#WE DID IT FOLKS WE MADE IT TO NAME DROP AND RELEASE DATE DROP

[treesap-blogs]

Last of my Trans Rights Readathon reviews!! “The Wicked Bargain” by Gabe Cole Novoa

(Strap in everyone, this is going to be a long one! Not only did I have a lot of thoughts on this, but it was somewhat an excuse for one of my hyperfixs to make a cameo. I don’t think I’ve had a 2K word review since The Dragon’s Promise?!)

Hello, Tumblrians! This wraps up my fifth and final review of my Trans Rights Readathon reads!! This one in particular might’ve been anticipated by y’all, as I’d mentioned both looking forward to it and listening to it on Audible for weeks. This particular review will be covering The Wicked Bargain by Gabe Cole Novoa!

I feel this is the only one with a worthwhile Book Discovery Backstory(or whatever fucking name I’ve used before), to be honest: I haven’t shared on here, despite it being the platform to do so (this is just a bookish account for now and I’ve yet to post art outside of that), but I’ve been an Our Flag Means Death fan for about a year now! I’ve gotten attached to the characters, especially a select few, and consequently, I followed a good chunk of the actors on Instagram. For reference, Jim’s my favorite (although my other top three are Oluwande and Jackie, as a sidenote), so I follow their actor, Vico Ortiz, on Instagram! Turns out they do voiceover work, particularly with audiobook narration(which I found out about in November but only remembered beginning of this year?), and they made a story post in January or so that was day 2 of them recording in the studio the narration for this book. The next day they actually made a video dropping the title of it, and I rushed to go check it out! It’s absolutely delightful, reading a gay pirate book narrated by my favorite from the gay pirate show. (Even if I suck ass with staying focused with audiobooks and as a result also had to have a hard copy on hand lmao. I haven’t listened to one since my seventh grade art teacher played all three audiobooks for The Hunger Games. Sidenote, who decided those were for kids?! They’re terrifying!) Despite that being the main reason I got into the book and knew about it in the first place, somehow I ended up forgetting it was actually real and not just something I’d gaslit myself into believing until a week or two until the release date💀

(No but seriously though I followed Gabe Cole Novoa’s Instagram and regularly commented under his updates, I had grown into a certified actual TWB fan between February and when I actually read it in March😭)

So yeah! The more you know, haha. Sorry about the long rant, and also to my dear friend who may be reading this and who I have ranted about my fictional crushes enough times that he can recognize some of them (including the aforementioned) by just pronoun, based on context alone.

BUT YEAH! So the ultimate question: was this book worth the hype? Not just from me, personally, but for most of Tik Tok and some of the bookish Crew folks who’d caught on to its existence? My final verdict? Yes, yes it was. It was an absolute blast of a book.

Ok, onto my actual review now! This is already plenty long, and we haven’t even talked about the plot.

The Wicked Bargain follows (newly) 16 year-old Mar León De La Rosa, a Latine nonbinary (transmasculine) teen working alongside their father on the ship he’s captaining(and became notorious for), La Catalina. (It’s worth mentioning that this book takes place somewhere in the beginnings of the Golden Age Of Piracy, I think the exact year the story starts is legitimately 1717?) On the night of their sixteenth birthday, however, El Diablo comes to claim their father’s soul because of a deal he made with him when Mar was born, then killing everyone else on La Catalina except for him and Mar. Mar has to find a way to get him back before it’s too late, having to learn to hone their own magical abilities (fire and ice elemental stuff!) if they have any hopes of successfully defeating El Diablo, and finding a new home in the ship, La Ana, that saved them from drowning at sea. (Of course, there’s other notable characters: like my personal favorite, a gender-fluid demonio named Dami with somewhat questionable morals, and the son of La Ana’s captain, Bas, who Mar much to their dismay ends up falling for.)

(Sidenote: premise for this sounds sick as fuck, right?! There’s so much plot going on though that it’s taken me five tries to correctly condense and explain it to my friends. Five! Like..go to the Goodreads page, you’ll see what I mean. I legit needed to take a breather the first time I went ahead and read the blurb back in January ‘cause it’s a mouthful.) (I’ve noticed that the bullet-point explanation/“tagging” format used by a few Bookstagrammers works in their favor this time because they can just use a couple quotes, include “found family”, “magic”, “gay pirates” and “a deal with the devil” and call it a day.)

So as you can tell, plot-wise, this book is packed. There’s some other details and aspects I left out because it would be spoiler-y to include them, which can be overwhelming for a few (especially given on how long it takes for Mar to pick things up and start throwing baddies around, yeah it takes a while for them to actually be comfortable with using their abilities)(this does not work within the time constraints of the deal and every time it would mention weeks going by and the moon phases changing I’d be like “oh no”)! It took a bit of getting used to on my part, but it keeps things moving along and it ties into the swashbuckling part of it all (see: pirates, haha). This does not work in the ending’s favor, however, because it ended very quickly to the point where it felt a little abrupt. 

I really liked the cast of characters! (I think ensemble casts are starting to grow on me a bit.) A lot of them were so much fun, the obvious favorite being Dami. While a few of their schemes got…convoluted (especially in the last act, but that was kinda mandatory for it to work), I absolutely ate up their moral ambiguity and their banter with Mar. This book also had a solid villain, too! (And an interesting pick as well, being that it’s..the literal devil lmao.) El Diablo got a kickass introduction, cementing him as a threat and a force to be reckoned with in the story’s plot, and he remained menacing throughout basically the entire book. I enjoyed that a lot, he’s probably one of the more solid YA villains I’ve read about! (Even if I have a few questions about his identity at the end. We don’t have a spoiler section for this review, so I’m keeping things vague at that?) As for the non-villainous/morally gray characters I liked, Bas, although he got a horrible first impression with Mar, remained a fun character to bounce off of them. (“Them” singular, I mean bouncing off of Mar lol.) Eventually, when the romance between Bas and Mar was introduced into the plot, I actually liked it and thought that there was a gradual shift in Mar’s opinion of him rather than a total 180 just to make it work(maybe it was because the drag from listening to this and it taking me four times as long to read, though, that made me think it wasn’t rushed). (LMK what you guys think in the comments!) 

To wrap up my discussion on the other characters, Tito got mentioned only a few times I think, but he was one of my favorites too. He was just really sweet, I liked how caring he was towards Mar (especially during the point of the book when they were terrified after being discovered by him) and I appreciate fictional dudes like that. I missed him when Mar and Bas were the centerpieces of the second act and not the La Ana crew as a whole, because it meant there wasn’t any more time to be spent with him :(

Anyhow! Now, Mar themselves. They’re in emotional pain for a lot of the book, and have a sizable amount of trauma attributed to their magic(which is just called the Spanish word for it, magía, here). That prevents them from seeking out solutions related to that. I get it. But damn I was SO annoyed at them for just. Making things drag out?! Literally half of the book would’ve never happened had they just realized they had these super powerful abilities at their disposal!! The one time that Dami tried to get them to use their abilities was kinda convoluted (did the rest of the crew seriously have to be involved, too?!)(and by involved I just mean endangered bro), but their reasoning was understandable imo. When they were frustrated at Mar for their hesitance I was too oh my gods. (Seriously though, when Dami was basically about to pull their hair out because of anger and stress, I was too, and started full-on laughing because it was basically my reaction. I felt seen by that! Sigh.) Anyhow. That issue aside, I loved their characterization as a transmasc non-binary protagonist. I related heavily to their feelings of gender dysphoria, and appreciated as a Spanish learner that the La Catalina crew (and some other folks who knew about Mar not being a boy but non-binary) added the “e” ending to their Spanish when referring to them. Also, little bit of a personal note but I thought it was interesting how they presented really masculine and were alright with “boy” being used as a descriptor for themselves sometimes; a lot of non-binary rep is kept strictly androgynous(well, particularly in television because books are more diverse I noticed), and as a non-binary person who also identifies as gender-fluid and uses male/masculine labels occasionally, this was yet another facet of their gender identity I connected with :). 

(Additional thoughts on the nonbinary representation: I appreciated having this be in a story within the historical fiction genre, because although yes, the characters aren’t real, there’s still that acknowledgement that queerness has always been around. It especially helped to have that be told through the Latine lense that Gabe Cole Novoa wrote it in, because in non-European/white cultures, it’s been an integral part of them but got erased by colonialism. Colonization was semi-frequently mentioned in this book, due to Mar’s cultural background, so that was a point of complexity that was brought up along with it. I’m glad that got to be highlighted here, it’s a layer of queer history typically not talked/written about in mainstream narratives because they're mostly white-centered.)

Magic system I’m a little on-the-fence about, to be honest, because we have some idea of how the strain on Mar limits their usage of it and it ties into the plot(I liked the added detail of them having to use their magic every 2 or so weeks because it would build up!), but they also get pretty powerful with little to no training and I wish the book was a bit longer so we could get more time to develop that. And, as the paragraph on Mar’s characterization gave away, we didn’t get a ton of action scenes involving magic! It stilted its development, sadly, and kinda led to the sudden influx of power in the quick ending. (I was expecting Dami to try to train them a little more! I guess that didn’t happen. Maybe it could, in a version of the story where there were a few more pages and the pacing was a little less clunky towards the last act.)

Ok, in conclusion! I loved TWB a lot. (That’s the acronym that Gabe Cole Novoa uses in regards to it, and I picked up on that because it’s fun! It’s like talking about something with a dedicated fandom.) Even though it didn’t get the highest rating of my Trans Rights Readathon books due to the pacing hindering it a little, I think I enjoyed it the most out of all of them (maybe I’m a bit biased though, see the Book Discovery Backstory). Mar, Dami and Bas have stuck with me for weeks after I initially read about them on-page in March, I still have my hold receipt for my library copy(which I had to return, sad face) stored away in a tiny box in my room, and I’ll be reading anything Gabe Cole Novoa publishes from here on out :).

(Also, I tried drawing digitally for my last fanart piece bc I just got a new iPad and it’s easier for me to sketch on this one, for some reason! I hope you’ve enjoyed the addition of my fanart!)

(Edit, August 10, 2023: I removed the second piece of fanart from this post only to include my art of Bas and Mar. My Dami drawing was inaccurate to how they look on the cover art for The Diablo’s Curse, and I felt the need to take it down for that reason.)

Book rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️/5 stars

(Book content/trigger warnings: Drowning, confinement, grief, gender dysphoria, some instances of underage drinking, semi-frequent mentions of colonization, mention of racial slavery.)

~Paz, signing off!

Trans Rights Readathon Reviews: 5/5

[meowful]

LEGEND OF ZELDA TEARS OF THE KINGDOM COMING TO THE NINTENDO SWITCH 12 MAY 2023

[cycat4077]

Proposing Permission

Summary: You and Sonny have been together for a year but your idea of celebrating is slightly different than his. Set during S18 - roughly November 2016. Pairing: Sonny x Reader Warnings: None, except fluff...and maybe suggestive hints here and there ;) Words: 2479 AO3 here

Technically part 13 in the Changes verse, but can act as a stand-alone, too!

“Mom!” you exclaim as soon as you hear her ‘hello?’ on the end of the line. “You'll never guess what just happened! – Wait, how'd you know? – He did? Of course, he did!” you laugh happily, flashing a bright smile up at Sonny who sits beside you on the sofa.

Sonny would give you the abridged version of the events that led up to this moment later, but at the time, things went a little like this:

-x-

“Uh, Carisi? Where are we going? The turn-off for the I-87 South, is that-a-way…” Amanda turns her body towards the traffic junction that passes by. She then whips back around to stare at her partner in the diver’s seat, a disgruntled look on her face.

“I need ta make a detour,” he states, eyes never leaving the highway.

“But we’re on a case!” she protests, growing irritated.

“Yeah, but we did what we came upstate to do. Got some answers, relayed them to Lieu. Technically, we’re off duty right now.” Sonny taps the wheel with his thumbs, trying to avoid his partner's gaze.

But Amanda Rollins is not one to concede so easily. “Tell me where we’re going, Dominick,” she drops her voice to a stern tone, eyes boring into the side of Sonny’s head.

Sonny lets out a nervous breath and says your name. “Remember how her parents live upstate? Well…” he reaches into the breast pocket of his suit jacket, producing a velvet box. Amanda gasps and nabs it from his grasp. She flips the little box open, finding a ring. “I wanna propose,” admits Sonny, “but I wanna ask her folks first.”

Dragging her eyes away from the box, Rollins frowns. “It’s twenty-sixteen, Sonny…you don’t need parental permission anymore.”

“I know, I know,” dismisses Sonny. “But that’s how my pa did it, and, she’s really close with her parents. It seems right to ask ‘em first.”

Amanda smiles in spite of herself. The gesture is very much a ‘Sonny Carisi’ thing to do. So, she cracks a joke instead. “What’re you gonna do? Salute her dad and say: ‘Requesting permission to marry your daughter, sir!’”

“Rawllins,” he groans, trying to act annoyed while keeping his eyes on the road.

“Do what you gotta do, partner,” she winks before turning her attention back to the box. “This ring is gorgeous!”

-x-

The drive was absolutely beautiful. Being October, the further away from concrete Sonny and Amanda drove, the denser the colourful forests became. It was picture perfect and Sonny’s only wish was that you could have been along to see it too.

Pulling up to your childhood home, Sonny leaves Amanda in the passenger’s seat. Afterall, this detour had to be relatively quick to prevent Lieu from breathing down his neck about it.

As Sonny makes his way to the door, his legs are a little wobbly and his pulse is racing. He has met your parents before and they adore him, yet, as he waits for his knock to be answered, his nerves get the better of him. This is a huge step and he hopes that they believe him worthy of it.

Then the door clicks open to reveal your mother. “Sonny!” she exclaims happily, but immediately her face falls. “Is everything okay?” In hindsight, an unannounced, unaccompanied visit does seem a little concerning.

Clueing in, Sonny immediate puts your mother at ease. “Yeah, yeah!” he reassures with a smile. “Work brought me upstate and I, uh, I wanted ta ask y’both somethin’ while I was up here.”

“Of course, of course!” Your mother ushers Sonny into the house before giving him a giant hug. Just as she releases him your father walks into the room, coming over with a large smile and firm handshake.

“Sir,” greets Sonny with a nod.

The three of them then take a seat at the dining room table; your mother unsurprisingly offers Sonny everything in her fridge. Once satisfied that he’s not lying about not being hungry, she continues. “So, son, what’s on your mind?”

The Italian swallows nervously. He looks to his fingers, thrumming them on the table top while his right knee bounces anxiously. Finally, he begins to speak: “Well, as you know, your daughter and I have been together for a while now and, we love each other very much. I love her very much.” A grin begins to break out on your mom’s face, her intuition giving her a good idea of where the conversation is headed. “And I, uh,” continues Sonny, “well, it seemed only right for me ta ask the two of you first. I w-wanna ask her ta marry me.”

Suspicions confirmed, your mother squeals with delight, grabbing onto your father’s arm and giving it a loving squeeze.

“I got a ring already and everything, if ya wanna see it,” Sonny adds quickly as if it will reenforce how committed he is to you. He pulls out the box once more and hands it over to your mom.

“Oh, Sonny,” she sighs looking up to your boyfriend. “She’s going to absolutely love it.”

“So, I, uh, have both your blessings then?” His blue eyes dart nervously back and forth between your parents.

Finally, your dad chimes in. “Of course!” he exclaims happily, his voice choking up ever so slightly. “You’re a good man and I couldn’t imagine my girl with anyone else.”

Sonny’s stomach does a somersault as he is immediately flooded with relief. “Thank ya!” he leaps to his feet. Your parents stand with him, both delivering their future son-in-law a squeezing hug. Parting, Sonny reluctantly explains that he can’t stay and that he must be getting back to the city.

“Alright, hon,” your mother coos. “Let us know what happens. Your secret is safe with us for now, but we’ll be waiting anxiously by the phone for the happy news!”

“Will do,” beams Sonny before he heads back to the squad car. Your parents wave him goodbye until he’s out of sight.

-x-

It’s your anniversary! One complete year of you and Sonny (finally) getting together! But…the universe really didn’t care about that. Nope! Because a faculty meeting was called on the one day where you didn’t have classes to teach. It ran from midday and into the evening and there was no possible way of getting out of it either. You loved your job, you really did, but today was supposed to be for you and Sonny. Nothing fancy, of course, but you had planned a lazy morning, followed up with cooking together and turning it into a romantic evening celebration.

“Uhhggghhh!” you groan, hanging your head and slouching your shoulders.

Sonny places his warm hands on your arms, grinning. “It’s alright, sweetheart.” You can feel those blue eyes shining down on you and, the next thing you know, a finger is gingerly tilting your chin up towards his. “I ain’t mad at all, okay? Shit happens. Jeez, how many times have I hadta cancel a date with you ‘cause I got called in or hadta work late?”

You bunch your mouth at the corner, frustrated. “I know, but it’s our anniversary and I was looking forward to spending all day with you!”

“So was I, but we can still make the most of it.” He kisses you on the nose. “I’ll go ahead ‘n make dinner and then when ya get home we can celebrate.”

“You sure? It was supposed to be a team effort. I can just grab some takeout on the way home –”

“Nonsense,” Sonny grins. “Besides, my cookin’ is way better than any takeout in the city.” His words make you laugh. “There’s that beautiful smile,” he beams, sweeping the hair back from your eyes.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, doll. Now, go on before you’re late ‘n try not ta fall asleep.”

You give Sonny a sweet kiss and make your way to the door. Before exiting, you flash a sultry look over your shoulder at your smiling boyfriend. “I promise I’ll make it up to you later, babe. It’s just a shame you have to wait so long to see what’s underneath this dress.” You slip out the door before you’re able to see the sign of the cross Sonny makes in attempt to absolve himself of his sinful thoughts.

-x-

The journey back home never felt so exhausting. Maybe it was the fact that the meeting seemed to drag on forever, especially when all you could think about was curling up next to Sonny. Your feet ached in your pumps and you cursed your wardrobe choice. Though, you were still new at the college and thus wanted to make a professional impression.

Once you finally reach your floor, a distinct cooking aroma floats down the hallway. Your stomach grumbles, knowing exactly which apartment is the origin and eager to taste what smells so delicious.

Opening your door, you are greeted by your wonderful boyfriend and his smiling eyes. He’s dressed up in a crisp shirt and slacks. “Welcome home, sweetheart and happy anniversary!”

You smile up at him and step into his outstretched arms. His attire seemed a bit formal, but you weren’t complaining. The way button up shirts hugged his arms and torso always made your face flush and heart beat a little faster. Those same arms also fit perfectly around you when he held you close.

As you begin to withdraw from his embrace however, you notice just how much Sonny is perspiring. “Babe, you alright?” Your brow knits with concern. “You’re sweating a bunch…”

Sonny quickly averts his gaze and turns towards the kitchen. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” he gives a dismissive wave. “The oven’s been on all day.”

You know him well enough to tell that something is not quite right and his half-hearted answer gives you reason to follow him and press the issue. But as you round the corner, you’re stopped dead in your tracks by an elaborate display.

Sonny has gone all out. A hearty meal sits steaming on a table set for two, a single rose in a crystal vase resides at the center, and he’s even arranged some of your candles to provide low lighting. The sight of it all leaves you feeling as though your heart will flutter right out of your chest.

"Sonny," you whisper, hand over your heart. "You didn't have to do all this." You then peer up at him with glassy eyes.

"I wanted tonight to be special. Just you ‘n me celebrating a whole magical year of being together.”

Closing the distance, you lean up and place your lips tenderly to his. Sonny bends forward, deepening the kiss. You run a hand tenderly up the front of his shirt feeling the contours of his muscles beneath your fingers. Sonny reaches to cover your hand with his, grasping it carefully and reluctantly pulling it away. Breaking apart, he smiles, "Food's gonna get cold, doll."

The two of you sit down to a quiet, romantic dinner, clinking glasses in a toast to your relationship. But Sonny still has beads of sweat forming along his brow. "Babe, are you sure you're alright?" you point to his forehead. "It's not that hot in here..."

He swallows thickly, looking away. "Yeah...I'm just a little nervous is all." Sonny then focuses on you with big, blue eyes.

Yours narrow in confusion. Nervous? Why would he be nervous? It just us here...

Sonny flashes you shy smile before reaching across the table to take your hand in his. He stares at it in contemplation as he runs his thumb lovingly over your knuckles.

Biting his lip, he shifts those gorgeous eyes back to yours. "We've been through a lot in a year, doll," he begins. "And last summer I never knew how my life would change when you walked through that squad room door. I never knew that I could love someone so completely until I fell in love with you. My whole heart is yours and -"

"Sonny!" you release a sweet laugh. "You don't owe me a speech! I know how much you love me, silly! And I hope you know how much I love you too."

Suddenly, Sonny seems a little terrified. Had he rehearsed this or something?

"Just hear me out, ‘kay?" he implores following a shaky breath.

You smile softly and squeeze his hand signaling for him to continue.

"Believe me, doll, I've never felt more loved by anyone but you. I love waking up with ya in the mornin' and fallin' asleep together at night. My heart skips a beat thinkin' about a future with you. So, I guess that's why I'm sweatin'."

All of a sudden the warmth of Sonny's hand disappears. He shifts to get up from the table, slipping his fingers into his pocket. Then you realize that he's getting down on one knee. Your heart begins to thunder in your chest and a gasp catches in your throat.

Sonny's eyes lock onto yours as he produces a velvet box and opens it. There sits a white gold ring topped by a dainty solitaire diamond. Your eyes immediately rim with tears as you hear Sonny softly speak your name. "Will you marry me?"

A large smile erupts upon your face and you instantly blurt out a "yes!"

Sonny's expression changes to one of pure love. He delicately slips the ring on your finger and quickly rises to capture your lips in a kiss.

You wrap your arms around his neck and he effortlessly scoops you up. "I'm so happy," you speak against his lips, eliciting a tight squeeze from your fiancé.

Fiancé! Sonny Carisi is your fiancé! The man you love with your whole heart. You've always believed that it isn’t the ring on their finger that make two people married – that’s at least how committed you feel towards Sonny – Yet now, you couldn’t be happier to make what you share official.

