and notes from his guitar case and take it to the bank to get notes. Count it all up. 50/50. Then buy ourselves lunch and head home. For reasons I wont air out here we ended up drifting apart, by the time I made up my mind to move cities for uni I’d already not heard from him for a year. Being back in the streets we’d hang around, so close to his old house... Had me expecting to see him around every corner. I kept just waiting to bump into him like things had never changed. But I knew things had changed. I wrote the song with these feelings in mind. Nostalgia, innocence and teenage rebellion butting heads.

I’m not sure how to introduce the next part of the story honestly.

He died. I guess that’s the simplest way to put it. He died within a month of my writing that song. Not that I’d find out until a year ago. The song has the same lyrics now as they did when I first wrote it, but they mean something else. Or maybe something more. In a way it makes perfect sense. The story starts as a reflection on nostalgia- a wish to reconnect without knowing how to even start- and of course it ends with the ultimate disappointment. There’s really no chance now. I’ve missed it. If I’d tried to reach out instead of agonising over it back then, I might have at least had a chance to patch things up before he died. Maybe I’d even have been able to have that conversation with him again, the same one that went all wrong when we tried to have it as teenagers. I might have been able to actually help him change the course he was on. Or at the very least let him know he still had someone in his corner.

But that didn’t happen. And so. I have a song and a pit in my guts and grief and hurt and only one way to get it out of me. It’s a lot. I know. I’m still on the fence over whether I should even publish it. It’s so much of myself. It’s not enough. It’s a wound in the shape of a song.

[sailxrmxrs]

You want to write royal arranged marriage xyx… you want to write royal arranged marriage xyx… you want to write royal arranged marriage xyx…

alright bet. we're going full regency romance royals. all the historical romance i've read has led up to this point. my magnum opus. think ballrooms and orchestral strings, ornate flooring and dancing through the night. truly an evening for the ages. and with none other than the rogueish prince of a far off nation, xyx. yes, this will be a story for the history books (or just my tumblr page). i hope this lives up to your vision, lyric!

The swell of the orchestral band consumed the souls dancing across the expansive ballroom, each and every one enchanted by the rising violins and their partnering cellos. Chandeliers illuminated by dozens of glowing candles painted the room in an ethereal light, luring its occupants into their romanced daze. Tonight was the night their kingdom would officially begin to unite with another, after all. The engagement of the eldest eligible noble was no small event, and the opulence of the evening only proved that further. Naturally, you'd had no say in the matter as to your hand being promised away to another, especially to a man you'd never met. But, as with most decisions throughout your life, this was entirely out of your hands and in the hands of your parents—they were the kingdom's leaders, after all. Perhaps this foreign prince, Xyx they called him, would be pleasant enough. Or this would just be the beginning of a long life of boredom and bitterness toward the life you'd been born into. The latter certainly seemed the most apt at the current moment in time.

Whomever this Prince Xyx was, he had not made an official arrival to the ball as of yet—a fact you weren't entirely sure if you were pleased by or not. If anything, you'd rather get the official business over and done with so you could truly indulge in the royal family's riches and reserves of delectable wines, all made to the highest quality. But alas, your attendant had advised to only sip at the one glass until your suitor made his official entrance and the first dance as betrotheds had been undertaken. If there weren't dozens, perhaps hundreds, of eyes darting to watch the royal of the night in their throne you'd been slouching in your seat, chin resting on your hand. Of course, that was not the proper etiquette for someone of your position in high society. All the lessons as a child had been drilled so deep that they were now second nature at this point; that didn't make it any more enjoyable, of course. Still, at least the music that played was tolerable. More than, even. You could feel the vibrations of the elegant pieces being played, each one matching in tone to the magnificence of the evening. The song reached its crescendo ending, launching the room into applause before another piece started up, the strings low yet no less breathtaking with each note that played, layered between the other instrumentals.

Letting out a sigh tainted with boredom, you informed your attendant of your desire to walk the gardens before the prince's arrival. Naturally, they had insisted they attend as well, though promised to wait at the entrance so as to offer some small semblance of privacy for a short while. It was no grand gesture, but the intentions were well meaning so for that you couldn't complain too much, you supposed. The summer night's air was cool, though not too crisp that your current attire proved too thin or exposing to the night air. In fact it was a welcomed decrease in temperature, the ballroom near suffocating with all its dancing bodies and weighing expectations. Out here, all of that faded into white noise, a far off sound that could wait for a little while longer.

The main path through the garden's shrubbery and flowers was illuminated in a pale light, the luminescent white dusting everything it touched in a pearlescent aura; pink carnations and white gardenias decorated the greenery and leaves that marked out the stone pathing twining through the sectioned area of the vast palace grounds. The faint floral scent wafted to your nose, setting you at peace as you strolled in the darkness, the moon your only companion. Or, at least, so you thought.

"And what is someone of your status doing out here alone?" A mysterious voice called. You glanced around, trying to locate its origins but couldn't see much under the dark cover of night.

"Well by the sounds of it, I'm alone anymore, am I?"

A deep chuckle sounded from behind you. "No, I suppose you're not." Turning to face him, you were met with someone tall, their tanned skin shining in the moonlight. And his eyes—his eyes were a bright shade of green, sparkling and glistening even from his slight distance away. There was something mystifying yet alluring about the stranger, his attire suggesting he had arrived as part of the visiting prince's entourage. His suit was a deep green, almost appearing black if not for the moon's light dancing over his moving silhouette.

"But still," he continued. "Surely a graceful beauty such as yourself has an abundance of suitors waiting for a dance inside?"

"Ah, you would be wrong there. Matter of fact all that excitement is there because I'm getting married off."

He reached closer, now only a few steps between the two of you. But you didn't seem to mind the proximity. Something about him felt warm and inviting—there was no threat nor anything predatory about him, just mere curiosity. "You don't seem particularly pleased about the situation."

"Would you want to be told you have no choice as to who you're marrying? Just thrown into it with no question of how you feel about it? I realise much of my life is a blessing, a privilege that many dream of. But this is simply another bar added onto the cage that traps me."

"And you don't believe your betrothed will bring you happiness?" He was closer now, a stray finger softly caressing your cheek, setting the skin aflame.

Stumbling back a step, you tried to find something to do with your hands, opting to fix an imaginary loose strand of hair that needed tucking in place. "That is hardly an appropriate gesture."

"Perhaps not, but wouldn't you agree that to be appropriate is to be rather boring? Surely if propriety were your forté, you wouldn't have escaped your own ball, would you not?" He took a step closer, but not too close so as to startle you or scare you off.

"It seems you have seen through my disguise, good sir."

"Merely a talent of mine, your highness," he spoke with a sweeping bow, the gesture somehow laced with pure sarcasm. "Now, as the distinguished and respectable gentleman I am, it is only proper that I offer my arm in request that you accompany me throughout these delightful gardens cultivated by your estate."

"Oh, but of course, my lord," you said, playing along with the feigned propriety. You laced your arms through his, gently clutching onto his bicep as you continued along your late night walk—now with the added company of your mystery suitor. Conversation flowed as though it were a rapid stream, cascading along the riverbank with ease. He was easy to talk to, entirely different from the rigid formalities offered by the rest of high society. They were all airs and graces while this mystery man was simply himself. No faking, no putting on an act in order to appear like the world's most respectable gentleman. He didn't need any of that, for he naturally was entirely respectable. So much so that after a great deal of time had passed, he'd managed to veer the two of you back to the garden's entrance.

"I think you've been missing from your ball long enough, your highness," he said, hands intertwining with yours.

Sighing, you gazed directly into his eyes. Eyes that you had admired greatly in the short time you'd known him. "Won't you at least accompany me for a dance? We'll have already scandalised the nation in our solitude, so why not add fuel to the fire?"

"Oh, you're really trying to get me into trouble, aren't you, doll?" He asked, fingers gently grazing your cheek and cupping your chin. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your temple as he whispered against your skin, "I'll find you later for that dance, I promise. Be good for me now and head back to your ball. You are the one they're celebrating, after all."

"I hate that you're right," you admitted. "Fine. But you better give me that dance."

"Or you'll have my head?" A knowing grin spread across his face, thumb gently tracing a line on your cheek.

"Something like that," you whispered back, near breathless at the open physical contact. It was something completely new and unknown to you, but oh so welcome from him and him alone.

