#Melodies and Manuscripts

[secret-engima]

Snippet of Pebbles verse chap 8

     Madara had expected that of all the people to break the ceasefire following Butsuma’s death, Hashirama’s little brother would be near the top of the list. With a close competitor being Madara’s own father but, for better or worse, Tajima had been leaving more and more of clan head duties to Madara since the deep cough last winter had nearly taken him. Officially, Madara was still only the heir until he married, as per tradition, but with his father spending most of his time at home or supervising the forges, most of his snarling over the ceasefire was contained only to the ears of those who wouldn’t actually go out and follow through on it. Some were even whispering that Madara might ascend to the clan headship before his arranged marriage took place, but none of them wanted to go through with the upheaval that would cause, however minor, while the ceasefire hung by a thread.

     A thread that, if Izuna was right, Tobirama had chosen not to cut.

     Izuna’s cursing was winding down again, enough that Madara pulled out of his thoughts and nodded to Izuna’s fist, “Are you holding something?” Izuna usually gestured with open hands, not fists.

     His little brother pulled his fist close to his chest just like when he was six and hiding a stolen snack, “No.”

     “…Izuna are you still holding one of the-?”

     Izuna lunged for him over the writing desk and Madara shunshined away with his little brother’s shriek ringing in his ears, “I am not and it’s mine-!” He fled deeper into the compound to find something to do until Izuna had actually calmed down enough to stash the marble he was definitely still holding from the incident.

[upennmanuscripts]

LJS 425 is a treatise on music or melody, adapted by the Persian scribe Ruhbānī from a treatise written for the Sultan Maḥmūd of the Bahamanids, a Deccani dynasty. It was likely written in Persia, now Iran, in the 17th century.

Online:

[hrhstateofgrace]

every time i listen to the manuscript, it makes me think of hamilton’s burn

[bfuhrnerd]

... Okay, so apparently, in the original act 2 finale of The Pirates of Penzance, there might have been a reprise of "Hail, Poetry!" For the house of peers?

[dandelion-de-deus]

Classical music may not be dying quite just yet but I desperately need the world to understand how good the works of the American Romantics is. I have no way of letting people know and it’s killing me

[12triceratops]

Where the rubber meets the road.

These two didn't just have a relationship, they had a (soul)utionship. "The Prophecy" Hand on the throttle Thought I caught lightning in a bottle...

What these two had was magical. There is no debate that Karlie Kloss and Taylor Swift were electric: (I am using past tense for the moment, I will refer to them in present tense a bit later in the post)

Fast forward a decade later to Fortnight. This record did not hit me immediately the way "Folklore" and "Evermore" did, It has almost been a week since its release and I hadn't been fully onboard with TTPD. I was expecting something different, something not familiar and I had quite literally thought maybe Jack Antinoff and Taylor Swift had reached their limit together as collaborators. The music produced by Aaron Dressner had flavors and connections to "Folklore" and "Evermore," while parts of the album was reminiscent of "1989." My next thought that maybe the three of them had done all they could do.

And then the Matty Healy conversation exploded across the net (le sigh), and I just about gave up on the record.

I damn near had a sanguinary struggle within myself over The Tortured Poets Department (I know, that is very dramatic lol), and then I finally got it. The brilliance of this woman is unmatched.

The last song "The Manuscript." Now and then she rereads the manuscript Of the entire torrid affair

"The entire torrid affair" meaning the last decade (probably longer, but I am sticking with 2014-2024). The title isn't lost on me and many others - The Man-U-Script.

The last segment of the song

The only thing that's left is the manuscript One last souvenir from my trip to your shores Now and then I reread the manuscript But the story isn't mine anymore

She is closing the chapter on all of it. It's over, the countless theories, the stories we all have created about her. They're our stories now, we built them into a formidable, monstrous entity that took on a life of its own. "The last souvenir" are her words to us on this album. From the Swifities, to the Gaylors/Kaylors, to the haters, critics, industry, fans, media. She won't play this game anymore. Taylor gave enough clues on this album to make EVERYONE'S theory plausible (Karlie, Joe, Matty, Travis, Harry, Kim etc). She connected threads to come full circle, which brings us back to "1989," that 1980s syth-pop (hello! "I Can Do It With A Broken Heart"). This is why she and Jack Antonoff brought us back to where it all began, Karlie Kloss and #Kissgate (Dianna Agron, too, who can forget "Wonderland). Aaron Dressner summons moments within this records of the two albums that fractured my soul, F & E. That folky-pop melody that gets into your skin to change the DNA. No joke, I sobbed listening to "Folklore" and "Evermore."

With TTPD, Taylor comes in like a thrashing, tumultuous storm; at times seething and others admonishing. She is singing to herself, for herself and without need of approval from the mainstream radio (or anyone else). TTPD is messy, too much, not enough, vulnerable, real, relatable and she is tired of our collective shit.

Back to "The Manuscript" This Era has come to an end and she is leaving us with the ruins, the aftermath of what she went through: being forced to hide who she really is, having to placate the rabid fans who believe the stories of every boy she has ever dated. She has had zero privacy and the only safe place Taylor has ever had was her music, she is the ONLY one who knows to whom she sings. Does she love her fans, of course, but Mother is tired and done. She is ready to come clean and live the life she has crafted to keep in secret in order to protect the innocent.

The beards, NDAs, slight of hand, she is smashing all that we know. It's not her reflection she seeks to shatter, it's the illusions. In "Fortnight" the nurse, a woman (cannot convince me that it's not Karlie. A doorframe is 6'8" and that nurse is about 5" shorter that frame, which would make that person 6'3" :), comes to save her, gives her the key to set her free. The men in the video are the ones who are torturing her. Like the last 10 years, The poet has been tortured by the department of men: Joe, John, Conner, Jake, Harry, Calvin, Tom, Joe, Matty, Travis, Scooter, Scott, and the list goes on.

It's "Robin" that has got a choke-hold on me.

Buried down deep And out of your reach The secret we all vowed To keep it from you in sweetness

She is singing to a child, a kid, and I am going to say a little boy. Is this song about Levi? I am going to say yes. Hands down the gem of the album, and our cue to realize she is telling us what is next, her family, the loves of her life: Karlie and the kids. That is what she wants and that will be her next chapter. We struggle to interpret the Taylor that is always ten steps ahead of us. Her Eras Tour, this will be the last one for a while. Once it has wrapped, I wouldn't be surprised if she disappeared for a spell. Will she produce more work, sure. Perform, probably, but this last decade has taken a toll, and this tour has been a herculean effort. Hence, its wild success. Could she retire (FLORIDA)? It's possible, but she would never tell us, we would have to figure that out for ourselves.

I have more to say, but it's late and I am sleepy. As I get lost in the piano of "The Manuscript" I am reminded of the book "The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo"

Not sure if anyone is going to see or read this, but I needed a place to write my thoughts about this extraordinary album that I almost let slip through my fingers. Good night and sleep well everyone <3

[simpingforstardew]

misty [chapter one]

pairing: sdv harvey x reader

synopsis: harvey has always been a man of routine and order— although just as he begins to tire of his life in pelican town, a new farmer moves to the valley and turns his life around. chapter one.

warnings: pure fluff and romance; eventual smut, but that'll be tagged when the time comes !! please enjoy my harvey playlist while you read ♡ (this is crossposted from ao3).

word count: 2.2k

| next chapter >>

Harvey gently lets the needle of his record player caress the notches of the vinyl; after a skip, his apartment is filled with the soft melody of Ella Fitzgerald— he hums, content.

The apartment itself is unremarkable, a guest would consider it lived-in, cozy perhaps, but as the doctor looks around his living room all he can see is mess. Abandoned laundry draped over his plush red sofa, dishes waiting patiently to be washed after his microwaved dinner, and his newest TAMIYA model plane yearning to be completed.