"I'm so happy too, doll! I love you! I love you! I love you!" Sonny reciprocates in between swift kisses to your cheeks, nose and lips. Then his eyes darken and he bows his head towards your neck, nibbling and suckling at the sensitive skin that resides there.

You sigh, a tingling sensation spreading throughout your body. God, is he good at this! But then, your mind comes back to reality and you gently, albeit reluctantly, push him away. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!” you chant, tapping your hands lightly on his chest.

Sonny pulls back but his eyes still hungrily flicker to where his lips were focused mere moments before.

“I have to go call my mom! She’d kill me if she knew I didn’t tell her right away.” You watch as Sonny smirks. “But then I promise we’ll celebrate properly…after all, you still haven’t seen what’s underneath this dress.”

-x- 

Fluffy enough for ya? Heehee

Tag list?  @barbasbodaciousbeard @teamsladsandgents @adarafaelbarba @caracalwithchips @averyhotchner (let me know if you want to be added/removed)

[blysse-and-blunder]

in lieu of a commonplace book

10:30 pm, sunday, nov 14, 2021

what's up gamers, it's been approx. two thousand years (actually a month) but i am alive, i am consuming media, and i am going to tell you about it under the cut. this is a long one!

reading please believe me when i say i had written out an extremely good and thoughtful take on mxtx's novel tiān guān cì fú (heaven official's blessing), specifically for you, @viciousmerlin, and that because i am somehow still very bad at this, i managed to delete the whole thing. very frustrating! anyway, loved it, took forever to finish it, the last quarter or so draaaagged which i do blame in part on the fact that it was being released serially at that part (and also that the slow burn had...slow burnt up to such a pitch by the cave of 1000 gods that any flashback or sideplot at that point was torturous); i know there was a whole secondary arc with some new characters and shit introduced but i have absolutely no memory of it apart from ruoye's incredibly sad backstory; still, we stan a plot that manages to introduce a rigid and completely impenetrable heavenly hierarchy and then deconstructs it, and there is at least one unwritten essay in me about face covering in this (masks! bandages! facial expressions that are or are not sincere! kisses?) and also probably ascent / descent/ leaping /falling/ flying/ leaps of faith and or love? we love to invert a rigid value system, xie lian actually is as worldly-wise and damaged as you think and it only made him kind but then, also, i did contract serious hua cheng brain rot after the whole 'teach him to roll dice properly' thing and it has yet to let up. the way xl just! starts trusting him with literally no reason and is never proven wrong! is very good to me, personally!

in my earlier draft of this post i listed a bunch of the things i was reading around the margins of trying to finish tgcf, and i will recreate it at a later date, but consider: i am tired.

watching finally gave the anya taylor joy emma a fair trial, having more or less forgiven it for not being the romola garai + johnny lee miller mini series. i will give atj this, she does a better job than i feared from all the promo material (wherein she only had a single facial expression-- in the film she has several!), but the best part of this film was a) the soundtrack b) bill fucking nighy c) miranda? the older i get, the more i feel for miss bates. i fucking loved elton and mrs. elton, they were absurd, i loved it. i knew i liked johnny flynn as a folk singer already, and thought he actually did a passable job as knightley, but they did him a disservice with the hair/sideburns combo, it covered most of his face and left his pouty lips as a weird focal point, which was distracting. there's an unwritten essay in me about the decision to associate certain scenes/classes with italianate / classical music, and others with trad music / raucous folk harmonies, without then having any real time spent around the classes who are implicated in those harmonies, but consider: i am tired.

also started watching succession and this Sure is a Show, but four episodes into s1 and i can usually pull the correct name for the correct roy- male and just want to watch sarah snook work. tom and greg are Way Too Much already but they are, individually and together, the kind of traffic accident you can't look away from. actually, i could apply that to roman too. the recny ball just happened, to give everyone context.

listening i've had the newest album by autoheart on infinite loop almost since it dropped a few weeks ago-- initially it wasn't doing a lot for me, not being punch (2013), but as i have listened more to the album as a whole, stuff has clicked. there are more bleeps and bloops, synths and bass lines, it almost hits an abba-esque place every once in a while, which of course means it slaps, and the lyricism and unexpected melodiousness (?) is all still there. the single i know that he loves me captures this pretty well:

(the religious trauma/gay devotion is certainly a big part of the video but also, if the 'he' in the lyrics is a certain ghost king who is there and gone but unquestioningly devoted, this becomes a hualian anthem and on this hill i will plant my flag) and that led me to consider the album more carefully. other stand-out tracks right now are:

into the woods (slow and easy tempo, shimmering sort of up-beat texture, the lyrics are Good but also Very Real, there's a repetition of 'i feel fine, i feel fine' which is a useful mantra lately)

perestroika (instrumental! incredible! cinematic! makes me feel like i'm standing on top of a mountain in a sunrise!)

time machine (the chorus is a good-sad that i don't necessarily relate to but don't not relate to, I forgive, you forget me, that's just how it has to be)

already gone (melodic! melancholy! i love the focus on little things about someone, the way the music itself builds. either a wangxian anthem or a hualian anthem depending on the hour, ugh the devotion is very much)

playing nothing really-- dnd resumes tomorrow!

making i need to...mend things and also put the garden/yard to bed for the winter and neither of those things is happening. i got halfway into the prep for a cooking project yesterday and just...put it on hold...when will my hands-on-project ability return from war...

working on spent much of the last month stressing about, and the majority of the last week actually drafting, the diss proposal which will ideally govern what i spend the next 2-5 years (please god more on the 2 side) of my life working on. so that's...a thing... i have also got a shitload of grading to still finalize, i did a first pass of my thoughts and then got so demoralized i had to fart around reading ridiculous fanfic for like 36-48 hours to recover. my eyeballs feel a bit scalded now but what can you do, just write in the comments section of an essay 'this is poorly written and it made me sad to read'?

[dontmindmyshadowhunting]

Welcome to Faerieland - Fan Fic (last chapters)

Here we go! Last chapters of Welcome to Faerieland.

Link to full story on AO3 here.

*****

Dru and Ash landed a mile or so away from their destination, in order to avoid drawing attention to the location. As soon as their feet touched the ground, the two rocs turned around and disappeared above the treetops.

“I can walk,” Dru said and Ash offered his arm to steady her while she limped toward the general direction of the cottage. She knew it pretty well, it had sort of become a Blackthorns’ country home.

“So how do you know this place?”

“My eldest brother is dating the King of the Unseelie Court, and that’s where they meet sometimes.”

Ash whistled.

“One of your brothers is King Kieran’s lover? I think I heard about him.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty serious, although they won’t ever be able to be official about it. I guess you know what the rules are about faerie royalty’s consorts?”

“I do,” he averted his gaze and brushed a hand through his hair, in what seemed to be a nervous gesture. Dru realized it was the first time Ash had looked uncomfortable about a subject.

“A lot of rules need to be changed,” he said abruptly. “Don’t you agree?” His green eyes bore into her as he said it, as if he was desperate for her approval.

“Well, King Kieran has already been carrying out a lot of changes since he came to power. It’s just that… sometimes, it takes time. You can’t change the world overnight.”

Ash kicked a pebble. “You could, if you didn’t insist on everything being consensual. Maybe King Kieran cares too much about what people think of him... or, you know, in general.” He shrugged but there was a predatory glint in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before, and it almost made her cringe.

“You know, Ash, if what you are looking for in a sovereign is arbitrary decisions and a bitchy attitude, we have the Seelie Queen for that.”

She had expected Ash to laugh, his free, careless laugh - God, she loved it when he did that - but he seemed lost in thought.

She had to admit she had been a bit harsh. She knew the Seelie and Unseelie Courts were in much better terms now that King Arawn was dead. The Queen had appointed the Unseelie Prince Adaon as her most trusted advisor and the two of them and King Kieran met regularly to reinforce the bonds and cooperation between both realms.

Dru started humming a song and Ash paused, his green eyes widening. “Are you singing… Royals ?”

“Yeah, I love that song. Do you know it?”

“I do,” he answered, suppressing a smile.

As they walked, she sang louder - she knew the lyrics by heart - and he watched her with glittering eyes, clearly entertained.

“And we'll never be royals It don't run in our blood That kind of luxe just ain't for us We crave a different kind of buzz Let me be your ruler You can call me queen bee”

“Maybe I will,” he whispered in her ear as he tickled her, and she elbowed him playfully.

He sang along with her then - he had a beautiful tenor voice - both of them throwing their heads back at the same time to howl at the sky “And baby, I'll rule - I’ll rule, I’ll rule, I’ll rule” , like a pair of wolves. They roared with laughter, Dru holding her ribs and leaning against Ash for support. Watching him from the corner of her eye, she marvelled at the fact that she had found a new friend in such a short time.

At the Academy, people either feared her because she was a Blackthorn or wanted to be friends with her simply for that same reason. Or both. She was almost a celebrity, despite herself. Only because of her last name and her eldest brothers’ hand in ending the Cold Peace in the most spectacular way. And of course, there were always the loud-mouthed bigots and moralists who were baffled by the Blackthorns’ ties with the Fair Folk and their so-called “sexual and moral depravity”. The Rosales, of course, suffered the same criticism, and Jaime had always been a comforting shoulder and reliable friend to Dru in those moments where she felt she had had too much to deal with.

She didn’t want to worry Julian, Emma, Mark or even Helen with her troubles making friends at the Academy.

She couldn’t confide in Ty, because he didn’t care at all what people thought, and was content with sticking to his close friends, Livvy and Anush. His teachers, especially Ragnor Fell and Catarina Loss were absolute fans - even if Fell would never admit it - and everyone at the Scholomance was too impressed by his obvious academic superiority - and maybe, the Carpathian lynx tailing him - to dare bother him anyway.

Ash seemed to be far away from all of this, as if he had been living as a hermit in a remote tower, which was probably close to the truth.

He was the only one outside her siblings, with the exception of Jaime of course, to treat her like an ordinary girl.

And maybe, maybe someday Ash could become more than a friend. He was nice, definitely fun, absolutely gorgeous and he had kissed her after all, even though she knew it could be meaningless where faeries were concerned. She had been waiting for Jaime to figure things out for so long, and Ash had appeared out of nowhere and had shown interest without a moment’s hesitation.

She was interrupted in her thoughts as a broad-shouldered silhouette falling from the sky dropped on the ground before them. Dru released Ash’s arm to clap both her hands on her mouth, relief washing over her. Kit, looking as angelic as ever with his bright blue eyes and tousled blond hair, fluttered his white wings tipped with gold as he advanced gleefully to greet Dru.

The reunion was cut short as he was suddenly thrown back by a figure shooting straight into him like a cannonball and from one moment to the next, Kit disappeared into a ball of black and white feathers, rolling on the grass.

It took Dru a moment to realize that Ash had disappeared from her side and that he was actually the one who had attacked Kit. She ran to separate them but soon they were shooting up, caught in a wrestling match a few feet above ground, moving so swiftly they were a blur.

Dru let out a heavy sigh before she put two fingers between her lips and whistled as loud as she could. The two figures froze - they were still grappling each other - and looked down.

“ASH! KIT! Both of you. Get down here! NOW.”

They both looked at each other.

“ASH! What the hell is wrong with you, this is my brother’s boyfriend !” Dru continued, gesturing frantically toward Kit.

Ash released Kit first, grudgingly, and they both landed softly on the floor. There was a long gash across Ash’s cheek but he was grinning like the Cheshire cat, his eyes glittering in excitement. He winked at Dru as he wiped blood from his mouth. Kit was rearranging his hair, looking pissed, and Dru realized that his knuckles were bloody and that there was a small cut on his eyebrow. Both of them seemed otherwise unharmed.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Batman ?” Kit said, glaring at Ash.

“Sorry,” Ash replied, wiping dirt from his shirt. “I took you for a psychopathic jerk who nearly killed me a few years ago. He literally kicked me and my uncle out of the place we used to live in. You look exactly like him.”

“Well, it can’t have been me since last night was the first time I ever saw you,” Kit replied sharply, wiping his bloody knuckles over his shirt.

“Yeah, don’t worry, I figured that out pretty fast. You fight like a pussy compared to him.”

“Want to say that again?” Kit lifted an eyebrow at him.

“Boys, could you please stop comparing the sizes of your dicks, so we can move on?”

Ash and Kit complied, arguing over which Batman movie was best the entire way, until the cottage came into view, a few feet away. The door opened and Jaime came out of it, running toward them.

“Dru,” he cried out. He caught up to her, and threw his arms around her, burying his face in her hair. She lost herself in his familiar and comforting scent and pressed her cheek against his torso. “Mi corazón,” he whispered softly. "We were worried sick. Cómo estás?”

Jaime brushed his hands through Dru’s hair and planted a kiss on her forehead.

She swiftly pulled back, her eyes darting to where Ash was leaning against a tree, talking to Kit, his arms crossed. He was smiling indulgently at her, as if he didn’t mind.

“I am fine, thanks to Ash,” she said, and pulled Jaime over to where Ash and Kit were standing. “Jaime, this is Ash. Ash, this is Jaime,” she introduced, waving her hand awkwardly between the two of them.

“Thank you for taking care of our precious Dru,” Jaime said, extending his hand. “We owe you one.”

“No hay de qué!” Ash replied, shaking his hand.

“Hablas español?” Jaime asked, looking pleasantly surprised.

“Solo a hombres con un excelente gusto en mujeres.” He gave Jaime a wicked grin and looked pointedly at Dru. Jaime’s face fell.

A high-pitched shriek had them whip their heads up in time to see a majestic roc land on the ground, a few feet away. Ty hopped gracefully from the giant bird and walked immediately to Dru. He was pale - even more so than usual - with deep dark circles under his gray eyes, and Dru marvelled at how gorgeous her brother was anyway, whatever state he was in. She sometimes wished she had inherited the same stunningly sharp features. Without a word, Ty knelt in front of Dru and started inspecting her wound.

“Ash, this is my brother Ty,” Dru announced proudly.

Ash started to extend his hand but Dru shook her head at him. He let it fall by his side.

“Ty, this is Ash.”

Tiberius nodded without lifting his gaze.

“Who tended to the wound?”

“I did,” Ash answered.

Ty finally stood - and Dru realized Ash was almost as tall as Ty, which was saying something, since Ty was very tall - and glanced at Ash for the first time, his gray eyes looking down under his long eyelashes and not lifting up from a spot on Ash’s shoulder. “Thanks,” he said curtly.

Hesitantly, Ty put his arms around Dru in one of the rare hugs he had ever granted her. It was awkward and short, but Dru knew it meant Ty had been truly terrified of losing her.

After they released each other, Ty whirled and started walking toward the cottage. He paused after a few steps and glanced over his shoulder. The four of them had just been standing there, staring at him. “Are you coming?”

They all hurried after Ty, Dru having one arm around Ash’s, and the other around Jaime’s.

“So, tell me. Are all your brothers this handsome?” Ash asked her, as he looked Ty up and down appreciatively.

“EXCUSE ME? “ Kit interjected. His whole face had gone bright red in an instant and he started cracking his bloody knuckles. He looked poised for a second round.

“What? Did I say something wrong?” Ash did not seem in the least bit concerned by Kit’s reaction.

“It’s my boyfriend you are talking about.”

“And I just said I found him attractive. Is that in any way offensive?”

Dru laughed. “No,” she said. “I am sure you were simply stating your opinion and not trying to steal Kit’s boyfriend.”

“I am not trying to steal anyone’s lover,” Ash concurred, gazing wistfully at Dru. ”I just admire beauty when I see it”.

“But he would definitely be up for sex if Ty wanted to,” Jaime muttered sarcastically under his breath.

Ash shot him a puzzled look. “Of course, I would. Why not? Kit would be welcome as well, the more the merrier.”

Kit opened his mouth but seemed too much in a shock for a witty comeback. That was a first.

Oddly enough, Dru realized she didn’t feel jealous or baffled by Ash’s statement. He was like an untamed bird breaking out of a cage, unwilling to bend to any rules of propriety. She guessed part of it was due to his fey heritage.

“Mark is the Unseelie King’s lover, the Seelie Queen keeps trying to get into Julian’s pants and now you two,” Jaime said eventually, looking over at Ty and Dru. “What is it with the Blackthorns and the Fair Folk anyway?”

“Probably the exact same thing there is with Blackthorns and any other species,�� Ash said evenly.

Everyone turned a questioning look at him.

“They are hot,” he said simply, and shrugged.

Everyone laughed at that.

*****

They were all starving so they decided to have breakfast in the cottage before heading back home.

Kit, wearing an apron that had "Doughnut sandwiches are a proper meal” printed on it (and that probably belonged to Mark Blackthorn), was in the kitchen, scrambling a huge portion of eggs in a large pan with a wooden spoon. He somehow managed to make it look totally hot.

“Eggs?” Ty asked Kit as he came to stand next to him and put a hand on the small of Kit’s back.

“Yeah, I would have cooked pancakes, but we are missing a few ingredients to do that. So it will be eggs. Eggs and fruits. God knows there are plenty of fruits here.”

“You know how to cook pancakes?” Ty asked, his gray eyes widening in surprise.

Kit shot him a shy glance.

“Yeah, I… I asked Julian for his recipe. You know, in case one day I needed to cook for you…r family.”

Kit and Ty both exchanged a look that was so intimate, Jaime had to glance away. He found Ash leaning casually against the fridge, his arms crossed, and gazing at him with a smirk on his face. He looked like he owned the place and hadn’t just popped uninvited into the home of strangers. When Jaime raised a questioning eyebrow at him, Ash unfolded his arms to draw the shape of a heart in the air in front of him. Jaime rolled his eyes. He definitely didn’t like this guy.

They set the table, while Dru was in the bedroom looking for clothes.

Kit and Ty sat next to each other, their fingers intertwined under the table and their backs to the kitchen counter, which left Ash to sit across from Ty and Jaime to sit across from Kit. They had left a spot at the head of the table for Drusilla, who would have Ash on her left and Ty on her right when she came back.

Ty only had fruits on his plate, and he was eyeing Kit gulping his eggs down, as if he was reconsidering having some himself.

“Want to try?” Ash brought his fork to Ty, who flinched as if he had been stabbed.

Kit grabbed Ash’s wrist and pushed the fork away from Ty.

“Ty can use my fork if he wants to try it. He is my boyfriend, after all.”

Ash shrugged. “Yeah, no worries, I think I got that. You can tattoo it on your forehead, it will spare you from having to repeat it to every living soul you encounter on Earth.”

Ash glanced at Jaime, and said in a lower voice, directed only at him. “And it will keep other people from pining for someone they can’t have.”

“Excuse me?” Jaime turned to whisper in Ash’s ear. “What does it have to do with Dru and me?”

“I was not talking about Dru,” Ash whispered back.

They both jerked their heads up, as Dru swooped in from the bedroom then, wearing a beautiful red dress that Jaime remembered having seen on Cristina. It was much tighter on Dru, clinging to her curves and emphasizing her cleavage. Jaime swallowed. He couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on in his head.

Ash immediately stood to draw Dru’s chair and she nodded by way of thanking him. She sat on it as if it was a throne, her chin up.

Jaime glanced over at Ash, who seemed so free about his sexuality, and felt a pang of envy.

“So, what’s your deal, Ash?” Jaime blurted. Ash raised a questioning eyebrow at him. “Are you…” Jaime cleared his throat. “Bixesual?”

A slow grin spread across Ash’s face. “We’ve just met and you’re already trying to fill your fact sheet about me and tick one of your little boxes?”

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” Jaime said, feeling uncomfortable.

“I know you didn’t. Don’t get me wrong, I am not offended by your question,” Ash continued in a gentler voice. “It’s just that… not everyone can fit into little boxes.” He swiftly glanced at Ty when he said it. It was a flicker movement, but lynx-eyed Ty caught it immediately.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Tiberius said. “I am definitely gay.” He slipped half a banana inside his mouth then, totally oblivious of the gesture. Kit and Ash weren’t though. Kit made a noise between a snort and a chuckle and spilled the water he was drinking through his nose and all over his shirt, while Ash almost fell off his chair roaring with laughter. Dru looked at the boys with motherly affection.

Jaime stood and hurried to the kitchen to get a towel to clean the mess. When he turned, Kit was already there, leaning against the kitchen counter, extending his hand and looking at Jaime with a genuine smile that lit up his gorgeous face.

“Thanks, Jaime,” he said, as he grabbed the towel and started padding his shirt with it. The planes of his muscles stood out and could be seen right through the wet fabric.

“No problem,” Jaime mumbled, feeling his heartbeat increasing inside his chest.

He averted his gaze, past Kit, to the table, where Ty and Dru had their heads bent together, caught in a deep conversation.

Ash was peering around Ty, watching Jaime with amusement. When he caught Jaime gazing back, he stuck his tongue inside his cheek, and started moving his fist back and forth in front of his mouth, miming a blowjob.

Jaime resisted the urge to flip him the finger.

****

When breakfast was over, Dru lay sprawled on a sofa, her leg propped on Jaime’s lap, and Ash was examining the sound system, so he could put music on.

Kit and Ty had disappeared. God only knew where.

“So, what was that demon attack in the middle of Faerie about?” Jaime asked.

“Ty has a theory. And you won’t like it,” Dru replied. “He believes the Unseelie prince who held us hostage has made an alliance with a Greater Demon… probably a Prince of Hell.”

Jaime tensed. If Ty believed this, it was very bad news indeed. “So why send an army of demons to attack an ally?”

Dru twirled a lock of her dark brown hair as she replied. “Two options. Either the Prince of Hell discovered that his ally had been exposed and wanted to silence him. Or… or we will soon be caught in the middle of an internal war between the Princes of Hell.”

“You mean… there might be more than one involved?”

“To quote Ty, evidence makes it more likely than not,” Dru replied, imitating her brother’s voice. Jaime felt dread wash over him.

He gently put Dru’s leg on an armrest and excused himself.