Once back inside, mystery suitor now long gone, the elation instilled in you remained. It was like an entirely new lens had been placed before your eyes, blanketing the world around you in a rosy haze of bubbling emotion and excitement. Taking a sip from a flute of wine, the orchestra burst into a fanfare to signal the arrival of the prince, your betrothed. The rapidly approaching first meeting sent your heart aching for your mystery suitor. But, as per your duty, there was no dwelling on the matter. After all, he had promised you that dance later. The crowd began to part, allowing for a carpet to rolled out from the foot of the stairs to the foot of the dais before the thrones. Watching the entranceway at the top of the stairway, a familiar face appeared with a knowing smile gracing his face. It took everything in your power to not return that same grin and instead remain composed and poised in your seat. Of course your mystery suitor also had to be the same man you were due to marry. Fate always did like to play its little jokes on its subjects. Your mystery suitor, the prince Xyx approached the throne, sweeping a graceful bow. You had stood, slowly stepping closer and offering a hand which he graciously accepted, planting a gentle kiss on the skin.

"Good evening, your highness. You look truly radiant tonight. May I have this dance?"

"Of course you may, your highness," you replied, accepting his hand as he led you to the centre of the ballroom. "Always full of surprises, aren't you?" You whispered so as not to alert anyone else as to your previous meeting.

"Naturally. Had to make the entrance one to remember, didn't I, doll?"

[dailytomlinson]

2020 is finally coming to an end, and we can’t say we’re disappointed about it. It sure has been a long way for everyone, yet some artists had a lot on their plate. Take a look at Louis Tomlinson’s year. As complicated as 2020 has been for him, he still unlocked achievements and outdid himself in the best way. So let’s take a look at how Louis Tomlinson made 2020 his year, let’s go!

Louis Tomlinson Released His Debut Solo Album Walls

After four years of anticipation, and a good two years of teasing, Louis released his debut album, Walls, on January 31st. The record received positive critics and fantastic feedback from his loyal Louies. From the party anthem ‘Kill My Mind’ to the emotional ‘Two Of Us’, with a few sweet escapes such as ‘Too Young’, not to mention the punchy ‘Always You’, the album brought the fans everything they had hoped for. In addition to that, Louis stole our hearts with heartfelt and sincere lyrics that only he has the secret of. Magic.

Louis Started His Worldwide Tour And Gave His First Solo Show

Louis started his worldwide tour in March before it got interrupted. Touring was what he had always been looking forward to, ever since he’d decided to start a solo career. Louis had expressed the exciting feeling and positive stress that he feels right before going on stage. Luckily enough, he had the time to perform twice in Spain at the beginning of March. His first whole solo show took place at Razzmatazz, in Barcelona, and reunited around 2000 fans (sold out). An hour and a half of musical bliss, a performer who shares a lot with his fans, and an incredibly talented band. What else?

Walls Went Number #1 In 53 Countries And Worldwide Upon Release

Louis Tomlinson made 2020 his year in the charts too. He always had a dedicated fandom, and that’s no surprise. However, he seemingly wasn’t expecting the global success of his debut album Walls. Indeed, it went number #1 on iTunes in 53 countries upon its release on January 31st, including the United Kingdom and the major part of South America. Not only that, but the album also climbed the iTunes Worldwide Chart to reach #1 in a matter of hours. Legends only.

Louis Released The Music Video for ‘Walls’, And It’s A Masterpiece

January 16th revealed the final single off Walls, the album, which was none other than the title track itself. Louis described it then as his proudest song on the album, with strong influences of Oasis. A few days later, on the 21st, Louis blessed us with the music video, shot in Morocco by Charlie Ligthening. The camera follows Louis through the Sahara desert and traces his path through a ballroom and dancing crowds. Some other scenes show him surrounded by masked people, or behind four silhouettes that he identified as his four former bandmates. The Easter eggs, the quality of the video, and the suit (yes, the suit, don’t you lie) made it a fans’ favorite, for it now counts more than 12 Million views.

Louis Reached 1.4 Billion Streams on Spotify

It looks like the fans’ streaming parties paid off this year. With only one album, four other songs, and remixes or edits, Louis reached the milestone of 1.4 Billion streams on Spotify this year. Additionally, he also made it to 4 Million followers on the platform. The numbers speak for themselves, and the achievement is huge for an artist who only received little promotion for a debut album, stopped on its way due to the pandemic. Here’s to his first billion, and some more soon! Overall, Louis knows he can count on his devoted Louies to increase the number of streams significantly with new challenges, the way they did it in December with #12DaysOfWalls. (Original idea by @miss_always_you).

He Launched Only The Poets Internationally

If you’re a Louie, there are big chances that this name rings a bell. Only The Poets, a band coming from Reading in the UK, literally skyrocketed this year. After their first performance as Louis’ first act on stage at Scala in February 2020, their popularity started increasing. And Louis confirming them as his first European act only made it better for them. They continued their year with live-streams, private Zoom calls, and pre-listening sessions of their singles with fans. They ended it with a social distanced show in Banbury and a Zoom Tour in a few European countries and South America. And the mutual support Louis and these lads give each other is heartwarming.

Louis Decided To Part Ways With Syco

This one is for the fans. After ten years of collaboration with Sony’s label, Syco, Louis decided to part ways with them for a new adventure. He officially announced his decision with a tweet on July 11th that took no time to break the Internet. Soon enough, hashtags related to the news trended around Twitter, other artists, and radios congratulated him on his decision. Louies celebrated with funny memes and GIFs but made sure to surround Louis with love and support through it all. Now we wait (for the new label announcement).

Louis Didn’t Only Postpone His Tour, He Made It Bigger

Another proof that Louis Tomlinson made 2020 better. Not only did Louis pursue his dream and goal to tour, but he also grew it out. After postponing the tour three times, the newly announced European dates include a few more stops, including Reykjavik (Iceland), Warsaw (Poland), Prag (Czech Republic), Vienna (Austria), Zurich (Switzerland), and an additional date in Paris (France)! The shows sold out in less than 40 minutes, making it more than 15,000 tickets purchased. Due to the high demand in Zurich, the venue changed and 500 more tickets went on sale! In Argentina, a wild mobilization of fans on Twitter led him to open the whole Movistar Arena in Buenos Aires. Some additional tickets went on sale for the Chilean show as well. And guess what? They all sold out.

Louis Was Crowned Artist Of The Summer With 13 Million Votes

Still, doubting that Louis Tomlinson made 2020 his year? A radio station from Philadelphia, @965TDY, launched a Twitter award ceremony last summer to crown an artist ‘Artist Of The Summer’. Many polls, 13 Million votes, and 26 Billion points later, Louis was elected and was all over Twitter thanking his fans for their dedication. Louies had acquired the absolute record of 26 Billion points thanks to their votes on the radio station’s website, and thanks to their mass voting parties. Another proof that Louis and his fans are unstoppable altogether. The support is always undeniably strong, and so is the bond between the artist and the fans. Happy days.

Walls Magically Rises On The Itunes Charts In October

Indeed, nine months after its release, a new wave of fans bought the album on iTunes and made it rise in the charts. The magic truly happened after @UpdateHLD (a Twitter update account), reminded new fans to purchase the album if they had not already. Considering Louis gained a certain amount of fans during the global lockdown, the initiative went successful, and soon enough, Walls was climbing the charts just like it did on January 31st. As incredible as it seems, it even received its first #1 on the USA iTunes chart. Louis didn’t miss on thanking his fans for their continuous support, expressing how amazed he was by the chart climb.

Louis Offered An Online Live-Stream Show, #LTLivestream

Early December, Louis announced his first live-stream show from London for December 12th, entitled #LTLivestream. He promised a very special show, hosted by the platform Veeps, and didn’t lie. The general sale for the tickets (of course) crashed the website, making everyone panic. Louis then confirmed that the tickets were unlimited. The show was as incredible as originally announced, with an orchestra, fans participating through a digital wall, and a new haircut that conquered the fans. The numbers later revealed that Louis had sold over 160,000 tickets. #LTLivestream is the most sold live-stream for a male solo artist in 2020. Being the generous philanthropist that Louis is, he has given the $2.8 Million raised to many charities and his touring crew. The charities benefitting from the funds are FareShare UK, StageHand, Crew Nation, and Bluebell Wood. And they wonder why we love him.