Although the glow of the early winter sunset through his window paints a picture of comfort, it’s certainly a bachelor’s flat.

He walks to his kitchenette, stretching his tense shoulders, as he discards the dirty dishes into the sink and grabs a wine glass. Placing the glass onto the small dining table, Harvey considers which wine to indulge himself with tonight; after some performative consideration his reaches again for his usual Merlot— he chuckles to himself, realizing that he has always been a predictable creature of habit.

He pulls out the only chair at the table, bringing the glass to his moustached lips before being interrupted by the ringing of his phone. Glancing at the caller ID, he smirks. Had it been anyone else interrupting his evening, he would have been rather disappointed.

“Elliot, what do I owe the pleasure?” He says, moving from his place in the kitchenette to turn his music down, wine glass comfortably in his grip.

“Harvey! I don’t suppose you’re free tonight?” Elliot sings down the phone, “We haven’t been able to catch-up in quite a while, and I’m finally finished with the first draft of my newest manuscript!”

Elliot has always been a good friend to Harvey since the writer moved to Pelican Town over a year ago— although excentric in his own ways, Harvey has always appreciated having someone else in town to rely on for advice and wine recommendations.

“Congratulations, but I’m afraid I can’t tonight,” The doctor sighs, looking down at his drink, “I’m… rather busy this evening.”

“Lying will get you nowhere, my friend,” Elliot chuckles, “I have it on good authority that the clinic has been empty all day, and besides I still owe you a drink.”

“Yes well,” Harvey racks his brain for an excuse, pacing around his small living area, “The clinic being empty is a blessing, but the medical files won’t update themselves.”

“Very well,” Elliot sighs, melodrama has always been the writer’s strength, “Perhaps another time then.”

Harvey drops his phone unceremoniously, guilt infesting his mind. He could very well have finished his wine, grabbed his favourite green coat from the hook on the front door and travelled down to the saloon. Despite himself, however, he finds himself returning to the dining room table to pour the last of the Merlot into his glass.

Despite knowing every citizen of Pelican town after years of check-ups and festivals, he’s found himself drawn to isolation. Not that he didn’t adore the village and all of it’s quirks, he had just grown despondent over the recent weeks: stressed from his medical work, bored of his own repetitive routine, and— if Harvey is being honest with himself— hopeless. Winter tends to shine a spotlight on your own loneliness, particularly after an unremarkable birthday spent working.

After finishing the last of his wine, Harvey places the glass into the ever-filling sink and combs a hand through his brunette hair. The grandfather clock in the corner ticks away the minutes, echoing through the silent apartment. He sighs, the weight of the day finally settling in as he loosens his tie and prepares for bed. The soft glow of his bedside lamp casts a warm hue on the room, a lone figure moving through the routine of solitude. Perhaps the new year will be better. Perhaps, at the very least, it will provide Harvey with the change he so desperately needs. He thought about praying for such a change, but Harvey has never been a religious man; instead, he begins to dream.

The next morning, sunlight filters through the half-open blinds, painting streaks of gold across the bedroom floor. Harvey stretches, the stiffness in his shoulders a testament to a night’s restless sleep. The clock on the bedside table blinks 7:30AM. Harvey walks down the rickety stairs to the clinic, the call of songbirds outside travelling through the open windows— a melody that almost makes the dispassionate off-white of the practices’ hallway feel a little more pleasant.

“Good morning Maru,” Harvey waves, spotting the coily pink hair of the nurse behind the front desk. He adjusts his tie as he slips into his doctors coat, “You’re here early, what’s the occasion?”

Maru chuckles as she relaxes into the uncomfortable blue office chair, “What? I can’t come in bright and early to start the year right with some administrative work?”

Harvey scoffs, a smirk tugging on his lips, “Frankly, I would have thought people your age are preoccupied nursing hangovers on the first day of the new year— although your help is always appreciated.”

“Well frankly,” Maru imitates the older man, “I can’t believe you take me for such a party animal, Doctor Greenwood. How about I run out and get us some coffee, hm?”

“Have I ever told you how wonderful you are, Maru?”

“Not nearly enough,” Maru giggles, standing up from behind the reception desk to leave before stopping with a gasp “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you— we received an application for someone new to register with our clinic, their paperwork is on your desk.”

The bell on the clinic’s front door chimes as Maru exits, leaving Harvey baffled at the implication of a new patient. With the exception of Elliot last year, nobody has moved into the valley in a very long time. Perhaps with more excitement than is needed, Harvey dashes to his office; sure enough, a single document lays on his desk.

APPLICATION FOR REGISTRY, PELICAN TOWN CLINIC (GENERAL PRACTICE) (Y/N) (L/N) | +19201 184523 Hilltop Farm, Pelican Town...

Harvey adjusts his glasses as he reads the application in awe, why hadn’t he known someone was moving to Pelican Town— let alone into the abandoned farm on the outskirts of the valley? Perhaps he would have known if he had gone to the saloon last night with Elliot: the writer is typically much more aware of the town’s news and gossip than he is.

As he moves into the waiting area of the clinic, Harvey finds his eyes glued to the application in his hands— as if he is attempting to memorise every letter formed from the delicate handwriting on the form. The familiar bell of the front door chimes, failing to distract the doctor from his reading.

“Maru, that was extraordinarily fast— you didn’t get decaf again did you? That prank just isn’t as funny as you insist it is.” His large hand reaches up to adjust his glasses as they slide down the length of his freckled nose.

“Oh, not a fan of decaf,” An unfamiliar voice replies, “I’ll try to remember that.”

Harvey looks up from the paperwork, a faint blush washing over his cheeks as he coughs, “I- I’m terribly sorry I-,” He takes a selfish moments pause, just to look at the stranger in front of him, “I thought you were… somebody else, can I help you?”

“It’s okay, I just came in to make sure my application to register here arrived, I’m (Y/n)” You smile, extending your hand out to him as your eyes sparkling under the clinic’s soft light.

“I know-” Harvey scolds himself for his bluntness; he goes to shake your hand, “I mean, I was just reading through your application! Consider it approved… Forgive me, I had no idea anybody new was moving into town.”

“Well, yeah— it was kind of a last minute decision, I’m taking over my grandfather’s farm just west of here. You must be Doctor Greenwood?” You ask, not wanting to dwell on discussions of your late grandfather.

“Harvey,” He lets his arm fall, already missing the warmth of your smaller hand clasped in his own.

“Excuse me?”

“Please, you can call me Harvey,” The doctor places the now forgotten application on the reception desk behind him, “If you would prefer, of course—”

“—Harvey,” His name sounds heavenly coming from your lips, almost as angelic as your soft laughter, “It was nice to meet you.”

In an instant, you're gone. The bell chimes as you leave, singing it's own goodbye.

Harvey is dazed, his hands clenching together as his blush grows darker, “It was lovely to meet you too,” He says to an empty waiting room.

As he turns towards his office, the bell chimes once more; quickly followed by Maru’s animated voice, “Order’s up! One totally-not-decaf coffee for you, and a mint-hot chocolate for yours truly,” Maru giggles.

“T-Thank you, Maru,” Harvey takes the paper cup from his assistant’s hand, “Guess who just left the clinic.”

“Oh no, was it George? I told him that his prescription won’t arrive until next week!” Maru perches on the reception desk, sipping from her hot chocolate, “Do you want me to reschedule his appointment to this afternoon?”

The doctor chuckles, finally tearing his eyes from the front door of the clinic, “No, there’s no need for that— thank you though, Maru.”

