#Dark Deejay

[cottonjewels]

Deejay - 💙🎧💛

[star-arcana]

Rate all of these Rayman Raving Rabbids 1 tracks/Rabbid arrangements and tell me which of the Rabbids from Mario + Rabbids would dance to this:

Misirlou!

Good Times!

Girls [Bunnies] Just Wanna Have Fun!

Hip Hop Hooray!

La Bamba!

Dark Iron Bunnies!

The Butcher Deejay!

Tell me which song is the best and which Rabbid would dance to each song...either in the comments or through reblogging!!!

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 35

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible. 

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader 

I jumped when the local radio station cut in on the silence after just a short cruise onto the main road from the school lot. The deejay’s booming voice let me know that I had been playing my music just a little bit too loud on the ride in and I grasped my chest.

“Wait..” I said the word aloud and frantically searched the compartment below the radio where I typically keep my phone. And then I reached into my pockets, checked my cup holders and rustled through the bag in my passenger seat with one hand. “Shit!”

My phone. Where the fuck did I leave it?

I pulled the car into the lot adjacent to the one I had just come from and gave a more thorough inspection of my vehicle. Nothing. No phone.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I thought for a moment, wondering when the last time was that I had it.

In class? Yes. As I walked out. Yes. I relived the text that Dr. Miller had sent me. That was the last time I remember having it. So, I assumed it had to be somewhere between the classroom and the parking lot.

I exited the side lot, got back onto the main road for a couple hundred yards and then pulled back into the parking lot where I’d just come from. My spot was still available and so I pulled back in, checking the ground around it for a sign of my iphone. Nothing.

“Come on.” I smacked my open hand on the center of the steering wheel and then got out to look around. And then I stopped for a moment. There were texts between Dr. Miller and myself there that I didn’t want anyone to see. I didn’t have a passcode because I never saw a need for one. What if someone reads them? What if someone realizes it’s him who has been texting me? I had his name as ‘Joel’ in my phone, so at least there was some barrier there that wouldn’t lead someone directly to Dr. Miller at first glance.

Chill out and just look around.

I wandered around the parking lot, and then the sidewalk. I went back down the stairwell and into the basement level, even asking random people that were lurking around if they had seen an Iphone laying around. “No,” was the repetitive response.

I gave up on the basement and took the stairs again to find nothing, as I suspected.

Maybe Dr. Miller found it. I hoped he had. He would have recognized it if he saw it laying somewhere.

I was aggravated when I emerged back out onto the sidewalk. I knew I was in a losing battle if I hadn’t found it by now. Still, I walked around the area, looking in every little place I could think of. I hoped I hadn’t accidentally run it over on my drive out. It would be in a bunch of shattered pieces if I had.

“Fuck.” I walked up the dark sidewalk a bit farther and turned back around when I felt someone behind me. Before I could contemplate if the person was a threat, Dr. Miller’s Mercedes came whipping up, invading two handicapped spots and practically screeching to a sideways halt.

My mouth hung open as he hurried out of the car, rushing up to confront the hooded stranger behind me.

“Stop!” The voice was recognizable anywhere. It wasn’t a stranger.

“Trevor?” I wasn’t as startled by his presence as I was Dr. Miller’s in the moment.

“What are you doing?” Dr. Miller asked him angrily.

Trevor pushed the hood of his jacket down away from his face. “I waited around on the chance she'd come back,” he shouted out with his hands raised. I’d never heard Trevor raise his voice. “I was just going to tell her about her phone.”

I whipped my head in his direction. “You found my phone?”

“Yeah, and I was trying to flag you down when you drove off,” he claimed, “It fell out in the parking lot.”

“Did you know he was behind you?” Dr. Miller asked me.

I looked back and forth between the two of them. “No. I.. I was just looking around because I realized I didn’t have it.”

“So, you waited for her on a chance she’d come back but you didn’t call out her name?”

“Not yet,” Trevor went on, “I was about to and then you came running at me.”

“Because I saw a guy in a hood following a young woman,” Dr. Miller went on, “On the same campus where two women have already been killed.”

“Well, I could say the same about you,” Trevor shot back. “I went to check on (Y/N) when you followed her out the back door a few weeks ago.”

“Oh, the night my car was parked in the back parking lot?” He asked, “That night? Would you prefer me walk out the front door to get to the back lot where my car is parked? That wouldn’t make much sense, now would it?”

Trevor glanced down and back up, sort of like a lightbulb went off and he had a ‘duh’ moment.

I felt awkwardly caught in the middle of a giant cluster of misunderstandings. Dr. Miller glared at Trevor. Trevor glared back.

“Whatever you guys think of each other,” I said, “I think you both are just misunderstanding what happened - on both sides of things.” My eyes met Dr. Miller’s apologetically. I was trying to sound neutral and diffuse the situation. “Dr. Miller didn’t follow me out the back, Trevor. I probably shouldn’t have been walking alone, but I wanted to see if the pond was frozen and decided to take a little walk.” Lie. A terrible lie; but who was to argue?

Trevor still had a sour look on his face.

“And I’m sure Trevor didn’t mean any harm,” I told Dr. Miller, “I did lose my phone.”

“He knows,” Trevor said, waving a hand in his direction. “He has it.”

I raised my eyebrows, relieved, “You do?”

“I gave it to him,” my classmate added. “I was going to give it to you tomorrow during Dr. Stevenson’s class, or hand it in to the campus police. I know you’re friends with that guy.” Trevor eyed Dr. Miller again.

“Well, thank you Trevor.” I nodded to him and even put a hand on his shoulder for good measure. I wanted this to end. I wanted to go home. I didn’t want any questions being asked that would make me stutter and choke on my words, or expose my relationship with our professor.

Dr. Miller sucked his teeth from the interaction and put his hands on his hips. He then reached into the pocket of his jacket and placed the phone back in my palm. Our eyes locked and I could see he wasn’t happy.

“Thank you,” I said to him, holding his stare for an extra second. “I’m sorry my mishap caused all this. Everyone should just.. get home.” I nodded. “And I appreciate the concern.. from both of you.” I looked back and forth between them, “But I’m really alright. No one has to come to my rescue.”

“He could have attacked you,” Dr. Miller looked at me with a hard glare, motioning to Trevor again.

“I wasn’t going to attack her!” Trevor shouted.

“Stop!” I shouted out loud. I could see Dr. Miller was having a hard time letting it go in the moment. “Just.. I’m okay. I’m fine. I shouldn’t have walked alone.”

“Well, it seems like it’s a habit at this point,” Dr. Miller said to me now. “Smarten up. There’s a man killing women in the area and you’re out here alone with no awareness that someone’s even behind you.”

“I thought they caught that guy.”

“They didn’t catch anybody.” He shook his head and raised his voice just slightly.

After a brief moment of silence, Trevor looked to me. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

I looked to Dr. Miller and I could tell he hated the idea. If he was capable of breathing fire, now would have been the time. He was fuming and it was written all over his face.

“So she doesn’t walk alone,” Trevor added, challenging him.

“Thanks, Trevor.” I looked at Dr. Miller with apologetic eyes and anticipated an argument back at home.

Dr. Miller watched us go and I knew he wouldn’t leave until he knew I was safe in my car. I bid him a casual farewell and allowed Trevor to walk with me the rest of the way. When I glanced over my shoulder toward him, his eyes burned into mine.

“Hey, really,” I said to Trevor as we went, “Thanks for grabbing my phone. I appreciate it-”

“I thought you said you couldn’t ski,” he interrupted.

“I can’t.”

“Well, why do you have lift tickets then?”

“Excuse me?”

“Lift tickets. Vermont. I saw a notification pop up on your phone.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “That’s none of your business. Why were you going through my phone?”

“I wasn’t going through your phone, it just popped up.”

“Well, still, it’s none of your business,” I said harshly, “And if you must know, my roommate Tori booked a girls weekend. I really don’t ski. I just agreed to go so I could get away for a few days.”

“Why wouldn’t you just tell me that instead of saying you were going to see your parents?”

“I don’t know, Trevor.” I shrugged, “We don’t know each other very well. I just.. I don’t know. You shouldn’t have looked at my phone.”

“I know. I wouldn’t have. It just popped up in my face and you had just told me two minutes before that you didn’t ski.”

I sighed and shook my head.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Trevor went on, “I invaded your privacy and I had no right to question you.”

“Thank you.”

“Dr. Miller creeps me out.”

Talk about an abrupt subject change.“Why?” I shook my head and squinted my eyes. I needed this part of the night to be over.

“He had to have been watching you to know exactly where you were when I started to walk up to you.”

“Maybe he was doing the same thing you were doing,” I suggested with a shrug.

“No.” Trevor shook his head, “I don’t trust him. Maybe he was waiting for you because he’s the Lady Killer.”

The Lady Killer. The fucking Lady Killer. I was sick of hearing about this shadow; this lurker. This evil manifested that was making everyone, myself included, fucking crazy.

“Dr. Miller isn’t the Lady Killer. The Lady Killer is Alec Pryor,” I informed him.

Trevor shook his head. “You apparently aren’t up to date on your facts.”

“What do you mean?”

“They found that guy in Pennsylvania. They brought him in for questioning and he had an alibi. There was even camera evidence that he was somewhere else when the second murder took place.”

What?  “Then why would he run?”

“He gave two reasons. One, he thought he was going to be the patsy and go down for the murders even though he didn’t do them.”

“Well, he’s a sex offender. I wouldn’t feel a bit bad for him.”

“But a killer would still go free,” Trevor argued. He wasn’t wrong.

“What’s the second reason?”

“He thought someone was going to kill him.” Trevor nodded toward me. Did I hear him right? Poor Alec Pryor thought someone was going to kill him. Gee, I couldn’t imagine why. 

“Bullshit.” I shook my head, “He’s looking for sympathy.”

“Maybe.” Trevor went on, “But there was evidence to support his claims that someone broke into his home the night he fled. He fled to get away and stay alive.”

“Well, we should all be glad that a sex offender is alive,” I said with heavy sarcasm.

“(Y/N), I want that asshole behind bars as much as the next guy,” Trevor confessed, “And I wouldn’t bat an eye if he died, but you’re missing the point.”

“What’s the point?”

“There is a coed killer still out there who hasn’t been caught. And I hate to say it, but Dr. Miller is right. Do you have a death wish?”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, I’m out of here.”

“I’m sorry,” Trevor reached for my arm to pull me back. “I just think you should live by the motto, anyone who isn’t a killer is a target. I mean, what if I was the killer tonight and you were just wandering around alone?”

“Are you the killer?” I asked, showing zero concern in the expression.

“No,” Trevor said, exasperated right away. “Me? A killer?” He let out a laugh and I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. “I would worry less about me and more about our professor.”

“Dr. Stevenson?” I joked.

“You know who I mean. I know everyone loves him, including you, but I know he’s hiding something.”

Yeah, he’s fucking me. I would have loved to shout the snarky truth in his face but I would never. Plus, I didn’t want to label the depth of what we had together with a word as simple, shallow and overused as just ‘fucking’. 

“I’ve got to go.” I ducked into my car. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Trevor. And thank you for getting my phone back to me in one piece.”

“You can thank Dr. Miller.” He shut the door once I was in and began to wander away.

I immediately checked my phone and I saw Dr. Miller’s text.

Wrap it up, he wrote, we need to get home.

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandijo17 @shotgun-shelby @itscatrodriguez-thepearl @macaroni676 @acciowolfstar1 @smolbeanzzz @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @bandluvr97

[eoieopda]

Hello there jade! 🥰🥰 Can i please request a jealous + clingy seokjin? Thank you a lot in advance ❤️❤️

this may have ended up more sensual than originally planned, ope 🥴

cw: alcohol consumption, semi-possessive and intimidating implied dom!jin, surprise appearance by co-worker!jimin (not intended to be a creep, just the biggest flirt and also a chaotic bisexual because i said so 😏)

Even for a Saturday night, the club was significantly more crowded than you anticipated.

You’d walked through the front door with your little finger locked with Jin’s, but as soon as you crossed the threshold, the sea of bodies filled the space between you. The current pulled you apart and carried you in opposite directions. At his height, he should’ve been easy to spot; at yours, though, all you saw were the shoulder blades of strangers.

Deciding that your best vantage point would be at the bar, you slipped through the fray and ducked under arms as other patrons raised their glasses. Miraculously, you did it all in heels - without so much as a hair out of place. You huffed when you finally reached the bar, and turned back to gaze in the direction you’d just trekked from.

Still, despite fastidiously scanning over the room, Jin was nowhere to be found.

You turned back towards the bartender moments before a body sidled up next to you. Thinking the arm that brushed against yours was the one you were waiting for, you turned eagerly - only to find that the face smirking over at you wasn’t Jin’s.

“Didn’t expect to see you out in a place like this,” he leaned into your ear so you’d be able to hear him over the combined efforts of the deejay and the crowd. His cologne, you’d admit, was intoxicating. Familiar.