Louis Surprised His Fans With A New Song Called ‘Copy Of A Copy Of A Copy’

Last but not least, after spending a year on a rollercoaster, Louis revealed a brand new song during #LTLivestream. He had been hinting at it through a teaser for the live-stream and via a cryptic tweet that made everyone think he was referring to ‘Copy Of A’ by Nine Inch Nails. However, he proved everyone wrong during the show with a brand new song. ‘Copy Of A Copy Of A Copy’ reminds us of the general sound of ‘Walls’ (the single), and stole everyone’s heart and soul once again. Immediately after the show, the fans asked Louis when the single would be out, to which he replied that he wasn’t sure about it being one. The disappointment faded away when he said it remained an option and would put it on the second album. We’ll take that.

And that, folks, is how Louis Tomlinson made 2020 his year for us! We have so many memories of Louis this year and can’t pick a favorite! What would be yours? And what do you think is yet to come from Louis next year? 

[evierena]

The Demon Brothers catching MC listening/Dancing to their songs

I know that Belphie’s song has been out for a while now, but I still wanted to write something to celebrate all seven songs were blaring on replay on my phone so, here it is. 

INTRO:

For this time around, MC (and Solomon) has somehow convinced Diavolo that in the human world, people felt more at ease with music, with songs that reflected the character of the singer and that could move their hearts.

So, to further expand this idea and to see if it could prove useful to his goal of uniting the realms, the Demon Prince entrust the task to none other than the demon brothers.

Now, with all the songs out and blaring all over the Devildom, MC had found themselves to be quite fascinated by a particular song they just couldn’t stop replaying.

And what happens when the author of said song catches MC singing and dancing along? Let’s see…

Lucifer

You were waiting for him in his study, so probably you shouldn’t have expected much privacy really.

But, in all honesty, how could you not sing along to Arcadia?

The music was alluring, and his voice was simply enticing, it compelled your body and soul to let go, to allow being embraced by Lucifer.  

So you did.

You had forgotten your headphones, so you just had your D.D.D blaring Arcadia on replay, and once the lyrics began, you started signing along, your already dancing hips gaining rhythm and sensuality as the song progressed.

And while you were having a blast, dancing and signing in Lucifer’s study to his song, he was right outside, with the door half open, staring at your figure.

He was as captivated by your dancing as you were by Arcadia.

His heart was both full of love and pride, although he would only publicly admit to the latter. Because, you already knew about the first. And that was enough for him.

In one of those twists and turns you did while dancing you finally lock gazes with the deep crimson irises of Lucifer.

But, instead of stopping all together, you were encouraged by his powerful eyes, and decided to continue signing without breaking eye contact.

Lucifer was amused to say the least, by your little show, and he started to approach you with slow, determined strides until you both were inches away from each other.

The atmosphere grew heavy with his proximity, and you found yourself lowering you tone, adapting it to a soft whisper only loud enough for his ears.

His hands found purchase in your hips, stilling your movements, and to your surprise he joined you in your quiet singing.

And like that, both enraptured, lost in each others eyes, basking in the others presence, the song ended.

Your D.D.D ran out of battery, and the study was suddenly filled with tentative silence.

Lucifer had a smirk in his lips and you were smiling, your hands traveled to his shoulders, and you reach out to him to close the final gap between his mouth and yours.

But just before sharing a kiss that promised so much more, you both were startled by a loud crashing noise somewhere in HoL, and then a series of cursing and screaming.

Let’s just say that the punishment for whoever it was that interrupted Lucifer’s and his human moment was… terrifying.

However, that night you received a visit from Lucifer.

“Why don’t you sing for me again, my dear?”

Mammon

Mammon had invited you to a night out in the casino, and for such a thing you had decided to doll yourself up a little in your room before going out.

That’s what you were doing, when Are you Ready? Started to play in your D.D.D and well, you started to dance in front of the mirror.

The song always managed to bring a big ear to ear smile to your face and it brought out your party self. You really enjoyed it.

The music was so fun and Mammon’s voice reached the best parts of your heart and soul. And the lyrics, in your opinion the lyrics were the best part, specially because you had been there when Mammon was writing them.

It just warmed your body and made you happy.

Speaking of Mammon, he was on his way to pick you up, when he noticed you door was open so he let himself in, just to found you dancing and singing to the mirror his own song.

A deep blush spread in his cheeks, his eyes not entirely comprehending that his human looked that happy, making funny faces and dancing while listening to his song.

Once you caught onto the figure behind you through the mirror, you could see that the fiery blush on your demon grew even deeper. And so did your smile.

So, in your Are you Ready? Induced state, you went for him across your room.

Mammon tried to stop you, but in all honesty, we all know he could never say no to you, not really.

So you brought him next to your still dancing body and spurge him on to do the same.

It took a few seconds for his brain to process the situation, but once he saw the true joy and affection shining in your eyes, he felt himself relax and follow your lead.

Fortunately, the song was on replay, and your speakers were connected to your D.D.D so finally, both you and Mammon fall into a semi party just dancing, jumping to the rhythm, singing along and enjoying the others movements.

Eventually, Lucifer appeared and order both of you to shut up, and in giggles, with your cheeks aching, Mammon and you sneak your way out of HoL, and once you were in his car, on the road to the casino, he put Are you Ready? Again in the speaker of the vehicle.

All the way, both of you sang to the night in the Devildom, him stealing glances at your ecstatic face, and you staring at him while signing using your D.D.D as a pretend mic.

Once you reach the casino, Mammon felt so happy and elated to have you right by his side while he gamble his money away, he actually did manage to win a small fortune.

You both were in a rush with adrenaline pumping and serotonin flooding your brains, you suddenly found yourselves back in Mammon’s room.

Where he catch your body with his, and he stared deeply into your eyes, showing off his white pearls, no glasses covering his eyes so you got lost in the beautiful, divine blue and yellow.

“I’m just crazy for you, MC”

“And I’m madly in love with you, Mammie”

Leviathan

You wanted to surprise him, ok?

It’s just, you really appreciated that he had gotten over his insecurities and power through the whole recording and making of the song. So you wanted him to know that it meant a lot for you and that you truly loved his song.

So you got a Ruri-chan cosplay from Akuzon, pretty much spending all of your savings in a really good one, made up from scratch a choreography for My Chance! And went to work

With all of this motivation you were in the planetarium, recording video after video to just make sure everything was perfect. Of course, it was not your intention to post the video, after it was ready, you were going to send it to him privately.

But, of course, when did things go exactly the way you wanted them to without complications?

Yup, pretty much NEVER.

Honestly, I couldn’t blame you either, after being dressed up, dancing for at least three hours consecutively, perfecting your moves, editing and deleting the unwanted clips, pretty much being exhausted AF, you just hit the wrong button without realizing and post it to the DevilTube channel you had with the brothers, besides sending it to Levi.

Well, good news: it went viral. Bad news: it went VIRAL.

Leviathan couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw the video.

You were so, so, so cute!!! And he couldn’t understand why would you choose HIS song to make such a good video? Like, why would you want something he made (with you in mind of course, but he couldn’t for his life say that out loud without combusting) a icky otaku like him?

So, after you realized your mistake you went to his room to clarify things.

Boy, was he flustered just by seeing you. Although you weren’t wearing the cosplay anymore, he couldn’t make eye contact without blushing furiously, stutter and imagining you in all sorts of different cosplays.

When you explained that you wanted the video to be something private for just the two of you as a token of appreciation for his song, because you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, he understood and said thank you in between stutters and mumbles.

But you also said that you weren’t ashamed that everyone got to see you enjoying his song, almost as if you were bragging about him.

By the end of the day, he truly believed that you loved his song, and somehow both of you had agreed to make another video, dancing along My Chance! But as Henry and Lord of the Shadow.

“And I’ll be the one to make our cosplays!”

“Of course, Levia-chan”

 Satan

In all fairness, you hadn’t realized he was there the whole time you were in the library, trying to study but miserably failing the moment Read My Heart started to play in your earphones.

Singing softly, almost to yourself, your eyes unfocused on the textbooks in front of you, slowly rocking your head side to side, tapping your fingers as if playing the piano, you were enjoying Satan’s song.

You didn’t even felt the green eyes of the blond demon zeroed in on your form, and he wasn’t sure whether he liked it or not.

In the beginning he just followed the quiet noise because it was distracting him from his reading, until he noticed it was you, and after paying more attention to your voice he realized you were singing his song.

A faint blush spread on his cheeks, but his eyes couldn’t stray away from you unaware of your audience, you continued signing over and over again.