Sometimes, he felt so anxious it was all he could do not to curl up in a corner and wait for his chest pain and dizziness to fade. The mission he had carried out a few years back, where he had to stay hidden all the time, never staying in one place, had made him jumpy, poised for any threat. He didn’t want Dru to see that side of him. For her, he could only be the calm and reliable friend she was used to.

He decided to scout the rest of the cottage for an empty room. There was a corridor - leading to a bathroom? more bedrooms maybe? - on the left side of the main suite’s door.

He went through and just as he turned around a corner... stopped short.

Halfway down the corridor, Ty was leaning with his back against the wall and Kit had his hands propped on either side of him, trapping Ty in a cage of his arms… and they were kissing.

Jaime had never seen two men kissing before and he was surprised to see how tender and sweet it looked. Ty was running his long pale fingers in Kit’s blond hair while the other hand rested on the small of Kit’s back, half of it concealed under Kit’s waistband.

Kit was naked from the waist up and Jaime could see all the tanned muscles in his back contract as he deepened the kiss, eliciting soft moans from the Blackthorn boy.

They were beautiful together, two opposites inevitably drawn to each other, their bodies fitting perfectly like yin and yang.

Jaime felt his whole body react, with a familiar flutter around his stomach and heat rushing up his cheeks. He knew he should not be watching, but he couldn’t get himself to tear his gaze away.

Kit broke the kiss to trace the dark Marks swirling up Ty’s neck with the tip of his tongue. Ty’s gray eyes fluttered open and he caught sight of Jaime. His intense gaze didn’t waver. He didn’t even seem surprised or angry. He simply raised an eyebrow at Jaime as if to say Can I help you with something ?

Jaime hastily retreated to the living room.

He found Ash’s lean figure perched on the wide low table at the center of the room, dancing to the blasting sound of Beyoncé’s Single Ladies and singing along. “If you like it, you should have put a ring on it,” actually sounded very good in his velvety voice. He was twisting, hands on his hips, and throwing his legs up like a professional, while making dramatic faces at Dru, who was sprawled on the sofa, howling with laughter. As he brushed his lips with his finger, licking it and started caressing his torso while throwing his head back, shaking his beautiful silvery hair, he managed to make it look erotic and not ridiculous at all. Jaime had to admit… His moves were perfect, fluid, coordinated and he totally… pulled it off. Annoying jerk.

“Having fun without me?” Kit burst into the room - he was, fortunately, wearing a shirt this time - and immediately hopped on the table to join Ash and one could not imagine they had been wrestling less than an hour before.

When Dru caught Jaime watching them, she patted the spot on the sofa next to her and he moved to drop beside her, throwing his arm around her shoulders.

The music had changed to Rihanna’s S&M and Ash and Kit were dancing together as if they had rehearsed for hours, their dance steps coordinated and smooth. They looked like two lifelong best buddies who could guess each other’s moves. They were pulsing with energy, although obviously neither of them had slept the previous night. Ash made a show of licking Kit’s cheek, and Kit pushed him away, grimacing. When Ash arched his back to rub his buttocks against Kit’s crotch and Kit spanked him, Dru wiped tears from her eyes. Jaime imagined what it would be like to go to a nightclub with the both of them. They would most likely steal the show.

As if on cue, the next song was… Stole the show, by Kygo. As they danced close together in perfect synchrony, Jaime noticed for the first time the similarities between Ash and Kit. Though Ash was all pale, white blond hair and alabaster skin, and Kit was all golden hair and tanned muscles, there was something about their facial features, the planes of their cheeks, the lines of their jaws… They did not look like brothers, but they could easily pass for cousins.

Jaime grabbed a Hot Shadowhunters calendar that had been left on the side table and started flipping through the pages. Looking at the January page featuring Jace Herondale, he wondered why everyone said Kit was like a mini Jace when Jaime could clearly see there was a difference, now that Kit had grown into more adult features. At least to Jaime, Kit’s fey heritage was plain.

When the music changed to Charlie Puth’s Marvin Gaye, Jaime turned his head to find Ty leaning against the kitchen counter and watching the two dancers with a bemused expression, his arms crossed over his chest.

He eventually caught Kit’s eye, lifted a questioning eyebrow, and jerked his head toward the bedroom door. Kit stumbled from the table in his hurry to join Ty and followed him out of the living room and through the main bedroom door, which shut behind them.

*****

Kit jumped on the huge threesome bed as soon as they were inside the bedroom. He felt exhilarated, full of adrenaline and restless energy, and he wanted Ty so much that he was certain he would spontaneously combust if they didn’t share their bodies within the next minute.

He shot Ty a smoldering look as he lounged on the thick mattress, twisting his shoulders seductively while singing along to Charlie Puth’s Marvin Gaye, which was blasting through the thin walls.

“We got this king-size to ourselves Don't have to share with no one else Don't keep your secrets to yourself It's Kama Sutra show and tell, yeah”

Ty had folded his arms against his chest and was shaking his head, as if he didn’t know what to make of this misbehaving boy.

“Kit, you interrupted me earlier when I was trying to have a serious conversation. Will you please let me finish this time?”

"I'm in trouble." Kit continued, clapping a hand over his mouth in a dramatic oops gesture. "But I'd love to be in trouble with you."

Ty rolled his eyes. He didn’t seem ready to play along with Kit, so Kit finally stood and grabbed Ty's upper arms, forcing him to back up until he had him pinned against the wall. He started wiggling his hips, rubbing against Ty, his body swaying to the music.

“You've got to give it up to me I'm screaming, "Mercy, mercy, please!" Just like they say it in the song Until the dawn, let's Marvin Gaye and get it on.”

Kit slipped a hand under Ty’s waistband, straight into his boxer shorts, and whispered “Hello there” as he brushed his lips against Ty’s ear.

“Kit…” Ty said sharply, as a warning, though Kit could hear his breathing was uneven.

“Ty,” Kit replied with all the seriousness he could muster. “When I saw you riding that Shinigami demon carrying a crossbow, I was so turned on it was all I could do not to jump your bones there and then.”

Ty laughed softly. “It appears you have a kink involving me wielding dangerous weapons. Maybe I should bring a claymore to bed next time and threaten you with it.”

“Honey, you know that, as far as I am concerned, you carry the deadliest weapon around with you at all times,” Kit started stroking Ty’s length as if to illustrate his point. It hardened under his touch. Good, we’re heading somewhere. "I was talking about your brain of course," Kit added.

“Kit, listen to me.” Ty grabbed Kit’s wrist and pulled it out of his pants. Kit groaned. “Haven’t you noticed anything strange about Ash?”

That caught Kit’s attention. He had not expected Ash to be the subject of their conversation. He had actually hoped to avoid any kind of conversation altogether. For a little while at least.

“Well, I noticed he is an amazing fighter and dancer. I am totally up for challenging him again, either in a training room or on a dancefloor.” There was something about Ash and him fighting and dancing together, a raw yet steady energy, not like the restlessness and all consuming love he felt around Ty, but something grounding him, making him even more focused. As if he had found a kindred warrior spirit.

“He probably has no effect on you, but… I think spells have been worked on him to render him… likeable. People are inevitably drawn to him, want to protect and follow him.”

Kit swallowed, suddenly deadly serious. “Does this… work on you?”

“No. And I have several theories about that. First… Well, I am a bit different. My brain doesn’t work the same way others’ do. Second, the Blackthorns have a bit of Greater Demon blood, even if it is quite diluted. I do believe Dru genuinely likes him.”

“You mean from your ancestor Lucie Herondale?”

Ty nodded. “And the third and most important explanation is… you. You have my full loyalty.” He rested his forehead against Kit’s. “There is no way in hell I am following him, when I could follow you. ”

Kit brushed his lips over Ty’s.

“What about Jaime? He seems to dislike Ash.”

“I am still trying to figure this out. But it may be one of the reasons I am immune to it, myself.”

“What? You think the Rosales have Greater Demon blood as well?”

“Maybe. But that’s not what I was referring to.”

They were both interrupted when they heard voices raising in the living room. Jaime’s voice was the loudest. And he sounded totally pissed.

Ty hurried toward the door, and Kit followed.

****

As soon as Kit and Ty had disappeared behind the bedroom door, Ash jumped over Dru and Jaime’s heads to land behind the sofa and stole the Hot Shadowhunters calendar from Jaime’s hands. “Hey!” Jaime cried out.

Ash circled back and dropped himself next to Dru, which left her crammed between him and Jaime. As he flipped to the first page, the January page, Ash froze. He was gaping at the picture of Jace Herondale, as if he could not quite believe his eyes.

Falling for Jace Herondale, already? What a surprise.

But oddly, Ash didn’t smile or make a sarcastic comment, as Jaime would have expected. He had a sorrowful expression and a faraway look.

“This is Jace Herondale,” Dru said softly. “Surely, even you have heard of him ?”

Ash swallowed. “Yeah,” he said absently. “Yeah, I have. He looks… happy.”

“Well, of course, he is happy. He has it all, hasn’t he?” Jaime said. “War hero. Married to the love of his life. The Consul as faithful parabatai.” Ash flinched, as if each word was a needle to his skin.

“Ash, is everything okay?”

Ash shook his head as if to clear it.

“Yeah, yeah, I was just thinking about… the butterfly effect. How a single human being’s existence… or absence, can change the course of things… can change the whole world.”

Where the hell did that come from? Jaime wondered.

Ash lifted his gaze to stare at the door where Kit and Ty had disappeared. “Take Kit for instance. Who knew it would only take a hot boyfriend to turn a ruthless, bloodthirsty ruler into a harmless kitten.”

“Er- Ash, I am not sure I am following you,” Dru said gently. “What do you mean?”

Ash let out a heavy sigh and slumped back, crossing his long arms behind his head, the Hot Shadowhunters calendar left at the January page on his lap.

“Nothing, I am rambling.” It looked like he was lost in his thoughts again.

Jaime seized the opportunity to whisper in Dru’s ear. “Dru, can we find some place private to… talk?”

Dru gazed at him with a puzzled look on her face. “Sure. What do you want to talk about?”

Jaime didn’t get a chance to answer as the entrance door rattled at that moment and they both whipped their heads in the direction of the noise.

The door opened and Mark Blackthorn, all tousled blond hair, pointy ears and flushed cheeks, erupted inside the cottage, wearing ragged jeans and a white shirt with a message that stated, “All good things come in threes”. He paused, as if he didn’t really expect to see so many people in his living room.

Jaime immediately withdrew his arm from Dru’s shoulders and stood, but soon registered that Mark was not looking at him… He was staring at Ash who had, from one moment to the next, leapt on the table in front of them and was crouched on top of it, ready to pounce, a dangerous glint in his ice green eyes. He had moved to protect Dru from a potential threat, Jaime realized. And there was no trace of the Ash that had been goofing around with Kit a moment before. The feeling that he had been played like a fool until then hit Jaime like a freight train. They had all fallen for Ash’s laid-back, good guy act. In one instant, Ash had revealed his true, predatory nature…

“Mark!” Dru waved from the sofa, unfazed. “You already know Jaime of course and this is Ash,” she introduced. “Ash… this is my brother Mark.”

Ash relaxed from his stance and leapt off the table, flashing a bright smile and wearing his cool guy mask back on. As if he hadn’t been ready to rip Mark’s throat a second before. The abrupt change in Ash's behaviour almost gave Jaime a whiplash.

“Have we… met before?” Mark asked, looking at Ash with his brows furrowed as he closed the door.

“In any event, I wish to be properly introduced,” Ash said, evading the question. “I am Dru’s boyfriend.”

“Excuse me?” Dru interjected at the same time Jaime exclaimed “WHAT?”

Ash shrugged. “I thought our make out session had settled it.”

Jaime felt heat rush up his face. He whirled on Dru. “We’ve known each other for three years and you’ve known this guy for what? Less than twelve hours? And you’ve already kissed him?”

“To be fair, I am the one who kissed her ,” Ash said in a calm voice. “She didn’t tell me to stop, though.” He paused, his long fingers stroking his delicate chin as he pondered. “Then again, how could she have, what with my tongue being down her throat and all?”

“Ash, don’t intervene,” Dru said, her already white complexion growing paler by the second. “This is not between us.”

“Really?” Ash answered in a fake shocked expression. “I could have sworn it was my tongue down your throat.”

“What’s going on here?” Ty asked as he came out of the bedroom, followed by Kit.

“GREAT!” Jaime said. “That’s just my luck! We’re just missing Julian and…”

“And?” Julian asked, his tall broad-shouldered figure appearing in the entrance. He froze in the doorway, hand on the doorknob, his face a mask of shock as his blue-green eyes swept across the room.

“... And all my worst nightmares are reunited in the same room. OK, let’s be done with it.”

Jaime took a deep breath and caught each of the Blackthorn brothers’ gaze, one after the other.

“I. FANCY. DRU. OKAY? I like her. I know she’s sixteen, but we are good together and I want her to be my girlfriend.”

*Cough* “ Too late.” *Cough* That was Ash. Dru turned to glare at him.

“Well, that’s not even relevant anymore, is it? Since apparently… She prefers Legolas, here.” Jaime continued, waving his hand toward Ash.

“Why does everyone keep saying that? I don’t even look like him.”

“Lego-who?” Ty asked, puzzled.

“He’s talking about Ash. Don’t worry honey, I’ll explain,” Kit said, speaking for the first time.

“And what the hell are you doing here?” Julian asked, turning toward Kit, a flicker of panic crossing his features.

“He just came out of the bedroom with Ty,” Mark said.

Kit lifted both his hands in surrender. “I wasn’t having sex with him,” he blurted. “I mean… not this time.” His face went red. “I mean- I am out of here. If anyone’s looking for me, I’m in the bedroom.” He whirled and paused in front of the bedroom door, his hand on the knob. “Not having sex with anyone...” he specified before he disappeared behind it.

Julian heaved a sigh and turned his gaze back to Ash.

Ash gulped. He looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights, his green eyes wide.

“This is not the end of it. But first things first. Can anyone tell me what the hell Ash Morgenstern is doing here?”

They had barely registered the question, when a sharp cry from behind Julian had them all jump. A slender figure peered around him, red hair like flames flowing over a green velvet dress embroidered with gold. Jaime had seen enough drawings and pictures of her to recognize her instantly. The Seelie Queen.

She pushed Julian aside and ran to Ash, throwing her thin pale arms around him and burying her face in his chest, the golden circlet around her head tipping to the side as she did. “Where were you last night? I came to the house, and it was empty . I have been looking for you everywhere since!”

Dru was staring at Ash open-mouthed. He shot her an apologetic look.

“Mom, let me introduce you to Dru. Dru…” Ash cleared his throat. “Meet my mom.”

*****

Tagging @gabtapia ❤️ Hope you'll enjoy it and, of course, don't hesitate to correct my spanish ;)

[ingek73]

Juneteenth

STORY by Team at Archewell

Jun. 16, 2021

YOUNG POETS OF GET LIT SHARE POWERFUL WORDS TO COMMEMORATE THE DAY

In honor of Juneteenth, we, at Archewell, connected with our friends at Get Lit and asked them to share poetry to honor this important day. We hope their poignant words allow you to reflect on the significance of this newly declared federal holiday in the United States and its impact across this country and around the world.

AND HOLD, AND HOLD

CORTUNAY MINOR AND TAMIA JACKSON

WHY THEY WROTE THIS POEM:

“When I wrote this poem, just a few weeks before June 15th, Juneteenth wasn’t yet a federal or national holiday. It wasn’t something I’d given much thought to, but when I had recognized that fact, it wasn’t information, it was confirmation. At first, I was upset about it. My immediate thoughts were along the lines of, ‘Where are our fireworks? Where’s our three-day weekend?’ But in reflection, I realized that this was demonstrating continued deference to a supposedly superior entity. Juneteenth isn’t the ‘Black Independence Day,’ it’s the only Independence Day. To have that nationally recognized feels amazing. But whether or not the date is printed in every calendar does not validate this holiday. We do.”

WHY SHE ANIMATED THIS PIECE:

“This poem, especially for Juneteenth, really inspired me. The color palette expresses the somber yet hopeful emotions that happen when black freedom is discussed, and what it means to be a Black individual in America. This poem as well as the visuals really emphasizes the impact that Black people have by simply existing, and the importance of our breath. We know that as long as we’re still breathing there can and will be change, and ultimately full freedom.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Cortunay Minor (she/they) is a performing artist who specializes in Stage Acting and Spoken Word Poetry. They are currently pursuing a bachelor’s degree in Theater from the UCLA School of Theater, Film, and Television. The theme and goal that Minor tries to hold in the heart of their artistry is liberation, be that emotional, intellectual, or otherwise. Expression and education are two of the most fruitful paths Minor has found that achieve that liberation, and she is immensely grateful to be able to participate in a craft that allows their simultaneous occurrence.

ABOUT THE ANIMATOR:

Tamia Jackson (animator) is a rising senior at the Rhode Island School of Design, receiving her BFA in Film/Animation/Video with a minor in Literary Arts and Studies. She has always been passionate in art, animation, and storytelling. She loves bringing stories of lesser voices, such as BIPOC, low income, female, etc., into a visual and cared-for light. Though not all of her stories or animations revolve around such identities, it is important that she shows diversity so that many people can relate and find comfort in the characters or art piece. Not only does Jackson enjoy spreading her own voice, but she also loves bringing others’ stories to life.

AND HOLD, AND HOLD

‘Holiday’ meaning ‘Holy Day’ meaning:

every second is sacred/every hour hibernates

within the spirit, huddled beneath the bosom.

To breathe is to commemorate:

inhale – exhale – cradle the thought – hold – and repeat.

When daybreak demotes breath to subconscious action,

the diaphragm still submits in reverence, still remembers that

This is Divine. This

is where jubilation begins:

in the suspension of

breathe in – breathe out – take maybe – and

forever hold the moment,

where the deferred dream stopped shriveling,

wavered in anticipation, remembered that expansion

can be soft,

recognized that it didn’t want soft

expansion.

Bodies were policied out of possession, but

the Black individual liberated their own being,

hollered themself out of state-sanctioned silence.

Words ignite, but presence sustains; this intake/expel maintains us

here

the dream explodes. The spirit absorbs the remnants and outpours,

‘holiday’ meaning ‘Holy Day’ meaning:

I hold this day as sovereign. Meaning:

I hope this day knows its home is in these lungs,

is in this breath, is in the repetition of:

inspire – expire – immortalize the memory – and hold – and hold – and release

POPLAR TREES

CYRUS ROBERTS

WHY HE WROTE AND DIRECTED THIS POEM:

“It’s easy to say “slavery was an atrocity and we need to do better” but it’s much more difficult to say “slave masters ripped babies from their mothers and used them as crocodile bait for sport.” In the average American lexicon, phrases like ‘Never Forget’ are commonplace but are rarely attributed to periods of fundamental, ongoing violence of a racial nature for the simple fact that our pain makes the people who benefitted from that pain uncomfortable. For me Juneteenth is a day of mourning; the Confederate holidays still celebrated today seem like a gruesome counterbalance. So this is my eulogy to both the country and my own being that could have been.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Cyrus Roberts (he/him) writes, acts, and directs across poetry, theater, and film. While his work has been commissioned by organizations like Toms Shoes, Adidas, and March For Our Lives, he also enjoys working on cool independent projects, whether he’s self-publishing poetry compilations, creating movies with friends, or acting in his own plays. Roberts is currently a senior in UC Santa Barbara’s BFA Acting program. Look for him in the upcoming film Summertime, directed by Carlos Lopez Estrada. His assistant director on the project was Mattie Kranz.

POPLAR TREES

Before you there was me. But before me there was (Nina Simone audio: “black bodies swinging”). And that was the gentler time period. Everything base within you, reflected in your actions. Please don’t censor me when I mention how you wrangled our teeth from our mouths and used them to seduce your own illnesses into submission. Or how you took an interest in the skin that had a monopoly on sunlight and then took what you wanted underneath the moon. Or how you used our babies as crocodile bait and our skin as shoe leather. Look right into the eyes of our demise and try to say those times are past, that I’m being rash, that I’m being bad and so full of woe and I should be glad I’m writing this on my MacBook Pro. Yeah? Who am I to complain about slavery? Because it ended, right? On June 19, 1865, Union Army general Gordon Granger made his way to Texas and proclaimed slavery’s supposed fall and us colored folk supposed to have a ball? I mean it was two and a half years after Lincoln already announced it, but we needed a white man to tell other white men what another white man already said. I mean that is until that white man found himself dead and Reconstruction found itself at a head and chain gangs, sharecropping, Jim Crow, private prison options, perc popping, bodies dropping, cops still stopping, guns cocking to ensure that (Nina Simone audio: “black bodies swinging”). Every 19th of June we celebrate the end of chattel slavery and every 20th we’re back to fighting its descendants. Private prisons / a cop’s knee is a modern lynching / it ain’t my decision to get busy dyin’ or busy living / I paid attention, to all the digitized depictions / all the people packing up pensions while we’re backed up by the system. Put your back into the system, this is wack how mother’s missing their babies kisses and I’m supposed to be celebrating? I’m sorry. Will you forgive me, I’m jaded. My grandmother looks at me and says confidently that I made it. That she can’t possibly imagine the life that I’m living, I owe a debt to her generation, and I hope that I pay it. I just get so angry, hazy laughter at the thought of thoughts and prayers ending enslavement. So after you hear me, I’ll forgive you if you’re jaded. But you still need to know the history to have an appreciation. It’s no mystery why it’s a mystery present in our education, presently the gatekeepers keep us from it and it’s heinous. On Juneteenth, Americans across the nation eat red foods in honor of the blood spilled before and during emancipation, we celebrate the secondary, pushed-to-the-side independence day, but you don’t have to know our proclamations of jubilation for us to be heard. We will be heard in our voices screaming thanks that we are not treated as herd. We dance and we sing hymns of freedom. Freedom: absence of subjection to foreign domination or despotic government. Are my brothers and sisters in jail cells free? When there’s a glaring loophole in the 13th amendment smiling from cheek to cheek I’d imagine there’d be some incentive to ensure our purity is never free. And how can I be free when I can’t sleep because my dreams keep whispering I can’t breathe. Regardless of that fact, progress is still being made. But I fear progress is just an exchange of chains for other chains. Same way they changed our names for other names, I rest a bouquet on the graves of enslaved, singing regardless this day. In the hopes that I never again have to see (Nina Simone audio: “black bodies swinging”).