Park Jimin, as a matter of fact, had never seen you anywhere outside the context of your employment - let alone dressed the way you were. Tight leather pants, strapless corset top, blazer with a silk lapel.

You knew you were a smoke show. If the bottom lip pinched between his teeth was any indication, so did he.

“You drinking?” He gestured to the floor-to-ceiling shelves ahead. Any liquor you could’ve conjured in your mind was sitting there, waiting. All of it top-shelf, too; one bottle worth more than a sizable chunk of your paycheck.

Your eyes scanned the crowd but, once again, you came up short. “Depends,” you mused.

Jimin’s head tilted to the side as his narrowed eyes studied you. You’d seen this face before, this charm and self-assured posture. He used it frequently to snag clients and close deals and it worked every time - on men, women, and everyone in between.

But not on you.

You chuckled without glancing his way. You hoped your lack of attention would lower the temperature he seemed dead-set on raising, “On whether or not I intend to make my rent this month.”

“It’s on me, so I think you’re out of excuses, doll.”Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his eyes twinkle; still stuck on you. Then, he nudged your shoulder with his and teased, “Where’s your man, anyway? Can’t keep up with you?”

There was a hand sliding into the back pocket of your pants, but it wasn’t Jimin’s. You could see his ten, ringed fingers glinting over the countertop. Without looking, you knew exactly whose touch was laying claim.

Jimin’s smirk ran off and reappeared on your face.

“She’s quick, but I think he can manage,” said the man in question. When you turned your head to look up, up, up at Jin, his dark stare was actively turning Jimin to stone.

Once satisfied with his efforts, he leaned over the shoulder not occupied by Jimin’s. Jin’s plush lips hovered next to your ear while he inquired in a voice dropped low, “What do you think, love?”

Jimin looked like he didn’t know what to do. So, he raised his glass in salute, swallowed its contents, and smacked it back down onto the bar.

“Well,” he hummed as he wiped his mouth against the back of his hand, “Three’s a crowd - unless you determine later that you want one.”

He winked before turning on his heel to walk away. As he did, Jin’s arms encircled your waist and held you close. You leaned back into his hold; there, you promptly began to melt.

“You can order whatever you want, love,” He started, tucking one possessive thumb into the waistband of your pants. It warmed the bare skin it rested against, unmoving. “So long as I’m the one who buys it for you - and the only one who takes you home.”

[miyuhpapayuh]

seventeen.

Happy new year!

Champagne is popped, confetti is flying through the air of the spacious club as the crowd hollers and smooches it up with their lover. A major smash up of the previous year's hits plays, keeping the party jumping.

Tugging at the back of her skirt for the thousandth time, Zora follows Leon, hand in hand, as they head back to the expansive bar.

“What round are we on, beautiful?” He asks with a laugh.

“Four or five,” she shrugs, hopping up on the barstool with his assistance.

He snorts, soon clinking his glass to hers and knocking back the dark liquor. The sting had long gone.

“Aren't you glad we ditched our plans of sitting on the couch?” She asks, pulling him just a bit closer to her.

He looks down at her, shaking his head. “I suppose. I look pretty fly and I got you on my arm, so..”

“Shut up,” she playfully punches his arm, letting out a giggle that he hears over the music. He smirks, looming over her just a bit more, reducing her to nothing but giggles.

“Stop it,” she faux whines, while he kisses every part of her face. He chuckles since her hand was still on his arm.

“Cut it out,” he laughs, pulling his face away from hers anyway.

“Hey, it's the lovely couple!” Cory stumbles over the pair, who might as well be sending fiery lasers through him.

Leon doesn't even let him get so much as a sniff of Zora, before blocking her completely, coming face to face with the audacious bastard.

Laughing at him to make matters worse, Cory places his hand on Leon's shoulder. “I'm not here to steal your girl, tonight, my guy–” his words are replaced with a yelp as his arm gets twisted behind him.

“Lost your fucking mind.” Leon simply says, pushing him so he stumbles in a completely different direction, far away from them.

“Come back if you fuckin’ want to!” He shouts after him.

Zora sighs as he turns back to her, making sure she was good. She nods, asking him the same question.

“He pisses me off so fucking bad, it's insane.” He blows out a breath.

“That makes two of us,” she agrees, reaching up to rub his bearded cheek, “always my hero, though!”

“You know I got you, baby.”

Soon making their way back to the dance floor, the deejay's switched to playing 90’s r&b. Everyone's favorite.

“Zora?” A voice that disgusts her to her very core sounds, even stilling Leon behind her.

“Who is that?” He asks, looking around the crowd.

“Sounds like my ex,” she sighs, staring the bastard right in the face as he begins to walk towards her.

“Wait a minute..” Leon says out loud, squinting at the woman that's following behind him. No way.

“Zora,” he repeats once he's closer to her. “That is you!”

“Yeah,” she responds, not bothering to mask her facial expression. “It's me.”

“You look great!”

“I always do.” She scoffs.

“Mhm,” he hums, looking her up and down, making her feel super exposed all of a sudden.

“Leon!?” The woman beside him points, to which he nods.

“Mhm.”

“Wow,” she says, making Zora look in her direction. “You look so good. Always have.”

Clearing his throat and ignoring her compliment, he looks in Zora's direction, who’s still glaring at her.

“Baby, this is Candy. Candy, this is Zora, my girlfriend.”

Candy holds out her hand, which Zora just stares at before looking back at her face. “I'm good. Heard lots about you.”

Candy snatches her hand back to her side, fighting the scoff that sits in her throat.

“Nice to meet you, too.” She mumbles.

“You gonna introduce me to your friend, here?” Leon asks, draping his arm over her shoulder.

“Jeremy, this is my boyfriend, Leon. Leon, this is my ex.” She gestures between the two, unenthusiastically.

Jeremy doesn't even lift his hand, in fear of getting done the same way as Candy.

“Oh, yeah. Heard bout you, too.” Leon scoffs.

He nods. “I understand. I wasn't a good dude.”

“The worst, yeah,” he responds without missing a beat.

“Probably still ain't shit.” Zora chimes in, feeling the liquor now.

“I deserve that, too.”

“You deserve my foot up your ass. Again.” She humorlessly laughs, looking up at Leon, overly done with the interaction.

“You ready?” She asks, not even getting a verbal response as he leads them around the couple.

Back at the bar, Zora knocks back two more shots, her nerves are beyond frazzled. The soothing circles Leon is rubbing on her knee are only doing so much.

“I could really beat his ass if you want me to.” He coos in her ear, finally earning a sliver of a smile, while she weighs her options.

“Mm.. nah. Just wasn't expecting or ready to see him.” She admits, placing a hand on top of his.

“I understand, baby. But, you handled it better than you think.”

“Yeah? Threatening to whoop his ass twice was nice?” She asks sarcastically.

“He deserved it and knew it,” he shakes his head. “He’ll be fine and so will you.”

“Yeah, you right.” She nods.

“I know, now come back and dance with me.”

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

The party might've ended at three, but that didn't stop the two from catching a lyft back to her apartment, jumping into their sweats and starting a movie marathon.

She's nestled comfortably between his long legs, his arms caged around her, providing more warmth than her sweaters ever could.

First up was Aquamarine. One of Zora's favorites.

Nothing but hiccuped laughter and slightly incoherent commentary are heard through the dimly lit area.

“I want starfish earrings so bad,” she sighs.

“Yeah? We gotta find you some, then.” He responds.

“Really? Can they be orange? That's my favorite color.”

“I,” he takes a pause to laugh, “I know, baby. And of course, anything you want.” He leans down to kiss her forehead.

She laughs at herself. “Let's get you a pair, too— green, of course. Cause that's your favorite– color.” She hiccups again.

“Aw, you wanna twin with me, Jean?”

“Hell yeah, Av!” She yells a bit louder than necessary, snorting shortly after. “Coolest guy on the planet.”

“Stop it,” he waves her off like she can see him, feeling his face get hot, and not just from the alcohol.

“Seriously,” she turns in his hold to look him in the eyes, literally. “The coolest!”

“What's so.. what's so cool ‘bout me?” He asks, unable to stop the widespread grin on his face.

“You're smart, and not just like a book smart type of way, but like a commonsensical person. That's so rare to find, ya know?”

“Yeah, we ran into three of the opposite, tonight!” He cracks, making her fall over in laughter.

“That was way too much to deal with, oh my gosh.”

“Yeah, it killed my mood by a thou, and you were upset after. That made it worse.”

“Yeah, but you cheered me up!”

“Still. I could kick his ass. It's easier now, knowing what he looks like.” He smirks.

“See, that's another thing that makes you so cool to me. Kickin’ ass in my honor.” She fondly shakes her head at him.

“I'll kill him if you want me to,” he shrugs, snickering as she hits him with a pillow.

“Unnecessary.”

“Is it?” He squints.

“Yes! Just kick his ass!” She laughs.

“I can??”

“Leon!”

“Zora!?”

They stare at each other for a split second, before bursting out into laughter again.

“You're stupid,” she says, looking back towards the tv and grabbing for the remote, “aw, we're missing it! Now we gotta go back.”

“Wait,” he says. “What else?”

“What else, what?” She asks back, almost forgetting what they were originally talking about.

“Oh!” She exclaims before he can jog her memory. “Right, right.” She sits the remote back down, this time pausing the movie.

“Let's see… your clothes are dope, that's why I steal ‘em. You're so pretty, which is also cool! You're a literal chef, and you cannot tell me differently, cause most men can't even cook a hot pocket.”

He chuckles hard at that. “Craig could actually live off those things.”

“Really? Yuck! He gotta get his shit together, there's better options out there!” She yells more than whispers.

“Ah, let him rock. It reminds him of simpler times, or whatever the fuck he be sayin’.” He says, making her laugh and leave it alone.

“But, again, my mama made sure we knew how to cook. I'm no chef, but I'll take your compliment.”

“You could have a five star restaurant.” She nods, ignoring him.

“Yeah? You put that much faith behind me?”

“I'll kick you out, right now.” She laughs, making him do the same. “Yes! What kind of question? Main dish would be that rack of lamb you made that time. My god, was it delicious.”

“Yeah? You liked it?”

“Loved it, babe.”

He smiles, welcoming the kiss she placed on his lips.

“I guess I am pretty cool, huh?”

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

“While we've about twenty minutes to spare, I need to talk to you about something.” Eryn says to Zora.

“Okay, what's up?”

“So, I'm in a bit of a pickle. When I went back to Florida, I met— well, re-linked is the better word— yeah, re-linked with this guy and we've been talking ever since, just getting to know each other all over again.”

“Aw, that's so cool!”

“Yeah… I guess it would depend on who you talk to about it.”

“Why? Who is it?”

“It's my brother's ex best friend.” 

“Eryn,” Zora sighs.

“I know, I know. But he's changed! He's so sweet now, god he used to be such a jerk! He's gotten himself together since they used to run together and shit. I know how it looks, but that's why I wanted to talk to you about it.”

“Well, I'm not really the person you should talk to you, Eryn. You know you gotta tell Leon.” She softly responds, placing her hand on top of the younger girl's.

She sighs, nodding in understanding. “Yeah, I got it. I just… you ever need someone else's perspective besides your sister's?”

“Of course! But, I still end up taking it to my sisters at the end of the day. I just think it'll be sticky if you get other people involved.”

“I'm not trying to pull you into the middle of all of this, I swear. I just think you're so cool and sweet and maybe you had some insight on how I should handle this.”

Zora frowns at the compliment, sighing to herself. “You're gonna get me in so much trouble.”

“I'm not, I swear!” She holds her hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay.. are you ready to tell him?”

“Mmm… no, actually. I'm terrified— and not because that's his friend, but because that's my brother. He's always been there for me, and I really feel like I'm letting him down right now.”

“While I understand, don't beat yourself up. I mean, it's not like you don't wanna tell him. You're just trying to find the right way.”

“Right!”

“But,” she adds, “sometimes you just gotta rip the bandaid off.”

Before she can say any more, the girls make their way to the table, hugging and kissing Zora and Eryn.

“Hey, y'all!” They greet, finding their seats around the table.

“Nice of y'all to finally join us,” Zora snorts.

“Please spare us this time! The traffic was terrible.” Nique says.

“Eh, it's a new year. I guess I have no choice but to spare you just this once.”

“Such the angel baby!”

“So, what did we miss?!” Lovita asks, getting straight to the point.

“I ran into Jeremy last night at the club.” Zora says, making everyone's jaw hit the table.

“Wait… the ex that….” Eryn starts and pauses, making sure her story was right.

“Tried to break into her car with another bitch? The same one he cheated on her with?? Yeah. Yeah, that's him.” Nique answers.

“Did you knock him through the wall??” Nique asks.

Zora giggles. Hard.

“Stop laughing girl, I'm serious!”

“I know! My goodness,” she exasperates, wiping underneath her eyes. “I didn't lay a finger on that bitch. He's lucky I didn't throw a drink in his face or sumn.”