He felt warmth, feeling all fuzzy and giddy in the inside without showing much in the exterior, but the small, tender smile he wore in his beautiful face along with the pink in his cheeks said otherwise to anyone who looked.

Lucky for him, it was only the two of you in that moment.

So he decided to indulge himself in the adorable sight that was you, softly and inadvertently signing for him.

However, soon enough he just wanted to be closer to you, so he did.

Slowly, he approached you until he sat beside you.

That’s when you finally noticed him.

You stared at his eyes, and found a glint of amusement at your bashful reaction, but the tenderness in them and his own blush eased your nervousness.

You stopped signing, but he took one of your earphones and put it in his own ear, and then, he also started to softly sing along.

Wide eyed, heart throbbing and your soul melting at the sight of his deepening blush, you let yourself listen to his voice only occasionally adding your own.

Somehow, you ended up resting your head in his chest, and he used one arm to bring you closer, your earphone long forgotten, your ears capturing the sound of his heart in his chest and his soft singing.

After he ended one last time, you sneaked your arms around his midsection.

“It truly is a beautiful heart, Satan”

“And it’s yours, MC”

Asmodeus

On your way from RAD, you had passed by Majolish, and, through the window, caught a glimpse of the pink haired demon, dressing in what appeared to be another brand new outfit, posing in front of mirrors, being praised by a group of lesser demons.

You saw the practiced, smooth smile and postures Asmo was putting on, and couldn’t help but remember when both of you were in his room while you were trying on face masks among a bunch of other products, how carefree and relaxed he looked, how even his flashy and over the top personality had seemed to be calmed down a bit, and how he just enjoyed your presence and allowed himself to be engulfed in the comfort of the moment.

A tender smile sneak its way on your face, watching attentively as he continued on posing through the windows, and you started absentmindedly singing the lyrics of Pomade.

Not long after, Asmodeus locked gazes with you, and your heart flutter at the immense and dazzling smile he flaunted in his beautiful face.

So you continued on with your one-man audience performance.

He mantained eye contact through the mirror, and eventually he understood by reading your lips what you were saying, which brought a bashful blush spread on his cheeks that punch the air out of your lungs.

It should have been illegal to look that exquisitely magnificent. You thought it was fair since he was indeed a demon.

Finally, tired of not being right by your side as you made his own heart throb with such a gentle affection, he grab his bags filled with new products and gifts for the both of you to share, he made his way out of Majolish.

He found you waiting for him with a smile, open arms and sweet benevolence in your eyes, he almost melt instantly in your embrace.

Asmo, with a teasing smile said:

“Baby, you want my love?”

“Yes, I need your love”

Beelzebub

In the middle of the night, you and Beel had decided it was time for a snack. So now, in the kitchen, while you tried to keep as quiet as possible, you watched the gentle giant of a demon that was him, working to make the both of you a few sandwiches and some other snacks you knew he would eat the most of.

You both were sharing AkuPods, and you were in charge of the playlist for the silent raid to the fridge.

Suddenly, Hungry Six-Pack started playing. A fond smile formed on your lips, noticing that the demon himself didn’t seem to realize what was playing on his ear, so you began following the lyrics, making small movements to go along with rhythm.

You gained confidence, and a little mischievousness, so you boldly turned up the volume of your voice. Little by little, your dancing became more jumpy and louder.

Finally, while you were immersed in one of your twists and turns, you felt the warmth of a chest on your back and strong, gentle arms surrounding your dancing figure.

Giggling freely in Beel’s arms, you continued singing to your favorite song. It didn’t took you by surprise when you hear him behind you, joining your little display of talent.

Fortunately, you were able to discern the steps of someone coming over to the kitchen, and as you and your sweet demon scurried back to the safety of his room, the song kept on playing on your ears.

Once inside his room, you flopped into his bed, a wide smile on you, finally being able to see the pure adoration plastered in the orange haired demon towering above you.

“Forever?” he asked.

“Forever, Beel”

Belphegor

Late at night in your room, unable to sleep, your D.D.D screen the only source of light, you were absentmindedly reading a children’s book that you had downloaded earlier that day.

Still, dreams seemed to elude you that night, so defeated you stood up and went to your switch, to distract yourself with some doodling on your desk.

You put on your favorite soft playlist to further help you in getting sleepy.

Then Dreamscape started playing.

Firstly, your moved your head to the rhythm, then your fingers stopped holding your doodles and followed the lead, later, you started humming.

So, you let yourself be comforted by Belphie and his voice, staring through the window, unfocused on the bright Devildom moon, recalling the demon’s face and his gestures while you gave in and began singing the lyrics.

The soft music unexpectedly didn’t get you sleepy, if anything it reinvigorate you by bringing happy memories of the two of you, dissing Lucifer, sleepovers in the attic, some with Beel others not, stargazing, sleepless nights like the one you were experiencing right then just talking about dreams and their very weird, complex, simple or absurd meaning, or, of course, just basking in the others company in a comfortable silence.

Absentmindedly, you had keep on singing and what you didn’t know is that your favorite cuddle buddy was right behind your door, struggling to hide the blush on his face at hearing you sing his song, pondering on whether leave you be or demanding to sleep together.

In his own side, lost in his thoughts, he missed how your voice was approaching the door, you were also on a mission to find him to sleep by his side.

Once you both were face to face, it became obvious what had happened, so you let a small giggle leave your lips, and grabbed him by the arm, turning off the lights, forgetting the doodles in your desk and dragging him to your bed.

There, both of you snuggle closer until the maximum amount of coziness was reached. Limbs tangled between the two, Belphegor’s head ended up resting in your chest, his arms surrounding your midsection, while your hand played with his hair.

In the quietness of the atmosphere, you dared to once more humming the melody of Dreamscape, to your surprise, that earned you a tighter hug and a satisfied hum from the sleepy demon.

By the end, the only thing you could murmur, eyelids barely open and voice hardly understandable, was:

“G’night, Belphie”

As the seconds went by, you fell asleep without consciously hearing his answer, but your dreams were filled with that simple phrase and the face of the demon in your arms.

“Good night, MC”

Thanks for reading and have a peaceful week!

Here's a little playlist with all the songs and audios from Obey Me!

Atte.- Evie

Let's see if you can guess my top 3 favorites from this HC 👀

[shyficwriter]

I've Got You

Guardians of the Galaxy Fanfic | Reader x Guardians (Yondu is alive)

Summary: After you never let anyone else listen to your music Rocket and the guys decide they want to see what potentially embarrassing songs you have on your music player, but find something else entirely.

Author's Note: ANGST! This story does NOT have a happy ending, or an ending at all really. It may be funny at the start but it's all angst at the end and it'll make you cry. Proceed with caution. This isn't even a joke- it gets heavy. I was going through some stuff... If you think this might trigger anything for you at all, skip this one.

Content Warning: Mentions of suicide/depression.

Word Count: 2,508

You didn't mind sharing with the rest of the gang. You really didn't. You'd share your clothes with Mantis, your food with Groot, and your books with Drax. There was very little you didn't share, except for one thing, and that was your music player.

Anytime someone would occasionally ask to borrow it you would always make up an excuse, usually: "Nah, you wouldn't like my music." and that was usually that for a little while. But, of course, eventually someone would ask again and you'd have to make the same excuses over again. Once you even told Peter it was all accordion music so he'd stop asking to compare playlists. That worked for a bit, until a week later you forgot you had told him that and said how much you hated accordion music when the topic of Polka was brought up. Oops. Well, there went that excuse.

One day was different, however.

You were walking in Peter's ship, minding your own business with your headphones in when Rocket motioned to you. He was sitting at a table with Groot. You paused your player and removed one of your earbuds. "What's up?"

"Groot was trying to ask if he could listen with you. but of course you had your volume up like always."

"You're going to damage your hearing if you keep that up," said Gamora, sitting on the other side of the room with Drax.

You ignored her, turning your attention back to Rocket. "Oh. I don't think that's a good idea.." you said with a wince, feeling bad for having to tell the little guy 'no.' Other than Mantis, he was the one you always felt the most guilty saying 'no' to. Those puppy-dog eyes were killer.

Rocket eyed you suspiciously. "Why? Quill lets him do it all the time?"

He was right. Peter did let little Groot listen to music with him quite often. But you weren't Peter.

Peter startled you when he came up from behind you with Yondu, saying, "Yeah, you're weirdly possessive of that thing. It won't hurt to let him have a listen."

