#read ‘composite numbers’ and had to pause

[machveil]

Every composite number Pookie <3

had to Google composite numbers🧍🏻‍♂️hi pookie!!

4. Whats your favorite feeling? - being so incredibly moved by art and music that I tear up. like, the feeling of visuals, music, and voice acting that lead up to an impactful scene? something in me gets emotional

6. What’s your favorite candle scent? - Bath & Body Works sugared lemon zest✨it’s so good, makes me want to eat it… aah, forbidden snack

8. Whats a fabric/texture that’s nostalgic for you? - for Pillow Pet enjoyers, if you’ve seen, have, or had the rainbow unicorn one, that is nostalgic. the fluffy rainbow back and the soft purple fabric? iconic, never giving mine up

9. Best childhood moment? - consistently being the last person standing on my team during dodgeball. I knew I couldn’t throw a ball to save my life so I focused on staying in. unfortunately that left me with a firing squad of kids chucking rubber at me

10. When was the last time you laughed so hard you cried? (or just felt really good afterwards) - today on Instagram reels, I laughed for a solid five minutes watching a dumb video

12. What calms you down? - talking to my friends and being around people I like. sometimes I need alone time too, but even being in the same room as someone is nice for me

14. Whats something upcoming that you’re excited for? - possible trip with my friends!! we might go to an aquarium

15. Comfort food? - my mother makes really good pork belly and kimchi fried rice. oh, and kimchi jjigae, aah and bulgogi… literally anything my mom makes, it’s always good. I have a soft spot for Korean dishes though

16. What’s something you want to create soon? - aah I should animate or storyboard something sooner than later. I like doing it, I just need to start something

18. What age in life do you think you’ll feel most yourself at? - I mean, I feel like myself right now. I’ll probably still be changing into my twenties, but, like, I’m pretty happy and content as I am now too. I’m able to express myself with my friends and enjoy what I like

20. Tell us about a memory you hold close to your heart - when I was a kid there was this obnoxious boy in my class. our playground had a fireman pole that was pretty high up off the ground. I was minding my business by it when he came up to me and said, “Watch this.”. he took a running start, jumped, tried to grab the pole, missed and fell into the wood chips below. he laid there for a minute before dusting himself off and sulking away. I think about that when I bummed, cheers me up

21. Tea, Coffee, or hot cocoa? - mm I like ‘em all. cold barley tea, oatmilk latte, and cocoa with crushed peppermint

22. Name of your favorite playlist? - Drawing👁️👄👁️

24. Who is your bestfriend? - I don’t necessarily have a best friend, but I’m really close with two of my cousins and two of my girl friends. if I needed help I’d go to them first, I know they have my back and I have theirs

25. If your soul was a color, what would it be? - I mean, I vibe with your eyes being the gateway to your soul… so brown haha. something warm and cozy, a nice deep brown

26. If you could live anywhere with anyone you want, where would it be and who would you bring? - I’m lame and romanticize cute apartment living in an urban area haha. I don’t really take up a lot of space and I desperately want a nice balcony. the ‘where’ doesn’t matter too much to me, but uuh Canada is looking really nice right about now and it’s still technically close to my family

as for who’s coming with, I don’t really know. maybe a partner eventually since I know my friends are already sorting out their living situations? never really thought about that part

27. Do you like to garden? Have you ever grown something? - in theory I like gardening. I gardened at my middle school for a class project, grew some cucamelons, assorted vegetables and berries, help my mom and grandma with their gardens whenever they feel like it, and it’s nice. my only problem is I’m not huge on dirt or bugs lmfao. the closest I have to my own garden is my one Jade succulent who’s doing really well in her pot

28. What are you proudest of? - my gut answer is my friends, seeing them grow up and do what they want to do makes me proud of them. I suppose my personal answer would be my art, I like looking back at my middle school art and seeing how far I’ve come

30. What do your hobbies look like? - other than drawing and writing, I’m really just big on gaming. right now I’ve been happily F2P in Wuthering Waves since launch. I’m not usually big on combat focused games, but WuWa is super relaxing and I’ve really enjoyed the combat. otherwise, I’ve also been playing Animal Crossing New Horizons again, slowly making progress on my island - still waiting for Pudge or Patches to show up

[bluecatwriter]

The kiss ficlets continue! Copied from an ask that had multiple submissions:

Your wish is my command! :) I decided to make it a post-canon fic featuring my ongoing desire to ship Jack/Mina/Jonathan.