“Was he with a girl?” Eryn asks.

“Was he! Of all women he could be linked up with, why did it have to be Leon's ex-girlfriend?!” She asks, watching their jaws drop again.

“Oh my god! Candy??” Eryn asks, to which Zora nods.

“That whore you told us about??” Nique chimes in.

“Nique! Don't call her that,” Neoma shakes her head. “The correct term is jezebel.”

“Oh yes, my bad.”

“So, what did you do?”

“I honestly tried my best to ignore him. He saw me before I saw him and headed right over to us like we were long lost friends or something.”

“That audacious bastard.” Lovita says with a shake of her head.

“Same shit I thought, girl. Talking ‘bout some, “you look great”, like duh. Of course I do.”

“Right. What he thought?!”

“What he look like now?”

“Shit.” She snorts, making them join in.

“This girl,” Nique says through giggles. “She's stupid!”

“And correct!” Lovita squeals, holding out her phone for everyone to look at a picture off his instagram page.

“How'd you…”

“I never forget a bitch.” She smirks.

“Lord. Ugly, ain't he?”

“Girl, yeah.” Neoma says, not even giving the picture a second glance.

She never liked him. Always knew something was wrong.

“Ya know, I always knew something was up with his ass.” She continues.

“I know, Ne. From the day I met him.” Zora assures her.

“Not everybody needs the benefit, just the doubt.”

“Girl, shut up!”

After the most lively lunch possible, the girls head to their cars to part ways, promising to get back together the following weekend.

“Remember what I said, Eryn.” Zora says, before kissing her cheek.

“Thanks for the advice. I really appreciate it.”

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Neoma and Craig are sitting in the middle of the food court for their weekly date, chowing down on lo mein from their favorite Chinese spot.

“How was work yesterday?” She asks him.

“I don't know what it is about the beginning of the year that just makes people act an ass, but that's all I've been hit with lately.” He grumbles.

“Really??”

“Yeah, everybody trippin’. Management, coworkers, consumers, hell even my mama called me the other day and was trippin’!”

“Jesus, that's too much. I'm sorry babe.” She offers, reaching across to rub his hand.

“It's alright, I had you to look forward to.” He says, pulling her hand up to kiss it, making her softly laugh.

“Really?”

“Yeah, honeybee! Love seeing your pretty face, every week.” He admits, making her blush.

Ever since they made things official, there wasn't a day where he didn't have her blushing like crazy, making her really feel and see his efforts in being a good boyfriend.

He was excelling so far.

“You're so cute.”

“I try,” he humbly shrugs.

“Do you?”

“For you, hell yeah!” He says, making her giggle again as they go back to eating.

Glancing over to his right, he does a double-take and finds Eryn sitting with some guy at a table further away.

“Oh look, it's baby E,” he comments, turning back to Neoma. “I thought she looked like somebody.”

Neoma looks in the direction he'd previously looked, nodding to herself. “Oh yeah, we all hung out a couple days ago. She's a sweetheart.”

“Yeah, she used to be a pain in our necks when she was younger.” He snorts.

“With knuckleheads like y'all as target practice? I woulda been the same way!” She giggles.

“Aye, now. We wasn't knuckleheads.” He defends.

“Boy, please! We've had enough game nights to know how y'all roll and I can only imagine what college, high school and elementary days looked like for y'all.” She laughs.

Ready to defend them again, he instead laughs at the stories coming to his brain. “You right, we were wild boys.”

“I know!” She laughs again, “you probably still got some wild left in you, too.”

“Wouldn't you like to find out.” He responds without missing a beat.

She playfully rolls her eyes at the same time a chill catches her, trying her best to shake it off.

Catching sight of who Eryn was actually sitting across from, as they passed by the table, Craig had to stop himself from snatching her away from the man altogether.

“Is she serious?” He asks out loud.

“Huh?” Neoma asks. “What happened?”

“That's Leon's old friend that she's with. Haven't seen that sorry bastard in years.”

“Oh, not a good dude?”

“Well, he wasn't. I don't know about now.”

“Well, maybe he's changed.” She shrugs.

“Yeah, but what is she doin’ with him?” He asks, more to himself than her. “Isn't that against sibling code or sumn?”

Neoma tried to stifle her giggle at his serious expression. “Craig, you need to relax a little. It's not like we saw him with his arm around her neck or kissing her. They could be catching up. Maybe she wants them to be friends again.”

He sighs, taking in her words. “Yeah, I guess that could be a possibility.”

“Do you trust her?”

“Well, it's really not about my trust, but yeah– she's a good kid. I just would hate for them to fall out over this.”

“You wanna tell him you saw them together, don't you?” She asks, already knowing.

“Yeah,” he answers, both of them laughing. “I would just hate for the shoe to be on the other foot, and nobody told me they saw my brother and a dude I used to be cool with hanging out together. We'd really have to fight.”

“Clyde wouldn't do you like that, would he?” She asks, sipping on her soda.

“Nah, cause I'd kill him.” He says, point blank. She just shakes her head.

“Well, tell Leon what you saw and leave it there. Seriously, babe.” She firms, making him smirk.

“I promise, mama. I won't overstep.”

“Good, now gimme a kiss.” She says, cupping his face from across the table, him eating her halfway for a sweet kiss that lingers a bit.

Pulling away, she begins to wipe the little bit of gloss she has left off his lips, but he sways her away.

“I wear it proudly,” he chuckles, smiling wide at her so she can see his partial grill.

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

“She was out with who?!” Leon asks for the third time, the angry crease in his forehead might as well have been permanent from how hard his brows were scrunched together.

“Brandon, bruh.” Craig repeats into the phone.

He'd called Leon as soon as he left Neoma’s place, not wanting to waste any time. He knew Leon would be hot either way, but now he was a little afraid of the outcome.

“The fuck she doin’ with him??”

“That was my same question, I shit you not. Baby girl seems to think that it's innocent, but like I told her, if Clyde hung out with somebody I wasn't cool with no more behind my back, he'd have to feel me.”

“Exactly. So, I'm finna go talk to her ass and ask her why in the blue hell she's running around with him.” He huffs, pacing the floor.

“Like has everybody lost their minds?!” He asks.

“Words right out of my mouth, again.” He nods like he can see him. “But uh.. please don't be harsh. Not too harsh, anyway.”

Leon sighs. “Not sure how level-headed ima be, but I hear you. We've had some explosive fights, I know.”

“Yeah, y'all have. The last thing you need to do is make her feel bad, especially if she had no ill intention.”

“Yeah. I got you. I'll hit you later.” He says, before hanging up and sighing deeply, pressing his thumb and index finger into the bridge of his nose.

“Fuck am I gonna do?”

@ghostfacekill-monger @honestpreference @essaysbyciara @cecereads209 @harmshake @thegifstories @abeautifulmindexposed @mauvecherie-writes @blackerthings @starcrossedxwriter @sheabuttahwrites @soufcakmistress @blowmymbackout @nayaesworld

[wakebymoonsleepbysun]

Fairy and Spider (Working Title - DJMM x Reader)

Word count: ~3700

Hey, remember this post and this post? I decided to write a little something for it. Kinda needed a break from Stereo Souls. (Slightly anyway. I am still working on it almost daily, just very slowly.) I'm posting this here for now, but it may eventually go up on ao3, once I polish it and decide what I'm doing with it.

I'm planning on it being a fairly peaceful/domestic story, not really any villains or stakes other than Deejay (DJ) and you getting to know each other. Might also be more like a series of short stories vs a longer whole story but we'll see.

DJ's name in this is Deejay because DJ feels too weirdly modern for the setting. Not sure if I'm going to keep this or if I'll try to come up with a reason for him to go by DJ. I mean an AU with only one canon character whose name I changed anyway? Is that even a fic anymore? (Joking. It obviously is. :P Also I haven't fully decided if DJ will be the only FNAF character to appear.)

The bird is relentless, but then blue jays always are.

He’d caught you at a bad time. You’d been resting, about to take a much overdue swig of nectar before resuming your flight through the forest. You were already tired when he swooped down on you. 

You were also, perhaps, a bit careless--not giving enough thought to your shimmering wings catching the light of the setting sun and attracting attention. You are several days’ flight from your village, and the wildlife out here is far more bold towards fairies than you had imagined.

Now you were frantically spending the last of your dwindling energy zipping between leaves and around branches, trying desperately to outmaneuver the hungry bird. The fact that he stands a head shorter than you does not make his beak and talons any less dangerous to you. His beak closes on the tip of one of your wings, tearing it and causing you to veer suddenly downwards.

Suddenly you’re caught in something you didn’t see. Silken strands wrap around your body, sticking to your arms, legs, and wings. Even the slightest bit of struggling on your part pulls at your sore wings uncomfortably.

A spider web? No, there aren’t spiders around here big enough to make a web that can hold a fairy…right? Almost immediately, you get your answer, as you feel the skin where the web is touching you rapidly begin to numb. You blink sleepily, giving a quick shake of your head to stay alert.

Whatever made this web was no mere spider.

But you don’t have time to dwell on that, for the blue jay suddenly descends on you, pleased to find you gift wrapped and waiting for him. He bites down on one of your wings and you scream in pain as it rips.

Desperately you struggle further into the web, hoping whatever odd powers it has will deter the blue jay. Though you wonder if the bird is truly the lesser danger of the two.

You feel your consciousness begin to slip away from you, but not before seeing that your plan--questionable as it was--worked. The blue jay quickly tired of getting the strange web stuck in his beak and decided it was satisfied to only take one of your wings.

The immediate peril gone, your body relaxed, helped along by the web and your own fatigue. As your eyes drift shut, you're vaguely aware of a chittering sound, followed by the sensation of something beginning to unwrap the webs from your arms and legs.

*

You’re not sure how long you’ve been out when you find yourself drifting slowly awake. The first thing you notice is that it feels like you’re in a bed in a darkened room. Had another fairy found you? You didn’t think any lived around here…but you suppose hermits don’t always advertise their whereabouts.

You push aside the blanket and sit up. As you do, your antennae twitch, alerting you to a ceiling just above your head. You peer through the darkness and realize the bed you’re on is positioned in some kind of alcove.

The alcove is shaped like a large egg, with curved wooden walls melding into an arched ceiling. It’s longer than it is wide, and quite large for something only meant to hold a bed. You could probably fit three or four more fairies in here. 

Part of the wall is taken up by a heavy fabric curtain, which you push aside after a moment’s hesitation.

Your eyes squint shut as light floods the alcove, and you pause a moment for your eyes to adjust.

You’re definitely in some kind of home, one carved out of the trunk of a tree if the curved walls and uninterrupted wood grain are any indication.

You glance down and see your boots and rucksack have been set beside the bed, so you quickly slip on your boots and shoulder your rucksack. You’re glad your rescuer didn’t feel the need to undress you any further than that. 

The home seems to be all one room. On the wall farthest from the bed, there’s a small fireplace lined with clay bricks. A clay pot hangs over the burning embers. Carved clay countertops line the wall, along with a washbasin and a water pump.

There’s also a table near the kitchen, large and round. Though it’s at an odd height…almost as if it’s meant for one to stand at it rather than sit at it, though even for that it’s slightly tall for the average fairy. There are no chairs surrounding it, but there are two large cushions on either side of it. These, too, are odd…they’re far too low to be seating for the table, but too plush and fluffy to be stood upon comfortably. You’d be struggling to keep your balance on the squishy surface while trying to eat.

Near the bed are three similar cushions, though these are far more plush than the ones at the dining table. It puts you in mind of the difference between cushioned dining chairs and plush couches and sofas one would set up in the living room.

At least lounging on cushions in the living room seems plausible, even if it is a bit unconventional.

The one door you can see is quite tall and wide, and set into the wall near the dining area. There are also a couple glass windows set into the wall, looking out at the forest and the leafy branches of whatever tree you’re in.

Though there’s one obvious absence in this little abode--your host. Had they gone out to fetch something while you were sleeping?

You cross the living room, examining a curio shelf carved into the wall. There are some books, but the spines are unmarked and you have the sense not to actually touch anything while wandering this stranger’s home, so their contents and subject matter will remain a mystery for now. There are also some stringed instruments you don’t recognize. One looks like a lyre, but it’s a bit too big for the average fairy to hold comfortably, and the strings are spaced farther apart than most lyres you’ve seen, calling into question how one would comfortably play it. The other looks like a violin, but once again the size of it seems a bit too big to be played comfortably.

With a few more moments of thought, you probably would have pieced together the answer, but you are not given that chance. You hear the main door open behind you, and your host and savior steps into the abode.

A spiderfolk. You knew they were larger than fairies by a good amount, but you’d never seen one in person before.

He’s roughly twice your height, though if he straightened his legs he could be much taller. He’s covered in mostly white fur, with a mantle around his shoulders behind the longest and thickest. Two black spots, one large and one smaller, adorn the back of his abdomen.