'It might.' you thought. "He might be better off listening to your music, we already know he likes that."

"What's wrong with yers?" Yondu asked, who agreed with Peter about the weirdly possessive thing. You barely ever let that thing out of your sight.

You tried to think of something, "It's uh, not really appropriate..."

Yondu chuckled, "Are ya trying to say ya have dirty songs on that player of yers?"

You blushed. That's not exactly where you were going with that, but if it works... "I'd just say my music isn't exactly, uh.. kid friendly."

Your blush only made it more convincing that this whole time you had been hiding embarrassing music on your device. Rocket raised an eyebrow in amusement and Peter laughed too. "There's no way I'm gonna believe you have dirty songs on there. Let me see." he said, moving to reach for your music player.

You quickly put it in your pocket. "Nope! Bye." you said, turning on your heels and making your way to leave the ship, glad you were docked on a planet as it gave you an escape. "Gonna go head out for a walk, be back soon!"

Peter looked slightly disappointed, but let you go.

Once you were gone Rocket spoke up. "You know, I think I know a way how we can sneak a listen to what she's got that's so secret on there," he said, smirking. "Ya know, if you want..."

Yondu and Peter shared a glance before looking over at Gamora, sure she'd reject the idea in favor of your privacy. Surprisingly, she nodded in agreement.

"I have to admit, now I'm curious too." Gamora said with an almost embarrassed shrug.

And with that it was settled. Rocket told them his plan.

***

The next day when you went to retrieve your music player from your nightstand drawer, it was there as expected. However, when you went to power it on nothing happened.

You groaned, walking out into the common area to look for Peter. Once you found him you asked if he had any spare batteries, only to be disappointed when he didn't.

"Although," Peter said, "If you're gonna walk down to the store to get some I'll transfer you some units to bring back a case of soda."

You agreed to bring him back some soda, but told him not to worry about the units as you headed out the door, having been convinced to take little Groot with you last minute. You never could resist those little eyes of his.

The team waited a few moments to make sure you weren't coming back for anything before telling Rocket to make his hasty trip to go get your music player from your room.

Your batteries hadn't died, Rocket had just quietly replaced them with dead ones while you were sleeping. He switched them back once he got back to where the rest of the team had gathered around the table.

Rocket grinned, thinking he was about to hit the jackpot on embarrassing secrets from you. "What do ya think it is?" he asked, handing the player to Peter. "I bet it's boy-bands."

Peter powered on the player and snickered. "What if it's that Justin Bieber guy that was always on the radio when we went to Terra?"

"Oh, he was awful. I would also be embarrassed to be caught willfully listening to his music." Drax said.

"I dunno, I still kinda think she's got dirty songs on there," Yondu laughed. "Ya saw how she blushed."

Peter rolled his eyes and began scrolling through your playlists. He raised an eyebrow. "I hardly recognize any of these songs." he said. "The only ones I recognize are ones I've already got on mine."

"Let me see," offered Kraglin. "I know more Xandarian songs, maybe they're some of those?" He scrolled for a bit before as Peter got up to grab something from a trunk behind him.

Peter sat back down and Kraglin handed the player back, shaking his head. "I don't recognize them either. Maybe they're Terran?"

"We'll see." Peter said, plopping the device he got from the trunk on the table and plugging it into the player. It was a speaker. "Here, now we can all hear it. Which one should I try first?"

"What's in her 'Recent's' list?" Gamora asked.

"First one says "Stay Alive," Peter says, "Oh! I actually think I know that one. My grandad used to listen to it, it's so old!" he laughed. "I didn't expect her to be into disco music though..." Peter hit play and as the lyrics came out he realized he was mistaken. "Oh... that's... That's not the song I thought it was at all..." he said in surprised concern.

♫♩"... Stay alive, stay alive For better days to come around.

When nothing is right in your head And all of your tears are shed I know how it seems, you're in this too deep But take it from me, it's not the end..." ♫♩

"Um..." Peter swiped to play a new, hopefully less depressing, song.

♫♩"Do you ever feel like breaking down? Do you ever feel out of place?" ♫♩

Nope. Peter swiped again.

♫♩"All day starin' at the ceilin' makin' Friends with shadows on my wall All night hearing voices tellin' me That I should get some sleep Because tomorrow might be good for somethin' Hold on, feelin' like I'm headed for a breakdown And I don't know why" ♫♩

Peter furrowed his brow. The others shared concerned glances, but didn't say anything. He swiped again.

♫♩"It's caving in around me What I thought was solid ground I tried to look the other way But I couldn't turn around" ♫♩

*Swipe*

♫♩"Hello darkness my old friend..." ♫♩

Peter could already tell it was another depressing song, he backed out of the screen into the list of recently played songs seeing titles like: "Nightmare," and "I'm not okay (I promise)," and unfortunately more bluntly: "Don't try Suicide." They listened to a few more songs, and they were all depressing. You did have happier songs on your music player, but your "Recents" list was full of much more depressing songs, as if that's all you had listened to for a long time.

Nobody was smiling anymore, Rocket looked like he was sorry he came up with this idea. Even Drax clearly understood that they hadn't discovered anything good.

Yondu's expression was hard, "Well, I don't like this at all."

"I think we made a mistake." Mantis said, concern painting her features.

"But... she always seems so... ok?" Rocket said, his ears lowered. You were his friend. His prank buddy. He had no idea. "Do you really think...she, you know...?"

"I don't know? I mean, do you think she'd really not say anything if she was hurting this much? Wouldn't Mantis at least have picked up on it?" Peter asked. He looked over at Mantis expectantly.

"I can only feel other's emotions if I touch them," she started, "and... she's never actually let me touch her."

"What should we do?" asked Gamora.

***

You walked in a few minutes later to just catch the last bit of Peter saying something about having a talk with you.

"Have a talk with me about what?" you asked.

It was clear you had startled them, Gamora having spun to face you upon hearing you speak up, and she almost never got startled.

You chuckled, walking nearer the table to place your grocery sack on it. Groot hopped off your shoulder to run across the table to Rocket. "Oh gosh, I didn't mean to scare you guys! I got the soda you asked for- ...what's that?" Your demeanor changed from almost cheery to nervous, the blood draining from your face when you saw what was very clearly your music player plugged into a speaker. Your eyes shot to Peter, the one closest to your device. "Peter? What the fuck?"

"It was Rocket's idea!" Peter exclaimed, his guilt having managed to trip his self-preservation switch.

Rocket didn't even try to deny it. He looked at the ground, "I thought it'd be funny..." he muttered. Groot looked at him in confusion. His friend usually never looked sorry for anything.

You snatch your player from the table. It was currently off, leading you to believe there might have been a chance they didn't listen yet. "Boundaries!" you scold, putting the player in your pocket. "Seriously uncool!"

You went to turn around but you bumped into Yondu who had walked around the table while you were scolding Peter.

"Sit." he said, his face stony.

You look up at him in surprise before Gamora spoke up. "We... listened to the songs you had on your player... We just want to talk."

You just stare at her for a moment. "Seriously guys, what the fuck?!" you say, your tone exasperated and your eyebrows knitted together. "You know what? No. I don't want to talk. I'm going back out."

Yondu grabbed your arm as you tried to push past him. "No. Yer gonna sit." with that he walked you to the nearest open chair and made you sit. His tone wasn't angry, but it was firm.

You felt knots tying in your stomach. Gamora spoke again.

"Look, we're sorry we took your music player without asking, but now that we have, we're concerned."

You pinch the bridge of your nose. No. No no no. "I literally told you guys so many times-"

"I know," Peter said, "but please... Just- we need to know if you're ok."

"Of course I'm ok!" you lied. "Why would I not be ok?!"

"Cut the crap." Kraglin said. His tone didn't seem angry either, it almost seemed sad. "I seriously doubt you'd be listening to all that depressing stuff if you were actually ok."

You attempt to stand again, saying, "Look just screw off-" before you were silenced by Yondu firmly pushing down on your shoulder to stop you.

"Look, we care about ya, ya lil' shit, and we ain't about to just let ya keep suffering if yer hurtin."

That tore something in you.

"Please- guys." You clenched your jaw and looked at the floor. No. Fuck. Not right now. "Just-" You inhaled sharply. Dammit. You were not about to start crying right now. You screwed your eyes shut, before covering your face when you realized that wasn't going to stop the tears and not wanting them to see. "Fuck!"