UNTITLED

SIERRA LEONE ANDERSON

WHY SHE WROTE THIS POEM:

“When writing this poem, I really made an effort to think back to my ancestors. What was their impact? Who did they inspire? How did they carve the path for the road I now choose to take? This poem is about legacy. I am calling back to the ancestors before me to give me the strength and courage to be the ancestor I want to be to future generations.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Sierra Leone Anderson (poet) is a youth activist and professional spoken word artist from Los Angeles. Rooted in liberatory joy and armed with ancestral truth, Sierra Leone aims to bring light to the power of language, empowering Los Angeles youth of color to recognize the quantifiable influence of their voice. She has placed both second and first in Get Lit’s annual middle and high school Classic Slam respectively, co-wrote an article for the political column of USA Today, and has shared space with several influential changemakers including Dr. Melina Abdullah (co-founder of BLM-LA) and Cecily Myart-Cruz (president of UTLA). Her other organizing work includes collaborating with Students Deserve LA to make Black Lives Matter in and beyond schools. She is currently a ninth grade student at Girls Academic Leadership Academy and an avid lover of trashy teenage dramedies.

Her director and editor is Lukas Lane, an award-winning filmmaker and founding member of Literary Riot (started in his junior year of high school), and he is currently attending UC Berkeley.

UNTITLED

Every generation, the world gives birth to a new fleet of freedom fighters.

I am one of them.

I stand on the shoulders of tired women.

I dance in the footsteps of Pan-African poets, liberation fighters, and Black writers

who grew fires from a pit hungrier than a stomach. They call my name and I call theirs.

Malcolm X. Phyllis Wheatley. Maya Angelou. Sojourner Truth. Audre Lorde. Ida B. Wells.

Your resilience rivers through me. You are my founding fathers. The blueprint to a world we need to be brave enough to see, to seek.

Let us imagine a world in which we know each other’s palms

and never the fist. Not unless needed. Not unless united together.

Let us be the drum and not the war.

Let us know each other’s names and not the languages we cry in.

Let us be, let all us be more than a slave’s wildest dream

Let us beam past blueprints and what-ifs and start becoming the now we want to see, the now we want to be

Trees growing so far past the Earth, Allah would mistake our bodies for angels.

When I die, I want to ripple through lifetimes. I want my name to graffiti the mouths of the next 10 generations.

I don’t want to be forgotten. Or remembered for the way my feet wouldn’t stop running.

I wanna grow roots in this soil, in this American skin. Join the forest of my ancestors. Let my grandkids climb up my branches and tell stories of school.

And before the first pulse of morning, I want them to drip from their homes and gather at my roots.

I want to tell them my name before I forget it.

I want to tell them that morning is coming. And will always come. And will never wait for when you are ready.

I want to tell them that there is a point far beyond this tree, this forest, this temporary point in time, their bodies, their fears, their fathers, their memories. Where the sun is eternal and smiling. Where freedom rings and is never silent, never out of reach. It is called horizon. And it is right there.

[tiny-smallest]

day one - pride

Rating: G Characters: Henry and Bendy Warnings: none Description: Henry reflects on the definition of labels and belonging in certain spaces.

Also on AO3!

---

WHO'S READY FOR THE INK DEMONTH 2021 I SURE ONCE AGAIN TOTALLY WAS YEP DEFINITELY NO LAST MINUTE ANYTHING HERE LET'S GO

Doing writing prompts again because this year has been A Lifetime and I just don't possess the ability to draw this time so let's go let's get stupid get weird enjoy the misadventures of a specific au of of Bendy and the Ink Machine where the toons are their own people in a world they still don't entirely understand and the people who love them who try to help them navigate it.

---

Henry was used to a surprising amount of things to interrupt his day first thing in the morning. Easily numbered in the hundreds. His children were toons; there was no end to the amount of crazy nonsense that they could get into when he was asleep, and that was disregarding the fact that Bendy usually slept until noon.

Sure, he was the Troublemaker In Chief. That did not mean the other two were paragons of holiness, no matter how much Alice tried glowing her halo at him while she and her brother gave him the saddest, biggest, shiniest puppy eyes. And that didn't even take into account how much trouble they could find, no mischief intended.

He'd seen smoldering breakfasts, pancakes on the ceiling, saran wrap around the kitchen archway, demonic rubber chicken noises from a saxophone that had a part replaced with the noisemaker from the novelty prank toy...

(He still didn't regret letting Boris chase Bendy for that one without intervening.)

With all that, being immediately accosted by three toons hanging off his legs the second he came down the stairs and all trying to talk to him at the same time did not magically get any easier to withstand.

"Whatever it is, it's a no until I get my coffee," he drawled as he attempted to walk with them hanging off him, the three of them dragged along with him. It was with quite some difficulty that he got to the kitchen counter.

"But Henry!" Bendy whined, "we only got a few hours to get ready if ya say yes! We need every second!"

"For what?" he yawned, pouring a cup from the machine.

"You don't know what day it is?" Alice was surprised enough to actually let go, and she dusted herself off like the lady she was before standing up.

Instantly something cold grabbed Henry's heart and squeezed. "Uh- no I...?"

Had he forgotten someone's birthday? No, it was summertime; Bendy was a winter 'birth' and Boris and Alice were spring and fall. An anniversary of some kind? Quick think what are you forgetting you useless-

"How!?" Bendy gaped at him from down below. "It's been all over the news fer weeks!"

Well okay now he was just thoroughly confused. "I um-"

"The parade, Henry!" Boris's tail was thumping gently against the floor; he was not trying one tiny ounce to hide his eagerness. "The parade that's today!"

"Parade-?" It took just one more nanosecond of thought before it clicked.

"Oh you mean the-!" And they wanted to go to it.

Well, he shouldn't be surprised. This would be the first parade they'd get to see, wouldn't it? And it was nice weather out. And it would be bursting with color, which the toons were darn near obsessed with.

He took a contemplative sip. They weren't human; god even knew if they had any sort of sexuality at all. Could they even feel that stuff? The urge to- do anything like that? Wouldn't that technically make them asexual? That was the word, right?

Well, human or not, that would solidly mean they belonged there. Queer was queer, regardless of species, right? Hell, even if they'd just started asking themselves those questions, or wanted to support the fans of theirs who fell under that giant umbrella, they were valid for being there.

"Sure, I can take you."

Both boys cheered, lifting their arms to do so and releasing his legs. He quickly took a step away from them, but their joy had them leaping to their feet anyway and he watched as they bounced around the kitchen, slowly draining his coffee and trying to curb his smile when he was actively drinking.

It was a hard task.

Their excited chatter melted pleasantly into the background as he took the time to drink and try to shake his brain awake the rest of the way awake like shaking out an old blanket to coax out the wrinkles. Their enthusiasm always made for the perfect background noise.

"What colors do you want?"

"I dunno! There's so many! I don' even know what label I fit in-"

"I saw you checkin' out that guy the other day don't think I didn't!" The wink and nudge from Bendy sent Boris blushing so hard the poor wolf's face turned nearly as black as his fur.

"I was hopin' you hadn't-"

They were all quick to consume breakfast, and Henry retreated upstairs after telling the toons to come get him when they wanted to leave.

He settled comfortably in the limitless, timeless space of art before reality came knocking with Bendy's distinctive tapping at the door, pulling Henry from the space inbetween something and nothing as he set his pen aside. "Come in, kiddo."

When Bendy stepped in with what was unmistakably a rainbow flag on his cheek and extra face paint he knew he was in for a time.

"Oh uh- what's that for-"

"For you!" Bendy said with a giant grin. "Who'd ya think?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah well- I uh-"

Bendy didn't slow down. "Anyway the others are about ready to go but they sent me up here to get your flag on while they finish up- now why they trusted me with the paint I got about as much an idea as you but hey I'm not gonna complain-"

"Aw that's- that's sweet kiddo but I sorta figured I'd just be-" How to say this. "Dropping you off...?"

Immediate confusion. "What? Why?"

"Uh well- I mean-" He fiddled with the pen- when had that ended up back in his hands? "You guys- you have a space there, you know? I'm not sure if I-"

There was now a puckered frown on the little devil's face. "Not sure if you what?"

"Well I mean- I don't exactly- belong, now do I?"

The frown multiplied its intensity by about five. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Aw jeez. He really did not want to discuss this with his kid, as much of an adult as Bendy was. For many reasons. "Uh well- you know-" He gestured, as if hoping that would somehow pluck the answer from the air and implant it in Bendy's brain without having to give voice to it, setting the pen down in the process so he’d stop playing with it. "I'm not exactly- I mean-"

"You like guys." Bendy's voice was so sure that Henry knew making any sort of denial was futile. And also kind of stupid. Why would he deny that to his own son? No of course he wouldn't.

"Well I mean- I married a woman, didn't I?" he finally blurted out.

Unimpressed blinking as he drew closer to stand beside the desk. "Yeah they got a word for that. Several actually. Most popular ones are bi and pan, so which colors is it gonna be?"

"No no I mean-" God he was probably blushing. His face definitely felt way too hot. "I uh- I mean I- I like guys, yes-" great brain thanks a ton totally needed that heart rate spiking why are you acting like that's scary this is our kid- "but I- I married a woman- I like women- more often?"

The blinking was now confused.

"Uh-" How to phrase this. "If- if we split it into a pie chart- it's probably like... thirty-seventy in favor of women?" He ran his fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck again. "I'm- not that I'm any great catch but like, if I was in any way qualified to be in the dating pool again, I'd be way more likely to end up with a lady."

The unimpressed look was back. "And?"

It was Henry's look to be surprised. "And- and that means that, you know- I'm not really-"

"You like guys."

"I- yeah?"

"And you're a guy."

"Kind of a given at this point."

"So you're a guy, and you like guys, and just also happen to like girls too. We got names for that." He gave Henry's shirt an appraising look. "Gotta say the bi colors would complement your clothes best. If you want pan colors I'm gonna have to ask you to change. As your official fashion consultant."

Henry snorted. "My what?"

"Listen Dad I love you but I ain't about to let you walk into that parade wearing like, a pineapple hawaiian shirt or nothin'."

Henry banged a fist lightly on the table and pointed at him. "Liar! You wore the exact same thing just the other day!"

"Yeah but that was to the beach, not a parade."

"Literally when have you ever cared about not being a fashion disaster."

"This time, when Alice'll actually kill me otherwise."

"... Okay you got me there."

Bendy grinned. "So, bi colors or pan colors! Or somethin' else? I think there's other ones too."

He opened his mouth, closed it again and then opened it. What the hell. "... Bi colors, I guess."

"Yesssssss I was hopin' you'd say that." He hopped over onto the table like he'd suddenly become a bunny.

"Oh you were, huh?"

"Listen, the pan folks got pretty colors, but I'm always a sucker for a sunset," he said as he pulled out the pallet he needed. Henry sighed and shook his head, the smile ruining his effort to look exasperated.

"Well. Sunset me then, I guess."

"You got it boss!" Bendy said in maybe the worst mafia minion accent known to mankind.

It was barely five minutes of Bendy painting lines carefully on his cheek before he whipped out a mirror.

"Tah-dah!"

Henry blinked at himself in the mirror. He tilted his head, something shifting inside his heart that he had no name for, no way to voice.

The once proud look on Bendy's face was swiftly dropping. "... I didn't mess it up, did I...?"

"No- no, no." Henry tilted his head. "I uh..."

Bendy's worried browlines screamed anxiety to him.

"... I guess I just look good in a sunset," he said quietly, seeing the little corner of his reflection's mouth turn up as if in some sort of hazy dream.

Better than I thought.

[pitch-pearl-void]

12 Days of Pitch Pearl, 1

playful, sledding, snowman, skating, fight

"Man down!" Fenton cried as a nine year old girl that had charged the other team went down beneath a hail of snowballs. The other kids on his and Phantom's team took up the cry and hurled insults at the other team. Fenton's shoulder nudged Phantom's. "Cover me, bro!" He leapt over the ice mound Phantom had created to shield their team before Phantom had a chance to stop him. 

"You are taking this far too seriously!" Phantom shouted after him, frustrated, but he followed orders and summoned a ball of snow into his hand--a trick he had been practicing for hours. 

The other team shouted, "It's their leader!" and, "Get him!" and one or two, "Kill their president!"

Phantom swore. Fenton wasn't around to hear it, fortunately, but the kids on his team shrieked with laughter. Phantom didn't have time to tell them not to repeat it.

A snowball began to speed toward Fenton. Phantom threw his snowball and destroyed it in midair, but that was just the beginning. More snowballs flew through the air toward Fenton, unprotected as he was. Phantom summoned snowball after snowball and deflected the attacks against Fenton as best he could. What snowballs he missed, Fenton dodged, but there weren't many Phantom missed. 

Phantom's reflexes and aim had been honed in true combat. He wouldn't miss. It was why he was afraid to fight on the offensive with Fenton. All he did was create snowballs for his team to throw at the other team.

Now the kids were seeing what their hero could do, and the air in the park was filled with childrens' screams, laughter, and excited cheers as snowball after snowball was cancelled by Phantom's own throw. The kids beside Phantom jumped up and down, shouting his name, shouting Fenton's as he picked up the little girl and began to race back to safety, and shouting at the other team to throw their snowballs higher or lower for the sake of seeing Phantom match the throw. 

The other team seemed equally delighted for all that they couldn't hit Fenton. 

Fenton ran around the structure and fell to his knees and dropped the little girl on the ground beside him. She still clung to his neck, forcing him to stay bent low. Fenton, panting, patted her on the back and called her brave, their teammates following suit until she released Fenton and was swallowed up by a mob of happy children. 

Snowballs hit the shield as Phantom hid behind it again, finally allowing himself to relax again now that Fenton was safe. He slumped against the shield and released a gusting sigh of relief. 

"Your boyfriend is awesome!" one of the boys shouted. 

"I know," Phantom said, but it held more than the usual echo. He looked at Fenton who had spoken the exact same words, meeting the bright eyes of his other half, watching as a grin made rosy cheeks press into his eyes. 

"You," Fenton laughed, "he meant you, dumbass."

"Danny said 'ass!'"one of the kids hollered. 

Phantom groaned, closing his eyes as the kids around them repeated the word. "Fenton..."

Fenton only laughed harder. 

"Can we go?" Phantom asked, prying his eyes open. "I'm worn out." And you look near frozen, he thought but didn't say. Fenton would fight the accusation, for all that his flushed face and shivering gave it away. Adrenaline could only warm the body so much, Phantom imagined. 

"Sure." Fenton blew out a puff of air. It fogged in front of his face. "Want to get some hot chocolate?"

"Yes."

The kids whined and begged them to stay, but the game was still on against the other team, and they were quickly distracted. Fenton moved closer to Phantom and grabbed his hand. 

"We'll have to run away," Fenton said, his eyes bright with excitement. 

"I could just fly us?" Phantom suggested hopefully. 

"No way, man, that's cheating! Running away is part of the fun!"

"I was afraid you would say that..." Phantom maneuvered his feet under him alongside Fenton, still crouched beneath the shield. 

"Ready?" Fenton said. "On the count of three. One...two...three!"

He leapt up and ran from the shield, Phantom only a single step behind him, holding tight to his hand. 

The kids from the other team shrieked, "They're getting away!" and snowballs began to fall around them. Phantom suspected a few were tossed by their own former teammates, especially when one connected with his back, but Fenton was laughing as the kids shouted after them. 

"We get Phantom on our team tomorrow!" one kid shouted. 

"Yeah!"

"No, he's ours! Get your own superhero!"

"He wasn't even doing anything!"

"Yeah, he only protected his boyfriend."

"He's an ice princess! We'll protect the ice princess!"

"Ice princess!"

Fenton choked on a laugh. "Ice princess," he cackled. 

"I didn't want to hurt anyone," Phantom objected, afraid it sounded more like a whine when Fenton just laughed at him again. "I might have thrown a snowball too hard, or...or..." What were the other reasons? Something about not wanting to throw things at innocent kids...

They reached the sidewalk and Fenton slowed to a walk, panting from the run. He leaned into Phantom's shoulder as they walked side-by-side and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Whatever, dude, it was great just having you there."

Phantom smiled shyly back at him. 

"Even if you were a delicate ice princess about it."

Phantom snorted. "I'll remember that the next time you want snowball cover..."

Fenton snickered. "That was pretty awesome. Very hot. Ten out of ten, would totally let you protect me again." He swooned against Phantom's shoulder, pressing his weight into him. "Oh, Phantom, you're my hero."

Phantom knew he was joking--for the most part--but his core still sent sparks along his skin. He turned his head and kissed Fenton's forehead. "I think I will enjoy the second half of this date more," Phantom admitted, somewhat sheepish. He had been surprisingly bad at ice skating, and a bit of a pacifist during the snowball fight, but he had enjoyed the snowmen they built and spending time with Fenton. "Hot chocolate, you said?"

"Mhmm. Perfect way to end a snow date." 

Fenton was still leaning against him. Phantom, taking a guess, let go of Fenton's hand and wrapped his arm around Fenton's shoulders. His boyfriend snuggled into his side and wrapped his own arm around Phantom's waist. They had to slow to accommodate their closeness, but it was worth every slow step to feel Fenton against him. 

"Thanks for getting me away from my folks," Fenton whispered.

Phantom hummed and kissed Fenton's head again. "Any time, Fenton."

"...What about tomorrow then? We still got 12 more days before this is all over."

Phantom closed his eyes. The ghosts weren't attacking as much, the truce pulling at their usual willingness to fight. There was nothing to pull Phantom away from Fenton. This month could be their time in ways it had never been before. Phantom wouldn't pressure Fenton to enjoy the holidays the way his friends would. To them, December could be their winter paradise, if they worked at it enough.

"Will there be more snowball fights?" Phantom asked warily.

Fenton laughed. "One or two. I like knowing you're guarding my back. That's was, like, really hot."

Phantom smiled, a faint blush rising to his cheeks. "You said that before."

"It was really hot, dude."

"Alright," Phantom muttered, his blush getting worse, "one or two more snowball fights..."

Fenton snickered. "My hero."

[simplybakugou]

Runaways

↝ After being forced into a wedding, Bakugou whisks you away from having to partake in the ceremony.

BINGO SPACE: Wedding

⋆ PAIRING: prohero!bakugou x fem!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: fluff; swearing ⋆ WORD COUNT: 1736

A/N: yes this is a @bnhabookclub bingo piece lol. when i got this prompt for bakugou (thank to the anon who requested bakugou btw) i was originally going to write out a whole wedding ceremony before i thought that would be boring imo lmao. so i decided to go with this concept! imo i don’t really like weddings so you can sort of see that through this fic lol.

credits to @bnhahcs​ for the beautiful colored bakugou cap!

FULL BINGO MASTERLIST

✐posted 08.23.2020✐

Suffocation. It was like your air was being cut right from you, like you were fighting just to breathe. All you could do was inhale and exhale big deep breaths as you tried to calm yourself, attempting to slow down your racing heart beating against your chest. But it was no use; you still were as overwhelmed as you were since the day started.

“Are you ready?” Yaoyorozu asked, her tone laced with excitement as she was overjoyed for one of her closest friends on her big day.

You mustered up a smile, the corners of your lips quivering as you attempted to seem merry. But Yaoyorozu saw right through you as she frowned at your expression. “What’s wrong? You don’t look so happy?”

“It’s nothing, I’m good.” A lie; there was nothing exciting about this day for you.

Mina creeped up from the other corner, fully dressed as she was more than ready to head out into the ceremony. “Are you scared about getting married?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s nothing like that.” The girls decided to not pry any further as they did their best to help you get fully dressed as well as help your other friends.

For most people, a wedding is one of the most exciting and exhilarating days that could happen in one’s life. Although each culture does their ceremonies differently, there is still something to celebrate as a couple vows to spend the rest of their lives with one another.

But you had other views on weddings.

You met your husband to be when you were both in high school in U.A. While Bakugou was in the hero course, you were in the support course and your paths would cross as each respective course would often mingle with one another. The minute you laid eyes on Bakugou, you were immediately fascinated. His quirk was impressive and you wanted to ask him a million and one questions just to understand how his quirk worked and the repercussions his body faces as a result of overusing his quirk. 

With this fascination, you would pester him as you thought you were interested in his quirk until you slowly realized you were actually interested in him. Being as bold as you were, you decided to ask him on a date. You surprised him with your dauntless proposal so he shocked you by agreeing. Even more surprising, Bakugou actually enjoyed your company outside of the classroom and the rest was history as you had been dating ever since.

After graduating from U.A., you both broke off into your respective professions, Bakugou with pursuing professional heroism and you deciding to become an engineer and create support items for heroes. You were both idolized as the perfect duo by the media, your professions working hand in hand perfectly. And six years into your relationship, Bakugou proposed to you which you practically screamed out ‘yes.’

Like a majority of young women in committed relationships, you were ecstatic to be able to spend the rest of your life with the man you loved. But on the other hand, you and Bakugou both had mutual feelings toward wedding ceremonies: they were just a waste of time and money. Something about hosting a grand occasion to show off how in love you were just seemed like overkill and you had no intention of hosting one. You and Bakugou agreed to be registered as a married couple in Japan through the usual paperwork until both of your parents were strictly against this decision.

Your parents and Bakugou’s parents, especially his mother in particular, wanted you to have a traditional wedding. Leading up to the ceremony, you fought with your mother, voicing how you had no interest in partaking in the wedding but it was like you were speaking to a brick wall. Bakugou tried reasoning with Mitsuki as well, at least his version of reasoning, but this resulted in Mitsuki nearly bringing the house down from her rage.

So here you were, forced against your will to be officially married in front of your family and friends. 

“Are you all set?” Uraraka asked as she entered the room. She gasped at the sight of you. “You look so beautiful, Y/N!”

You smiled gratefully at her. If there was one thing that came out of this whole thing, it was that you at least got to dress up for once instead of being covered in grease and sweat from slaving away at your day job. “Thanks, Ochako.”