Four grey legs with purple joints emerge from his carapace, and four similar arms emerge from his torso. The arms are slightly shorter and thinner than the legs, and end in paw-like hands, each with two clawed fingers and a clawed thumb. His feet are similar, though a bit longer as he seems to walk primarily on his toes, with the “thumb” being more of a dewclaw.

Though your eyes are immediately drawn to his face, which you can’t help but find intimidating. Two long fangs, each slightly longer than your hand--emerge from the sides of his mouth, preventing him from closing his lips fully, leaving his pointed teeth visible. The fangs themselves are so large you wonder if the term “tusks” may be more appropriate.

On each of his cheeks there’s a patch of blue fur, from which emerge his pedipalps, covered in a fine fuzz of the same color. A blue stripe also runs down the center of his chin. His nose is bright pink and hairless, matching the narrow rings of hairless skin around his eyes. Below each of his eyes was a barely visible line of blue fur.

Each of his main eyes that is. For he has two large, dark eyes, positioned roughly the same as a fairy’s eyes, despite being a bit larger proportionally, but beside them are a total of four smaller eyes--two on each side, one atop the other on the outer side of his primary eyes.

On either side of his head are round tufts of green and black fur, which you know to be ear structures of some kind (or covering his ear structures?) and a pair of red horns emerging from his head just behind the tufts. And atop his head is, surprisingly, a silk tophat. The only article of clothing he’s wearing, which is one more article than you’d expected a spiderfolk to have.

You’d like to say you “resisted” the urge to attempt to take flight in a panic, but the reality is your feet are rooted to the spot as you stare wide-eyed at the spiderfolk, taking in the sight of him.

For his part, he seems equally stunned at the sight of you. Was he not the one who brought you here? Or had he simply not expected you to be up and about yet? His fuzzy blue brows knit in concern and he cants his head, letting out an inquiring trill. 

You take a step back, only to flinch and jump forward as your injured wing is pressed uncomfortably against the wall.

The spiderfolk lets out a worried trill, stepping forward and holding out his two upper arms, making as if to steady you.

You let out a strangled sound of alarm as he approaches, sidestepping along the wall to avoid him.

He takes the hint, stepping back again and holding up all four arms to show he means no harm.

You stop as well, a small voice in your head chastising you for being rude to someone who is, in all likelihood, trying to help you. Spiderfolk were strange in many ways, but they didn’t eat fairies, even if you did get caught in his web. Besides, if he were going to eat you, you wouldn’t be up and walking about. You’d be bound in the web, its narcotic poison seeping into you and keeping you asleep.

But still. He’s huge and his fangs and razor teeth and many eyes are…well…something to behold, to put it mildly.

You swallow nervously, tilting your head back to look up at those many dark eyes. You finally take in his upturned brow, and the look of worry reflected in all six eyes. He looks at you a moment, then leans forward, resting his lower set of hands on the ground and lowering his abdomen slightly. He lets out another nervous trill, his upper set of hands still spread in the nearly universal “I’m not going to hurt you” gesture.

Is…is he making himself smaller so that you’ll find him less intimidating?

If he is, you can’t say the attempt is a complete failure.

You manage to untense your shoulders, relaxing your posture slightly. “U-Um…h-hello,” you say, lifting a hand in a trembling wave.

He perks at that, and you smile nervously. You tell him your name and he nods in what you guess to be understanding.

“S-So…you can understand me?” you ask shakily.

Another nod, and a trill of affirmation. He slowly moves towards you, just enough to get his abdomen the rest of the way into the abode, using one of his back legs to close the door behind himself.

You glance nervously at the now closed door…but really the exit is no more or less accessible than it ever was. You’ll still need the spiderfolk’s permission to leave…though with your wing torn you’re almost certainly safer remaining in here with him.

“I um…can’t understand your language, though…” you say, turning your gaze back to the spiderfolk. You give a weak smile and a nervous laugh. “Though…you…probably inferred that already…?” you guess.

He makes a chittering noise that sounds almost like a laugh, his smile warming as he nods.

“I…I take it that was…your web I got caught in?” you ask.

He nods, actually looking a bit apologetic.

You glance over your shoulder at your bad wing, raising it slightly to get a better look. “A-A bird attacked me…I fell into your web by mistake…but…I think the web did protect me…”

He looks surprised at that, and a bit relieved. Had he thought his web had been responsible for your injuries?

He steps forward, not approaching you directly, but moving into the living room and lightly patting one of the cushions.

You hesitate a moment, move towards him and take a seat, setting your rucksack beside the cushion. Of course, now the strange seating makes sense. Spiderfolk lay their abdomens and carapaces on top of cushions to rest, either curling their legs under them or stretching them out to the sides. They have no use for backrests with how their bodies are structured.

“Thank you,” you say, belatedly realizing you should have said it sooner. “F-For…taking me in.” Frowning, you add, “I…I don’t even know what to call you…”

He smiles kindly, holding up one finger, indicating for you to wait. He goes to the shelves you had stood near a moment ago, and opens the cabinet beneath them. He pulls out a small scrap of parchment and with a quill, writes something down. He then brings you the scrap, holding it towards you. 

You accept it, and are surprised to see a few letters scrawled in the fairy language. “Deejay?” you read. “Is that…a name you chose yourself? In the fairy language?” It’s not a fairy name you’ve ever heard, but it’s a series of sounds that most fairies can pronounce far more readily than the chittering and trilling that makes up the spiderfolk’s language.

He nods eagerly as you return the scrap of paper to him.

“Can I…ask your real name?” you inquire curiously. 

Deejay blinks, canting his head in bemusement. Almost as if he’s surprised you’d care to know such a thing. But he nods, then lets out a trilling chitter.

Like a fool, you try to repeat it, but even your untrained ear can tell the noise you made was nothing like Deejay’s spiderfolk name.

Deejay covers his grin, muffling a chittering laugh.

You feel your face heat up in embarrassment, but you force a nervous laugh. “What’d I say…?” you ask. Then, realizing he can’t exactly answer such an open ended question, you add, “Something bad? Or just gibberish?”

Deejay holds up a hand with his two fingers raised, still grinning, his six eyes sparkling with amusement.

“The second one?” you guess. At his nod, you say, “Well…I guess I’m glad I didn’t accidentally insult your ancestors or something.”

He lifts all four shoulders in a shrug, waving one hand. You guess he means that he wouldn’t have been offended even if you had said something bad.

Deejay crouches down, settling on one of the cushions, setting the scrap of paper on the floor so he can write on it. He then passes it to you.

“Sweet of you to try.”

Your face burns at being called “sweet” by this spiderfolk who…well, isn’t too far off from “sweet” himself, from what you’ve seen. Maybe he doesn't understand the nuance of the word. He probably meant something closer to “nice” or “kind”.

Really, though, you should just be glad he wasn’t offended by your attempt. Every fairy (and probably every spiderfolk) knows it’s possible to train ears to recognize the sounds of each others’ languages, no amount of “training” can overcome the different mouth shapes enough for one to speak the other’s language with any degree of intelligibility. 

Deejay goes to the kitchen, opening the pot that hangs over the fire and ladling some stew into a clay cup…though a spiderfolk cup of soup is about equivalent to a fairy bowl of soup. He sets a wooden spoon in the cup before bringing it back to you.

“Th-Thank you,” you say, a bit hesitantly. The stew doesn’t smell like much--you’ve heard spiderfolk cooking is fairly bland by fairy standards, but you are starving. And even so, you’re not the type to turn up your nose at a home cooked meal from your host.

The spoon’s a bit too big for you to fit in your mouth, so you make due closing your lips around the edge of it to eat. After the first bite, though, you blink in surprise, glancing up. “Mushroom stew?”

Deejay trills happily, nodding.

“I…I thought spiderfolk mostly ate meat,” you say.

He smiles, nodding again. He writes on the paper again, holding it out for you to read.

“Had mushrooms on hand. Knew fairies don’t eat meat stew.”

“Oh…” you say, moved by the gesture. He’d made a whole meal just for you, one that he probably wouldn’t enjoy himself, if he even found it edible. “Thank you, Deejay…” you say softly. “But…we can eat meat stew in a pinch. It’s…serviceable,” you say with a weak smile.

While spiderfolk sometimes used plants and fungi as garnish or accent flavors, but almost never had a meat-free dish, fairies were much the opposite. Some bits of meat could be used in soups and stews, but no fairy dish had any sort of meat as the main ingredient.

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t have a meat stew on occasion.

Deejay cants his head at your statement, looking slightly concerned and skeptical, then writes, “Plenty of mushroom stew for now.”

“It’s very kind of you to make this for me,” you say politely, with genuine warmth in your tone.

The conversation lapses as you focus on eating, and after a few moments, Deejay gets up and gets the two instruments from the shelf. He holds them up, his brows raised in a silent inquiry, clearly asking if you would mind if he played.

You nod eagerly. “Oh, yes, I’d love to hear it!” you say.

The fur on his cheeks fluffs a bit at your enthusiasm, and his wide grin takes on a hint of shyness. But all the same, he settles on his cushion and begins to play. His upper arms hold the violin, tucked under his chin, while his lower set plays the lyre.

The size of the instruments changes their pitch slightly, so the whole song is performed in a lower pitch than you’re used to, but it’s lovely all the same…and fascinating to watch. You couldn’t imagine trying to play two instruments at once. Though of course you wouldn’t have enough hands to try.

The song is soft and slow, and very relaxing. Perfect dinner music. Perfect anytime music, really. Deejay’s quite skilled at both instruments, and should he ever visit a fairy village he’d do well as a minstrel even playing only one of them.

You eat slowly, but soon feel your eyelids begin to droop. You do your best to finish your stew, but eventually have to set it aside for fear of dropping the cup as you doze.

Deejay takes this as his cue to stop playing, setting his instruments aside and moving towards you. He lightly touches your shoulder, causing you to jump. He skitters back with an apologetic trill, wringing his upper set of hands nervously.

“S-Sorry…” you say quickly. You rub at your eyes, frowning. “I just woke up…I don’t know why I’m so tired…” you mumble.

Deejay flinches guiltily, grabbing the paper to write again. “Poison from the web isn’t out of your system. You’ll sleep a lot for a couple days.”

“Oh…” you say. That must be why he’d been so surprised to see you up when he’d arrived. As you’re about to lay back on the cushion, resigning yourself to another sleep, he lightly touches your hand.

You glance at him curiously, and he carefully takes both your hands in his. His large paws engulf your hands as he lifts you to your feet, one of his lower arms wrapping around your back to steady you.

You stop yourself from asking what he’s doing. He can’t answer with his hands full, after all.

His one free hand opens the curtains leading to the alcove you’d awoken in not long ago, and he nods towards it, indicating for you to climb into the bed.

You blink sleepily. “But…Deejay, isn’t this your bed? I-I can take one of the cushions…they’re big enough,” you say with a tired laugh. 

That’s debatable, though. While you probably could sleep comfortably on it, they’re not quite long enough to accommodate you. You could line up two together and make due, but even you have to admit the bed probably would be more comfortable.

Not to mention more private.

Deejay looks at you imploringly, nodding towards the bed and gently pushing on your shoulder, nudging you to climb into the bed and rest.

“Are you sure?” you ask worriedly.

He smiles kindly, nodding and pushing on your shoulder again.

With some reluctance, you climb into the bed, freeing up Deejay’s hands so he can once again write on the scrap of paper. By now said scrap is getting pretty full, but he still finds room to write, “I can sleep on the cushions. You are injured. You need dark and quiet.”

“I-I guess…” you admit as you lay down. Deejay helps you remove your boots and pull the blankets over yourself. As sweet as the gesture is, you’re a bit embarrassed that sleep is taking you so fast that you do actually need help tucking yourself in.

He smiles warmly at you, his six eyes lidded in a tender expression as he lightly pats your forehead. It’s a strange sensation. The pads of his paws are rough and leathery, but the bits of fur surrounding them are soft and silky.

“Could you play more music?” you ask tiredly. You normally wouldn’t make such a request after all he’s already done for you, but you’re barely aware you had even spoken. In fact it’s unlikely you’ll remember making the request when next you wake.

You don’t see Deejay’s look of surprise at the question, nor his warm, flattered smile as he nods. He pulls the curtain closed, and as you’re drifting off, you hear his beautiful music once again.

[lumosatnight]

Untagged Fest 2023 favs!

Untagged Fest 2023 just ended, run by the HPFC Discord server! This was my second time participating and I had just as much fun as I did last year. It's always a new experience reading a fic when it's first published with absolutely zero tags. Here are a 10 of my favorites (listed by title)!

—

💜 hollow hearts by @girl-with-goats [Teddy/Victoire, T, 7.0k] — Fabulous world-building, wonderful imagery, packed full of colorful metaphors and heartfelt emotions.

Surviving in the post-apocalyptic, totalitarian world where emotions are banned from adults is not an easy feat. Victoire Weasley tries to navigate it and not lose herself in the process, all while falling in love with her best friend, Teddy Lupin.