The pair drink their beverages in a comfortable silence; Harvey quickly realising that one decaffeinated coffee wouldn’t be enough to satiate him.

“Right, well… I’m going for another one.” Harvey slips out of his doctors coat and into his dark-green cardigan, “Will you be okay here alone for five minutes?”

“You can trust me, Doc,” Maru offers a confident thumbs-up, “I’ll just call if there’s an emergency!”

After a nod to Maru, Harvey is quickly out the door. He basks in the spring warmth before walking down to The Stardrop Saloon— an unnecessary journey considering his coffee machine lay unused in his apartment, but Gus’ coffee is just so much better! At least, that’s what he tries to convince himself. In truth, Harvey just needs an excuse to leave the clinic; a trip upstairs to his apartment will only leave him feeling more claustrophobic.

“Wholly to be a fool while Spring is in the world my blood approves, and kisses are better fate than wisdom” Elliot sings, falling in pace with the doctor as the clinic door slams shut.

“Whatever are you talking about now?” Harvey turns his head to Elliot, slowing his brisk pace to enjoy the short walk with the writer.

“E.E. Cummings, Harvey! You haven’t read his work?” Elliot tuts, patting Harvey on the back as they walk together, “Shame on you.”

“Ah, of course,” Harvey playfully scoffs, sending a smirk to the shorter man, “Consider me utterly embarrassed.”

The pair are greeted by the music from the jukebox as they walk into the Saloon, both waving to Gus.

“Well I can tell how embarrassed you are by the blush on your cheeks,” The writer leans against the bar, eyebrows raised, “Or, has a certain new farmer caught the doctor’s attention?”

“I haven’t a clue what your talking about.” Harvey knew better than to feed into Elliot's delusional romanticism, he simply rakes a hand through his already swept back hair.

“You know you’ve always been a horrid liar, my friend.” Elliot smiles, “They’re quite lovely, aren’t they?”

“Who?” Harvey continues to feign ignorance while ordering a coffee from Gus.

“(Y/n), we met earlier this morning.” Elliot replies, “You would know that they’ve been the topic of conversation in town for a while now… If you came out of that small apartment once in a while.”

“You’re right, you know,” Harvey slouches, ignoring his own advice to his patients about the importance of posture, “I do regret not coming out last night, for what it’s worth.”

“I’m always right,” Elliot gleams, “My question is, was I right about you needing to come out more, or right about (Y/n) catching your eye?”

Harvey takes the coffee from Gus, placing 300g on the bar, “You know you’ve always talked too much, Elliot.”

The writer laughs as he watches Harvey leave the Saloon, “And you love me for it, good friend!”

On the short walk back to the clinic, Harvey finds himself thinking about you as he sips on his coffee. It wasn’t hard to make an impression as a new person in a small town, but never before had Harvey been struck by a stranger’s beauty so quickly, their interaction was short, yet the doctor’s heart raced as he remembered the way the farmer looked up at him.

The bell rings as he enters the clinic, Harvey realises this is probably the most the bell has chimed in a single day.

“Hey, Doc,” Maru greets, continuing her work on the computer in front of her, “Don’t forget that Evelyn has an appointment tomorrow at 10:30.”

“Thank you, Maru.” Harvey sips his drink, walking through the waiting room into his office, “Oh, and make sure it’s on file that (Y/n) (L/n)‘s application to register here is approved.”

Perhaps it’s selfish that a doctor would want to see his patient so soon— he certainly wouldn’t wish for emergency visit, his heart hurts at the thought of (Y/n) being injured— but as Harvey sits down in his office chair and begins to file his paperwork he can’t help but want to see that new farmer again.

[kabukipookie]

Hey I’d like to request nfsw Yae Miko and M!reader, haven’t seen many fics like this so the premise can be whatever you like :) Ty

Fulfilling a Fantasy∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°｡⁠☆

★⌒ヽ(´ ❥ SUMMARY`)

Finding yourself at a creative stump, Cheif Editor Yae Miko was happy to help you explore the assigned genre ; Fantasy

ᝰ.ᐟ ⤵ cw + genre

Dom! Yae Miko x amab! reader

use of 'baby' & 'dear' , praise, begging(reader), fem dom (miko), cunnilingus, i did my best- please leave constructive criticism!

ᝰ.ᐟ ↪ wc ####

@kabukipookie × TMBLR original work

a/n at the end ♡ (⁠☆⁠▽⁠☆⁠)

INTERACT AT YOUR DISCRETION ❤️‍🔥

Being a freelancer in Inazuma before the Vision Hunting Decree was abolished was a bit harsh. The state of affairs had a severe effect on your creative inspiration.

Despite this, you had to pay bills. You had a due date to get a draft for a new book to the executive editor. Miss Yae Miko.

The prompt was also so very unclear. Just what did she want? She's never been so vague. Maybe the market isn't doing good.

Once establishing yourself as a writer, god did it have its ups and downs. . . But, worries quickly dissipated after being scouted as an exclusive writer; Your works would be carried by Yae Publishing House.

Meeting her for the first time was a scene. How did she know how to get under everybody's skin? She knew exactly what buttons to press.

You received a letter from the Publishing House, and later a meeting was set to discuss terms.

You had to hike up to meet Miko, the shrine maidens were a bit more than confused however; She never had people visit above.

The meeting went about as well as it could, you didn't know it was unusual for her to specifically invite someone up to the shrine.

Work was stable, a dream you never thought would be fulfilled.

Yes, the current affairs were an obstacle, more so was the fact the Chief Editor was being so unresponsive.

There was hardly any tension between you two. Y'know, ignoring how you couldn't hold eye contact for anything longer than a glance. Or how the tips of your ears burned whenever her soft fingers glazed yours when passing manuscripts back and forth. A smooth melody played; soft instrumental. Her lips echoed the tune, humming.

It's like this world was made for her, Miko was too perfect. Her presence was perfect, and the scenery around her... Arguably created purely to extenuate her lovely features.

It did feel a little intense when you walked to the Grand Narukami shrine. The day was breezy, pretty pink cherry petals danced in the sky.

From monthly, to weekly walks to visit your boss, the scenery was always so lovely. You couldn't get too mad at the envoy, you'd be enthusiastic about living at such a beautiful peak of Inazuma.

Knuckles clacked against the pristine door, and you hear shuffling before a familiar voice said "Come in."

Sly as a fox, brimming with mischief it felt like. Recently, she has been unusually preoccupied. Stress, probably.

You didn't however, know the days she was taking off and ignoring your mail, she spent fucking herself on her fingers.

It's never easy to be an executive editor, let alone the responsibility of the grand priestess... Once you spoke to a shrine maiden, they led you to Yae Miko's residence.

You enter the building, tote in hand. you spot Yae Miko with her knees folded on top of a tatami mat.

"Oh, Y/n. What could I assist you with ~ ?" She makes a gesture to come sit across from her.

"Ah, I hope I'm not interrupting anything, Chief Editor." Timidly, you take a seat and open up your bag.

"Of course not darling. It's my responsibility to help the Inazumians of today."

Straightening out the papers, the ones with an outline as well as some ideas you had jotted down.

You stifle a small grunt of amusement.

"Hm? Something funny, dear?" Her head tilts cutely to the side

"Miss editor, I'm a coworker. I do find it a bit funny how seriously you speak to me, but otherwise.." You trail, she looks more relaxed. The atmosphere felt very tranquil.

"--Its just I'm not quite sure what you mean when you told me to write a "Fantasy" Novel. . . I don't mean to be rude, but you know I only have experience with realism."

A nervous look was etched into your features.

You see a smirk at the tips of her pink lips, as she outstretches her arm to begin looking through the papers.