It all flooded you. All the hurt. All the pain. The hopelessness. The humiliation of the current situation. The guilt of your friends worrying about you. The numbness shattering as white hot pain tore through your soul. You felt what you thought was Gamora putting a comforting hand on your shoulder and you tried to hold back a sob as every bad thought you had about yourself came flooding in. You started to shake, feeling shame as memories of thoughts about ending it all leaked out your eyes. How many nights you had stood in front of the airlock weighing whether that night would finally be the night you pushed that button.

From behind you you heard a strangled cry. A cry of pure anguish. It was only then you realized the hand on your shoulder couldn't have been Gamora's. It had come from behind you. She had been standing in front of you. You quickly jerk forward and turn around in your seat, wrenching yourself from Mantis's hand- but it was too late.

Mantis nearly doubled over, hands clawed into her chest as a sob lodged itself in her lungs. She had only wanted to make you feel better. She wasn't expecting the torrent to flood into her so forcefully, hadn't realized this wasn't something she could just make go away with her abilities. She had felt everything.

The others looked at her with wide, startled eyes. Drax pulled her in and held her, not really knowing what to do but trying to make the hurt go away. Poor little Groot didn't understand what was happening, and Rocket held him so he couldn't see. Peter and Gamora shared an alarmed glance.

You were speechless. You could only stare in horror witnessing what you- or rather your pain- had done to her. "Mantis-" was all you could manage, not knowing what else to say. You barely noticed your tears now started flowing freely down your cheeks. You stood up to run away, but just like every other time you had tried, Yondu stopped you. Only this time he pulled you tightly to his chest, his hand cradling the back of your head as if you were a newborn.

"Girl, why didn't you tell us?" you heard him say softly.

You allowed yourself to be held, not realizing until that very moment just how badly you had needed to be. Fresh sobs broke from you and you buried your face into his chest when he said, "Shh now, little girl, I've got you."

[wherethewordsare]

#44. Im your new neighbor and git locked out, help. With uhhhhh tiktoker jask who likes to sing in the stairwells 👀 bonus points if they become boyfriends loooool

thanks for the ask Cheese!!! I hope you enjoy!! <3

I also want to thank @buttercupbard for being a really amazing sport about me borrowing their handle for the tik tok bits!!! I’ve sent some weird dms in my life but honestly, that was the oddest CYA i’ve ever done. I’m super glad it worked out though!!! Thank you again so much, Buttercup! 

44. I’m your new neighbor and I got locked out, help!

The first time he heard it, Geralt had been taking his laundry down to the bottom floor because the units on his level were full. It was only for a moment, but who ever it was who was singing scurried away before he had a chance to make out the song they were singing. 

The second time, he had passed the door to the stairwell on his way to grab his mail. This time though he was careful as he pushed the door open as gently as he could. The lyrics to Blackbird resonated in the concrete and steel and it made Geralt want to call home. It was a song he remembered his father singing at the kitchen sink while doing clean up in the evening or working in the garage on weekends. 

Geralt tried not to be a creep about it, but it was quickly becoming a habit that was hard to break, sneaking into the side stairwell and listening to one of his neighbors sing. It felt somewhere between a terrible invasion of privacy and a private concert. 

There were songs that made him ache with nostalgia, where he ended up calling his dad after or texting his brothers. There were songs that made him want to go work out and go get something accomplished. And then there were those songs that made him want to climb the stairs and face that voice and take them into his arms because he sounded so lonely. Geralt usually slipped back out when those feelings started to creep in. 

Omg, Geralt, you have to see this dude! He’s insane!

Eskel sent him a link to a tik tok. It took a moment but after it loaded, Geralt nearly threw his phone across the room as if it had burned him. The only thing that stopped him were the blue eyes and brilliant smile that looked back at him. 

@buttercupbard 

I think my fan is back on the lower floor. Hope he enjoys today’s #lavieenrose 🙌🎶🌹🌹

Oh... Oh no! No no no, this could not be happening. Geralt watched, listening to the same rendition of La Vie en Rose he had heard the day before. Geralt knew only just enough about tik tok to know that the 500k under the little heart and the fact that he knew that this Buttercup Bard had only sung that song yesterday, he could deduce the facts in front of him. One, the singer knew Geralt snuck in to listen, and two, so did his probably thousands of fans.

Geralt clicked the little chat button on the side, pulling up the comments. 

“You should go say hello!”

@buttercupbard: Oh no, I don’t know if they’d like that, otherwise they would have come up to say hello by now! 

“Wouldn’t it be sweet if they found your tik toks?”

@buttercupbard: 👀👀🙈🙈🙈 Think they’d give me a review? Three words or less!

He wanted to scream. He wanted to run. He wanted to walk up those stairs and be able to drink in the full view of this Buttercup Bard as he sang knowingly to an audience of one. He wanted the earth to crack open at his feet and swallow him whole. 

He went back to the video and pulled open Buttercup’s account, scrolling through what seemed like a lot of videos for just a few weeks. He found the one labeled Blackbird and gave it a listen. The caption simply said “This might be the last time I can sing here, someone came in again.” 

Geralt frowned as he paused the video, looking down at those bright blue eyes that kept flitting away from the camera to make sure no one was coming. Geralt remembered standing at the bottom of the stairwell, leaning against the cold concrete with eyes closed. It had been peaceful but now it felt as though Geralt had just been encroaching. He couldn’t go back, not now. What would he say if Buttercup came down. 

He also had to stop calling him Buttercup, but he had no other name for him. Geralt stopped going to the stairwell and he did his best to not pull up tik tok once in a while just to get his fix. He was doing fine, at least for a little while.

It was about three weeks later when Geralt finally broke down and opened the app he had downloaded just to watch Buttercup sing. That’s when he noticed the little pink ring around his icon. 

Buttercup was live right now. Geralt’s feet moved under him without his noticing, walking him to the door. His hand was on the handle as he watched, his whole attention on the screen in his hand. 

“I don’t know what happened to them. I guess I wasn’t meant for that kind of cheesy romance story after all!” Buttercup laughed and it sounded like a melody all in itself. Comments rocketed passed and Jaskier chuckled, ducking his head. “Well, you never know, I can’t be everyone’s cup of tea. Do you guys want to hear another song? I was thinking some Presley if you guys-” More comments poured in and Buttercup beamed. 

That’s when Geralt heard his door shut behind him. Locked. Fuck. 

He dropped out of the live stream and texted Eskel who took a few minutes but finally shot back that he was stuck at work and on the other side of the county. Geralt was going to have to find something to do until he could run over with the spare. 

Fuck. 

He couldn’t well stand in the hall barefooted. He looked down at his phone and sighed. There was only one thing to do. 

----

“Like a river flows, surely to the see, Darlin-” Jaskier gave his camera a wink, chuckling through the lines but below the door opened. 

“Uh, excuse me, Mr. Bard?” a voice came up, low and uncertain. 

Jaskier gasped, looking in the camera as the chat exploded. He put a hand over his mouth and winced.  

“Hello?” Jaskier dropped his head into his hand biting the inside of his lip. When he heard footsteps on the stairs he looked back at his phone and mouthed ‘Got to go’ and blew a kiss. Hopefully it didn’t lose him followers. 

Suddenly the follower count didn’t matter. When Jaskier looked up he was greeted by a wall of a man, his white hair pulled back and the most startling hazel eyes. His bare feet wriggled on the linoleum. 

“I hate to be a bother, and I know you were in the middle of something,” the man suddenly looked like he wanted to bolt. 

“You’re the one who was listening down a few flights,” Jaskier couldn’t help the grin that was breaking out on his face. His followers were going to flip. 

“Ah shit, sorry about that I feel like… I should go.” The man turned away from Jaskier and started to make his way back down the steps. 

“Wait. Wait, no. Don’t go. Stay, please. Why aren’t you wearing shoes?” His damn mouth got ahead of him. 

“I’m locked out of my apartment,” he stood there, looking up through the rail, frowning. 

“I… Jaskier.”

“What?” 

“My name. It’s Jaskier. Mr. Bard was my father,” he smirked, taking a step down. “Would you like to wait at my place until someone comes to your rescue? I have carpeting and coffee?” 

The other man laughed, leaning to press his forehead against the rail for a second before looking up. “It would be appreciated. I’m Geralt from 2C.” 

Jaskier tilted his head and smiled. “Well while we wait, Geralt of 2C, you can finally give me a review of my singing.”