💜 Just a Minerva in Time by @bluestringpudding [Hermione/Minerva, G, 6.4k] — Time travel, BAMF young Minerva, intrigue, romance! This fic has everything!

Hermione is going to need to remember how she got there, if she wants to go back.

💜 Master of None by @nanneramma [Cormac/Severus, G, 5.5k] — Hilarious and made me cry tears of joy. A masterpiece in comedy. Severus has finally met his match in himbo (and buff!) Cormac.

Severus tries new things, and meets someone unexpected.

💜 mephistopheles by @hang-the-deejay [Hermione/Harry, E, 6.4k] — Mind the tags!! Includes rape/non-con!! This is dirty, dark, and CRAZY GOOD. A dead dove fic that had me at the edge of my seat and yelling into the abyss (or in the Discord server).

when i'm at the pearly gates, this'll be on my videotape

💜 of all the gin joints by @northernroyal [Hermione/Dean, E, 2.2k] — HOT SMUT IN YOUR AREA!!! I am in love with this Dean. He is the new loml.

in all the towns in all the world, she walks into his.

💜 Oh, to be alone with you by @min1nova [Bellatrix/Luna, M, 3.3k] — The prose is stunning. Bellaluna is such an underrated ship and the author made me fall in love with them. Such a fantastical fairy tale AU.

Her grey-scale painted lips, darker than the billowing curls and sharper than her teeth, never turn down. They are lighter than the oily drip down her temples, glittering in her hair. She is always smiling. It surely is a marvel, to behold the presence of the Mad Queen. 

💜 Through the Middlegame by @sandervansunshine [Astoria & Peter, T, 6.6k] — One of my absolute favorite portrayals of Peter I have ever read. The dialogue, the characters, the angst. I want to tattoo this fic directly onto my brain. Perhaps my new fav fic of the year!

Two prisoners, both a little broken, set out in pursuit of their survival.

💜 Unspeakable Acts by @ladyvoldywrites [Rufus/Dolores, M, 4.8k]— A wild pairing with a wild premise! The banter is perfect. This fic converted me to a Dolores lover and I didn't think that was possible.

The death of a child. A stolen Time-Turner. In an effort to solve this heinous act, an unlikely duo falsify a betrothal to gain entry into an underground crime ring.

💜 who lives in the castle? by @luxuriousmalfoy [Cho & Harry, M, 2.5k] — The ambience, the vibes!! I loved the mystery and the world-building. And of course, I love my girl Cho.

A century after the abrupt disappearance of magic, they seek out the place they hope to find it again—only to find themselves wondering if it was worth the cost. Cho and Harry have one question. Who lives in the castle?

💜 You're So Vane by @patriceavril [Angelina/Romilda, T, 6.8k] — The perfect romcom fic. Romilda is such a hoot, and her antics are so on brand. If this was turned into a movie, I'd be the first one at the theater.

Romilda is determined to seduce her nephew’s Quidditch instructor, even if she has to get a bit creative.

—

And my submission for the fest!

💜 Such a Sweetheart by @lumosatnight [Fleur/Bellatrix, T, 2.4k] — a horror coffeshop AU!

Her shift starts like any other.

Read more in the collection on AO3!!

[livewireprojects]

This took a little too long & I've also been having multiple days were I've felt too exhausted to get onto my laptop to post this. Sorry about that.

-

I was commissioned by my friend @tay-likes-toons to make this for their rewrite/reimagening(LINK) of their fanfic(LINK) Your Favorite Martian the movie which was a fic made with the help of an RP we did to likely get some inspiration for some stuff.

The fic was meant to take place after the final episode of Your Favorite Martian the series were Puff risked house arrest(well he had to stay close if not fully in the tour bus) to have a date night with Tig. In YFM the movie Puff was able to get with Tig after getting out of jail but an incident led to their divorce & Puff living a miserable life in a run down house. At some point Puff meets a fan of the band at a bar he regularly goes to, in an attempt to show off/woo her he convinces her to travel with him to get the band back together. There does seem to be a problem though, the band split up when he went to jail so he has to go searching for them as they have moved on & got their own lives. Another issue is a mysterious person that seems to have plans for them.

The rewrite has been changed some, instead of being after the house arrest episode Puff gets arrested for drunk driving & causing some serious issues. The band broke up & left having had serious issues/life changing of their own at the time of Puff's arrest. Years later Puff is a drunk that misses the good days & his marriage is on the rocks thanks to becoming strained due to Puff becoming disillusioned. Everything seems to turn around when he meets Dimentia, a fan of his that he by chance met at a bar. She leads to Puff deciding to get the band back together to impress her(along with wanting his old life back) leading to the two going on an adventure to find the other band members who have moved on & try to convince them to come back. As they travel around & see what Deejay, Axel & Benatar are up to someone seems to have dark plans for the band.

Vincent asked me to draw everyone in the art style of gen 2/reboot YFM, it was tough but I finally got everything setup. A lot has changed since I last drew everyone, Dimentia while mostly the same as ever has had a big design change.(Link1 & Link2 to old refs)

I'm making this a little too long so I'll put some stuff under a keep reading & put the bios in posts meant to be splitting everyone up into groups. There's some extras under keep reading so hope you like it.

Links to cropped vers:

Puff & Dimentia | Deejay & his family | Benatar, Axel & their kids

This started out as wanting to make a second pic of Benatar & Axel without the apron & Axel off the clock, in the end this ended up just an extras section for some stuff I wanted to draw & alt outfits.

Left to right

Dimentia: This is an update of her original design for the original version of YFM the movie. This is a mix of a Kisekae version of her meant to be a ref & the design I sketched at some point.

Benatar: Exactly what it says, just a better look at him without the apron on

Axel: Axel off the clock with his hair untied & his favorite hat on. His daughter put a sticker on & he likes it cause it makes him think of Nicki.(She also put the drum sticker on his clipboard)

Pixie: This is the very first version of Pixel, Pixie was an OC Vincent made to pair with Deejay. It's also at this moment of typing that I realize I forgot her tights that have holes in them & I can't do anything about that.(Well I could with some editing) Link to reference pic of Pixie, link to sketches I made of past designs for Pixel.

"Original" Pixel: This is a design that was going to be Pixel's design for the original YFM the Movie, he's meant to be pastel goth. There were other designs that I drew them in in the past but the designs are too detailed in certain parts to try & the design refs were lost to time, in fact I remember checking something & the description mentions I had a fit over dealing with all the details. I guess you could say this is the most recent version of the design I guess.

Club outfit Pixel: This is an alt outfit for the current version of Pixel, for the club they work at with Deejay

YFM Watcher: He's not really suppose to be here I just wanted to try drawing him in gen 2's art style.

[artzychic27]

Total Drama AU

Alec: This... Is Total Drama Island! I have gathered thirty teenagers looking for their fifteen minutes of fame for a chance to compete in many grueling challenges, all for the chance to win the grand prize of one million euros! Many will succeed, many will fail and get sent home in the Loser Chute until there's one left standing! Who will get sent home in shame? And who will go home with all this cash? *Holds up a suitcase full of money... Only for it to get swept away by the strong gust of the blades of a helicopter flying overhead* ... Shit... Find out right here! Right now! On Total! Drama! Island!

*Conmercial Break*

Alec: Welcome to Total Drama Island! It’s time for you to meet our contestants! First up are the residents of the infamous Akuma Class! All but two of them have been akumatized! First is plucky hopeful fashion designer, Marinette Dupain-Cheng!

Marinette: Do I have to jump out- *Chef pushes her out the helicopter* AAH!

Alec: Fashion model/all around nice guy, Adrien Agreste!

Adrien: *Jumps out of the helicopter* SUCK IT, DAD!

Alec: Super hero super fan! Alya Césaire!

Alya: Wait! I gotta protect my phone! *Gets pushed out of the helicopter* NOOO!!

Alec: The mellow deejay, Nino Lahiffe!

Nino: *Holding onto to Chef* I don’t wanna die, man! *Gets grabbed by the back of his shirt and tossed out of the helicopter* I WANNA LIVE!

Alec: Prissy little dictator, Chloé Bourgeois!

Chloé: This wasn’t in the contract, you jerk! *Gets pushed out of the helicopter* SABRINA!

Alec: And her assistant, Sabrina Raincomprix!

Sabrina: I’m coming, Chloé! *Jumps after Chloé* Wait! Why is that my title?!

Alec: The emo side of Tumblr, it’s Nathaniel Kurtzberg!

Nathaniel: *Gripping onto the sides of the doorframe as Chef tries to push him out* YOU CAN’T MAKE ME! I DON’T WANNA!

Alix: Watch your ass, Nath!

Nathaniel: Alix, NO! *Alix pushes him out and jumps after him*

Alec: And roller skating powerhouse, Alix Kubdel! Next it’s everyone’s favorite Himbo, Le Chein Kim!

Kim: I’ll show you guys how to dive like a boss! *Prepares to swan dive, only for Chef to push him out* DAMNIT!

Alec: Science wiz, Max Kanté!

Max: *As he’s falling* This has to be illegal!

Alec: Lovable sunshine girl, Rose Lavillant!

Rose: *Doing aerial spin as she falls* I’m flying!

Alec: Dark and brooding queen of darkness, Juleka Couffaine!

Juleka: *Falling without a care* I’m not brooding.

Alec: Tough guy with a heart of gold, Ivan Bruel!

Ivan: Myléne! Hold onto me!

Alec: And his mousy girlfriend, Myléne Hapréle!

Myléne: Why did I agree to this?!

Alec: What a bunch of weirdos, right?! Next up is the class with only three akumatized students! We’ve got future author, Marc Anciel!

Marc: *Gets pushed out of the helicopter* THIS CAN’T BE SAFE!

Alec: Aspiring actor, Jean Duparc!

Jean: *Backflips out of the helicopter* This is how you make an entrance!

Alec: Little Miss Perfect, Aurore Beaureal!

Aurore: I HATE YOU, ALEC! *Jumps out of the helicopter and slows down her descent with her parasol*

Alec: You too! And the girl in her shadow, Mireille Caquet!

Mireille: SHUT UP! *Jumps out of the helicopter*

Alec: The lesbian your parents warned you about, Reshma Leghari!

Reshma: Was that necess- *Gets pushed out of the helicopterI AAH!

Alec: Tough Shorty, Ismael Prisk!

Ismael: *Flips Chef off on his way down* FUCK YEAH!

Alec: Pacifist Bodybuilder, Denise Cabello!

Denise: You suck, Alec! *Jumps out of the helicopter*

Alec: Tech nerd, Simon O’Connor!

Simon: *Chef throws him out of the helicopter* Denise! Avenge me!

Alec: Spunky Black Sheep, Cosette Bellamy!

Cosette: *Kicks Chef in the shins* SUCK IT! *Takes Zoé’s hand and they jump out of the helicopter together* YEAH!

Alec: And the King of New York, Zoé Lee! Right after them, Lacey Greene!… Who is scaling out of the helicopter. Great.

Lacey: What? You gotta stand out if you wanna win this thing!

Alec: Well, if that’s all-

Vivica: Ahem!

Alec: Oh, right. Vivica… I forgot her last name, but she’s a musician.

Vivica: Ugh. *Jumps out the helicopter*

[enlightenedrobot]

Usually I have a big halloween mashup coming up around this time, but nah, this time I have an even bigger mashup idea and I want to release it on Walpurgisnaught!

Friends, Neighbors, Enemies of the State, I'd like to introduce you to Grill Talk, a new mashup album inspired by Girl Talk, Super Mash Bros, and all the other semi-popular-niche-pop-plunderphonics artist of the mid-2000s.

It'll be an album length mix featuring a little bit of everything... pop, hip hop, indie foltronica, noise, weirdcore, weeb music, dark cabaret, screamo, hyperpop, wonderbread etc.

If you like music, you'll probably hate this mix :P !

(Also, just to be clear, this is a free album made for fun in my bedroom. Last time I posted music someone accused me of being an industry plant... which like... no? I've been here since the start)

Sample List below the cut:

Samples:

We Got the Beat - The Gogos (Drums)

Without Me - Eminem (Vocals)

Girl - Beck (Various Elements)

Hamantha - Jack Stauber (Drums)

Better Off Alone - Alice Deejay (Bass/ Transitional Elements)

Hot Blooded - Foreigner (Guitar Stabs)

Crazy Train - Ozzy Osbourne (Percussion, Vocals)

Say it Right - Nelly Furtado (Drums)

Living in the Past - Unnatural Funk Band (Drums)

Its Your Thing - Cold Grits (Drums)

Funky Fanfare - Keith Mansfield (Various Elements)

Lithium - Nirvana (Drums)

Grillz - Nelly (Vocal)

Talk - Futuristic (Vocal)

Empire - Shakira (Vocal)

Cigarette Ahegao - Penelope Scott (Chiptune)

Under My Skin - Jukebox the Ghost (Piano)

Theme From the Planets - Dexter Wansel (Drums)

Chain Hang Low - Jibbs (Vocal)

Uma Thurman - Fall Out Boy (Drums)

Come On Let's Go - Ritchie Valens (Guitar, Vocal)

[cecilysass]

Pause (2/11)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 2: Back in the Atmosphere

The drive to Alexandria is so second nature to her that she’s determined to watch out for changes, hints that might suggest how much time has passed. She scans her surroundings as she drives, her head darting left to right to see everything.