"Oh dear, I guess I should've been more descriptive? I apologize, I've just been so... Busy. Yes that's it "

Her smooth voice infiltrates your ear, diverting your attention to the plain floor. The sound of papers ruffling continues.

"I can try! Do you think you could help me brainstorm? I'm unsure of how to start something like this. I won't take too much of your time, Miss."

She places the papers to the side, fingers finding your shoulder, rubbing gently. Lifting your face to meet her eyes, there's something sultry in her touch.

"Of course, I'm more than happy to."

She leans forward, your cheeks flushed.

Face felt warm and you started to stutter.

"T-Thank You. So, where should we start?"

You contemplate for a minute, restraint quickly leaving just as your resistants did. Her eyes felt like they drilled holes into your being. She's practically stripping you naked in her mind.

"Your fantasies of course. Mind telling me a few? Just to get to know what you have going on inside that head of yours."

You blink. Huh?

"I'm not sure that... Uhh..."

"Y/n, don't be shy." Her hand moves to your neck, rubbing a circle with her thumb before as she continues.

"What comes out of your mouth today is prayers. Okay, Dear? As a maiden, I'll keep your secrets." Her lips find your neck, littering your collarbone with feathery open kisses.

She quickly pulls back and stares at you as if this was a usual meeting between you both.

Hopefully, you plead with the gods to let this become a common occurrence .

"So tell me." The way she said it was so obviously a demand, could you do anything but obey?

"Uh.. I don't have many fantasies. It's quite.. Err.. fulfilling to be a writer. Especially with an editor like yourself." You toss her a nervous smile.

"Quite the sweet talker, now..."

The way she looked at you, like she wanted to just..

Eat

You

Up.

Working with Yae Miko isn't easy, the way she's so cunning makes you feel almost insignificant. . . However, Now? It just made the tightness in your briefs feel so... Uncomfortable!

She finds her way on top of you, hips straddling yours, cunt pushed up against your member.

Your hands find her hips, pulling her closer and practically high off her scent. Peachy, sweet. Every part of her overloaded your senses, every bit of you felt so weak against her.

"This is okay right, Miko?" You look for confirmation before exposing her chest. She smiles, almost too innocent compared to how she was keening to your touch, panties were damp and god, you could feel it.

"Let me tell you something, Dear." Her tongue slid up the shell of your ear.

"My fantasy is you." Her voice was airy, you felt like you were dreaming. "Indulge me m'kay? I wanna hear you beg to touch me, can you do that for me?"

"Yes!- I mean, of course, Miko..."

You pull her in for a kiss, it was so kind. Too sweet for the way you wanted to be ruined by her. Too sweet, in contrast to your mouth being invaded by her sweet scent. The way she craved her pussy to be spread with your tongue, she needed you now.

"F-Fuck… Miko…" You feel her smile against your lips as she sways her hips.

"Please let me undress you." Eyes glimmered, gaze softened, "Who baby?" Yae slyly says.

Confused, you spit out the first word that came to mind.

"Mommy please.." God... Shame ran through your veins, the kind that also runs elsewhere. A chuckle reverberates through your ears.

"Hmph, You're too precious." She lifts herself from your lap, allowing you to slip her perfectly tailored kimono from her figure.

Touches burned, everywhere. It was like a stinging; without your touch. She needed to feel you, have you bow down to her. Begging her to let her walls squeeze you.

Her supple skin was in view, your lips latching around a nipple quickly.

Her hand grips your locks, tugging slightly while a 'tsk' comes out, alongside a small moan. You look up to her while you continue to suck on her tits like a baby.

"I want you between my thighs, okay Baby?"

"There you go.." Yae Miko coos, petting your head as you are between her knees. Her kimono was undone at the front, and hair cascaded over her shoulders. Your hand finds her inner thigh, face to face with her clothed cunt.

Sliding your finger to the band of her panties, you remove the garment. Her pussy was so pretty, walls fluttering around nothing while it gushed out sweet nectar you wish you could drown in. You flick your tongue out, licking her thigh before gently biting it. Your hands had a firm grip on her thigh and waist respectively. Soothing circles were being drawn on her tummy, thighs were being gently sucked on 'till they were bruised and pink.

"Ah! So good, Baby, mhm.." Yae Miko lets out a low groan, hand holding a fist full of your hair as a dark hickey begins to form on her pale smooth thigh.

"C'mon baby, taste me." It was a command, one that made you drool.

Taking a breath, you mumble.

"You taste so good…"

It comes out messy, like the way your tongue is preoccupied with stirring up her tight cunt. You felt slender fingers grasp at your scalp again, just harder. Demanding. You take that as a sign to push your whole muscle into her hole.

"Haahh~! Fuck. Yes-Yes..!"

"F-fuck… You're doing so well baby…You're so desperate. So n-needy."

Finding her clit with your fingers, you gently rub her clit while your tongue dips into her heat.

Licking up her slit, you spread her pretty lips and look into her eyes before diving back in like a starved dog.

"F-fuck-! Haah, that feels so good~!" she moans out, breath light and thighs twitching.

"I-I'm gonna cum... More..." She keens, laying her back on the floor as you go down on her, slurping up every drop of her slick. Increasing the pace on her clit, her back arches into your touch. Her ears are twitching, you feel a fluffy tail thump under your lover's thighs. Such a display, one to savor. If only you could engrave this in your memor-

Light thumps echo from the entrance.

Clack clack clack

You pull away from her core, looking at her face. You're messy with wetness, a tent obvious in your pants.

Visibly annoyed having an orgasm interrupted, she straightens her garments and mumbles "One minute..."

Glancing at you, she leans in for a last, wet sloppy kiss. Miko practically eats you whole, she tastes herself on your tongue. It was so... sloppy.

She grabs you, hand on your cheek after quickly tying her kimono.

"You did so good for me. Did I give you a bit of inspiration?" Her eyes bore into yours, other hand grasping your arm.

"Uhh- Y-Yes. Very much so" You adjust your arms, instinctively hiding your very warm face.

"Well then, I'll let you get started with a draft. Okay? I apparently have matters to attend to..." A wink graces her face, you watch as she slips out the door.

Sitting there, you guess it's only natural for an editor to help her precious writer in need!

hi!! this is my first real fic i guess.. feel free to flood my requests! im a slow writer and im unsure on how to end smut.

either way, thank you for reading. if there are any typos plz lemme know.

much love! - vibi

[v4mptrait]

🍅🦇 @birdietrait did someone say vampire ?

Josiah, formerly known as Jafaar, carries the weight of centuries on his shoulders, a vampire born in the desolate landscapes of Somalia, forever bound to the shadows after a fateful encounter in the mid-1720s. Captured and turned by a Syrian vampire, he was whisked away to the unfamiliar terrain of Syria, where he was reluctantly introduced to a royal vampire family.

In his formative years, Josiah immersed himself in the pursuit of knowledge, studying languages and literature, and clandestinely devising intricate plans for the royal family that held him captive. However, the flame of his ambition was extinguished when the longing to find his birth parents, a desire he had harbored since adolescence, was abruptly silenced.

Growing up as an oppressed and envious teenager, Josiah transformed into a bitter young adult, seeking refuge in the intellectual haven of Europe—specifically England—during the mid-1840s. University life exposed him to capitalist and economist ideologies, molding his worldview as he delved into the intricacies of societal structures.

His journey into the nocturnal realm began with a sinister twist, as his first taste of blood was drawn from one of his professors. A predator in the shadows, he continued his nocturnal pursuits without ever being exposed. As the decades unfolded, he evolved with the changing times, returning to Somalia in the 1970s with a desperate quest to reunite with his birth parents, only to be met with the harsh reality of their long-departed lives.