The door opened and your mother entered, making you want to groan internally. “Ladies, please wait outside.”

The girls nodded, waving at you as they expressed their words of encouragement as they left. Your mother’s fake smile lifted from her face the minute you were alone with her. She proceeded towards you, smoothing out a crease in the front of your uchikake. “So you’re still acting like a child about this whole thing?”

You had to prevent yourself from rolling your eyes, not wanting to hear her start complaining about that, too. “You would be acting like a kid, too, if you had to do something you didn’t want to.”

Your mother snickered, grabbing your hand to practically drag you out of the room as the ceremony was about to begin. You froze in your footsteps, coming to a halt. “Could you give me five minutes? I need a breather.”

Your mother sighed, already fed up with your antics and the day had barely begun. “Fine. I’ll be back here in exactly five minutes.”

You nodded, letting out a sigh in relief as she finally left the room. You made your way to the large mirror in the room, frowning at the sight of your perfectly painted face. You readjusted your headdress on your head, poking your cheeks as you dragged your lips upward into a smile. It was so hard to make it seem like you were happy.

As you were about to make your way out the door and join your mother, the window slammed open. You whipped your head towards the source of the sound, confused to see Bakugou casually propped onto the ledge of the windowsill as he was latched onto the outside of the wall. 

“Katsuki?!” You exclaimed, rushing over to the window without tripping over your feet. “What’re you doing? You can’t be here!”

Bakugou scoffed. “You think I was gonna let our dumbass folks make us do shit we don’t even wanna do?”

He leaned over, grabbing your arm and hoisting you up on the windowsill. “We’re getting outta here.”

Before you could express your disapproval for this idea, as not only were you going to be carried around in your boyfriend’s arms as he attempted to maneuver around with his quirk keeping you both afloat, your mothers were going to murder you once they realized the bride and the groom had left their own wedding.

“Hold on to me,” he commanded as he dropped down into the air. Your voice was caught in your throat as you gripped your arms around his neck, only his right arm around your back holding you as his left arm blasted you both through the air.

“You’re insane!” You screamed against the wind.

Bakugou smirked as he blasted through building after building. “Not as insane as you are for agreeing to marry me.”

***

The flight you were forced into taking was one you never wanted to experience ever again. Somewhere along the way your headdress had flown away and your perfectly pinned hair had been tousled and became a mess. You nearly puked at the thought of being lifted hundreds of feet in the air with only your fiance’s arm keeping you from falling.

“Y/N, open your eyes,” Bakugou chided.

You shook your head vigorously as your eyes were still screwed shut and your fists held onto Bakugou’s black kimono. “You’re trying to trick me, I know you are!”

“You idiot, we’re not even in the air anymore.”

You opened one eye slowly, peeking as Bakugou had landed atop of a building, both his arms  now carrying you. You gasped as you released your grip from Bakugou’s clothes and you settled down onto the ground.

The sight of the sky painted in purple and orange hues as a result of the setting sun was dazzling to see. The buildings from afar were starting to light up, showing how long you and Bakugou had been basically flying through the air, not to mention your wedding was supposed to take place later in the evening.

“It’s so pretty!” You squealed, leaning against the railing of the building’s rooftop. 

Bakugou walked beside you, looking out at the sight along with you. “Do you even know where we are?”

You turned to him. “I thought we were at some random place? Didn’t you land at the first building you found?”

Bakugou rolled his eyes playfully. “How are you the smartest woman I know but also the most fucking dense one, too.”

You narrowed your brows at him. “You don’t have to be rude about it.”

Bakugou smiled, wrapping his arm around your waist as he brought your body closer to his. “Think a little harder.”

You turned to face the view once more, your eyes roaming around to find something that could help indicate where you were. Finally you located the arch with your alma mater’s name on it and you gasped. “We’re at U.A.?!”

“It’s about damn time.” Bakugou looked down below him. “A lot of shit went down at this place but at least I met you.”

You grinned, nuzzling your face into his chest as your makeup stained the fabric of his kimono. “You’re so cute, Katsuki.”

“I’m not fucking cute. I wanted to get as far as I could from that fucking place,” Bakugou said, taking back his previous statement as he spoke about the religious center your ceremony was supposed to take place. “I’m not gonna let our old hags tell us how we’re gonna live our lives, especially when we’re finally starting a new one together.”

You nodded in agreement, chuckling a little. “Guess we’re starting out our new life together as runaways?”

Bakugou smirked, looking down at you as he planted a kiss on your forehead. “I don’t give a fuck where we go from here, as long as I’m with you.”

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[eideticmemory]

EVER SINCE NEW YORK IV | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

Description: I was messaged saying: “If you don’t write a young Matthew enemies to lovers fic featuring an obsession with sucking on boobs then what’s the point 😔.” So, here it is, folks! The ultimate College!Matthew fic. Cover by @timey-wimey-lovi​!

PART 4! Read Part 3 here!

SOUNDTRACK:

Let Me Know - Clear Eyes.

Friends - Ed Sheeran.

Perfect Places - Lorde.

Word Count: 4,551.

Rating: M.

Warning/Includes: Sexual intercourse, drinking, recreational drug use, a bit of angst.

Fall, Junior Year.

Tisch School of the Arts, 

New York University.

New York City. 

“We’re going out tonight,” Claire said, plopping down on your bed. 

“Oh? We are?” You replied, a notebook in your lap, and your back resting against the pillows.

“Yes. There is a welcome back party on campus tonight and we’re going.”

“I don’t feel like partying,” you sighed. “We just moved back in. There’s still so much left to do, to unpack.”

“Guess what? It’ll be here when we get back. And we’ll have all of tomorrow to decorate. But right now, we’re juniors, we’re thriving, and we’re gonna party!” She did a little dance, her red hair bouncing on her head. 

You giggled, “Fine. Only until midnight! Then, we’re coming right back.”

“Geez, grandma? Midnight? Make it one!”

“Fine, one-thirty.”

“I’ll take it,” she smiled. She hopped out of bed, and turned on her heels, finger guns pointing at you. “Wear that red tube top. Step all the way out, kid. I mean it!”

“Yeah, we’ll see.”

You wore the top. It looked good. Abnormally good. Insanely good. It hugged your body, and accented your breasts, little ruffles handing on the hem. You paired it with a loose pair of jeans, leather boots, and sparkly jewelry. Your hair was pulled out of your face and you applied light makeup. 

“Yes, ma’am!” Claire cheered when she saw you. “For someone who didn’t wanna party, you sure snapped.” 

“Hush,” you blushed. “I just wanna be prepared, y’know, in case we take pictures or run into people.”

Person. Singular. 

You anticipated a high chance of seeing Matthew tonight, and if it was true, it would be your first time seeing each other in person in two months. After week upon week of late night phone calls — full of dirty words, quiet moans, and soft goodnight wishes. With his timezone being three hours behind yours, the two of you set alarms on your phone to talk in the early hours of the morning. Until you fell into this routine of talking every night. First, helping each other get off — sometimes more than once. And then having a sleepy, giggle-filled conversation about anything under the sun. It regularly lasted until one of you fell asleep.

So, yeah. You were eager to see him. Even more eager to get back to his place. Get back underneath him. It’d been a week since you last spoke, both of you being too busy moving back to New York. You ached for him dearly. And you wanted his first reaction to seeing you again to be lustful, intense. The outfit was perfect.

Claire and you walked across campus, arm in arm, skin glowing under the lights, hair blowing in the breeze. The music was palpable, and you could hear it from miles away. The two of you stepped into the dorming building, giggling at the sight of familiar faces, the smell of alcohol and weed, the sound of bass. 

For most of the night it was easy to mingle. You carried a solo cup of alcohol from each room — vodka. Everytime you drank rum, you got horny. It was weird. You couldn’t turn a corner without bumping into someone you knew, be it a dancer, an actor, film student. Being a double major, and active on campus, you knew way too many people. And everyone seemed to be there that night. It took you a good hour to rotate amongst groups. 

“[y/n]?”

You turned around, a smile instantly appearing on your face. “Alex! Oh, my goodness! How are you?”

The dashing boy smiled at you, his hand on your shoulder. “Hey! I’m great, how are you?”

“I’m good, I’m good. I’m currently trying to have a good time despite being tired as hell.”

He laughed, “Well, I see you’ve got some good time juice there, so you’re halfway to freedom. Hey, I forgot to tell you — your performance in the nutcracker last Christmas was incredible. I, uh, I actually went to the spring ballet after that because I was so impressed.”

“Thank you,” you grinned. “I like to inspire people to experience ballet. It’s cool.”

“I was very inspired,” he nodded. “Hopefully we’ll have some more classes together this semester.” 

“Yeah! If not, you know how to reach me.” You bit down on your lip to keep from smiling too wide. He gave you a quick wink, and walked away. 

You instantly began looking for Claire, rushing around the dorm for anyone resembling your friend. You noticed her in the threshold of a room, shoulder leaned against the wall, her arms crossed. You walked up to her, “Claire! Claire, you’re not gonna believe who I just ran into. It was definitely not the reunion I was expecting tonight.” 

Claire was dazed, staring in front of her with a face solid as stone. You very rarely saw her like this, and it freaked you out right away. “Claire? Claire, dude, what’s wrong?” You turned your head to follow her gaze, and your eyes landed on the couch. 

People lined the cushions, and dead in the center was Matthew. His hair had grown out a lot, and he dressed differently. All button down shirts and khaki shorts. With that damn chain tucked in his collar. And beside him was a girl. Hair jet black, a matching black mini dress, paired with sandals. They were kissing. Hot. Heavy. His hand gripping her hair, the other on his thigh. When they seperated, she touched his lips and you felt yourself having a stroke. The giggled at each other and Matthew kissed her cheek. 

“It’s about one-thirty, right?” Claire asked you, her sight not moving. 

You gulped. There was an ache in your chest that made it hard to speak. But you took a deep breath, and release the words, “Yeah. Let’s go home.”

Claire walked around you, heading towards the exit, and you followed. The two of you walked home, silent, arms over each other’s shoulders. In the room, Claire dropped her stuff to the floor,  kicked her shoes off and sat on her bed. You rushed into the space, approached your nightstand and rummaged through it. 

“What are you doing, [y/n]?”

“I’m packing a bowl,” you replied, grabbing your herbs, a lighter and the bowl. 

“Right now? In here?” She gasped.

“Is that okay?”

She sighed, “Yeah. Come share.”

The two of you sat on her bed, thirty minutes later, laying against the wall with your heads staring at the ceiling. Your eyelids were lowered, red, and your breathing was slow. 

“I’m hungry,” Claire said, texting on her phone. “Do we have gummy bears? I want gummy bears. But haribo gummy bears. Not those knocks off we used to buy. And some soda. Soda would be so good right now. My mouth is so dry.”

You stayed quiet, eyes focused on the lights overhead. You couldn’t get the image out of your mind. Matthew. And that girl. Kissing. Touching. 

“Her name is Veronica,” Claire said. 

You turned your hear to her, “Huh?”

“Her name is Veronica,” she repeated. “Or Roni for short.” She rolled her eyes. “She, uh, she’s from Vegas. She went to school with...Gube, actually. They dated.”

“Oh...” you nodded. “Are you...are you okay?”

“I — I, yeah, I’m fine,” she shrugged. “It’s just...really inconvenient of him to go back to her right now.”

“Back to her?”

“They’re together. They’re dating. Apparently they got back together this summer.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows together, a thousand thoughts running through your mind at once. “What do you think about that?” Claire asked. 

“Uh...” You shrugged. “I’m surprised anyone actually touches that boy,” you laughed, the sound coming out broken and sad. 

“Yeah...well...Misty says Roni is a big one for Gube. That, um, necklace he wears? She gave it to him years ago. He never took it off.” 

You nodded, “Yeah,” your voice cracked. “Well, that’s...that’s some heavy fixation there.” 

“[y/n]...”

“I should shower. I’m gonna shower.” You went to get off the bed, but Claire grabbed your wrist. You turned to her, and she pushed your hair out of your face. 

“I’m really upset about this, kid,” she said. “Can you...can you just lay with me for a bit?” 

You sighed, gave her a small smile and leaned in to hug her. She held you close, placing one hand on your head and the other on your rest. And she let you rest your head on her chest, as you let silent tears roll down your cheeks. 

Monday morning, you got up at 5 in the morning. You spent 2 hours in the ballet studio, twirling and dancing until your feet went numb. When you returned home, Claire was still asleep and you took a quick shower. You tried on ten different outfits, applied makeup, spent a long time on your hair. You made breakfast, checked for any assignments, surfed social media. And still had an hour before class. 

You chose to walk around campus, locate all your classes, grab some coffee, and then you headed to your first class. Walking through the building, you sipped on your drink, moving absentmindedly roaming the halls. Suddenly, a hand reached out and pulled you into a storage closet. Your scream was cut short, and you jumped as the door closed behind you.

You looked up at see Matthew staring at you, a soft smile on his face. “Hey.”

“I’m going to class,” you muttered, turning to exit the room. But Matthew put his hand on the door knob to stop you.

“Wait, wait,” he pleaded. “Um, do I see you at the party —“

“Yep,” you nodded, not making eye contact with him. 

“So...then, you saw me at the party with—“

“Yep.”

“Okay...[y/n]...”

“I really have to go to class, so, thanks for the detour, but I’m leaving now.” You removed his hand from the knob and left the closet, not looking back. 

You walked into your classroom, swallowing to get rid of the weird feeling in your throat. You set your bag down and took a seat. You attempted to shake Matthew out of your mind, the smell of him, the sight of him, the tension of being so close to him. But it was hard. It may have been the hardest thing ever. 

“Well, well, well,” a voice called to you. “Guess I got lucky, huh?”

You looked up to see Alex, giving you a toothy grin and a look of pure joy. “Alex,” you breathed. “Hi. This is awesome, you’re in here?”

“Yeah,” he took a seat beside you. “Haven’t seen you much since freshman year. This is nice.”

“It sure is.”

So. 

Remember number eight on your list of atrocities against Matthew Gubler? 

Fucked his friend. While said friend was supposed to help Matthew with his project. 

Alex would be the friend. He was gorgeous and kind and so good in bed. You first met in a cinematography class freshman year, where he very boldly asked if you wanted to hang out some time. You smiled, said yes, and that led to the aforementioned sexual encounter. It only happened a handful of times, until the semester was over. Then you didn’t see each other as often.

But he was here now. He was here and he was flirting with you. You were flirting back. You were hurt and upset and confused and so fucking horny, you could burst. So, after classes, you reached out to him and asked if he could help you with a pre class assignment. He told you to come over. You did. 

You didn’t work on the assignment though. 

Starting off pretty hot and heavy, it was a few weeks of meaningless sex until he asked you out. Claire cheered when she heard the news, causing you to give her a confused look. “Why are you so happy that I have a date?” You giggled. 

“Oh...I just — Alex is cute! He’s great, I always wondered what happened to him. You said he was good in the sack and he was always sweet to you. I’m just, so glad you’re happy.”

You gave her a faux smile, “Yeah. I’m happy.” 

Alex’s friend was having a birthday party at his apartment, and Alex insisted you come. Said it was the only way he’d be able to have any fun when everyone got too drunk. You agreed, and when he picked you up that night, you were dressed in a purple romper and diamond earrings. 

“You look beautiful,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss you. 

“Thank you,” you smiled. “You look beautiful, too.” 

He held your hand as he drove to the apartment, as you got out the car, walked up the stairs, entered the living space. He introduced you to everyone you met, his arm around you proudly and your head nuzzled into his chest. 

Watching you across the room was a very irritated Matthew Gubler, who sat with Veronica on his lap and a beer in his hand. You didn’t notice Matthew’s presence for a long time, considering the fact that he was avoiding you, and you were more focused on Alex. 

While talking to Alex’s friends, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom. You strolled down the hallway, searching for the restroom. 

“[y/n]!”

You turned around, confused. Matthew marched up to you, his hands in his pocket, his face determined. 

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you told him, and continued to walk. 

He followed you. “So, you dating Alex now?”

“That’s not really your business, now is it?”

He grabbed onto your arm and pulled your body into his, hiding you two behind a corner. “No, but it bugs me.”

“It bugs you?”

“It bugs me. I don’t want you with Alex. Alex is a dick.” 

“Well, not to me—“

Matthew leaned down and kissed you, his hands tightened on your waist. He kissed you like he was starving, mouth open, breath heavy. 

You pushed him away, your eyes closed in shock and ecstasy. No, no, you thought. “Matthew—“

“Let’s leave,” he interjected.

“Huh?”

“Let’s leave. Me and you. Let’s go.”

“No,” you snapped.

“Why not?”

“Because, I’m here with Alex! And you’re here with...her, so, no. I’m staying here, with the guy I came with.”

“C’mon—“

“Matthew, no! No! Are you deaf? Are you dumb? Leave me alone, and go back to your girlfriend.” You suddenly didn’t have to pee anymore, so you returned to Alex and his group of friends. Matthew watched as you took a seat in Alex’s lap, and you pretended not to notice. 

There was radio silence for months. Matthew even removed you on snapchat, and for your sanity, you ignored it. You continued a casual relationship with Alex, and he continued to worship the ground you walked on. A vast change in pace from Matthew. Claire pushed for the Alex relationship hardcore, saying hi to him when came over, giving you guys time alone, tagging alone with you two to parties. 

But every once in a while, you thought about Matthew. When you saw a particular movie, or heard one of his favorite bands, right after you would have sex. And especially on Halloween. Over the summer, he told you all about his costume plans, party plans, and movie marathons he was going to have. And for some reason, like a clown, you just assumed you’d be with him when it happened.

By the time final exams were over, you and Alex considered yourselves exclusive. You strolled into the end of the year party, holding hands and laughing. You’d fallen into a good groove with his friends. They all liked you, you liked them, and you enjoyed their company. While sitting with them, one pulled out a joint, lit it and began to pass it around.

“Want a hit?” Alex asked.

“She’s pretty tiny. Can she handle it?” A friend said. 

You glared at her and took the paper between your lips, inhaling and holding a large amount of smoke. She watched in amazement as you exhaled through your nose, “Well...I stand corrected, princess.”

You took in a sharp breath of air.

And that was just the beginning of the spiral. 

You stayed in rotation of the weed for a long time, until your thoughts were nothing but a mess of words racing everywhere. Your eyes felt heavy, so did your body. And you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

You were wondering was there ever really a connection or were you just highly sexually compatible? Did Matthew ever have feelings for you or did he just want one thing? Why does kissing him and fucking him and just talking to him feel so different? How come when everything falls apart, you want Matthew? How come when everything is going well, you want Matthew? Need to talk to Matthew. Where’s Matthew? Where’s Matthew? 

“[y/n]!” Alex called. “You’re high as fuck,” he laughed. “What are you thinking about?”

Matthew. 

“Come here,” and he pulled you into a kiss. And when you pulled away, feeling nothing, nothing at all, you realized you needed Matthew. You needed to feel something. But Matthew wasn’t here. And you wish he was here. Where’s Matthew? 

Tears were springing to your eyes, but you quickly began to cough, distracting yourself with a new sensation. You rose to your feet, and exited the room, much to Alex’s disapproval. He watched you rush past him, his face laced with confusion.

Everyone you passed by looked like Matthew. Why did everyone look like Matthew? You missed Matthew. And this was unfair. You wiped at the tears in your eyes, but they were already gliding down your cheeks. They burned your skin and it made you cry more. You were blinded. And way too high to notice Matthew - the real Matthew - entering the hallway. 

His eyes were redder than red, a lot like yours. His movements were slow. But something told him to reach out for you. Like a magnet. And you fell into his arms. It took him a whole second to realize it was you, but he did. 

“[y/n]?” he whispered. “Oh, my God, [y/n]. What’s wrong? What happened?” His hands moved to cup your face, his thumbs wiping the tears on your cheek. 

“[y/n]!” Oh, no. Alex. “What are you doing? Where are you going?” 

At that point, you looked up at Matthew. Focused in on him. Said his name. But his attention had turned to Alex. And he was pissed. You could tell. 

“Wait, wait, Matthew, wait,” you pleaded. 

“What the hell did you do to her?” He shouted, holding you close. 

“Wait, Matthew, he didn’t—“

“Gube, let her go, dude!.” Alex snapped, reaching for your arm. 

And that sent Matthew through the roof. He released you from his arms and moved towards Alex, delivering a swift punch to his face. You’d never seen Matthew so much as cuss someone out, so this. This. This was hard to register. Nonetheless, you screamed his name, attempting to push both of them away from the brawl. But it was useless. 

Two guys had to step in and separate Alex and Matthew, pulling them to opposing sides of the hallway. And you had to decide who to follow. It wasn’t a hard decision to make. 

You kept a good 100 feet behind Matthew the whole time, watching him stomp his way to his residence hall. You knew exactly how to get into the building, but weren’t sure you should. You’d never seen him so angry. So red. So primal. 

But, Matthew. 

Oh, God, Matthew. What would you say? What would you do? Did he want to see you? Did he want to be alone? Was his roommate there? You paced for 20 minutes, freezing your ass off outside the dormitory. Your mind was made up when you found the side entrance and let yourself in, marching up the steps. Now or never. Now or never. And you needed to see Matthew now. 

You perched yourself in front of his door, paused, and proceeded to knock with full force. “Be home, be home, be home,” you whispered. 

He was home.

He came to the door, shirtless, his face bruised, his hair tasseled, and that stupid, ridiculous gold chain around his neck. And you’d never wanted to suck a dick so badly in your entire life. You instantly imagined grabbing him, kissing him, pulling him close. But you didn’t do that. You stood there, looking like an idiot, until he spoke. 

“What are you doing here, [y/n]?”

You hadn’t even thought about it. It just felt right to follow him. “I—I wanted...I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

He shrugged, “I’m alright.” His face was stern. Stoic. No emotion showed on his features and it made you sick.

“Oh,” you said. “Okay.” 

You stared at each other for a long time. You just wanted him to say it. Ask you to stay. Ask you to come in. To admit it. But he wouldn’t. So you had to walk away. 