She notices a new, neon-bright exterior to a bar in Georgetown, as conspicuous as a tropical fish. On M Street there's a bike rental shop that she doesn't recognize. The bridge itself, the waters of the Potomac, the stone-lined George Washington Memorial parkway: these all look the same to her. Of course, it’s dark out, so she is limited by what she can see in the overlapping circles of streetlights.

A small billboard advertising a top 40 radio station catches her attention, but she can’t be sure whether that was there before. It’s amazing how much of one’s surroundings one doesn’t notice in everyday life, she thinks. However, the sign makes her realize she could give the radio a try.

Yes. She should turn on the car radio.

She fiddles with the console and tries a public radio station first, thinking there might be news of the day playing that could provide a date or other clues. That station seems to be running some kind of evening documentary program on the history of the Vietnam War memorial. Scully turns it up to listen more closely: “…and wanted to make something that allowed people to remember, but wanted to serve as a visual reminder that the dead did not come back.” It’s an account of events from years ago: not especially helpful now.

She hits scan, moving through the ripping static noises to other stations, listening for a moment to each one. Classic rock. Latin. A commercial for car insurance.

She remembers the call number of the top 40 station from the billboard, and she tunes into that, her eyes periodically darting back up to the road.

“…You’re listening to Washington’s hit music station, Z104.”

The deejay’s patter seems like it might reveal promising information. She turns it up, but the deejay quickly transitions into music. It’s some sentimental pop ballad with piano.

She sighs. It shouldn’t be so difficult to find out what the date is, should it?

Scully turns her attention to the song. It’s completely unfamiliar to her, but it’s not like it’s entirely unusual for her to fail to recognize pop music. On the other hand, she did have the impression that teen music was edgier than this. This song seems very soft. She remembers those teenagers in Oklahoma, that lightning case, the kind of angst-ridden, angry music they liked. Their music reminded her a little of the punk music she admired in high school.

The male singer of the ballad on the radio is very emotional. As she drives into Alexandria, she listens, with mild curiosity, to the lyrics. He seems to be posing questions to a woman returning from a long, otherworldly absence.

Tell me, he challenges her. Did you sail across the sun? Did Venus blow your mind? Did you see that heaven is overrated? Did you miss me when you were looking for yourself out there?

A chill again trickles through her, running down her limbs.

Did you fall from a shooting star?

No. She doesn’t like this song. Her heart has begun thumping again, so loudly she hears it in her head. She turns off the radio.

What she needs more than any half-ass clue hunting, more than this nerve-wracking guessing game, is to find her partner. He will tell her whatever she needs to know. She doesn’t need to deduce it from radio stations.

That sounds enough like common sense to calm her down.

Hegal Place and his apartment building don’t look any different to her, thank God. The interior still has that musty historical smell, with a dash of insecticide and Pine Sol. The numbers on the elevator buttons are still mostly worn off; the lighting in the halls is still tinged amber and curiously dim.

She moves quickly down his hallway, but hesitates at the spot where she remembers last speaking to him. When he was cupping her head with such tenderness. When he was leaning in with the most desperate, longing expression on his face. How long ago was that? she wonders? What happened next?

She examines the floor for evidence that she had landed there, unconscious, felled by a sting. But there is nothing to see there but dingy beige tile, worn and scuffed by too much foot traffic.

Scully swallows. She walks, determined, to #42 —and then stands there just staring at the closed door. Taking a fortifying breath. Steeling herself for the worst.

If it isn’t him, if he doesn’t live here any more, well, she’s going to be upset, but she’ll just go to the Hoover building next. It will be okay. She will be okay. She’ll figure it out. She can still find Mulder.

That’s all perfectly logical, and she’s aware of that. But she isn’t operating on pure logic here. Her heart just wants him to be here, in his pajamas, arms open, ready to order her some takeout. Please let him be here, she thinks, little tears springing in her eyes. Please let it be Mulder.

She knocks on the door. And waits, listening for any noise inside.

And then she tries again.

There is no response. She bites her lip, hoping she’ll still hear him any moment. What time it is shouldn’t matter. There’s no time of night that Mulder wouldn’t wake up hearing knocking on his door.

After a moment’s hesitation, she reaches into her pocket, fumbling a little, and she produces his key. All right. If it’s not his apartment, it won’t fit. And then she will know.

She notices the sound of her own shallow breathing as she pushes the key in.

It slides into the lock perfectly, same as it always has.

Scully presses her eyes closed and releases a long sigh. She turns the key, unlocks it, and pushes open his door.

The space inside is lit only by the mottled green glow of the fish tank, but she’s greeted by the unmistakable sight of Mulder’s familiar apartment. The couch. The patterned Navajo blanket. The art on the walls. She would know it anywhere. It’s as familiar as any place on earth to her.

Her knees almost buckle from relief. Whatever else happens, she is safe now, and at least has a place to sleep tonight. Not her own home, but nearly as close as she can imagine.

“Mulder?” she calls. “Hello?”

There's no answer, and the silence unnerves her. She flips on a switch, and the room is illuminated. She takes some tentative steps inside.

His place is very messy, even for Mulder. There are several meals’ worth of dirty dishes stacked on the coffee table, which isn’t typical for him. Papers and files are strewn over the desk, spilling haphazardly onto the floor. This paper chaos is more typical for him, although it seems especially out of hand.

She picks up a fast food wrapper off the floor and glances at some of the papers on his desk, which seem to be a mix of bills and old article clippings. Is he out of town? Or is he just out for the night, chasing down a source? She wonders why it’s gotten so messy.

The phone on his desk is peeking out from under a newspaper, but she's relieved to see it. Immediately she picks it up and dials his cell number. It goes straight to voicemail. She hangs it up and sighs heavily, standing still a moment. Taking in the information around her.

Where are you, Mulder?

She wanders into the kitchen. The clock over his stove top says 11:38, which answers one of her questions, although hardly the most important.

The kitchen is also in unhygienic disarray, with a heap of unwashed dishes resting in the sink, as though he hasn’t been bothered with them in quite some time. The garbage can is overflowing, to-go containers piled precariously on top. She crumples up the fast food wrapper and sticks it in the side of the can as best she can.

The room doesn’t smell particularly good, and this turns her already-vulnerable stomach. What’s more, Scully doesn’t like what she sees here. Not any of this. It sets her on edge.

Mulder often comes across as disorganized and scattered, but he isn’t dirty. He can actually be oddly fastidious, sometimes even more than her about select topics. She has never seen dirty dishes piling up in his kitchen before.

“Mulder?” she calls out again, more loudly, her voice a little shrill. She doesn’t know why she’s calling his name when it’s clear he’s not here.

She decides to look in his refrigerator for evidence he’s been here recently, and she braces herself for seeing and smelling a landscape of rotting food. Holding her breath, she throws open the door of the fridge quickly.

Much to her relief, it’s inoffensive. There’s very little inside, in fact—except a glass pan of lasagna covered in plastic wrap with a single square cut out. She slides the pan out a little to look at it, and sees a note taped to the top of the plastic.

Her breath catches.

The note is on familiar stationary, yellow paper decorated with little sunshines and daisies. The note has two sentences written in precise cursive in blue pen: “Please eat at least half this time. I’ll check when I come back for the pan on Sunday. -M”

The word “half” is underlined three times. It’s unquestionably her mother’s handwriting.

Scully slides it back into the fridge and closes the door.

She thinks about the last time her mother and Mulder took care of one another. She thinks about how this might relate to her memory problems— what Mulder would call “lost time.”

Did you sail across the sun? Did Venus blow your mind?

No. She is not ready to face this possibility. Not again. She feels tears prickling the corners of her eyes.

No. Absolutely not.

She turns to the sink and looks around for Mulder’s dish soap and sponge.

With grim determination she begins to work on his pile of dirty dishes, holding her breath against the smell. The hot water scalds her hands, but strangely, she finds the sensation not unpleasant.

The soap and water makes her left hand sting a little, and she considers again the cut there. It’s deeper than she first realized. She chooses to ignore it.

Because that’s what she’s doing right now. She’s ignoring things. And doing dishes.

Once she finishes the dishes in the sink, she goes into the living room and scoops up the dirty dishes off of his coffee table, and takes them into the sink next. It gives her a reassuring sense of control. At least Mulder’s goddamn dish problem is in hand.

When she’s done with that, she has created so many clean dishes they don’t even fit in his drying rack, so she spreads out some dish towels on his countertop and lets them rest there to dry out, too. She’ll get his help to put them all up later. Hopefully.

Next she finds his garbage bags, and she empties his overflowing garbage, carrying it down the hall of his building to the garbage chute, holding it out away from her body so she can’t smell it.

She returns to his kitchen to wash her hands. As she stands surveying her good work, she realizes she is starving.

Well. She knows there’s at least one thing to eat, and she trusts her mom’s cooking.

She pulls out her mother’s lasagna from the fridge, uncovers it, and slices herself off a giant slab of lasagna, much bigger than the tiny piece Mulder had apparently previously cut for himself. She places it on a freshly clean plate and heats it, watching it in the microwave.

I’m sorry, Mom, she thinks. No doubt Mulder should be taking your sensible food advice and eating this, but your daughter needs food, too.

It comes out of the microwave appealingly gooey and bubbly. Her stomach rumbles, and she wonders again when she last ate.

She finds a clean fork and takes an eager bite, humming in immediate satisfaction as she stands there clutching the plate. Her mother’s lasagna. Ground sausage and ricotta, a smidge of basil and garlic, generous mozzarella. It tastes like childhood, nourishing and wholesome. Scully feels suddenly desperate with the need to see her mother. Soon, she promises herself. After she talks to Mulder.

She decides not to sit down to eat, feeling too antsy. Instead, she walks around curiously as she shovels hungry forkfuls from her plate to her mouth. She peers at the detritus around the apartment for any hint of what might be happening.

On his kitchen table she leans over to stare closely at a pair of glasses Mulder has left sitting precariously close to the edge, deciding they are the same pair he always wore. Next to his computer, she tries to read the content of a receipt sitting out prominently, but the type is smeared.

She notices the door to his bedroom is cracked open, which surprises her. Normally he uses his bedroom as some kind of disastrous storage facility, with boxes of files he doesn’t keep at the office for whatever reason. As well as, no doubt, an impressive treasure trove of his pornography.

Hands full of her plate and fork, she nudges the door with her toe. To her surprise, it falls open easily. She sticks her head inside — and then lowers the plate, her eyes widening.

His bedroom is a normal bedroom. Cluttered, yes. Unmade bed. Clothes on the floor. But a normal bedroom, with a queen-sized bed.

She takes a step inside the room, aware that she is definitely snooping now. It’s always struck her as profoundly strange and sad that Mulder didn’t have a dedicated place to sleep. Or, if she’s being honest, to have sex. She isn’t sure how she feels to know that something about his life has changed this much. It should make her glad for him, but it also makes her uneasy.

She’s afraid to look too closely at the reading material piled around on the dresser and bedside table, but even a quick perfunctory glance tells her it’s not porn. A more systematic sweep of the room and she doesn’t see any of his magazines, actually, and that surprises her, too.

His bed is tousled and looks like it hasn’t been made for days, weeks, maybe ever. His pillow is slightly indented, and Scully has a very powerful impulse to go press her face down upon it, to inhale his scent, so familiar from routinely working in his aura: in motel rooms, in cars, on sojourns in the woods. From when they hold each other close after they’ve almost lost each other. The thought immediately embarrasses her. She should walk right out of this room right now. It’s not her business to be in here.

But her eye is caught by something vivid green laying on his bed, near his pillow but slightly obscured by a fold in his comforter. She takes a few steps forward to see it more clearly, resisting the urge to go pick it up.

She can see it now. It’s a sweater, a very small green sweater. She can make out its basic silhouette quite clearly. Way too small to be Mulder’s. Too small to be most men’s, truthfully, and cut rather slim.

She stands there unmoving, gripping the plate of her mother’s lasagna tightly, mouth gaping a little in disbelief, trying to take in the sight of that unfamiliar woman’s sweater on her partner’s bed.

Maybe this is the reason for the bedroom. Maybe he has a girlfriend. Maybe that’s where he is right now, somewhere out with his girlfriend. Maybe at his girlfriend’s apartment.

It gives Scully a sickening, vertigo feeling, like she possibly could throw up the lasagna. Is nothing what she expects now? Can she depend on anything? Does she even know this person — Mulder with a girlfriend? Is he the same man, the man she trusts and needs right now?