Returning to the United States, Josiah adapted to the ever-evolving social landscape of the 21st century, attempting to blend in with the trends and norms of the time while clinging to his deep-seated beliefs. His younger sister, a relentless force of change, compelled him to undergo a transformation – tattoos, piercings, a new hairdo, and a wardrobe overhaul – all in an attempt to assimilate into contemporary society. Yet, beneath the superficial alterations, Josiah longs for the simplicity of his original attire, appearing almost robotic in his detachment from the ever-changing fashions.

In the present day of 2023, Josiah finds himself in the forgotten hollow, a place that holds a singular purpose for him. With an enigmatic goal set firmly in his immortal mind, he navigates the delicate balance between adapting to the current era and preserving the essence of his timeless existence, forever haunted by the echoes of his past and the insatiable thirst for the unknown.

TRIVIA:

Fashionable Anachronism: Despite his sister's attempts to modernize his appearance, Josiah secretly hoards a collection of clothing from various eras, finding comfort in the timeless elegance of garments that reflect the epochs he has traversed.

Literary Pursuits: Josiah's love for languages and literature extends beyond his mortal life. He has amassed a private library filled with rare manuscripts, preserving the stories that have shaped his understanding of the world. One of his prized possessions is an ancient tome written in a language long forgotten by mortals.

Musical Tastes: While he outwardly adapts to the music of the modern era, Josiah secretly cherishes classical compositions from his youth. He has been known to haunt hidden concert halls, drawn to the haunting melodies that echo the melancholy of his immortal existence.

Hidden Talents: Josiah possesses a keen talent for calligraphy, a skill he developed during his youth while studying languages. He often spends the quiet hours of the night crafting intricate scripts and inscriptions, each stroke a testament to his centuries-long pursuit of perfection.

Artistic Reflections: In a concealed chamber of his dwelling, Josiah maintains a gallery of portraits capturing moments from his past. Each painting tells a silent tale of the people he has encountered and the cities he has watched evolve, providing a haunting backdrop to his eternal existence.

Nocturnal Philanthropy: Unbeknownst to the mortal world, Josiah channels his capitalist inclinations into philanthropic endeavors during the night. He discreetly funds projects that align with his vision of societal improvement, drawing from the wealth accumulated over centuries.

Unquenchable Thirst for Knowledge: Josiah is a perpetual student of the world, and he continually enrolls in university courses under various aliases. His insatiable thirst for knowledge spans disciplines, from cutting-edge technology to ancient philosophies, allowing him to seamlessly blend into different intellectual circles over the years.

Classical Arabic: Being born in Somalia and later taken to Syria, Josiah mastered Classical Arabic, delving into its rich literature and linguistic nuances.

Syriac: A language with historical significance in the region, Josiah became fluent in Syriac during his time in Syria, connecting with the ancient roots of the supernatural world.

Latin: As a young adult in Europe during the mid-1840s, Josiah immersed himself in the study of Latin, a language that granted him access to the scholarly and philosophical works of the time.

English: Moving to England for university, Josiah not only learned English but excelled in it. His linguistic proficiency allowed him to navigate the rapidly evolving social and intellectual landscape of 19th-century England.

French: Embracing the cultural diversity of Europe, Josiah added French to his repertoire, finding himself captivated by the elegance of the language and its literary treasures.

Somali: Despite his nomadic existence, Josiah retained a deep connection to his roots, maintaining fluency in Somali to honor his heritage and communicate with those from his homeland.

Italian: In his pursuit of art and culture, Josiah picked up Italian during the Renaissance, allowing him to appreciate the masterpieces of the era and connect with the intellectual elite.

Spanish: Venturing into the exploration of the New World, Josiah acquired fluency in Spanish, enabling him to engage with the diverse cultures and civilizations flourishing in the Americas.

German: With a keen interest in the economic and philosophical discourse of the time, Josiah became fluent in German, immersing himself in the works of influential thinkers from the German-speaking world.

Mandarin Chinese: Embracing the advancements of the 20th century, Josiah learned Mandarin Chinese, recognizing its growing importance on the global stage and adapting to the changing geopolitical landscape.

[my-castles-crumbling]

cas review of ttpd?

Ah yes! I am finally ready!

Cas's Review of TTPD that Two (2) People Asked For (so now you all get a fucking essay)

Literally, this is growing to be one of my favorite albums. Like...I appreciate Taylor most for her lyrics and I wrote down seven pages of them in my notebook of lyrics that fucking killed me. I feel like it's a more mature version of folklore, which is exactly what I was hoping for.

I really liked the promo for this album- the lyrics being spread, the phases of grief, the entire thing was so well-done. And the double album drop left me literally screaming.

I feel like the order of the songs on the album is also super well thought out. It really tells a story and I could feel her going through the phases, especially in the first half of the album.

I thought it was cool that she definitely took some risks in the album, but most of them landed 1000%. So many of the cool things done with the lyrics, melody, and tempo were amazing and kept me interested.

I'm gonna start by listing the more specific things I didn't like because there's only three:

In the song "Fresh Out The Slammer" during the outro, the change in beat was very jarring. I LOVED the rest of the song and it just ruined it for me

Florida!!! was...a choice. I get it. The concept of going away somewhere after a breakup to get over it is great. But Florida? Like...c'mon. Also "fuck me up Florida" made me cringe.

The line in "I Hate It Here" about racists...god, I have two minds about it. I don't think there was winning with that one, and I think people are going to tear her apart for it without taking it in context. Like when you take it in the bigger picture of the song, it makes sense. But when you take it in just the few lines...it feels a bit like it's trivializing the fact that literal slavery existed during that time? So yeah. I go back and forth...

And now a song ranking and my feelings about some of the songs:

Guilty As Sin? - This song has been in my head ever since I heard it. It's perfect, it's everything.

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart - This is giving DBATC (favorite taylor song) vibes and I am so in love. It destroyed me.

Who's Afraid of Little Old Me? - This is an ANTHEM. This will be screamed in the shower. This is so powerful.

But Daddy I Love Him - This was just so nostalgic. Like it gave Fearless Taylor and I loved it so much. Also the jumpscare fucking SHOOK me.

So Long, London - This was like a companion to You're Losing Me and god, it was amazingly hurtful.

loml - I just love slow, sad Taylor. and the twist at the end? ugh

I Hate It Here - Questionable line aside, this song was 15/10 relatable as a fanfic reader/writer

imgonnagetyouback - I feel like this will be a single.

The Prophecy - ouch

The Alchemy - Awww, so cute!

I Look In People's Windows

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

The Albatross

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived - god she CAME for this man.

The Black Dog

Down Bad - I also feel like this will be a single

Fresh Out the Slammer

How Did It End?

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

TTPD

Cassandra - hahahaha whoops, we're coming for Kim again?

thanK you aIMee - and again? that line about her mom was AMAZING

So High School - adorable

Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus

Fortnight - she and Post Malone work so well together

The Bolter

The Manuscript

Peter

Robin

Clara Bow

Florida!!

What do you all think?

[secret-engima]

So I Did A Thing

And that thing was go a wee bit insane for the new year and update 4 fics and post 3 more! So rather than spam everyone with individual posts for each update, here's a list of em!!

A Heart Once Hardened (Hopes, One Day)

BNHA multichap set in the Feather-Light and Ember-Bright verse. Get your newest free dose of Enji and Dabi angst here >:3.

Good Luck Bead

Non-canon CfR oneshot where Nyx faceplants into the past and succeeds in not running into any Plot Important Characters for- less than five minutes.