“Okay,” you nodded, sadly, and ducked your head as you headed towards the exit. “Okay.” You sniffled, patting at your eyes as they watered. 

Matthew watched you go. His bottom lip caught between his teeth, his shoulders relaxing as he exhaled. “[y/n],” he called. 

You’d stopped in your tracks.

“You...you were pretty stoned at the party,” he told you. “Are you sober?” 

You turned your body to face him. You thought about his eyes. How red they were. How slow he moved. How you had both been utterly and totally high as hell. “I’m sober,” you said. Honestly. After all of tonight’s events, and the sheer shock of seeing Matthew, being so close to him again, you had sobered up. “Believe me, I’m sober. Are you?”

Matthew licked him lips, nodding as he sighed. He stepped out into the hallway, and pushed the door to his dorm open. He signaled for you to enter. 

You gave him a quick and sad smile, and you avoided eye contact with him as you stepped into the empty room. He led the way to his private room, and let you in, closing the door behind you. You kept your back to him, arms crossed over your chest. 

He sighed, “I’m—Veronica and I broke up. Actually, she broke up with me...again. So, y’know, it wasn’t much of a surprise, but—“

“Matthew,” you cut him off, turning to him. “I need a favor.”

He hesitated, then his voice was strong, “Anything.”

“I leave for home next week for Christmas break. And since, I can’t seem to figure out what the hell about you is driving me insane, Matthew Gubler, I’m going to need time. Space. If you need time and space. So, you need to make that decision.”

“Okay.”

“But right now, take your clothes off,” you ordered. 

“Okay.”

He stared at you lustfully, just like you wanted, his body moving on autopilot to remove his shorts and boxers. You mirrored his movements, and took off your dress, subsequently tossing your bra and panties onto the floor. He grabbed onto your body and kissed you, one hand tangled in your hair and the other gripping your waist. He pushed you back onto his bed, falling on top of you and kissing your neck. You held onto his torso as he made way to your collarbone, nibbling on it lightly. He pulled away and gropped your breasts, massaging them with his fingers. 

He was practically drooling over them, his eyes focused solely on your boobs. He leaned down and sucked on your nipple, while his hand slid down between your legs. He felt around your core, and slowly slid two fingers into you. You threw your head back, and moaned. 

Matthew kissed a trail from your breast to your hips. He began to kiss your inner thighs, kneeling down in front of you and pulling you up to his face. He pressed his tongue against  your clit, working his muscle in an up and down motion. You moved your hips against his face and his fingers, gasping weakly. You forgot how good his mouth felt, but this was huge, huge reminder. You gripped onto his hair and swore under your breath. 

He noticed your thighs tightening around his face, and increased his intensity and speed. Your back arched off of the mattress, you whimpered into your mouth, and your chest was heaving. You let out a long groan as you came on his face, your entire body tensing up. He withdrew his fingers from you, and licked up from your core to your navel to your breasts. He kissed your neck, then your lips. And he sucked his fingers clean, holding eye contact with you.

Overwhelmed, you pulled him in by his face and kissed him passionately. He grunted against your lips, rubbing his cock on your core. He pushed into you, his jaw dropping and his forehead against yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist and this encouraged him to thrust into you. Matthew held you in his arms, moaning into your ear as he moved his hips. 

You kissed his jaw, sucking on the skin until you felt it pulse between your lips. You could feel his muscles moving under your palms, and his cock striking a sensitive spot inside of you. It felt like you were crumbling, getting weaker by the second. But when you felt the chain hitting your chin, you wired back to life. You gripped onto the necklace and twisted it around your fingers, angrily biting your lip. 

As he slammed into you, you muttered a soft “fuck!” and yanked on the chain. It popped off of his neck, and it was cathartic. You moaned and threw it to a far corner of the room. You reached down and rubbed your clit quickly, panting as Matthew’s body began to tremble. He kept his gaze focused on you as you let him fuck you into another orgasm, and your hips rolled against his in an eager rhythm. 

“Oh, fuck!” Matthew exclaimed, pulling out of you just in time. He released himself onto your stomach, moaning and gasping for air. 

The mattress creaked as he laid down beside you, collapsing with a thud. The two of you stared at the ceiling, naked and breathy and covered in sweat. You rested your hand on Matthew’s chest, and he intertwined your fingers. 

The next week, you were headed to the train station to get home for Christmas. Not knowing what to say to each, Matthew and you hadn’t talked since last week. You sat in the back of an uber, your suitcase at your side, when your phone vibrated in your lap. You picked it up and recognized Matthew’s name flashing on your screen. 

You sighed, swiped to answer, and held the phone to your ear, “Hello?”

“I don’t want space.”

“I—“ You stuttered. 

“I want as little space as possible.”

You were stunned, quiet, “Okay.”

The line went dead, and you set your phone down. You bit down on your lip. But the smile was still clear.

[PART 5.]

[hidden-otaku-stuff]

Lockscreens (ch. 4)

tw: Insecurities, feelings of loneliness

Word count: 3.2k

Genre: Angst, fluff

All trigger warnings will be tagged and posted at the beginning of each chapter! This will have *manga spoilers*

Pairings: Bokuto x fem!reader, Kuroo x fem!reader

Summary: Nearly four years ago, Bokuto left the love of his life for volleyball. Despite all the time, he’s still very much in love with her. He comes home to a major surprise leaving him wondering…What happened while he was gone?

Masterlist | prev | next

ch 4: alone (14 weeks)

14 Weeks “So? How’d it go?” (Name) had just barely gotten into her car when her phone had rung. 

“I got the job!” She squealed, grinning. 

“I knew you could do it, kitten.” Even though she couldn’t see him, she could just hear the smile he had on his face. “This calls for a celebration!” He declared. “Be ready at 6, I’ll pick you up, okay?” 

“Oh, Kuroo, you don’t have to do that.” She bit her lip.

“Too late, I already have the reservations booked! See you at 6, darlin’.” The phone beeped as the call ended. She stared at the screen a moment longer. It was a picture of her, Yaku, Kai, and Kuroo at her graduation party. Kuroo was slightly behind her, putting bunny-ears behind her head, whereas Yaku and Kai were standing right beside her, arms thrown over her shoulders. She glanced at the clock. It was only two, she had plenty of time to get ready. 

A few hours later, she stepped out of her house. A navy blue peacoat covered her cream turtle-neck dress. Black, high-heeled shoes donned her feet. “Wow, don’t you look beautiful,” Kuroo teased as he opened the door for her. 

“Well aren’t you being chivalrous today,” she smirked. 

“I’m always chivalrous,” he retorted. Kuroo started the car, and adjusted the fans so that the wind wasn’t blowing directly onto her. 

“So, where are we going?”

“That’s a secret.” He tapped her nose playfully before he focused on driving.

As they arrived at their destination, her eyes widened. “Kuroo! You didn’t have to take me here.” He pulled up into the front, turning off the car. Kuroo quickly went to her side, opening the door with a cheeky smile. He extended a hand, gently guiding her out of the car. 

“I wanted to.” He looked at the valet, handing them his keys. “Thank you so much~!” They walked in together, past the white marble columns; she was still in shock. “Reservation for Kuroo Tetsurou.” 

The lady at the booth smiled, “right this way, Mr. Kuroo.” She guided them to a private table nearby the balcony. 

They thanked her and she quickly walked away. Kuroo pulled the chair out for (Name), waiting for her to sit down before he pushed the seat in. As he walked to his own seat, her eyes roamed his figure. Kuroo was wearing a dark grey dress shirt that matched his coat and pants with a navy blue tie. “You’re drooling,” he teased as he took off his jacket, carefully draping it over the back of his chair. 

 Her cheeks glowed as she averted her eyes. “I’m just surprised.” She shrugged as she scanned the menu, mouth starting to water at all the options. “Too used to seeing you in red and black, I suppose.”

“Do I look good?” (Name) raised her head to see his cheeky smirk. 

“You look presentable,” she replied with a blank face. She’d never admit it, but he definitely looked better than just ‘good’. She scanned the surroundings. “I never thought I’d be dining here.” Her eyes narrowed at him. “This is too fancy for just a reward for a job interview. How did you even get a reservation here?” 

 Kuroo held his hand up, shrugging. “No thank you to the greatest best friend in the world?” He teased before giving her a soft smile. “How about a belated graduation gift and a reward for getting a job?” He leaned his cheek into his propped up hand. “Don’t worry about the specifics, sweetheart. I’d do anything for you.” 

Her eyes softened. “Oh you big dummy,” she murmured affectionately. Her hand reached across the table to grasp his. “What on Earth did I do to deserve you?” 

“Manage my dumbass for years.” His thumb rubbed against her knuckles. “That, and carried me in English and history.” He shot her a cheeky smile. At that, she let out a breathy laugh. A wave of guilt coursed through her body. It was Kuroo, they had always been familiar with one another. They’d practically grown up holding hands. But why did it feel different now? 

“I suppose you do owe me for all that work,” she teased. 

“So don’t worry about this, okay?” He pressed a chaste kiss to her knuckles. “Just enjoy your meal, and I promise I’ll take care of you.” Warm smiles were exchanged before they slipped into their usual conversation. 

****

Laughter filled the air as they exited the five-star restaurant. Kuroo helped her put on her coat as they stood just inside the entrance. “Want some dessert?” With an eager nod from her, they made their way down the street. Warm air billowed out to meet cold as they exhaled. She shivered, pulling her coat closer to her. The dessert place was only a few blocks away, but she couldn’t help but wish that they’d driven instead. Their shoulders brushed as they walked side-by-side. Loud noises caught their attention as the light of a TV filled the sidewalk. “Another phenomenal straight! Is there nothing that wing-spiker Bokuto Koutarou can’t do?” At the sound of his name, her feet froze. Dragging her eyes away from the ground in front of her, she looked at the television. “Tonight at the Panasonic Arena in Hirakata, the MSBY Black Jackal took their win with straight sets against the Tachibana Red Falcons. A majority of those points were scored by up-and-rising ace Bokuto on his debut match with the team!” Kuroo’s hand gently grasped onto her elbow, pulling her away from the screen. At his touch, her feet unfroze. Shaking her head, she followed his footsteps.  

“Do you miss him?” Hesitation filled his voice as he pulled his coat closer, fingers grasping her coat gently. 

Her breath puffed out. They walked another block as she contemplated her answer. He held his breath, eyes rapidly darting between her and the concrete. “No,” she finally replied. “Not anymore.” 

“Oh?” 

They stopped at a crosswalk. She glanced up at her companion, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. “There are some nights where I’ll miss him,” she admitted. “And I wish that he knew.” A hand settled over her stomach, her eyes closing. Another shiver tore through her. 

Kuroo quickly stepped closer to her, pulling her into a hug as they waited for the light to change. “Are you planning on telling him?” 

She shook her head, brushing her hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ear. “He looks happy as is.” With a ding, the light changed. 

Kuroo released her, and they walked together over. His hand slipped into hers. He stopped at the next corner, looking down at her as he squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry, I’m here for you.” Her eyes sparkled as they met his and a sudden warmth coursed through his blood; his throat constricted at the sight of her smile. He could only hold her hand tighter in an attempt to ground himself. 

****

“There you have it folks! Bokuto Koutarou blows past the three blockers, with a clean wipe!” The roar of the audience filled his ears. Bokuto turned, beaming up into the crowd. He looked for the familiar face framed with (h/c) locks. Bokuto froze, the smile stuck on his face. It was his very first match, his debut match with an actual professional team, yet he had never felt so alone. 

Yes, he had his team-mates. 

Yes, there were people in the audience cheering for him. He was sure that at least a few of his friends and former team-mates would’ve caught part of the game on TV. 

But, they weren’t there. Not in person. 

She wasn’t there. 

“Great job out there Bokuto!” A hand slapped his back. Bokuto lurched forward, turning back to greet his captain.

“Thanks, Meian!” The rest of his team-mates came over, joining in a tight hug. “Thanks for putting me in!” He grinned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“C’mon, Bokuto, let’s go out for drinks!” 

“Yeah! We gotta celebrate your first game with us.” Barnes bumped his shoulder against the younger male. Bokuto scanned the audience once more, not quite sure what he was looking for before he dragged his feet after his team-mates. The team moved towards the locker-room, some moving towards the showers. Bokuto took a seat on the bench, opening up his locker to pull out his bag. He unzipped the bag, grabbing his phone. He stared at the screen blankly. (Name)’s face stared back. It was a candid shot of her at their favorite cafe, taken the day that he had left. Whipped cream was smeared on her nose from Bokuto. No new notifications. Bokuto sighed.

“You coming with us?” Meian poked his head around the lockers, about to head to the showers. 

“Yeah, lemme just get ready.”

****

A door shut. (Name) let out a deep sigh as she moved through her house. Heels were absentmindedly kicked off in the hallway, a coat was carelessly draped over the sofa, a dress tugged up over her head and dropped onto the ground as she walked towards her room. She collapsed at her vanity, staring at the reflection. Another deep sigh. (Name) reached for the makeup wipes, hand trembling as she began aggressively rubbing at her face. With each swipe of her face, more of her natural skin was revealed. She stopped, her body shaking. “What am I even doing?” Her voice cracked, staring back into dull (e/c) orbs. (Name) shook her head. She missed him. So much. Kuroo was just a friend. One of her best friends. It wasn’t a date. It didn’t mean anything...right? It couldn’t mean anything.

(Name) looked back up at her reflection, a picture in her peripherals snagging her attention. Her entire body shifted, hands reaching out for the frame. As she stared down at the picture, her vision went blurry. Was someone crying? Those sobs were so loud. Oh. Thick, hot droplets fell onto the glass, smearing across Bokuto’s smiling face. It almost looked like he was the one crying. “I miss you so much, Kou.” (Name)’s heart clenched as a feeling of loneliness overwhelmed her.

She stood up, making her way to her bed. Collapsing onto it, she held the picture frame close to her heart. On the nightstand was the owl plush that Bokuto had won all those years ago. (Name) tucked it into her chest against the frame as her entire body began to shake furiously. “Please.” She buried her face into the plushie, a hint of Bokuto’s cologne still desperately clinging to it. “Come back to me.”  

****

A month later...

“AGHKAASHI!” The black-haired male looked up to face his friend. 

“Bokuto-san.” The former setter nodded at him. “How have you been?” 

Bokuto slid into the seat across from his friend, beaming. “I’ve been good! Busy. I rarely have any time for myself.” 

Akaashi raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you taking care of yourself?” 

Bokuto’s face faltered. “Define taking care of myself.” His eyes glanced down at the menu. “Oh wow, there’s so many options!” 

Akaashi rolled his eyes. “Have you been eating and drinking?”

“Weeeeeell, most of the time!” Bokuto grinned. “Sometimes I get too tired after all the practice to eat.” 

At this, Akaashi couldn’t stop the sigh. “Where’s (Name) been? Has she not been helping you?” Bokuto’s face fell, causing Akaashi’s eyes to narrow at him. “Did something happen between you two?” Bokuto lowered his face towards the menu, energetically flipping the pages. “Bokuto-san.” Bokuto winced, mumbling something under his breath. “Bokuto-san, I can’t hear you.” Akaashi sighed.

“I uh...I haven’t talked to her in a while.” Akaashi opened his mouth to ask further when the waitress stopped by at the table. They placed their orders, and she took the menus away. Bokuto’s hands were on top of the table now, fidgeting as he avoided his friend’s eyes.

“Bokuto-san, what do you mean by ‘awhile’? I thought you and (Name) were still together?” Bokuto pulled his phone out attempting to use it as a distraction. “Bokuto-san,” Akaashi warned, tugging the phone out of his hands.

Bokuto sighed, chewing on his bottom lip. “I may have not really talked to her since I left for training.” At this, Akaashi’s eyes widened. “I mean! I tried? I texted her the day of her graduation party but uh,” his entire body drooped, “she never texted me back.” Gold eyes stared at his fingers. Gunmetal blue glowed with pity. Bokuto cleared his throat, picking at a callous. “Have you seen her lately?”

Akaashi hesitated. “No.” He replied finally. “I haven’t seen her since our last hangout before you left. She was at the last gym 3 reunion though.” 

Bokuto raised his head, looking out the window. “I’m glad she’s still going out. How was the grad party?” 

“I didn’t go. My internship started that week. From what I heard, it was fun.” Akaashi shrugged. “Apparently Kuroo-san hosted.” 

Bokuto sent his friend a forlorn smile. “I’m glad my best bro is taking care of her.” For the rest of the meal, Bokuto remained silent. It was odd for Akaashi to see the typically loud wing-spiker so quiet and antisocial. But it gave Akaashi time to think. The former setter surveyed his best friend carefully. Akaashi had known that Bokuto and (Name) had been very much in love the moment that Akaashi had met her. It was a type of love that most people prayed for. So what had happened?

“Oi! Horned owl bastard!”

“Kuroo!” 

“What, doesn’t he look like an owl?” Kuroo and (Name) were standing by the entrance of Gym 3 waving in the dual-toned wing-spiker in. 

“That doesn’t mean you call him that!” She argued, smacking his chest. Bokuto laughed loudly, tugging on Akaashi’s elbow.

“Hey hey hey! Kuroo, (Nickname)!”

“Hey Kou,” (Name) smiled at him. He swept her into a hug, swinging her around. Their loud laughter filled the gym as Akaashi approached Kuroo.

“Hello, Kuroo-san.” 

Kuroo’s hazel eyes shifted from Bokuto and (Name), eyeing the setter. “Akaashi, right?” Akaashi nodded. “Come on in, we normally do extra practice after the day ends.” Kuroo clapped an arm around Akaashi’s shoulders, hauling him into the gym. “(Name)! Bokuto brought someone.” 

Bokuto was busy cuddling into her, his face buried in her neck as his arms wound tightly around her shape. “Kou!” She squealed, wrestling away. The owl pouted as she ducked out of his arms, walking towards Kuroo and Akaashi. “Akaashi right? Kou never stops talking about you.” She grinned, extending a hand. “It’s nice to officially meet the only other person who can manage him.” 

“It’s nice to meet you too, (Name)-san.”

“You don’t have to call me (Name)-san! Just (Name) is fine.” 

Bokuto threw his arms around her shoulders, causing her to lurch forward. “(Nickname)! I haven’t been able to see you all day,” he pouted. “Akaashi, stop stealing her attention.”

“Now, now, you clingy owl. Don’t you want to practice?” Kuroo pulled on Bokuto’s collar, dragging him towards the court. 

“Sorry about that, Akaashi.” (Name) and Akaashi stood beside each other, watching as Kuroo and Bokuto started arguing about who deserved her attention more. “It’s hard for the both of us—being at different schools I mean.” Her eyes twinkled with affection, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “He definitely got attached to me last year.” Light-hearted giggles. “That’s what I get for making a best friend at another school.” She turned to look at him. “Thank you for taking care of him for me.” 

Akaashi nodded at her. “I’ll do it for as long as I can.” 

 As they stood outside the restaurant, Akaashi gave Bokuto a hug. “Everything will be alright, Bokuto-san. You’re doing great things.” He smiled, holding Bokuto’s phone out. The lock screen flashed on, revealing a picture of a familiar sleeping face. Bokuto slapped Akaashi on the back, and turned to walk away. As he rounded the corner, he stopped to look down at the phone. A tear slipped down his cheek as a shaky finger stroked the screen. Bokuto’s only wish was that it wasn’t cracked glass but was her soft skin instead. 

****

Meanwhile...

The door opened, causing both people to look up at it. “Hello again, Ms. (L.Name). Thank you for coming in for the 18-week appointment.” He turned his eyes to Kuroo. “And this must be your husband! It’s nice to meet you, I’m Dr. Ito.” Dr. Ito shook Kuroo’s hand, the male giving him a pleasant smile. (Name) gnawed on her bottom lip, biting back a response denying their relationship. The last thing they wanted was unnecessary judgment regarding her circumstances. If she was being honest with herself, she didn’t even know why she’d asked Kuroo to come. Perhaps it was the flood of loneliness that filled her when she realized her circumstances? “How have you been, Ms. (L.Name)?” Her head snapped up, offering a small smile to the doctor.

“Good! I’ve been eating more protein and taking those Omega-3 vitamins you told me to.” 

Dr. Ito hummed, making his way to his seat. “That’s good. Have you noticed any changes with your morning sickness? Any cravings?”

(Name)’s fingers drummed against her thigh, glancing up at Kuroo. Kuroo was seated beside the doorway, hazel eyes carefully observing her. “My morning sickness has been getting a bit better. The ginger tea is helping a lot.” She shifted uncomfortably. “I haven’t really noticed any extra cravings.”

“Sweetheart, you literally asked for sour orange gummies while we were eating that yakiniku,” Kuroo teased. She flushed.

“Okay, maybe I do have some cravings.” (Name) conceded, shooting the male a dirty look. “But it hasn’t gotten to the point where it’s weird stuff like pickles and peanut butter.” Kuroo’s face wrinkled in disgust. 

Dr. Ito laughed. “Well, cravings do start getting a lot worse during the second trimester, and you still have a ways to go.” He jotted some notes down. “Would you like to see your baby?”

Her (e/c) eyes widened. “Can I?”

“Yes of course! You might not be able to see much details, but we can definitely do an ultrasound for you now.” She made eye-contact with Kuroo.

“We’d love that.” 

“Just give me a second to get prepared.” Dr. Ito snapped a pair of gloves on, pulling out a container of gel and the ultrasound device. He gently rubbed the gel onto her stomach, causing her to flinch.

“Oh wow, that’s cold,” she giggled, feeling self-conscious. The baby bump had gotten slightly more noticeable.

“Dad, you can stand over here.” Dr. Ito directed, gesturing for Kuroo to stand beside (Name). Dr. Ito dragged the device across her stomach, the image coming onto the monitor. “Look Mama, your baby is developing just fine. A little smaller than typical, but they’re doing just fine. If you want, we can tell you the gender now?” Kuroo placed a hand onto her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. His eyes sparkled as he looked in awe, hazel orbs shifting between the screen and her.

Tears pricked at her eyes. “No, it’s okay,” she whispered. “I wanna be surprised.”  