“Hmm,” Geralt let himself be led up the rest of the stairs, “Am I restricted to three words or less?” 

Jaskier flushed and snorted. And to think he nearly made a habit of doing his videos in this bathroom.

---

You can drop me a prompt from this list here!!

Tag list as it stands now <3: @jaskierswolf @geraskier-trashh @elliestormfound @artistsfuneral @thetinymm @fontegagrilledcheese @anythinggoesfandoms @electricrituals 

[astermacguffin]

The semantic logic of AMVs

I finally finished the post I promised to @katebushstandean , so here's my contribution to the blossoming field of spn amv studies.

In this post I made about fanworks and intertextuality, I argued that AMVs can be referred to as a "discourse between discourses." What I meant by that (and I elaborated on this in the post) can be summarized in this argument structure:

(1) AMVs are typically a dialogue/discourse between a song and a show/film.

(2) A song is already a discourse of its own (i.e. it's the dialogue between music and lyrics).

(2) A show/film is already a discourse of its own (i.e. it's the dialogue between the visual and auditory elements of the show/film).

(C) Therefore, AMVs are typically a discourse between discourses.

I want to push this argument even further and argue for a more generalized theory of meaning that should (ideally) be applicable to any piece of media.

LAYING THE FOUNDATION

Let's start by analyzing at least just one medium at a time. Take music, for example. Without lyrics, how does music convey meaning at all? Now, I won't go too much into either music theory or the psychology/sociology of music (since I don't think I'll be able to give these subjects any justice anyway), but I want us to look at music more structurally/linguistically. (I am certainly not a linguist, but I am a training logician and I think it would be interesting to extract the logical/semantic relations that occur in music if we treat it as a "text".)

If we want to break down music into its smallest possible units of meaning (the same way we break down language into morphemes in morphology), then we would probably end up with notes, beats, and chords as our basic units (among other stuff, like timbre). Obviously, we cannot subject music to the same reductionist approach we do with either natural or formal languages (e.g. breaking down language into morphemes/propositions/subject-predicate relations/functions).

This is due to the fact that music doesn't really agree that much with the principle of compositionality—that "the meaning of the whole is a function of the meanings of its parts and their mode of syntactic combination." (If you disagree with Montague semantics, you might even argue that the same is true for natural languages and that only formal languages are truly compositional, but I digress). Generally, there is "more than the sum of its parts" when it comes to music; the meanings of a chord don't solely depend on the meanings of the individual notes that make up the chord.

Anyway, back to music and meaning-making.

Yip Harburg has this interesting quote on songwriting, which Adam Neely references here at this mark (15:29–16:10), a quote he originally got from Ben Levin. The quote says: "Music makes you feel feelings, lyrics make you think thoughts, songs make you feel thoughts." I think this quote best encompasses what I mean when I argue that songs are "discourses" of their own.

But even without the lyrics, music on its own is already "discursive." A single note played once doesn't really "mean" much, in the sense that we can't really gather as much meaning out of it alone. The note's relationships with other musical elements is what opens up the realms of meanings that we can attribute to it. (This concept is explored much better in here.)

The same thing is true with natural languages. Morphemes and words have meanings on their own, sure, but they don't really say that much on their own until you place them in a specific order with other morphemes/words. A single sentence is already a discourse between the units of meaning that compose the sentence.

I have been using the term "discourse" a lot, but what do I mean when I use the term? Without spending too much time explaining my own theory of discourse, let's define a discourse as a "series of discursive units." A discursive unit consists of two parts: a prompt and a response. What's important to know about responses in a discourse is that you won't really be able to fully grasp what they mean without knowing what the prompts are (i.e. what they are responding to).

When I describe song and lyrics as "discourses", what I think I really mean is that they are "discourse-like" (hence the description, "discursive"). The words of a sentence treat each other as their own prompts/responses; they're not as meaningful alone, but when taken together, meaning emerges. The same goes with music.

Taking this to a more macro scale, we can treat each episode of a show as their own discourses, and each episode "responds" to the others in some way. The harmonies, tensions, and contradictions that emerge from the "conversations" between these episodes are what we often respond to when we make fanworks (fanart, fanfics, meta, and the likes).

Generally, there are two kinds of "conversations" that happens within and among pieces of media:

The intra-discursive (the conversations that happen within a single text, like how a show's episodes converse with each other), and;

The inter-discursive (also called the intertextual, or the conversations that happen between different texts).

Now that we have established these terms and concepts, we're FINALLY talking about AMVs.

THE DEAL WITH AMVS

I've already touched upon this in my intertextuality post, but it's worth repeating. What I believe AMVs do is reveal the intra-discursive using the inter-discursive. What this means is that by making the subject text converse with other texts (e.g. by making clips from Supernatural "dialogue" with a song of your choice), you are somehow extracting the implicit discourses present in the original text.

When we talk about fanworks (and transformative works in general), we often talk about it in terms of recontextualization, as well as adding something new that wasn't there in the original text (e.g. fix-its). But a neglected aspect of fanworks that I believe AMVs bring to light is the revelatory power of fanworks, like the way it makes the people (may it be the audience or the original creators) confront the implications and implicit meanings already present in the text.

(Learn more about the semantic logic of AMVs below the cut)

Another interesting thing that AMVs do is that it often makes the subject text subservient to the song. More often than not, it's the show that has to adjust to the song; it's the show that has to be sliced and diced in order to fit the song. This is simultaneously a form of violence and a form of liberation—violent in the sense that goes against authorial intent (with "author" here used loosely to refer to the forces that brought the piece to life, may it be a single person or an entire production team) and liberating in the sense that the latent or supressed narratives are brought to light.

Even before the AMV is done, this discursive process is already made explicit by the act of editing. In most editing softwares, you get to see the timeline of your material and an explicit divide between the audio and the visual elements. The audio stream is already a discourse of its own, and the same goes with the video stream.

When you vertically slice these juxtaposed streams and cut out a portion of it, you now have what I call a "semantic moment" locked in time. We can imagine the audio being divided into these little semantic moments (e.g. the chords, a key change, a shift in dynamics or tempo, etc.) and something similar can be said with the video (e.g. vital scenes in the show). Now, a semantic moment doesn't have to be special or eventful; in fact, most of them aren't. In fact, all of experience is nothing but a series of semantic moments (i.e. moments of extractable meaning).

Now, imagine an AMV playing in front of you right now. Let's represent the audio as a series of semantic moments from A1 to An and do something similar to the video, from V1 to Vn. If we represent the flow of time from left to right, then we can talk abstractly about experiencing an AMV like this:

A1-A2-A3-A4-A5...-An

V1-V2-V3-V4-V5...-An

Every moment of our experience of the AMV can be divided into a series like this. AMVs are art objects that unfold over time: they are temporal, and therefore we cannot immediately access all parts of the semantic "discourse" of the text all at once—we have to wait for them to happen.

Let's say I want to analyze Semantic Moment number 6 because something interesting happens there: the chord suddenly shifts into a minor key while at the same time, the video shows a character turning their back to the camera. Now, there are three possible ways to handle this (none of which are mutually exclusive; we usually perform these modes of analysis simultaneously):

Vertical analysis - analyzing the discourse between A6 and V6. What meanings are brought up when we take these two elements in conjunction? What associations do we have with minor keys, with people turning around, and how these associations influence the other?

Horizontal analysis - analyzing the discourse between A6 and its earlier counterparts, A1-A5, or between V6 and V1-V5. Earlier, we have discussed that a single chord or a single word on its own doesn't mean that much; it's their relationships with other elements that bring out their "meaning space." What "narratives" or "metaphorical gestures" are brought upon when you consider these semantic moments as discourses/texts as a whole?

Diagonal analysis - analyzing the discourse between A6 and V1-V5, or between V6 and A1-A5. Here, you make the semantic moment converse with the "history" of its counterpart. What are the events that happened in the earlier parts? For example, knowing that the earlier parts of the song were in major key before the turn-around scene might influence our reading of it. Similarly, knowing that the earlier scenes depict a happy relationship might influence how we read the minor shift.

Again, we often do these analytic slices as quick as possible (and often simultaneously); it's not something that we often do consciously (unless the subject text is actually that dense and difficult). It's instinctual to us to bring up these comparisons and engage with the explicit and implicit discourses of meaning happening with any kind of text we interact with.