Immediately she shakes her head at herself in disgust. She’s being ridiculous; she knows she is. Mulder with a girlfriend is probably the same partner to her as Mulder without a girlfriend. Why shouldn’t he be? There’s no reason to feel so devastated, so empty. Mulder isn’t her boyfriend. He never has been.

It’s just that so much of this is not what she remembers. What she most clearly remembers, in fact, is him trying to kiss her. But that was one little moment, one tiny blip in time, and she doesn’t even know what happened after that.

She rotates around the bedroom, her eyes scanning his work shirts strewn on the floor. Truthfully, besides the sweater, nothing in the state of this apartment especially suggests to her a happy Mulder with a girlfriend.

Actually, there’s nothing that seems clear here at all. Nothing that adds up to a straightforward picture. It’s all contradictory and disorienting. She releases a quiet sigh.

She’s only eaten about half, but the lasagna has lost its appeal. She looks down at the plate wrinkling her forehead, deciding to throw it out. This thought process is interrupted when his phone begins ringing.

She follows the sound of the ring back into his living room, considering for a moment whether to pick it up. Probably not the wisest idea, given everything she doesn’t understand here. Before she talks to anyone else, she wants to talk to Mulder.

Sitting carefully on his couch, setting her plate on the coffee table, she listens to the rings, letting his machine pick up. His message is exactly the same message she has heard a thousand times, which makes her want to weep.

After the beep, the caller’s message begins. “Hey, Mulder.”

It’s Byers. Scully straightens up, alert.

“We’re just calling to make sure you…got home okay. Because you, uh, seemed a little off. It’s about 12:45 now, so it seems like you should be there by now…but perhaps you made another stop. Or something. Well. Just call when you get this.”

There is a scuffling sound, and then Frohike’s voice: “We worry, my friend. Please let us know you’re home okay. No more scares.” Beep.

Scully stares at the machine, processing this new information.

No more scares.

Seemed a little off.

Should be there by now.

She leans her head back on the leather of his couch, drained. She wonders if she should call the Gunmen back and try to extract more information from them. They could at least answer her most basic questions. Had Mulder been at their place? Where might he have gone from there? Should she be looking for him? What “scares?” Oh, and what year is it? And as far as they know, has she been anywhere unusual as of late?

Her eyes fall closed, and she is suddenly so unbelievably tired.

I could easily fall asleep, she realizes in surprise. Which seems preposterous, given the circumstances, the countless unanswered questions. But it’s just all so overwhelming, so impossible to parse. Her body and mind seem to have given up on her.

For a moment she lets herself drift, her limbs going slack.

The sound of a key scraping in the door startles her awake.

[unusual-raccoon]

rhaenyra wakes up one day and the headlines hit her with: “rhaenyra targaryen’s oldest enjoys himself as a dj in a party in the north. sources say he disappeared for more than an hour and came back holding the heiress’ second son inappropriately”

My baby has the biggest, most beautiful brain 💋. I love this idea! I miss DJ Jace.

Lil ficlet under the cut 😚

A show in Wintertown, that was the last she’d heard before the photos came in.

Jacaerys’ pass time of deejaying was one that she tolerated, just as she had his foray into lacrosse, and fencing, and dressage before that. It was something that would fade. He was a young man and his interests changed with the seasons, however more than any useless hobby, there was one interest she had hoped he would abandon above all else.

Lucerys.

One blink at tabloid photos is evidence enough no amount of time had cooled the dragon’s blood in his veins.

In the photo, Jacaerys stands behind his elaborate DJ booth, handsome face hidden behind dark curls and darker glasses. A premium set of headphones draped around his neck…and Lucerys dangling off of his arm.

Her second born paraded himself about in microscopic shorts and a sheer mesh shirt that clung to matching stainless steel barbells through each pink nipple. His curls were voluminous and mussed just right. Eyeliner smudged and laughing his pretty little head off, a drink in one dainty hand. The other clutched to Jacaerys’ bicep.

Rhaenyra sighed, sliding a swipe of her finger across the screen. Grimaced at the sight of Jacaerys holding a very compromising handful of his brother’s ass. Luke’s hands braced on his older brother’s chest. Telling marks stained in the shape of Lucerys’ mouth darkened on Jace’s neck. Likely a good indication of the hour of partying in which Jacaerys had been unaccounted for.

She could see the very worst parts of herself in her children, the most impulsive self-destructive parts, the cannibalistic parts the only ached to consume it’s own kind.

Quite frankly, she had inherited Jasper Wylde when she gained acquisition of TARG, and wasn’t entirely fond of the man, but she’d have him and legal as well as PR on clean up to mitigate the absolute mess her sons caused.

She’s halfway through writing an email to her head of legal when a message banner pops along the top of her screen.

>>Lucerys: Rain check on dinner this weekend 🙏

A second message is quick to follow.

>>Lucerys: I have SO much coursework to catch up on 😖

Rhaenyra rummages through her purse for the carton of cigarettes she’d sworn off.

She’s blowing out smoke as she types out her reply. Nicotine bleeding into her like a sedative.

>Of course.

Read 9:54 PM

She stubs out the remains of her cigarette, tension easing in her shoulders as she exhaled a stream of smoke toward crown molding scalloped along the ceilings. The filter held between her fingers is dyed red from lipstick worn to a board meeting hours prior.

She taps out another message.

>Love you, sweet boy.

Read 9:56 PM

>>Love you too, mum 🤍. See you next weekend!

She closes her message app for a total of ten seconds before tapping another cigarette from the carton and resuming the conversation, ever one for the last word.

>Tell your brother I said hello.

Read 9:56 PM

She doesn’t expect a reply, nor does she receive one, but in its own way, it is answer enough.

[mari-writes]

🎵🖤

“Dude, how many opening acts does Kenma have?!”

Kuroo sighs, so loudly that Bokuto has no trouble hearing it over the din of the club. He pushes a pint of beer in Bokuto’s direction, across the wooden bar. It’s obviously a peace offering.

“Chill out, he should be up after this one,” Kuroo says. “I told you he’s performing at ten. It’s not even 8:30.”

Bokuto pouts into his drink. He knows he’s being childish, but he’s just not really into the deejay scene. He doesn’t see the appeal, even though he knows it is a talent. 

Kenma has definitely earned his popularity. What he does isn’t as easy as it looks; Bokuto knows this and likes supporting his friend. And Kenma IS his friend—not only his best friend’s boyfriend.

Still, he prefers other types of entertainment. Like outdoor festivals. Rock concerts. Live sports.

Dark, claustrophobic clubs blasting electronic dance mixes just isn’t his thing.

He watches, bored, as the stage crew sets up for the next artist. There have been two others so far, each a bit more popular than the next. Kenma of course is saved for last. 

Kuroo pokes him in the side, hopping off his stool and hoisting his fancy DSLR camera up on one shoulder. “Let’s go, I need to get a good spot in the photo pit.”

Bokuto groans. “I can see the stage fine from here.”

Kuroo scoffs. “Like hell am I leaving you alone to get wasted tonight. Anyway, you agreed to take some videos for Kenma’s Instagram, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, for Kenma,” Bokuto says, following Kuroo as they weave through the crowd. “Not his opening acts.”

“But the next guy is Kenma’s close friend,” Kuroo explains. “They’ve been deejaying together since college. We should show him support, too.”

Bokuto sighs, defeated. “Fine.”

So far the pit has only a handful of other photographers. A few security guards are stationed there, and one of them checks Kuroo and Bokuto’s passes before granting them access.

Kuroo, who knows Kenma’s setup well, settles in just left of center. Bokuto watches as he leans down to fiddle with his camera’s controls, before turning around to take stock of the crowd behind them.

The club is filling up more now, people pushing and shoving, trying to get closer to the stage. The multicolored lights illuminate eager and excited faces, talking amongst themselves, laughing and drinking.

Bokuto can’t help but notice that there are a lot of hot people here.

There’s a cute patron standing just behind him, with glitter in their short pixie haircut and cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. A young man, just a few space away, is leaning onto the barrier, his mesh shirt displaying an excess of soft-looking skin.

He then notices a beautiful woman, dressed in a tight black dress, studded choker and fingerless leather gloves, looking right at him. When they lock gazes, she smirks and sends him a wink.

Bokuto looks away, blushing. He can’t afford to get too distracted. Not tonight. He’s here for Kenma, after all.

Eventually, the lights go down, and the crowd hollers as the next performer makes his way on stage. Bokuto glances up briefly. From his spot in the very front, he can only see the person’s legs, dressed in tight black jeans and a beat-up pair of running shoes.

Bokuto scrambles to get his phone ready to record, wincing when he notices his battery is not even at 50%. He should probably only record a couple videos of this guy and save the rest for Kenma.

The set begins, and Bokuto freezes as the sounds swirl through the small club—a familiar wall of static and bleep-bloops. He realizes that he knows the song. He remembers his sister playing this album in high school.

He looks up to see the deejay bent forward, only a mop of black, slightly curly hair visible over his setup. The song continues.

Bokuto is intrigued. This guy is starting his set with a Radiohead song! He likes that band. Even their electronic stuff is pretty cool.

He leans in, listening carefully as the deejay distort’s the singer’s voice, letting the song crest, gaining momentum before crashing into a different track with a faster beat. 

“So cool,” Bokuto breathes, raising his phone up to start recording his first video.

His jaw drops.

Through the camera is a vision. An angel. The most beautiful human being Bokuto has ever set his eyes on. 

The young man is quite tall, perhaps close to Bokuto’s own height. He’s dressed simply in a white t-shirt that’s slightly baggy in the front. A small, silver hoop earring hangs from his right ear.

His face is both soft and sharp at the same time. A strong set of brows, with a cute button nose. High, honed cheekbones and bowed lips. A visage of contradictions that somehow work together seamlessly to create the ideal face. (Well, ideal for Bokuto, at least.)

Bokuto watches, enthralled, as the man’s long, slender fingers dance over the controls with incredible dexterity. 

The deejay glances up suddenly, gifting the audience a view of his stunning, gunmetal blue eyes. “Oh gods,” Bokuto mutters, fumbling and nearly dropping his phone. His hands are suddenly very sweaty.

“Dude, are you okay?” Kuroo hisses into his ear. Bokuto nods vigorously, not taking his eyes off the performer. He’s taken to watching him half through the camera, half with his own eyes. He definitely prefers the latter.

He’s good. Definitely not at Kenma’s level, but still very talented. Even Bokuto, a newcomer to the scene, can see it. The man knows what he’s doing.

At one point, the deejay takes a brief break, reaching over to grab something on the side of his keyboard as he address the crowd through a mic. “Good evening everyone,” he says, voice soft like velvet. Bokuto feels like he might fall over. “My name is Akaashi.”

The audience cheers and Bokuto watches intently as “Akaashi” (ugh, what a beautiful name, it’s perfect) unwraps a lollipop. 

“I want to thank my friend, Kodzuken, for letting me open for him tonight.” Another cheer, louder this time. One side of Akaashi’s mouth twitches upward slightly in amusement. “Let’s continue, shall we?”

Swiftly, he pops the sucker into his mouth, hunching over again to start his next medley of songs.

Bokuto is mesmerized. He can’t seem to look away. The only thing that finally distracts him is how warm his phone is getting. He’s been recording almost the entire time, unable to resist capturing every moment.

And now his phone is on its last 15% of charge.

“Shit,” Bokuto mutters, quickly turning off and pocketing the device. He needs to save at least some battery for Kenma. He glances nervously at Kuroo, who is also taking a break from shooting, bobbing his head to the music.

A sudden change in the track, from a fast-tempo beat to a sample of swirling classical strings, compels Bokuto’s attention back to Akaashi.

Who is looking directly at him.

The break in the song had allowed Akaashi to take his eyes off his setup for a moment, and without a camera phone in front of him, Bokuto is in his direct line of sight. He’s the closest person to the stage, so of course the performer would see him, even with the harsh stage lights in his eyes. 

One of Akaashi’s perfect brows lifts. He blinks. Bokuto forces himself not to look away, despite the fact he is shaking from the eye contact. 

And then, very slowly, Akaashi reaches to pull the lollipop out of his mouth.

Heat erupts from low in Bokuto’s stomach as he watches the candy slide from between the man’s lips. It paints his mouth a cherry red color, wet and shiny and slightly parted. His tongue darts out to lick at the sugar.

“Oh gods,” Bokuto says again, and swallows harshly. Time seems to slow down as they continue to stare at each other. Bokuto can barely hear the music or the crowd anymore. It’s just them.

When Akaashi finally looks away, Bokuto releases a breath he hadn’t realize he’d been holding. He tries to calm down and enjoy the rest of the set—he’s playing other songs Bokuto knows, including a remix of Queen and more Radiohead—but he’s finding it difficult to concentrate on the music.

Akaashi’s last moments on stage are impressive. The way he controls his decks, body relaxed and laser-focused, effortlessly weaving through songs and building to an explosive finale. It’s hypnotic.