“No worries.” A sudden noise from the machine startled her. 

“What’s that?” Kuroo inquired, searching the screen for an answer

“That’s your baby’s heartbeat.” 

(Name) sniffled, tears cascading down her cheek. She looked up, a hand squeezing his as she blinked furiously. Is this what it’d be like if Bokuto was here? More tears streamed down. “Look at that, baby,” Kuroo cooed, his other hand coming up to brush her tears away. A tear escaped his eye now. “You’re doing a great job, Mama.” Her eyes squeezed shut, leaning into his warm embrace. At least she wouldn’t be alone. Not anytime soon.

Fun Facts: 

💟 Kuroo had booked the reservations a month in advance

💟 The first time (Name) and Kuroo had held hands was in elementary school after he accidentally spiked her in the face with a volleyball

💟 The only time (Name) missed one of Bokuto’s games was when Nekoma was playing or if she had school. She attended all of the Fukurodani practice matches and even the matches of Bokuto’s college team.

💟 (Name) and Bokuto frequented the cafe so often that the owners named a pastry after them

💟 It took Bokuto five times to win (Name) the owl plushie.

💟 Since they had graduated, Akaashi trusted (Name) to take care of Bokuto and would often Facetime the couple every few weeks to catch up

💟 Out of everyone from Nekoma, Akaashi likes (Name) the most. Kenma is his second favorite.

💟 When (Name) asked for the sour gummy worms, Kuroo had laughed so much that he accidentally burned their food. 

💟 (Name) heard “Take a Break” in her mind when Kuroo said “Look at that, baby”, but she didn’t mention it to anyone. Nor did she admit to herself how it made her feel   (visit the link for an explanation)

AN: I’m debating switching my schedule so that “Lockscreens” updates on Thursdays instead of Fridays. What do y’all think? 

LMK what y’all think of the fun facts too! 

Oh yeah, requests are still open for the 150 follower celebration!

Taglist: @toaster-stick @thatartsybitch @brazil-hinata @sawamooora @lastminaddition @anejuuuuoy @abby-rutledge20 @babybluebisexual @badboysdoitbetter2 @liathachcapricious @cosmiclunas @wishingforanother@toobsessedsstuff  @setterfish @yeehawslap @shadowkunoichi @haikyuusimp91  @firebonbon  @mentalydisturbed​ @samkysnks​

(If your name is bolded, I had trouble tagging you! If I accidentally missed you, please shoot me an ask!)

Please message me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💞

[redshirtgal]

Look at that deadly serious face. Would you believe there are two amusing stories involving this gentleman? One from a scene involving his character, the other involving the actor behind the scenes.

The idea to bring in a doctor specifically trained in Vulcan medicine was a good one. But we were not introduced to Dr. M’Benga until halfway through the second season in an episode titled “A Private Little War.” It is because of his expertise that we know all those bizarre life scan readings are merely a sign that Spock is concentrating his efforts on healing the severe gunshot wound he had received on the planet.

Up until this point, we have only seen the stern, serious side of M’Benga. But we find in this scene that he has a wicked sense of humor (and an excellent sense of observation). He informs Nurse Chapel that Spock has been conscious enough the entire time and most likely even realized Christine had been holding his hand earlier. And then you see this little grin as poor Nurse Chapel looks mortified and more than a little miffed.

There is one other scene that is not exactly amusing in itself, but has an side story that is. This is the scene where Dr. M’Benga gives Christine explicit instructions about what to do if Spock shows any signs of consciousness.  But when the time comes and Spock commands her to hit him as hard as she can, Christine just can’t do more than a weak slap. Then Scotty enters and when he sees what is happening, pulls her away. It’s up to Dr. M’Benga to bring Spock back to full consciousness.

Which he proceeds to do by pulling his arm back... and delivering a wallop of a slap that even Scotty would be proud of.

And which Spock calmly deems quite sufficient. But Leonard Nimoy was actually pretty irate just after the slap. The filming of this episode was already behind. While the crew set up for this scene, Leonard Nimoy pulled the actor Booker Bradshaw aside and told him he didn’t want to have to reshoot the scene (because he had a paid appearance scheduled that evening). So according to Bradshaw, Nimoy told him no stage slap - to give it everything he had. So... when the time came, Booker Bradshaw wound up and delivered a slap so hard, it knocked Leonard off his feet. And the Vulcan ears off Leonard. Which sent the stage crew and everyone else on the set into peals of laughter but Nimoy did not see the humor at all. Bradshaw said to his dismay, the star was quite angry and made it clear that this time, he better make it a stage slap.

We see him one more time in “That Which Survives” when he is asked to find the reason Ensign Wyatt died. Dr. M’Benga replies that Dr. Sanchez (in the background)  is already performing the autopsy and promises to report the results to Mr. Spock as soon as he knows them.

Later, Dr. M’Benga’s expression demonstrates his exasperation at not being able to give Mr. Spock an explanation for Wyatt’s cause of death, which Dr. Sanchez had established as cellular disruption. And that’s the last time we see Dr. M’Benga.   Memory Alpha seems to think that Dr. M’Benga was meant to be there from the start and that M’Boya was simply a misspelling of his name in that first draft.  Yet according David Tilotta in an article on StarTrek.com,  Dr. M’Benga was not added to the cast of “That Which Survives” until a few days before filming. In the very beginning, the doctor’s name was given as M’Boya. Then as the script revisions progressed, the character of Dr. M’Boya was dropped and his lines given to Nurse Christine Chapel.. But  Marc Cushman’s These Are the Voyages: Season Two  backs up what David Tillota wrote, saying that one of the researchers from Kellam de Forest suggested to Fred Freiberger that the name should be changed to M’Benga on September 13th. However, he makes no mention of the previous change of M’Boya to Nurse Chapel doing the autopsy. Still, it does seem likely someone would have realized there was no need to create a new doctor when Dr. M’Benga had already been established as highly regarded by his CMO.  Story Editor Arthur Singer turned in a final draft on September 20th and page revisions were added on the 21st. Once Fred Freiberger made a few more changes and created the revised final draft dated September 24th and the page revisions were inserted the next day. Just in time for the first day of production which again backs up David Tilotta’s assertion that Dr. M’Benga was close to a last minute addition/revision. 

Dr. M’Benga was played by Booker T. Bradshaw of Richmond, Virginia. Bradshaw’s background is quite impressive. After working at his father’s life insurance company, Booker decided this was not the life for him and entered Harvard University. During his junior year he appeared on the Ted Mack Amateur Hour as a folk singer. Not only did he win three times, but he made it to the finals at Madison Square Garden.  Booker did return to graduate from Harvard in 1962 with the intention of becoming a lawyer. Fate intervened in the form of a Fellowship at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts in London but not before he had performed at Carnegie Hall. Bradshaw did receive an honors certificate for his time at the Academy of Dramatic Arts which he completed by touring England with his Academy students as part of a Shakespeare repertory theater.   *photo credit: http://quod.lib.umich.edu/b/bhl/x-hs8414/hs8414

After finishing the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts, you would think Booker would head straight into the acting world, wouldn’t you? Oh, he had done some stage plays in Harvard and a few other venues, but another opportunity arose. Bradshaw’s connection in the music world lead him to working for Motown Records in Detroit as their international manager. He specifically arranged the European tours of both the Supremes and the Temptations.  According to several stories he could speak anywhere from three to nine languages, depending on the source. Above is a photo of the Supremes as they were about to start their 1965 European tour in London. Not only did Bradshaw serve as their manager but he also did an interview with them that was reprinted here -  https://motownjunkies.co.uk/2013/03/02/589

Around 1967, Booker Bradshaw came back to the United States to resume his acting career and joined a  repertory theater in Rochester, Michigan run by one of his mentors, John Fernald. Fernald was formerly Head of the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts. Bradshaw even wrote the lyrics and music for a play produced there titled And People All Around, which was based on the murders of three civil rights workers in Mississippi. He also appeared in several plays at the Ebony Showcase Theater, including Day of Absence and Happy Endings in 1967. One of his co-stars in both plays was Isabel Sanford. Some of you may remember her as Louise Jefferson in The Jeffersons, which ran from 1975-1985. The Ebony Showcase Theater was the first black theater created especially for black audiences in Los Angeles.  Above - Booker Bradshaw, Juanita Moore and Isabel Sanford (Louise Jefferson) in Happy Endings.  Photo credit - https://filmismemory.wordpress.com/2015/12/29/the-ebony-showcase-theater/

Booker Bradshaw went on to have a very full and successful career in television and film, both as an actor and as a writer. He landed parts on a number of television shows, including several episodes of Tarzan, the Mod Squad, and The F.B.I. In fact, as this newspaper clipping shows (which was actually a press release that appeared in many newspapers across the U.S.), it was thought his role as Special Agent Harry Dane might  be a semi-regular one. However, he is only credited with appearing in two episodes.  *clipping from p. 35 of The Jackson Sun (Jackson TN), November 7, 1969. 

Bradshaw’s movie appearances were fewer, but included two that attained some notice at the time they were released. Above is a publicity photo from The Strawberry Statement (1970) which was loosely based on the Columbia University protests of 1968. He played the character Lucas who is seen on the far right. Fellow Star Trek actress Kim Darby was the female lead named Linda. 

But Booker Bradshaw’s biggest role probably was that of politician Howard Brunswick in Coffy (1973). He was the boyfriend of the title character played by Pam Grier. She played the title character, a nurse who is out to get revenge on the drug dealers who were responsible for the death of her sister. Being a folk singer/media mogul/ theater actor/TV & film actor was evidently not enough. Bradshaw also became a quite accomplished television writer. Between 1973-1976 he and David P. Lewis together wrote scripts for shows like Columbo, Planet of the Apes, and McMillan and Wife. Bradshaw went on to do scripts for Different Strokes, Gimme A Break, and four episodes of The Richard Pryor Show. During the 80s he became a voice actor. Sadly, his impressive career came to an end when he died suddenly of a heart attack in 2003.

[aventurasdeunatortuga]

Laredo Part 2

Week 1

Hey friends,

After a long travel hiatus, as some of you may already know, I am back in Laredo, Texas. I’ll be here for about 3.5 weeks working with shelters to support recently arrived asylum seekers at the US Mexico border. I was here 2 years ago doing the same thing, you can go through the laredo tag on here to get some more background about what is going on here and to read about my experiences in 2019.

I have been here already for about a week and have been so exhausted I haven’t had the energy to write anything, but here is more or less what is going on.

So since Fall of 2019, the border was closed to all asylum seekers thanks to 45’s cruel Remain In Mexico policy, which forced asylum seekers from Central America to wait along the Mexican border for an undetermined amount of time until they could get an immigration hearing. In the past asylum seekers could wait with their families in the US for their court dates (it can be a long wait). Waiting at the border in Mexico, a country they are not from, left folks vulnerable to human trafficking, kidnapping, gang violence, and extortion from the cartels operating along the border. During COVID folks were living in makeshift tents along the border with no running water and were left vulnerable to exposure, flooding, disease, dangerous wildlife, and the millions of other dangers that come from being outside in 113 degree heat with no water. There was no international aid brought in and support was limited to the few aid workers allowed to cross the border, which was very dangerous given the amount of gang violence on the Mexican side. One shelter director in Nuevo Laredo was kidnapped and murdered last year.

When Biden was elected, he reversed the Remain In Mexico policy just a few weeks into his presidency. Meaning that asylum seekers could now enter the US after surrendering at the border and being held for indeterminate amounts of time in ICE detention centers. Once they are released from there they are given a court date in wherever their final destination in the US is, but are left on the street with nothing.

Most folks are illiterate, none speak English and some only speak indigenous dialects. All of their possessions and money have been taken by either cartels or by ICE. Most havent eaten in days and many are seriously ill. None of them know where they are or how to get where they’re going. ICE will drop them off at random towns along the border after releasing them from detention, sometimes hundreds of miles from where they crossed. They just have a name and phone number memorized of a friend or family member in the US that is sponsoring them and who they are planning to stay with.

The vast majority of folks are from Central America, they are fleeing cartel violence , government persecution, extreme poverty, and natural disasters caused by climate change. The instability in these countries (Guatemala, Honduras, Nicaragua, and El Salvador) was caused directly by US intervention, but that’s a whole other topic I won’t get into now. Folks must show a credible proof of being threatened or persecuted in their home country to even be granted the status of asylum seeker and to be given a court date.

Shelters in border towns do what they can to support folks being released from detention. They help them make phone calls, provide translation, help them buy bus and plane tickets, give them food, water, medical care, showers, clean clothes, toiletries, and a safe place to sleep until they are able to make travel arrangements to their final destinations.

During the last 2 years under the Remain In Mexico policy, no one was being admitted and so shelters lost a great deal of funding, staff, and volunteers. They turned more towards community work, which was especially needed during COVID.

Shelters are in a difficult position now though, folks are allowed to enter now which is good news but shelters are having to meet even more extreme needs with far fewer resources than they had pre-COVID.

For a long time the shelter I worked with before, La Frontera, was closed due to lack of funding; but only very recently reopened again. I have been spreading my time between La Frontera (run by Catholic charities) and the other shelter in Laredo, Holding Institute Community Center, which is a community center run by the Methodist Church. Both of these shelters have 2-3 paid staff members, a revolving door of volunteers from around the country (the majority of them nuns), are entirely donation based, and receive 200-300 new people every single day.

About 20-30% of each busload of people that ICE drops off are infected with COVID. ICE refuses to test folks that they detain for COVID because if they knew they had positive cases they would have to provide healthcare and a place for them to quarantine. Instead they lump everyone together in cramped conditions and COVID is allowed to run rampant in these detention centers.

In detention folks are kept in overcrowded rooms, communicated with almost exclusively in English, are provided limited food and toiletries, and are kept in refrigerated rooms (65 degrees) with no blankets. These places are called the ‘ice boxes’. Sometimes folks are separated from their families here as well.

Lately there has also been a dysentery outbreak due to the fact that the city of Laredo does not currently have drinkable water, residents are advised to drink only bottled or boiled water, which asylum seekers do not have access to until they reach the shelters.

When folks reach the shelters, they are given on the spot covid tests by a team of nurses and public health officials. There is no room for them at the hospitals, even if there were room hospitals wouldnt accept them because they have no insurance. The city government has offered bottled water to the shelters but thats it.

After being tested for covid, the health team divides folks into 2 groups, positive and negative. Folks who test positive have to quarantine for 10 days in an empty warehouse next door to the shelter or if they’re lucky and the shelter can afford it, a motel. Yesterday the shelter bought out a motel because there were 200+ covid patients who arrived. We have two small classrooms at the shelter that have been converted into sleeping areas for about 40 covid patients. The medical team leaves boxes of food and clothing outside their door, and once a day they are taken to shower and then the entire bathroom is sanitized.

Those who test negative are immediately vaccinated on site, and then taken to get clean clothes, food, and a shower. They sleep on cots outside under the trees in the fenced courtyard of the shelter.

For the first few days I’ve been here, I’ve been working at Holding only because I didn’t know La Frontera had reopened. I was mainly working on sorting and organizing clothing and helping folks find clothes that they need. Last night though 200+ covid positive patients arrived and we had to stop allowing people in the building to pick out clothes, and today we moved to just putting together kits of different sized clothes to give directly to them.

I was feeling a bit frustrated the last few days because the staff member in charge of organizing donations was being extremely critical of me and it was very frustrating and degrading to be around. I was yelled at a number of times by her. For example, I saw a pile of 200 towels on the ground and folded them. I was told that I did it wrong, to unfold them and fold all of them a different way. Or I started organizing toiletries and was just told ‘no, you’re messing it up, don’t touch that’. I understand that I’m new but no one took the time to introduce themselves to me, orient me, or show me what to do and I was trying to be helpful. I also understand that folks are stressed and under pressure but please don’t take it out on people trying to help you. Most everyone there is extremely nice it was just one of the staff members in particular that was acting this way. I was told I wasn’t allowed to give water or shoes to people who needed them because “I didn’t know how to do it” and because “if you give water to one person, everyones going to want it, and i don’t have time for that”. I didn’t come down here to sit inside doing nothing next to a giant case of bottled water and be told I’m not allowed to give it to the thirsty person in front of me.

So I walked out and I left the shelter in the middle of the day to go drive around town and take a breather, because everything I did seemed like made someone upset. When I came back I inserted myself into the kitchen crew and ended up making 200+ sandwiches for dinner. I also had a long talk with one of the nuns who assured me that that staff member is like that with everyone and has a lot of control issues due to the amount of pressure she is under, and not to take it personally. She told me that La Frontera had reopened and so ever since then I started dividing up my days between the two shelters. This has made a big difference and I feel a lot better and more useful.

I also connected more with some of the nuns here and they invited me to dinner tonight which was nice. One of the sisters is writing a book based on narratives of folks passing through these shelters and is interviewing people she meets. It was fascinating to talk to her. She has worked with undocumented immigrants and DREAMers from around the country for 28 years, and wrote another book based on those experiences called Silent Voices In The Shadows (Paula Schwendinger), which I just finished reading and highly recommend.

Oh, also it has been raining really hard for the past day or so with 95% humidity and constant thunder and lightening, which has made things even more interesting.

I will try to keep posting semi regularly while I’m here.

[thefakejeffreyazoff]

‘He’s our Satan’: Mega music manager Irving Azoff, still feared, still fighting

(x)PEBBLE BEACH, Calif. —  

This is not Irving Azoff’s house. Irving and his wife Shelli own houses all over, from Beverly Hills to Cabo San Lucas, but right now in the last week of October it’s too cold at the ranch in Idaho and too hot at the spread in La Quinta, so he’s renting this place — a modest midcentury six-bedroom that sold for $5 million back in 2016.

From the front door you can see all the way out, to where Arrowhead Point juts like the tail of a comma into the calm afternoon waters of Carmel Bay. More importantly, the house is literally across the street from the Pebble Beach Golf Links, where Azoff likes to play with his college buddy John Baruck, who started out in the music business around the same time Azoff did, in the late ’60s, and just retired after managing Journey through 20 years and two or three lead singers, depending how you count.

(Via LA Times) 

Azoff is 72, and this weekend he’ll be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame alongside Bruce Springsteen’s longtime manager Jon Landau. Beatles manager Brian Epstein and Rolling Stones manager Andrew Loog Oldham are already in, but Azoff and Landau are the first living managers thus honored. Azoff is not only alive — he’s still managing. As a partner in Full Stop Management — alongside Jeffrey Azoff, his oldest son and the third of his four children — he steers the careers of clients like the Eagles, Steely Dan, Bon Jovi and comedian Chelsea Handler, and consults when needed on the business of Harry Styles, Lizzo, John Mayer, Roddy Ricch, Anderson .Paak and Maroon 5. Azoff has Zoom calls at 7, 8 and 9 tomorrow morning, and only after that will he squeeze in a round.

The work never stops when you view the job the way Azoff does, as falling somewhere between consigliere and concierge. “My calls can be everything from ‘My knee buckled, I need a doctor’ to ‘My kid’s in jail,’” Azoff says. “I mean, you have no idea. The ‘My kid’s in jail’ one was a funny one, because the artist then said to me, ‘Y’know, I’ve thought about this. Maybe we should leave him there for a while.’”

Golf entered Azoff’s life the way a lot of things have — via the Eagles, whom Azoff has managed since the early ’70s. Specifically, Azoff took up golf in the company of the late Glenn Frey, the jockiest Eagle, the one the other Eagles used to call “Sportacus.” By the time the Eagles returned to the road in the ’90s they’d left their debauched ’70s lifestyles largely behind, but Azoff and Frey got hooked on the little white ball.

“Frey would insist on booking the tour around where he wanted to play golf,” Azoff says. “We made Henley crazy. Henley would call me in my room and he’d go, ‘Why the f— are we in a hotel in Hilton Head North Carolina and starting a tour in Charlotte? Is this a f— golf tour?’”

Trailed by Larry Solters, the Eagles’ preternaturally dour minister of information, Azoff makes his way down the hill from the house for dinner at the golf club’s restaurant. He’s only 5 feet, 3 inches, a diminutive Sydney Pollack in jeans and a zip-up sweater. In photos from the ’70s — when he was considerably less professorial in comportment, a hipster exec with a spring-loaded middle finger — he sports a beard and a helmet of curly hair and mischievous eyes behind his shades, and looks a little like a Muppet who might scream at Kermit over Dr. Teeth’s appearance fee.

His father was a pharmacist and his mother was a bookkeeper. He grew up in Danville, Ill., booked his first shows in high school to pay for college, dropped out of college to run a small Midwestern concert-booking empire and manage local acts such as folk singer Dan Fogelberg and heartland rock band REO Speedwagon. Los Angeles soon beckoned. He met the Eagles while working for David Geffen and Elliot Roberts’ management company and followed the band out the door when they left the Geffen fold; they became the cornerstone of his empire. “I got my swagger from Glenn Frey and Don Henley,” he says. “No doubt about it.”

Azoff never took to pot or coke. The Eagles lived life in the fast lane; he was the designated driver. “Artists,” he once observed, “like knowing the guy flying the plane is sober.” This didn’t stop him from trashing his share of hotel rooms, frequently with guitarist Joe Walsh — whose solo career Azoff shepherded before Walsh joined the Eagles, and who was very much not sober at this time — as an accomplice.

“This was a different age,” Walsh says of his time as the band’s premier lodging-deconstructionist. “We could do anything we wanted, so we did. And Irving’s role was to keep us out of prison, basically.” He recalls a pleasant evening in Chicago in the company of John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd, which culminated in Walsh laying waste to a suite at the Astor Towers hotel that turned out to be the owner’s private apartment. “We had to check out with a lawyer and a construction foreman,” Walsh remembers. “But Irving took care of it. Without Irving, I’d still be in Chicago.”

Azoff became even more infamous for the pit bull brio he brought to business negotiations on behalf of the Eagles and others, including Stevie Nicks and Boz Scaggs. He didn’t seem to care if people liked him, and his artists loved him for that. Steely Dan co-founder Walter Becker said they’d hired Azoff because he “impressed us with his taste for the jugular … and his bizarre spirit.” Jimmy Buffett’s wife grabbed him outside a show at Madison Square Garden, pushed him into the back of a limo and said, You have to manage Jimmy, although Buffett already had a manager at the time.