Now, here's where it gets more complicated. Unless the AMV in question is just a scene lifted from the show and overlaid with a song, it would usually involve a bunch of cutting and joining between different scenes/episodes. What this means is that you're taking an already temporal object and reassembling it into a new order in time. This means that we might've initially thought of as V1-V2-V3-V4-V5...Vn might actually be V3-V1-V6-V19-V8...Vn or some other permutation.

Again, this process is simultaneously violent and liberating—violent because you are destroying its intended order, and liberating because you are negating the tyranny of linearity and contiguity. What I mean by this is that people tend to focus on the discourse of the semantic moments depending on how close they are in space and time. For example, we might focus on how V1 is in dialogue with V2 and how V2 is in dialogue with V3, but the farther the semantic moments are, the less likely we are to notice their discourse.

What AMV editors do is rebel against the tyranny of this habit and bring into light the connections that might have gone unnoticed without the intervention. We often talk about how certain fanworks are more analytical than transformative (e.g. fanfics that function more as character studies and meta analyses of the source text), and there certainly is a spectrum of this among different genres of fanworks. I believe that AMVs, no matter how transformative they are, cannot help but invoke a certain analyticity in their production and reception.

And that concludes my AMV essay. I'll probably add more to this when I gather more thoughts (like how these three posts are related in some way).

Lemme know if y'all wanna hear more about my theory of discourse or something else related. Support your content creators and reblog!

[fangirlyah]

✦put your head on my shoulder - Draco Malfoy x Muggle!Reader

summary: SOULMATES!AU when you turn sixteen, the person who is destined to be your life partner, begins to listen when the other person plays the sound that will unite them at some point in their life. but what if your soulmate doesn't know this?

word count: 1,621

warnings: none u think :)

“put your head on my shoulder…” 

oh no not again.

since his sixteenth birthday, draco malfoy couldn't stop hearing a sweet voice sing in his ear at least once a day.

"what's up lad?" zabini asked his friend seeing him rub his temples.

"this is the third time she has sung this song in the day" the great hall exploded with noise but to draco's ears it seemed all a distant whisper.

"I'm glad we can't hear it" your voice was sweet and the first time draco had heard it, he had been terrified; it was one day at night in the library, draco was alone but he heard a female voice next to him. that night he slept only a little, it was one of the few times in his life that he really felt fear.

"you are lucky that yours sings, my soulmate is a know-it-all, I only hear him recite quotes from transfiguration books" the day after he heard you for the first time, he commented on it in the common room and pansy was the first to explain that when you and your soulmate turned sixteen, you would begin to hear the sound that would one day unite the two of you. some people heard the sounds of birds and others the passing of sheets of paper; draco was listening to you sing a song.

"what does she sings, draco?" millicent asked, catching everyone's attention. he couldn't tell it was a muggle song, he couldn't. it was social suicide.

"I think it's the beauxbaton’s anthem" it was not.

you, on the other hand, listened to him mutter a song that you couldn't recognize. you listened little to it, but the few times your ear reached it, you desperately tried to search your cds and find which band it belonged to. but the rhythm always changed, never the lyrics. you had searched through books and books for the few words that reached your ear. the only thing you can understand was 'for now they are bare and full of air, dead files and bits of fluff, so teach us things worth knowing' was not enough to find out what it was.

unlike Draco, you didn't mind hearing him; on the contrary it was relaxing. a few times you had been lucky enough to hear him sing softly as you tried to fall asleep, he had calmed you down like a lullaby. there were times when he sang and you whispered hoping to hear an answer, but it never came. 

months have passed, since they heard each other, when draco took a liking to your voice. it was when he was running besides his aunt bellatrix escaping after dumbledore's death, he listened to you. this time you sang it sweetly, as if you were trying to calm a crying baby. you were in your room brushing your hair after showering when a wave of despair washed over you; you didn't know what it was, everything around you was calm but you felt the need to run. to distract yourself from your thoughts, so you started singing the song you heard months ago on the radio.

"put your head on my shoulder ... hold me in your arms, baby .... squeeze me oh-so-tight ... show me that you love me too ..." you didn't know that draco could hear you, no less that he felt your hands in his hair. as the dark forests surrounded him he felt a delicate caress on his head, no one was touching him for what he assumed it would be his soulmate.

that was the only moment he felt your touch and the only time you felt his feelings. you weren't a witch, you didn't know about hogwarts therefore you didn't have friends to tell you that you were listening to your soulmate. draco didn't know that, he held out to the hope that you were a witch with a fondness for muggle music.

but the day pansy sent a letter to malfoy manor with everything that was happening at school, she told him that everyone was starting to speak to their soulmates through their thoughts. that afternoon he tried and got no response; you did not know about him, therefore you were not a magician. any student of any school of magic knew what happened when you turned sixteen, as everyone was looking forward to that birthday.

 they were in the middle of a war, he was from the dark side battling every non-pureblood person and discovering that his soul mate was a muggle.

even if he wanted to, it was impossible to erase you from his mind because your voice was there involuntarily every time you sang. he didn't know what sound coming from him you were hearing, so he prevented his mouth from expelling anything with rhythm. he no longer gave himself encouragement in a low voice as he used to do, with fear that you will hear him. he wanted to eliminate you completely.

so you stopped listening. you couldn't show your hurt since no one knew what you were hearing, if someone had known they would probably take you to a therapist for help. you didn't want to go because you knew nothing was wrong; that voice calmed you down, gave you peace, it was nothing bad. there were nights when you hung up on your sheets trying to mentally call him to sing to you, but the voice didn't appear.

so you stopped, the song with which you had felt that feeling of despair, did not come out of your mouth for months. and draco noticed. the boy's life was to go from trial to trial, with his freedom in question every day, he needed that voice that bothered him so much before.

It wasn't until after four months of silence that he heard you.

that day narcissa and draco were wandering the muggle streets of london, looking for fancy clothes for the next trial. their mother had specifically asked them to leave the magical world for a moment, she wanted to escape for a while from that place that so badly wished them.

"that dress looks very elegant, I think I'll go in here" a black long-sleeved dress watched her from the window. narcissa opened the door and entered the business. but draco didn't move "come in, draco"

"I'm just going to tour the place a bit" even though his mother was not thrilled with the idea, he went ahead. he had never been alone on the muggle streets of london and for some reason this time he was curious to do so.

to the surprise of every londinese it was a sunny and inviting day, you could be outside your house with just a light coat. there was a large park with children running around and couples having picnics, very close to the business where his mother had entered. since he was little, draco had not been in pure nature like that park, so with a slow step he began to walk along the stone path that surrounded him. he saw old ladies sharing honey biscuits with children who stopped playing on the shaken swings and naive people throwing coins into the fountain making wishes.

his walk only stopped to take off his black jacket. when he did and hung it over his hand, he started walking to stop again. a familiar voice appeared in his ears, it was you. he froze with his head bowed as he tried to absorb the sound.

“people say that love's a game ... a game you just can't win ... if there's a wa-"

"you sing very nice, miss!" a childish voice made him raise his head violently, how did the girl hear the voice too?

"oh thank you very much, sweetie" the air caught in draco's lungs when he heard you speak for the first time. this was not happening in his mind.

when he saw the girl running towards the slides with a smile, he approached the tree in front of him and stuck his head out to the side to meet you. you were with a notebook on your lap writing what looked like school work, sitting on a folded sheet while you murmured a song.

draco couldn't come up and tell you: hey you're my soulmate, because you were muggle.

"good afternoon ... um ... I'm draco malfoy" you looked up to see a blond boy in a suit stretching his hand towards you, you recognized that voice.

"hello draco malfoy, I am y/n y/l" you smiled at him shaking his hand.

"I ... like the song you were singing"

"oh yeah, I wasn't supposed to get so much attention" you blushed, you had never liked being the center of attention, so you thought that if you whispered the song no one would hear you, but you were wrong.

"do you have another song that you like?" he just wanted to hear your voice.

"yes of course! emm ... I have more songs on a cassette at my house, only if you want I can bring it and show you"

"would it be fantastic ... here tomorrow at this time?" you kept eye contact, there was something that united you and him and it was not just the interest in a paul anka song, you thought.

"I'll be waiting"

when draco started walking towards his mother, after waving goodbye. he smiled, the idea that you weren't a magical person and you were destined to be with him disgusted him, but when he saw you as sweet as your voice, those thoughts faded. the idea of ​​being with a muggle sounded good if it was you.