A Fairytale (That's Full of Charm)

If anyone remembers me threatening to make a ground-up rewrite of RWBY the show- this is the first chapter of that. I have my au hammers and Plenty Of Ideas planned. :3

Made This Promise (Always I Dreamed About You)

Chapter 3 of Made This Promise/OC-insert Raven is UP! We get Qrow pov this time. For those who have no idea what I'm talking about- it's oc-insert as Raven in RWBY but with a bunch of other tropes and angsty things thrown in.

Broken (But Never to Pieces)

Latest entry in Blood of My Blood verse!! Cor-centric, Drautos-centric look at what happened with them to change things so much in this au. Finally. Second chapter is UP.

Worlds Unseen (Calling You and Me)

Horizon Zero Dawn/FFXV crossover where each chapter alternates in setting. Chapter 11 is finally up!! We're covering the Proving let's gooo.

Nothing But A Voice Within (Calls Me Home)

Chapter 4 of my Demon Slayer fixit fic! OC-centric, mind the tags, also the rating went from T to M for reasons that you can surmise from the tags probably. The chapter that bumps it to M has not yet been posted so you are in the clear for now if that is a concern.

And there we go! All my updates for this year so far. Make sure you're signed in on ao3 to view them, as all my fics are locked (thank you AI scraping and corpos)

[upennmanuscripts]

Manuscript Monday: LJS 425 - Risālah-i Tawḍīḥ al-alḥān. = رساله توضيح الالحان. (Video Orientation)

Dot Porter, Curator, Digital Research Services at the University of Pennsylvania Library, presents a video orientation to LJS 425, a treatise on music or melody, adapted by the Persian scribe Ruhbānī from a treatise written for the Sultan Maḥmūd of the Bahamanids, a Deccani dynasty. The final pages in Hindi use Sanskrit terms and include a discussion of the female personification of music and…

[eretzyisrael]

The exact origin of the Kol Nidre melody is a bit of a mystery… 

It's been claimed that the melody's roots can be found in German medieval folk music. Others have rejected this idea, arguing that it is clearly of Jewish origin.

There is, in fact, not just one Kol Nidre melody, but a collection of musical themes which came together and settled in a permanent order at some point during the 15th or 16th centuries. 

The combination of the religious setting, the emotional backdrop, and the powerful melody creates a unique psychological atmosphere among those gathered to hear the prayer on Yom Kippur. 

Much of this has to do with the ability of music to reach into the soul, even if the listener cannot understand the words. A few notes are often enough to trigger intense feelings and bring back old memories.

Over the centuries, the Kol Nidre melody has inspired countless musicians and artists, from classical composers to filmmakers to psychedelic rock bands.

See the first comment below to read on…

#YomKippur

The image below, an initial-word panel for the Kol Nidre prayer featuring decorative dragons and mythical beasts, appears in a Hebrew illuminated manuscript made in Germany in the early 14th century. It can be found at Oxford's Bodleian Library (MS. Mich. 619, fol. 100), zoom in here

National Library of Israel

[silentmagi]

Rising Star

Well now, this is getting interesting, a winged creature is in the sky above them, and that raises the questions dear readers...

What is it?

6. Rainbird

Main Page

If she didn’t know better, she’d say it was a rainbird. But that was a magical creature with the ability to bring storms in its wake. But with magic being gone, they shouldn’t be-

CRACKATHOOM!

Oh, it’s a storm, okay, so perhaps they should set up a tent or something. Moving swiftly , she knelt next to Luna and shook her shoulder to try and rouse her. “Luna! There’s a storm coming!”

There was a scream that tore through the air, the mighty cry of the rainbird as it seemed to be hunting something on the ground. Looking up, she saw it spread against the moonlight, framed by streaks of lightning. That’s right, she was something on the ground. “Luna, it’s a rainbird!”

“Easy darling,” Luna answered as she opened her eyes, pulling out a tarp from her blanket, eyes up on the bird hanging in the sky. “We’re harder prey in the woods. There’s some boar spears in the packs, but I don’t think it’ll try and get us right now. Run this rope through the grommets on the tarp.”

Moving swiftly, while keeping an eye on the rainbird above, they set up a hasty lean-to in order to keep the rain and wind off of them, lining the ground with some loose leaves and underbrush, while using their packs to brace the bottom edge with weight and had the cart blocking one end, and the horse tucked away and letting the rain blow about them.

Star curled up as she heard the wind and rumbling thunder increasing in volume. Normally, she had no problem with storms, but something was causing her breath to catch, and her eyes to flicker around in fear, cringing and twitching.

Was this fear of the bird? Being out in the wild? Why did she feel like she couldn’t get enough air? Everything was going to fa-

A soft warmness cupped her shoulders as she felt Luna pulling her into a side-on hug. “Breathe with me darling, nice and in… out… good…” she whispered, demonstrating the breathing with exaggeration of her own breath. Confused, the mage copied the breathing, letting the bard set pace. “Good, again… in… and out…”

“Your body’s going through the fall of the tower right now, since you didn’t have a chance to let it go through your head,” Luna explained, still breathing in that exaggerated demonstrative method. “You’re save, but you need time and space. Just hold on to me and we’ll make it through this. No stones falling around us. The plants are strong enough to bend, right?”

“R-right,” Star answered, trying to think of some way to beat the fear that was clenching her chest. She could beat this, she just needed to focus.

“Tell me more about the rainbirds, I thought they were magical.”

Huh? Someone wanted her to talk about some obscure facts, now? “I guess they aren’t… they’re supposed to be bringings of the rains, though some druids did- did…”

She felt herself trailing off as lighting boomed around them. Then a soft melody slipped past the thunder and into her ears. “No, none of that darling, what did the druids do?”

“Oh, well they thought that the rainbirds flew ahead of the storms to escape them and the lightning that could hurt them,” she continued, finding the melodious tone allowing her mind to work again. “I think this may be important factual evidence to back up that claim.”

Luna kept her talking, until the two of them drifted off to sleep, sheltered from the storm as best as they could, huddled in each other’s arms. Little did they know that the omen of rainbirds bringing disaster in their wake wasn’t just about the storm.

[jualkardus]

✦ Greetings, distinguished company!

⊹ Permit me to extend a gracious welcome to this assembly, where the intricacies of my character unfurl akin to the pages of a cherished manuscript. Here, amidst the rich tapestry of my thoughts and passions, you shall encounter a haven where curiosity reigns supreme and each detail is adorned with elegance. 'Tis the hour to present myself to thee. Permit me to share my humble introduction!!

I am known as Moza, though some may also refer to me as 'Jualkardus' or 'ArleyzHac' on alternate platforms.

|| My pronouns are She/Her, 16+ fyi ||

✧ Indubitably! Let us embark on a delightful journey into the realm of my interests, shall we not?

♡ My Interests!

CLASSICAL MUSICCCCCCC {I watch classicaloid}

Speaking of music, I must confess a penchant for jazz and other melodies of yore, such as vintage tunes (?)

Any Fashion!! {mostly victorian era}

Historical fictions

Classic Literature

Ah, I do declare a fondness for classical literature, akin to the works of Dostoevsky, Agatha Christie, and Mikhail Lermontov.

In essence, I hold an affinity for all things classic.

I greatly enjoy indulging in television series such as Succession, Bodies (2023), and The Mentalist, among others. As for cinema, ah, classic films hold a special place in my heart! Does Amadeus qualify as a classic film? I cannot say for certain, but nonetheless, Amadeus shall forever remain my favorite motion picture.

PRAY, DO INDULGE ME IF THOU ART ENAMORED OF THE BODIES SERIES FROM NETFLIX! VERILY, I FIND MYSELF CURRENTLY OBSESSED WITH THAT VERY SERIES AS WELL!!!

In essence, I hold an affinity for all things classic.

✧ Pray, do read the "Before You Follow" and "Do Not Interact" section below, so thou mayest discern what displeaseth me.