The applause is deafening as Akaashi takes his leave. He’s definitely won over a big chunk of the crowd, even as an opening act. Bokuto joins in, clapping a bit too aggressively to not draw the attention of his companion.

“Impressed?” Kuroo nudges him in the ribs. Bokuto shrugs, trying to act casual as he strains his neck to watch Akaashi walk offstage. He also tries to convince himself he isn’t disappointed that the man hadn’t looked back one last time. 

Luckily, Bokuto is able to successfully distract himself during Kenma’s set, recording clips with the remaining of his phone’s battery. 

The crowd is eating out of the palm of Kenma’s hand from the moment he steps onto the stage. His friend is incredible.

Kenma’s set is long and ends without an encore. Bokuto claps, hoots and hollers along with the crowd as the man bows and waves goodbye.

“C’mon, Ken’s gonna meet us in his dressing room.” Kuroo leads the way back out of the photo pit and across the club, flashing his ID to a bouncer, who nods them both through to backstage.

“So, um, does Akaashi usually stay for Kenma’s set?” Bokuto tries to ask as nonchalant as possible, but Kuroo is obviously not fooled. His eyes narrow suspiciously.

“Yeah, almost always. Why?”

“No reason!” Bokuto swallows, nervous at the prospect of seeing Akaashi again. Will he be nice? What should he say to him? How can he compliment him without sounding like a weirdo?

“You hot for him or something?”

Bokuto chokes on nothing. Kuroo is smirking at him now, and Bokuto curses his friend’s innate (and very annoying) ability to read him so easily.

“Shut up!”

“You’re not denying it…”

Bokuto groans as they approach the dressing room. “Seriously, Kuroo, don’t say anything!”

Kuroo snorts, reaching out to rap his knuckles on the door. “Fine. But you should definitely go for it.”

“R-really?” Bokuto is curious. “Wait, do you know if he’s…”

Suddenly the door swings open. Kenma stands there, looking thoroughly exhausted, sweaty hair clinging to his forehead. “Hey,” he says. His haggard face melts into fondness at the sight of his boyfriend.

Kuroo rushes forward, lifting Kenma and spinning him around the room, ignoring the man’s weak protests. Bokuto stumbles in, closing the door behind them.

“You were amazing,” Kuroo praises, leaning down to kiss Kenma on his forehead, both cheeks and finally, full on the lips. Kenma’s hands slink around the taller man’s neck.

“Must you do this every time? I’m eating over here.”

And there he is.

Akaashi is perched on a table in the back of the room. His long legs hang over the side, swinging lazily. He’s changed clothes—he now wears an oversized t-shirt with a strange idiom written on front that Bokuto doesn’t understand, and a pair of black-rimmed glasses are perched on his nose.

He’s hunched over eating a huge onigri. Bokuto notices some runaway rice on his chin and his right cheek.

“Akaashi-kun!” Kurroo waves. “Great set. You definitely got some new fans tonight.” He glances at Bokuto, smirking. Bokuto shoots him a scowl. 

Akaashi nods. “Thank you for taking the photos,” he says, slightly muffled since his cheeks are still full of food. “Can you email me a folder of them tomorrow?”

“Definitely. You know, my friend Bokuto here took some videos. He could send you those, too.”

Bokuto, who had remained tucked into the corner of the small dressing room, freezes as Akaashi finally notices him. Their eyes meet for the second time that night. A full-body shiver runs up Bokuto’s spine.

“Thank you, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi bows his head slightly as he continues to devour his food.

Bokuto relaxes. This Akaashi is such a contrast from the ethereal, sexy being he’d seen performing on stage. Now he just seems like a very cute human man with questionable fashion choices and messy eating habits. 

No longer intimidated, Bokuto grins and steps closer. “Nice to meet you, ‘kaashi! Your set was amazing! Seriously, I’m not even into electronic music much but I was super impressed!”

Akaashi blinks. “Oh, um.” He looks back down at the remaining bit of onigri. “Th-thank you. Again. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Bokuto feels his smile widen. He shuffles out of the way again as Kenma and Kuroo start to pack up for the night, chatting away about some changes in Kenma’s set and the next few tour dates.

Akaashi finishes his snack and pulls out yet another lollipop from his jeans pocket. Bokuto tries to ignore how his body immediately reacts at the sight; his memories flood back to the slow, sensual way the other man had licked at the candy earlier that night.

“Y-you sure like lollipops,” Bokuto croaks, quietly enough so only they hear.

Akaashi shrugs. “Yeah. I mean, it’s mainly a coping mechanism.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m trying to quit smoking.”

“Ah,” Bokuto nods. He remembers his father going through a similar process.

“Would you like one, Bokuto-san?”

“Oh!” Bokuto shifts nervously in place. “Sure, I guess?”

In one fluid movement, Akaashi hops off the counter, turning to dig around inside a small backpack. Bokuto’s eyes soak in the back of the man’s slender neck, how his hair curls around it. He wonders how soft it is. His fingers twitch.

“Here.” Akaashi saunters over, candy outstretched in offering.

As space between them disappears, and as Akaashi stops less than a meter away, a strange sensation overtakes Bokuto. His body warms, as if a ray of sunshine is slowly washing over him. And when Akaashi finally passes him the lollipop, their fingers brush, and Bokuto feels something akin to an electric current.

He sees Akaashi’s eyes darken considerably behind his lenses . They stare each other, not saying anything, some strange sensation swirling between them.

Who is Bokuto kidding? It’s not “strange.” He knows exactly what this feeling is. 

Mutual attraction. Immediate, undeniable mutual attraction.

When had this last happened to him? Bokuto can’t remember. He doesn’t recall being this into someone so quickly. And from the heavy lidded look Akaashi is sending up through his long lashes, it seems like Bokuto is not alone.

“Yo! Are you guys even listening to me?”

Bokuto flinches, and so does Akaashi—their bubble of sexual tension pops and they both step back to look at Kuroo, who’s grinning deviously.

“H-huh?” Bokuto stammers. Kenma passes by, rolling his eyes. 

“Ken and I are going out for drinks,” Kuroo says. “We’re inviting you guys along.”

“Oh.” Bokuto clears his throat. “Um, sure! That sounds fun! How about it, ‘kaashi?”

Akaashi, whose cheeks are dusted a delightful shade of pink, nods. He glances at Bokuto, a shy smile shifting his features slightly. 

“I’d love to.”

//

Thanks for reading! 🥰 This fic was inspired by this amazing art by Yuki on Twitter! If you enjoyed, please comment and reblog! You can also support me on ko-fi (linked on profile). Cheers! —Mari 💕

[thisisyourdriverspeaking]

The series is back in Monaco this weekend so here is motorsport number twos... the F2 version. Enjoy 😊

Juan Manuel Correra (9th August 1999) & Ritomo Miyata (10th August 1999) - Alice Deejay - Better Off Alone

Kush Maini (22nd September 2000) - Kylie Minogue - On A Night Like This

Richard Verschoor (16th December 2000) - S Club 7 - Never Had A Dream Come True

Victor Martins (16th June 2001) - DJ Pied Piper - Do You Really Like It?

Enzo Fittipaldi (18th July 2001) - D12 - Purple Pills

Rafael Villagomez (10th November 2001) - Mary J.Blige - Family Affair

Amaury Cordeel (9th July 2002) - Red Hot Chilli Peppers - By The Way

Dennis Hauger (17th March 2003) - Jennifer Lopez ft LL Cool J - All I Have

Franco Colapinto (27th May 2003) - Justin Timberlake - Rock Your Body

Zane Maloney (2nd October 2003) - The Darkness - I Believe In a Thing Called Love

Joshua Durksen (27th October 2003) - Blue - Guilty

Paul Aron (9th February 2004) - Kelis - Milkshake

Roman Stanek (25th February 2004) - Sam & Mark - With A Little Help From My Friends

Taylor Barnard (1st June 2004) - Kelis - Trick Me

Isack Hadjar (28th September 2004) - Girls Aloud - Love Machine

Gabriel Bortoleto (14th October 2004) - Eric Prydz - Call On Me

Zak O'Sullivan (6th February 2005) - Elvis Presley - Are You Lonesome Tonight

Jak Crawford - (2nd May 2005) - Snoop Dogg, Charlie Wilson & Justin Timberlake - Signs

Ollie Bearman (8th May 2005) - Tony Christie ft Peter Kay - (Is This The Way To) Amarillo

Pepe Marti (13th June 2005) - U2 - City of Blinding Lights

Kimi Antonelli (25th August 2006) - Chamillionaire ft Krayzie Bone - Ridin'

Added to this playlist 😊

[sweetlunar]

honeymoon;

p a r t . f o u r

Day six Friday July 5

We say ciao to Rome and drive toward Tuscany. We giggle as Men in Black by Will Smith plays on the station Radio Deejay. We stop at Saturnia hot spring and wade through the pools until we settle beneath a shady bamboo grove for a soak in the sulfuric water; the pools of constantly flowing hot spring are carpeted with perfectly round, grape-sized pebbles. With thoroughly turgid extremities, we depart from Saturnia. We cannot figure out how to buy gas; we use euros instead; we later learn that American cards cannot be used to purchase gas here. Driving through Tuscany, we pass many fields of sunflowers; it is delightfully cliche. We arrive to what was once a gradile (chestnut drying room) in ruins but is now restored to a picturesque cottage in the woods of Castagneto Carrducci, Tuscany. The isolation of the locale amplifies the emptiness of the pantry and fridge; we make our way back down to the village to purchase groceries. The clerk speaks no English and is annoyed with us as we did not weigh our fruit; we are embarrassed as we hold up the line; defeated, we leave the fruit behind. The village below the cottage is lined with bougainvsillea in bloom, purples and bright pinks spilling over stone walls. We eat dinner at the cottage, drink wine, and run inside when we hear noises in the dark woods. We peer out the window and see fireflies, of which there are at least eighteen species in Italy.

[acaplaya-musings]

Voiceplay-adjacent Visuals - God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen

So here's the thing: I'm not religious whatsoever, and usually I'm neutral at best when it comes to "traditional"/religious Christmas songs. Like on the odd occasion I might hear a decent performance of one, like O Holy Night or Silent Night for example, and I'll be like "yeah alright", but I don't usually go search them up to relisten to them, y'know?

But then, on the 4th of December, 2021, Geoff released his cover of God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, and MY. GOODNESS. Undeniably one of the most epic Christmas carol performances I've ever heard (besides most versions of Carol Of The Bells of course).

So anyway, there's probably a lot more to say on the musical arrangement than the video, but I didn't wanna skip over this one entirely, and tbh this is one of my favourite videos for examples of Geoff's self-conducting motions and hand gestures, so I really wanna talk about some of that, and show off some of the cool lighting stuff as well! (Credit to Eli for lighting design!)

So anyway, let's get into this!

This video was filmed at PattyCake Studios, though presumably using a set/backdrop that doesn't get used a lot otherwise, because I don't recognise it from anything else! (EDIT: according to the amazingly-knowledgeable and very helpful Jules-has-notes, "the backdrop was one of the standing sets at the old PattyCake studio...VP used it in their video for "You're My Best Friend" with Deejay, but the set dressing and lighting were pretty different.")

Double credit to Eli for the lighting design, because look how cool this looks already, with the variety of colours that we're getting from lighting in the background! Whiteish-purple, green, blue, orange, and purple-pink! And I love how there's enough in the background to make it interesting and to "fill out the space" without drawing your attention away entirely!

Lights up!

I don't know exactly what that shirt thing is per se, but man it looks so cool

This video has at least a couple moments of the "Geoff Clones" noticeably mirroring each other in their motions, like in Shenandoah and Unshaken, but there are also quite a few moments (like before this, in the "slow build-up section" in fact) where different Geoffs are doing different motions to indicate which of them are singing which vocal parts (e.g. higher stuff vs lower stuff)

"Now to the lord sing praises..."

Very quick lighting/colour change on the curtains!

"Holy tide of Christmas, all others doth deface!"

Lighting/colour change on the curtains again! A warmer orange now!

(Also again notice how the clones on the left and right ends are doing the same thing, but the clone second from the left is doing something different!)

"Woah, tidings of comfort and joy"

(I love the cheeky little side-eye he does here, it's kinda cute <3)

Another quick lighting change!

I love the way Geoff so often includes moments of "Lead Geoff" and The Clones looking at each other - it's such a simple thing to include, but it's also such an easy thing to not bother doing or not even consider doing. But these little moments definitely add a little something-something(tm) to the videos 💜👌

"Cooommmforrrt aaand joyyyyy"

Up, right, down, up. What is this, the Konami Code for subharmonics/bass notes? 😝

"JOYYYYYY!"

And back to darkness for the end!

I probably could have included even more moments to talk about but tbh screenshots don't always do it justice, and I can't be bothered figuring out how to make gifs. But I hope this gave you some amusement anyway, and I promise you the next post is absolutely gonna be a fun one! Until next time!