His outsized reputation as an advocate not just willing but eager to scorch earth on behalf of his clients became an advertisement for his services, a phenomenon that continues to this day. In August 2018, Azoff’s then-client Travis Scott released “Astroworld,” which debuted at No. 1 on the Billboard 200 chart, and occupied that slot again the following week, causing Nicki Minaj’s album “Queen” to debut at No. 2. On her Beats One show “Queen Radio,” Minaj accused Scott of gaming Billboard’s chart methodology to keep her out of the top slot and singled his manager out by name: “C—sucker of the Day award,” she said, “goes to Irving Azoff.” Azoff says he reacted as only Azoff would: “I said, ‘I’m really unhappy about that. I want to be c—sucker of the year.’” In 2019, Minaj hired Azoff as her new manager.

Most of the best things anyone’s ever said about Azoff are statements a man of less-bizarre spirit would take as an insult. When the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inducted the Eagles in 1998, Don Henley stood onstage and said of Azoff, “He may be Satan, but he’s our Satan.”

An N95-masked Azoff takes a seat on a patio with a view of hallowed ground — the first hole of the Pebble Beach course, a dogleg-right par 4 with a priceless view of the bay. He cheerfully admits that he and his partners at Full Stop are “obviously, as a management business, kind of losing our ass” this year due to COVID-19. In another reality, the Eagles would have played Wembley Stadium in August before heading off to Australia or the Far East. Styles would have just finished 34 dates in the U.S., Canada and Mexico. As it stands Azoff is hearing encouraging things about treatments and vaccines and new testing machines, and is reasonably confident that technology will soon make it possible for certified-COVID-free fans to again enjoy carefree evenings of live music together; he doesn’t expect much to happen in the meantime.

“What are you gonna do,” Azoff says, “take an act that used to sell 15,000 seats and tell them to play to 4,000 in the [same] arena? The vibe would be horrible, and production costs will stay the same.”

He knows of at least six companies trying to monetize new concert-esque experiences — pay-per-view shows from houses and soundstages, drive-in events and so on. But he’s not convinced anybody wants to sit in their parked car to watch a band play. More to the point, he’s not convinced it’s rock ’n’ roll.

“Fallon and Kimmel, all these virtual performances — people are sick of that,” he says. “Your production values from home aren’t that good. And they’re destroying the mystique. I mean, Justin Bieber jumping around on ‘Saturday Night Live’ the other night without a band, and then he had Chance the Rapper come out? It made him look to me, mortal. I didn’t feel any magic. So we’ve kinda been turning that stuff down to just wait it out.”

In the meantime, he says, Full Stop is picking up new clients during the pandemic. Artists with time on their hands, he believes, “have taken a hard look at their careers— so we’ve grown. No revenues,” he adds with a chuckle, “but people are saying, ‘We need you, we need to plan our lives.’”

“IN HIGH SCHOOL,” Jeffrey Azoff says, “I wanted to be a professional golfer, which has obviously eluded me.” He never expected to take up his father’s profession. “But my dad has always loved his job so much. There’s no way that doesn’t rub off on you.”

The younger Azoff got his first industry job at 21, as a “glorified intern” working for Maroon 5’s then-manager Jordan Feldstein. After a week of filing and fetching coffee, he called his father and complained that he was bored. According to Jeffrey, Irving responded, “Listen carefully, because I’m going to say this one time. You have a phone and you have my last name. If you can’t figure it out, you’re not my son.”

“Direct quote,” Jeffrey says. “It’s one of my favorite things he’s ever said to me. And it’s the spirit of the music business, by the way. There are no rules to this. Just figure it out.”

Over dinner I keep asking Irving how he got the temerity, as a kid barely out of college, to plunge into the shark-infested waters of the ‘70s record industry in Los Angeles. He just shrugs.

“I never felt the music business was that competitive,” he says. “It’s just not that f—ing hard. I don’t think there’s that many smart people in our business.”

It’s been written, I say, that once you landed in California and sized up the competition, you called John Baruck back in Illinois and said —

“We can take this town,” Azoff says, finishing the sentence. “Where’d you get that? John told that story to [Apple senior vice president] Eddy Cue on the golf course three days ago. It’s true. I called John up and said, ‘OK, get your ass out here. We can take this town.’”

In the ensuing years, Azoff has occupied nearly every high-level position the music industry has to offer, surfing waves of industry consolidation. He’s been the president of a major label, MCA; the CEO of Ticketmaster; and executive chairman of Live Nation Entertainment, the behemoth formed from Ticketmaster’s merger with Live Nation. In 2013 he and Cablevision Systems Corp. CEO and New York Knicks owner James Dolan formed a partnership, Azoff MSG Entertainment; Azoff ran the Forum in Inglewood for Dolan after MSG purchased it in 2012.

Earlier this year Dolan sold the Forum for $400 million to former Microsoft CEO and Clippers owner Steve Ballmer, who’s since announced plans to build a new stadium on a site just one mile away. Despite the apocalyptic parking scenario that looms for the area — two stadiums and a concert arena on a one-mile stretch of South Prairie Boulevard — Azoff is confident that the Forum will live on as a live-music venue. “People are going, ‘They’re going to tear it down’ — they’re not going to tear it down,” Azoff says. “It’s going to be in great hands. I have many of the artists we represent booked in the Forum, waiting for the restart based on COVID.”

The holdings of the Azoff Co. — formed when Dolan sold his interest in Azoff MSG back to Azoff two years ago — include Full Stop, the performance-rights organization Global Music Rights and the Oak View Group, which is developing arenas in Seattle and Belmont, N.Y., and a 15,000-seat venue on the University of Texas campus in Austin. Azoff describes himself as increasingly focused on “diversification, and building assets for the family that aren’t just dependent on commissions, shall we say.”

But as both a manager and a co-founder of a lobbying group, the Music Artists Coalition, he’s also devoting more time and energy to a broad range of artists’-rights issues, from health insurance to royalty rates to copyright reversion to this year’s Assembly Bill 5, which threatened musicians’ independent-contractor status until it was amended in September. (“That was us,” Azoff says, somewhat grandly. “I got to the governor, the governor signed it — Newsom was great on it.”) He describes his advocacy for artists — even those he doesn’t manage — as a “war on all fronts,” and estimates there are 21 major issues on which “we’ve sort of appointed ourselves as guardians.”

He does not continue to manage artists because he needs the money, he says. (As the singer-songwriter and Azoff client J.D. Souther famously put it, “Irving’s 15% of everybody turned out to be more than everyone’s 85% of themselves.”) Everything he’s doing now — building clout through the Azoff Co., even accepting the Hall of Fame honor — is ultimately about positioning himself to better fight these fights. “I’d rather work on [these things] than anything else,” he says. “But if I didn’t have the power base in the management business, I couldn’t be effective.”

The recorded music industry, having fully transitioned to a digital-first business, is once again making money hand over fist, he points out, but even less of that money is trickling down to artists. That imbalance long predates Big Tech’s involvement in the field, but the failure of music-driven tech companies to properly compensate musicians is clearly the largest burr under Azoff’s saddle.

“These people, when they start out — whether it’s Facebook, Snapchat, TikTok, whatever — they resist paying for music until you go beat the f— out of them. And then of course, none of them pay fair market value and they get away with it. Your company’s worth $30 billion and you can’t spend 20 grand for a song that becomes a phenomenon on your channel? Even when they pay, artists don’t get enough. Writers don’t get enough. Music, as a commodity, is more important than it’s ever been, and more unfairly monetized for the creators. And that’s what creates an opportunity for people like me.”

AZOFF’S FIRM NO longer handles Travis Scott, by the way. “Travis is unmanageable,” Azoff says, nonchalantly and without rancor. “We’re involved in his touring as an advisor to Live Nation, but he’s calling his own shots these days.”

I ask if, in the age of the viral hit and the bedroom producer, he finds himself running into more artists who assume they don’t need a manager. Ehh, Azoff says, like it’s always been that way. “There’s a lot of headstrong artists,” he says. “I haven’t seen one that’s better off without a manager than with,” he says, and laughs a little Dennis the Menace laugh.

We’re back at the house. Azoff takes a seat on the living-room couch; Larry Solters sits across from him, his back to the sea. Azoff recalls another big client. Declines to name him. Says he was never happy, even after Azoff and his people got him everything on his wish list. “He hit me with a couple bad emails. Just really disrespectful s—. I sent him an email back that said, ‘Lucky for me, you need me more than I need you. Goodbye.’”

He will confirm having resigned the accounts of noted divas Mariah Carey and Axl Rose. Reports that he once attempted to manage Kanye West have been greatly exaggerated, he says, although they’ve spoken about business. “Robert [Kardashian] was a good friend of mine. The kids all went to school together,” Azoff says. “What I always said to Kanye was, you’re unmanageable, but we can give you advice.

“A lot of people could have made a dynasty on the people we used to manage,” Azoff says, “let alone the ones we kept.”

But he still works with many artists who joined him in the ’70s — with Henley, with Steely Dan’s Donald Fagen and with Joe Walsh. Walsh has been sober for more than 25 years; it was Azoff, along with Henley and Frey, who talked him into rehab before the Eagles’ 1994 reunion tour. “Irving never passed judgment on me,” Walsh says. “And from that meeting on, he made sure I had what I needed to stay sober.” If he hadn’t, Walsh says, there’s no chance we’d be having this conversation. “All the guys I ran with are dead. Keith Moon’s dead. John Entwistle’s dead. Everybody’s dead, and I’m here. That’s profound to me.”

The first client Azoff lost was Minnie Riperton — in 1979, to breast cancer when she was only 31. Then Warren Zevon, to cancer, in 2003. Fogelberg, to cancer, four years later.

“And then Glenn,” says Azoff, referring to the Eagles co-founder who died in 2016. “I miss Glenn a lot. And now Eddie.”

Van Halen, that is. I ask Azoff if he can tell me a story that sums up what kind of guy Eddie Van Halen was; he tells me a beautiful one, then says he’d prefer not to see it in print. It makes perfect Azoffian sense — profane trash talk on the record, tenderness on background.

I ask if he’s been moved to contemplate his own mortality, as his boomer-aged clients approach an actuarial event horizon. Of course the answer turns out to involve keeping pace with an Eagle.

“Henley and I are having a race,” he says. “Neither one of us has given in. Neither one of us is going to retire.”

Henley was born in July 1947; Azoff came along that December. Does Don plan to keep going, I ask, until the wheels fall off?

“I don’t know,” Azoff says.

Do you ever talk about it?

“Yeah! He’ll call me up and he’ll go, ‘I really feel s— today.’ And I say, ‘Well, you should, Grandpa. You’re an old man. You ready to throw in the towel? Nope? OK.’”

Azoff says, “I contend that what keeps us all young is staying in the business. I’ve had more people tell me, ‘My father, he quit working, and then his health started failing,’ and all that. Every single — I mean, every single rock star I know is basically doing it to try and stay young. And I think it works. I really think it works.

“I have this friend,” Azoff says. “Calls me once a week, he’s sending me tapes, it’s his next big record. Paul Anka! He’s 80 years old. OK? And my other friend, Frankie Valli …”

“Do you know how old Frankie Valli is?” Solters says. “Eighty-six. And he still performs.”

“Not during COVID,” Azoff says. “I told the motherf—, ‘You’re not going out.’”

[flopity-flips]

Folks 👏🏻 I was wondering if I could request NSFW 😏 perhaps Noct’s lovely s/o worshiping the uh... royal jewels?

SOOOOO I am what the kids call a virgin haha. I have not seen a one penis cause I am gay. BUT. I didn't wanna say no to the request cause i love Noct and my dear followers SOOOOOOOOO I GOT MY DEAREST FRIEND @incinc TO WRITE IT FOR ME! Check out her AO3 here if you want more awesome FFXV stories!

Noctis drags himself to his apartment after a long day of meetings and training, piano practice, a 5-hour shift at the sushi restaurant (where everyone treats him too nicely, in his opinion, but whatever). He doesn’t even want Ignis to follow him. He’d grunted a soft goodbye to his adviser, shouldered his duffel bag of training clothes, and somehow made it up the stairs and into his apartment.  

The prince clicks the lock shut behind him, and turns—and the first thing he notices is the smell. Cedarwood, smoke, fresh linen—had it smelled this good in here when he’d left this morning? The prince scans his eyes across his living room—the apartment is spotless. All of his bottles and pizza boxes and takeout containers are gone—the shelves look dusted, the entertainment center looks neat—are the video games arranged by name and release date?-- the couch cushions look washed. There’s only one other explanation—Ignis had been with him all day, so that means...

___________ appears from the back hallway, looking freshly showered and dressed down in soft cotton shorts and an old hoodie. She smiles warmly at Noct. “Welcome home, honey.”

Noctis’ brain goes from zero to a hundred almost instantly, all previous lethargy gone in the presence of his girlfriend. “Hi,” he breathes, voice low and heavy. “Did you...do this?”

___________ nods, coming up close to him and wrapping the tired prince in a tight hug. He can feel the warmth of her skin, smell the expensive mint shampoo...he licks his lips as he drops his bag and returns the embrace.  

“Thank you,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to her cheek.  

“It was nothing. I was bored all day, so what else was I supposed to do while you were gone? I also cooked. Leftovers are in the fridge. Oh, and I did laundry, too. Changed the sheets.”

Noct nuzzles into her neck, pressing feather-light kisses to her soft neck. “So perfect,” he whispers. “I don’t deserve you.”

____________ giggles under his ministrations. “Oh, stop. It was nothing. I know how you feel at the end of every day. I don’t mind picking up.”

Noctis hums in appreciation. How did he get so lucky? He stands up and kisses her proper, fierce and possessive and full of love.  

Soon enough, she’s breathing quiet moans into his mouth, and Noctis suddenly feels interested. He pulls away, clearing his throat. “Whaddaya say we, uh. Go check out those fresh sheets?”

His girlfriend grins wickedly. “Sure. I bet you’re in the need for some worshipping, aren’t you, Highness ?”

Noctis gulps hard, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks as she pulls him towards the bedroom.  

Noct is naked, flushed bright red from his abs all the way to his hairline. He’s seated on the bed, supple thighs spread wide. ___________ has also stripped, bare body laid out before him like an offering. She looks damn good on her knees, Noctis thinks, as he pets her soft, still-damp hair. If this is what being a prince, a future king, is like, then he’ll quit his complaining and take it. Because there’s nothing in the world that compares to this feeling. Noct’s chest heaves, eyes clouded over with lust as his girlfriend kisses and licks all over his rock-hard length. Noctis had tried to shower first, but she’d insisted on taking him exactly as he’d arrived—musky and sweaty and willing. He bites back a groan as he feels her slide more of his cock into her hot, wet mouth—feels her cute nose nuzzle into the dark hairs of his groin, tongue lapping over every inch of his girth.  

She likes to tease him for a long time, until Noct finally grabs her hair and pumps his hips so roughly between her perfect lips until he spills himself boneless. But they’re not there yet, Noctis feels no sense of urgency—he's content to let her suck away the stress of his day. There’s time yet to take what is his.  

__________ pulls off his cock, pressing a kiss to his leaking head, and holding it up so she can take one of his heavy balls into her mouth—and then the other one—and Noct whines with the sensation. “You’re so good,” he chokes out. “So perfect, on your knees.”

She pulls from his sac and clears her throat. It’s already raw with the effort she’s been putting it, and it only serves to turn Noct on more. “I know my place, Highness.”

Noct hates his title, usually—but in the bedroom, in their roleplay, he can’t get enough of it. She’s serving him, nothing more than a vessel, a tool for his pleasure. Noctis knows their relationship is deeper than that, but still—the power dynamics make the sex that much more incredible.  

“Baby,” Noct says after a long time, when he thinks he can’t take it anymore. His cock is hypersensitive, aching, diamond hard—and he knows he’s close.  

___________ does nothing but moan, mouth full of the royal jewels. She nods, bright eyes flicking up to meet his.  

“Fuck,” says Noct, as he digs sword-calloused hands into her hair and grips hard. It doesn’t take long before he’s choking out soft cries, coming hard into her mouth, and of course she swallows down everything the prince has to offer.  

Later, after he’s showered and eaten, when they’re cuddling in bed,  Noct thinks that even though his days are long and tiring, the soft nights with ___________ make up for everything else a hundred times over.  

[newmusickarl]

Album & EP Recommendations

Album of the Week: For Those I Love by For Those I Love

“I have a love,

And it never fades,

I have a love full of flames that rage,

I have a love that never turns,

I have a love that burns.”

-          You Stayed/To Live, For Those I Love

Every once in a while, an album will come along that is just undeniably special. The debut album from Dublin-based producer and songwriter David Balfe is very much that album.

This is a record that is both heart-breaking and uplifting in equal measure. Pensive and euphoric. A record to be enjoyed at a deep, introspective level but also one in which you can just switch off and get lost in the glorious sounds that are on display. An album about life, love, loss, and everything in-between.

To really get to the heart of this album though, it is important to first know the tragic context of its inception. In 2018, David Balfe’s best friend since childhood and musical collaborator Paul Curran took his own life. Overwhelmed by the loss, Balfe would escape to his parents’ shed where himself and Paul used to create their music as teenagers. Hiding himself away in that shed, Balfe started crafting new music, outpouring all his thoughts and emotions into it; his upbringing in Ireland, his family, his friendship with Paul, his grief - ultimately all the memories of these he now carries with him.

Out of this intensive period of song writing came over 70 songs that were eventually whittled down to the nine that make up this masterpiece of an album. Named For Those I Love, the project was made for his family and friends and was first shared with them a little while ago. Now, Balfe has shared this project with the world and the world will be grateful that he did. This is because despite being an intensely personal record, one where Balfe’s own life and emotions are deeply intertwined into the fabric of every lyric and verse here, the message and music are universal. This album is for everyone who has ever suffered a loss, and those that have yet to experience such grief.

Now you’re probably expecting from that build up that this album is quite an overwhelming or harrowing listen, but it really is not. The heavy weight of the thematic and lyrical content, which is beautifully poetic in its delivery, is balanced out perfectly by the house beats and celebratory dance music that accompanies it. Sonically, you can compare this to The Streets and Fontaines D.C. joining forces with Burial and Four Tet to craft something entirely profound and totally unique. This is an emotional record yes, but Balfe’s love letter to his friends and family also makes for an uplifting and life-affirming experience.

Because of how this album plays out, its hard to pick one or two tracks to highlight as I would normally do – the odyssey and joy this album will give you is the highlight. However, the three tracks (I Have A Love, You Stayed/To Live and Leave Me Not Love) forged around the beautiful central refrain of “I have a love and it never fades” that begins and bookends the album, those are the ones that ultimately end up resonating the most.  

It’s hard to say where Balfe will go from here – for him, much like one of his inspirations Burial after making Untrue, he may decide to not make another record and focus his creativity elsewhere. With the identity of this musical persona so engrained in this particular record and the time in which it was made, it would be hard to make a direct follow up. That said, if this is a one and done project for Balfe, he has more than left his mark on the musical landscape in 2021 with an album that I believe will still be inspiring people over a decade later.

A magnificent tour de force from beginning to end, a masterpiece in every sense - I fully expect this one to be in the Album of the Year and Mercury Music Prize conversations later on this year. If you only have time to listen to one album this week, definitely make it this one.

The Close / Le Réveil by Josef Salvat

In any other week, Josef Salvat would have been my Album of the Week with The Close. Not too dissimilar to Balfe’s debut, on Salvat’s third album (his second in the last 12 months) the Australian singer-songwriter takes on feelings of loss, this time brought on by the breakdown of a relationship, carefully balancing out the sorrow and remorse with a sonic backdrop of pop and dance melodies.

I have loved everything he has ever released, but The Close already feels like Salvat’s most complete and accomplished work to date, propelled by standout tracks like First Time and I Miss You. That said, my favourite track is still One More Night, an ambient yet ravey number that features a danceable club groove made up of synths and panpipes. An incredible album, that I will keep revisiting in the coming weeks.

Collections From The Whiteout by Ben Howard

And finally on the albums front this week, acclaimed singer-songwriter Ben Howard has released his fourth studio album Collections From The Whiteout this week. This album sees Howard collaborate with The National’s Aaron Dessner on production duties for the first time, offering up a record that feels even more experimental than his last effort, Noonday Dream. 

Although the album eventually overstays its welcome somewhat with it being almost an hour in length, it is still a fascinating showcase of Howard’s unique blend of folk and alt-rock. Standouts include opener Follies Fixture, Crowhurst’s Meme and Far Out.

Tracks of the Week

James by Oscar & The Wolf

Now, we may have just had the album and song of the year drop in the same week.

His first new release in three years, Belgian popstar Max Colombie (who goes by the Oscar & The Wolf moniker) has said that the arrangement for new single James appeared to him in a dream, which is quite amazing considering how richly textured it feels. In fact, it has only been out a few days and it already feels like his most accomplished song to date.

Dazzling harmonies, pounding drums and a shimmering central guitar riff eventually transcend into a dreamy, psychedelic guitar solo in the song’s climax. The track is over five minutes long but honestly you’ll wish it was longer – this is perfection.

Smalltown Boy by Kele

Bloc Party frontman Kele Okereke served up his second taste of forthcoming solo album The Waves Pt.1 this week, featuring his inimitable vocals crying out a gorgeous refrain of “run away, turn away” over a haunting Interpol-esque central riff. Stunning!

Fall In Love Again by Rag & Bone Man

Also offering a second taste of their forthcoming album this week was Rory Graham, aka Rag & Bone Man, who dropped this heartfelt acoustic guitar and piano driven ballad, anchored as always by his powerful voice.

X by Working Men’s Club

And finally Working Men’s Club have wasted little time readying the follow-up to their impressive 2020 debut, with first single X arriving this week. More reminiscent of The Horrors this one, X sees the band surround Syndey Minsky-Sargeant’s punky vocals with some heavy guitars and ominous synths.