¡! BYF

I am a neurodivergent individual and am generally of a tranquil disposition. However, I must confess that I can become excessively enthusiastic about my interests—or in general! I endeavor diligently to comprehend social cues, hence it would be prudent to inform me if I have inadvertently behaved impolitely or caused discomfort, of which I may be unaware.

My blogs are most likely to be filled with my drawings and topics that pique my interest.

I penned my words akin to those of a person in the Victorian era hehe.

I am entirely sound of mind and cognizant of my actions.

¡! DNI

Should one choose to discuss or reference topics pertaining to SH, refrain from labeling me as feeble! Such subjects are fraught with triggers for a simpleton such as myself.

Ableists, of course!

Zoophiles

Pedophiles/MAPs

Those who align themselves with neon*zism

Apart from that, I find you suitable for interaction with me.

That concludes my discourse. I extend my heartfelt gratitude to you for attending to it all; your attention is most appreciated. :D (I NEED MOOTS)

[mintaka14]

Chapter 8 of Living Arrangements (Lukanette And They Were Roommates! AU) is done. It's been a longer wait for it than I had anticipated, but I hope you enjoy it.

Living Arrangements

A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction

By Mintaka14

Chapter 8 – Music Again

There had been many moons before I met you

And I don’t know when (I last put paper to pen)

And now you give me back my raison d’etre

And I’m inspired again

[Music Again: Adam Lambert]

Luka flexed his hand against the frets of his guitar, stretching out his stiff fingers. He squinted down at the pages of manuscript and scribbled notes in front of him, and realised that the quality of light in the room had changed. The dark sky outside the windows had picked up a faint stain of rose and gold, lightening with the first hints of an autumn dawn.

As the creative rush wore off, Luka came back to an awareness of the room around him, and the way his back was aching from being hunched over his guitar for so long. He ran a hand through his hair and yawned hugely.

He leaned back, staring down at the scatter of pages all over the coffee table and the floor under it. They were thick with musical notation, and ideas for lyrics, that might develop into something, but one or two of them were… something good.

Luka could hear the alarm go off in Marinette’s bedroom, followed by a thump and the flustered noises that meant Marinette had just woken up. He couldn’t help smiling, even as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Carefully, he set his guitar aside, pulling himself to his feet, and another stray manuscript page fluttered from his lap to the floor as he shuffled towards the kitchen.

By the time Marinette had emerged, yawning and rumpled, the kettle had boiled and the coffee just finished brewing.

“Coffee, Melody?” he asked her, and the nickname rolled off his tongue without a thought. He grinned as she stuck out both hands to take the mug he offered her. The grin morphed into another yawn.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” Marinette scolded. “Luka!”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “And what time did you turn out your light?” he teased her back. “I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only one on a creative kick.”

She glanced at the living room, and the pages he’d left strewn everywhere. “You were writing?” she asked, in a softer voice, and he shrugged self-consciously.

“Just… tinkering with something. So what was keeping you up last night? Working on your finals?”

He looked up to find Marinette’s eyes on him, her mouth parted a little. She jolted a little as their eyes met, and abruptly dropped her gaze. Behind her coffee mug, Marinette flushed pink.

“No, just… something I’ve been tinkering with,” she echoed his words.

Her eyes drifted back to the piles of music manuscript, and Luka waited for her to ask the questions that he could see chasing themselves across her transparent features. Instead, Marinette turned back to her mug. She buried her face in the steam, and took another sip of coffee. Luka couldn’t help the soft little chuckle at her heartfelt sigh.

“Well, hopefully, it was a productive night for you, too,” he said. “Sounds like you need that coffee this morning.”

“Thank goodness I don’t have any classes today,” Marinette mumbled into her mug. “I’m not sure I could stay awake.”

“What are you doing up, then?”

“Meeting Alya for early lunch at Café Calibré. I have to do a few things on the way, though, so…” she waved at her pyjamas and messy hair, and wrinkled her nose. “At least I’m used to running on three hours’ sleep and caffeine.”

“Not sure that’s a good thing,” he told her, as she finished her coffee. Marinette stared down at the empty dregs, and Luka’s smile grew at the mournful little sound she made.

“Want another one?” he offered, but she shook her head, and moved past him to wash her mug in the sink.

“I wish I could, but I’d better get going. If I can make it as far as the café, I’ll get another one then. Alya owes me at least that much.”

“Good luck,” he said, and she must have heard the hint of dry humour that he couldn’t quite keep out of his voice at the mention of Alya, because she turned and flashed him a mischievous grin over her shoulder before her bedroom door closed behind her.

~~~~~

The moment Marinette closed her bedroom door, an assortment of kwamis emerged from whatever corners they’d been hiding in. Some of them paused in their antics to regard her curiously, but Marinette’s attention was riveted on the half-finished coat for Luka that she had stayed up to work on until way later than she should have.

She was happy with the way the cut of the coat hinted at presence without flash, and the way she’d hopefully managed to give it an easy style without sacrificing comfort. The embellishment was exactly the subtle depth with a fluid movement and a hint of humour that she’d been trying for, but she frowned at the embroidered snakes twining down the face of the  coat. The whole design, she decided, was missing something. It needed something more intense, something like the heart of a blue flame…

“Marinette?” Tikki asked, drawing closer to hover beside her shoulder. “Is everything alright?”

“Luka’s… I think he’s writing music again,” she said absently, and Sass reared up from his nest near the window to eye her with interest.

… maybe those deep blue glass beads that she’d been saving for the right project, the ones that sparked like fire when the light caught them…

She could hear a soft little hiss of satisfaction from Sass, and one of the kwamis whispering, “But I don’t get it – he’s always playing music, isn’t he?”

“Luka is creating his own music again,” Tikki explained, and did a happy little spiral in mid-air. Creation always spoke to her, and a smile tugged at the corners of Marinette’s mouth in response, even as she subjected the coat to a measuring stare.

Her fingers twitched towards the jars of beads above her work table, but she curled them tightly against the impulse, and reached for her own clothes to change into instead. Luka’s coat could wait, but she needed to get moving if she wanted to run her errands and still make it to the café on time.

Dress and leggings went on quickly enough, but she gave up trying to get her hair to cooperate, and bundled it into two hasty pigtails, and then grabbed her handbag for Tikki to hide in.

“Be good,” she admonished the roomful of watching kwamis, without much hope that they would pay attention to her.

The living room was still covered in a snowfall of manuscript as she passed it, but there was no sign of Luka. His bedroom door was closed, though, and Marinette could only hope that he’d decided to get some sleep. The mug of coffee he’d made for her was definitely wearing off by the time she made it to the café where she and Alya usually met, and she spared a longing thought for her own bed as she pushed open the door.

She wasn’t late, but Alya was already waiting. Alya looked up impatiently from her phone as Marinette came into the cafe amid a flurry of jangling from the bell over the door.

“Girl, what’s been going on? I’ve been trying to get hold of you all week, and you didn’t even answer my texts,” she was saying before Marinette had even reached the table. “I wasn’t even sure you were going to turn up today.”

“I’ve been busy,” Marinette said, and leaned down to give her friend a quick hug, before she dropped into the seat opposite Alya. She’d started to answer Alya’s messages several times, and ended up overthinking every word until it had felt a little late to send anything at all. Here in person, though, Alya just swept past it all without a mention of their fight, and Marinette felt a little silly for putting off talking to her best friend. “Don’t you have finals coming up too?”

“That’s nearly two months away. There are much more important things to think about.” Alya leaned in, fixing Marinette with a triumphant eye. “Guess who called Nino last night?” she demanded.

“Oh my god, that producer he’s been trying to contact?”

Alya checked at that. “No, but this is almost as good. Adrien! And he’s coming back to Paris!”

“Oh, that’s nice.”

“Nice?” Alya stared at her as if she was waiting for something more, and then, when nothing was forthcoming, she said drily, “Yeah, it’ll be really nice to see him again. Nino’s planning to try and get everyone together for a sort of reunion or something.”

“That sounds good.”

Marinette was distracted when the waitress arrived with the coffee she desperately needed to stay awake. When she looked up, her friend was subjecting her to another speculative stare, but then the waitress slid the second cup and a plate of pastries in front of Alya.

“He asked about you,” Alya said, reaching for one of the croissants. She took a bite, and added casually, “So I gave him your phone number.”

Marinette almost spilled the coffee in her lap.

“Alya! You said you weren’t going to do that anymore.”

Alya raised an eyebrow at her over the remains of the pastry. “Do what?”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“He’s an old school friend,” Alya said innocently, but the gleam in her eyes almost dared Marinette to contradict her. “I thought you said you’d been over him for years, so why would it be a big deal if he gets in touch with you?”

“Alya –“ Marinette groaned.

“It’s just catching up with an old school friend. Did you really want me to tell Adrien that you don’t want to see him, when he asked about you specifically?”

Marinette spent too long trying to process through the things she wanted to say, until eventually Alya leaned back with a  smug smirk.

“Fine, then, just tell him you don’t want to meet up when he calls,” she said with a shrug.

In spite of Alya’s insistence, Marinette wasn’t seriously expecting Adrien to actually call her, and two days later when her phone rang with an unfamiliar number she answered it without thinking.

“Marinette?” an oddly familiar voice said, and Marinette nearly dropped the phone.

The voice was a little deeper than she remembered, and different, too, to the way it sounded in the media soundbites, but it sent her straight back to her flustered, awkward collège years.

“Adrien?” she squeaked, and tried to cover up the embarrassing sound with a cough. There was a soft chuckle on the other end of the phone call.

“It’s been too long,” the voice said. “How have you been?”

~~~~~

Luka could hear Marinette and his sister in the living room as he pulled off his headphones and shoved aside the thesis he’d been working on. He got to his feet and went to join them, desperate for a break, and maybe a chance to get down the melody that had been teasing at the back of his mind for the past fifteen minutes. It was hard to focus on papers and exam prep when several years’ worth of unwritten music was flooding through his mind all at once.

He came into the living room to find Marinette in the middle of getting ready to go out, and Juleka watching her from the depths of an armchair with a look of judgement on her face.

“It’s not like I could tell him I didn’t want to see him,” Marinette was saying defensively. “What would you have said if he’d called you and said he wanted to meet up?”

Juleka scrunched up her face like she wanted to argue the point, but couldn’t without being hypocritical. He could still remember his little sister hiding behind her curtain of hair, shying away from conflict, growing up. She’d gotten better at holding her own, but confrontation was never going to be easy for her.

Unless it was him. Juleka had no problem with telling her big brother to shove off, and Luka took that as the gift of trust that it was.

It occurred to him, as he watched the girls bicker while Marinette located her bag and her sketchbook, that Juleka was quite happy to argue with Marinette, too.

“And you’re wearing your lucky shirt,” Juleka pointed out accusingly.

Marinette glanced down self-consciously at the delicate pink top she was wearing. “I’m meant to be a fashion designer here. I’m not going to turn up for coffee with the son of one of Paris’ top fashion houses in just any old thing. This blouse got me into the summer designers program last year,” Marinette shot back, her colour heightened.

“I can see why. It’s gorgeous,” Luka said from where he was leaning against the doorframe, and Marinette’s head jerked up at the sound of his voice. “You’re incredibly talented.”

She bit her lip at the compliment, but a pleased and proud little smile teased at the corners of her mouth.

“Is this for a job interview?” he asked, wondering about her reference to a fashion house.

“Just an old school friend,” Marinette said, but Luka could see the flush deepen on the curve of her cheek as she turned away and grabbed her keys from the bowl.

Juleka gave an inelegant snort.

“I’ve got to get going, otherwise I’m going to be late,” Marinette said, dropping her keys into her bag.

“Yeah, you don’t want to be late for Adrien,” Juleka muttered under her breath, and Luka shot his sister a warning glance as he bent to scoop up his guitar from where he’d left it beside the couch.

“Have fun,” he said mildly, and Marinette threw him a grateful, slightly embarrassed smile. He waited until the front door closed behind her before he asked his sister, “What was all that about?”

“Adrien’s back,” Juleka said sourly, and slumped lower in the armchair, “and practically the first thing he does is call Marinette. I’d bet my favourite camera that Alya had something to do with that.”

“I thought Alya had backed off on the matchmaking schemes.”

“Alya doesn’t just give up – she changes tactics.” She tilted her head, obviously subjecting that to some consideration, then added, “Although I don’t think even Alya could bring Adrien Agreste back to Paris just to get Marinette a date, but she’d be more than capable of taking advantage of it once he was here.”

“This is the model you used to go to school with, that Marinette liked? He’s back in Paris?” Luka said slowly, as he tuned his guitar and let his fingers wander idly over the strings.

“She says they’re just catching up for a coffee,” Juleka said, her voice as dry as sand.

“Then that’s what she’s doing,” Luka said without looking up. He drifted into the melody that had been distracting him. The stark chords weren’t quite right, but modulated into a descending minor seventh… he tried it again, testing the feel of it.

Juleka eyed him. “You are such a dumbass.”

He could have pretended he didn’t know what she was talking about, but it felt like an argument he didn’t want to have. Instead, he focused on his fingering.

Juleka stayed in her armchair, listening to him for a while, and then said abruptly, “So, Dad’s been calling you again?”

Luka grimaced at her choice of subject change, but kept playing.

“He’s been trying to get me back into the studio. He’s got some new idea, and wants to get me involved.”

“Well, I wish you’d answer your messages, because he’s calling me now,” Juleka said sourly, and Luka sighed.

“I love Jay, I really do, but –“

“I know.”

“I’ll talk to Penny.”

“I don’t think Penny knows about this. I suspect she wouldn’t be too happy about it.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “Does he know that you’re writing again?”

“No, and he’s not going to.”

He kept tinkering with the tune he was hearing in his head. There was another long, pointed silence from his sister until eventually, with a heavy sigh, she levered herself out of the armchair.

“Have fun wallowing,” she told him.

Luka ignored her until she’d disappeared up the stairs, and he frowned at the minor fifth he’d just played. He modulated it into a major, and tried again, but the upbeat key was jarring. It needed… damn.

Juleka was right.

~~~~~

When the sound of Rose’s video call chimed, Juleka was busy screaming into her pillow.

“Jules?” Rose’s voice was muffled by the padding over Juleka’s face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she grumbled, and pulled the pillow down. “My brother’s just an idiot.”

Rose laughed and cast her eyes up. “Well, yes, but you love him anyway. What’s he done now?”

“He’s downstairs writing sad music because Marinette’s having coffee with Adrien Agreste, and I swear, if he tells me one more time he’s happy for her I’m going to –“ she broke off, unable to think of anything dire enough for the moment. The camera swooped at the other end of the call, and when Rose righted it again, her blue eyes were wide with barely suppressed reaction.

“Adrien’s back? Wait… did you say writing music?”

“Yes, and yes,” Juleka confirmed, slumping down in her desk chair. “My life is hell.”

“I… don’t even know where to start,” Rose squeaked, and Juleka heaved a put-upon sigh as her girlfriend vibrated on the spot. It almost looked like the screen was blurring, then the image steadied and Rose scooted closer, until her face filled the screen.

“Tell me everything,” she demanded.