(Send me a ship and a number and I'll write a kiss.)

(All kiss ficlets here)

A kiss... to gain something

Jack had been bustling around his small townhouse all day long, trying to make it look more presentable and less like the bachelor pad it was— and was rewarded when the Harkers arrived from Exeter, and Mina exclaimed with genuine delight, "Oh John, I love what you've done here!" It had been a rather bare apartment when he'd first moved in a month ago upon quitting his job at the asylum, but the Harkers visiting had given him ample motivation to make the whole house (and especially the bedroom) presentable.

After her compliment, Mina had greeted him with a quick kiss that have nevertheless left his legs wobbling, while Jonathan, as usual, stayed pleasant and a bit aloof. There was conversation to be had before bed, and Jack had made tea and bought some biscuits and laid them out in front of the hearth. He and Mina sat next to each other on the settee while Jonathan sat in the chair by the fire, and soon Jack and Mina fell into the animated conversation that had long marked their friendship. Soon she had him babbling about the ins and outs of his new job at the local hospital, which led naturally to the event that most excited him.

"I've been invited tomorrow to a luncheon, at which a very distinguished professor from Germany, Dr. Flechsig, will be presenting his latest findings in categorizing the cytoarchitecture of the human brain."

Mina tilted her head to the side, her eyes lighting up. "Cytoarchitecture… that's the study of cellular composition?"

"Of the central nervous system's tissues, yes. Forgive my jargon. Dr. Flechsig has been making amazing advancements in our understanding of the brain, and—"

Mina clapped her hands together, startling him. "Oh John, you must allow me to come along!" 

Jack paused mid-sentence, his train of thought derailed. "With me? I…" He shook his head to clear it. "I'm sorry, Mina, but this is a very exclusive lecture. It wouldn't do for me to bring an unexpected guest."

"We wouldn't make a scene. I would sit in a corner and not say a word. I could even transcribe the lecture so that you could refer to my notes later."

Jack balked at this, since she did make a good point. Still… "I apologize, but I simply can't. I am still fairly new to this circle of colleagues and it is enough of a stretch for them to invite me in the first place." 

Mina was staring at him with those big golden-brown eyes now; she had always had such a talent for looking appealing. But the mental image of him showing up to a lecture with an unexpected woman in tow was enough to make him shore up his strength; his will could be greater than hers, he told himself. 

"I'll be sure to tell you everything that I learn," he said, trying to soften the blow of the rejection, but now his voice wavered, because she had not relented in gazing at him.

"Please, John," she said, her voice now softer. "As a personal favor?"

He was suddenly and keenly aware of all the blood in his body. He cleared his throat. "I can't just bring…" His voice failed him when she leaned toward him, and he jerked his head to face forward, trying to ignore her nose brushing against his jaw. As if searching for a lifeline, he looked over at Jonathan, but Jonathan had picked up a scientific periodical lying on the end table and was leaned back in the chair, reading it studiously as if Jack and Mina were not in the room at all. Jack huffed and closed his eyes, wondering why he had even thought to look to Jonathan for help with saying no to Mina. 

"Mrs. Harker, I know what you are doing, and it will not work," he told her, trying to put all the firmness into his voice that he could muster, but despite this, his voice slightly trembled as he felt her lips mouthing softly along his ear. 

"And I," she said with a smile in her voice, right into his ear, "am politely asking you to reconsider." He felt her tongue trace the shell of his ear, followed by a soft kiss.

"Mina," he meant to say in a stern voice, but it came out as a whimper. She touched his chin and turned him to face her, their mouths teasingly close— all he would have to do was move his head forward an inch— but this would be conceding, and he— he— what was he so worried about? He couldn't remember.

He kissed her, and she kissed him back, pressing him down into the settee and giving his mouth lavish attention with her tongue. When at last she pulled away, he gasped for air, every nerve in his body tingling with pleasure.

"So I'll go with you tomorrow, then?" Mina asked, smiling prettily.

Jack groaned, but felt too wobbly to sit up or even speak. Instead, he just half-nodded, making a vague sound of assent. 

Mina grinned, and Jack heard a chortling noise from Jonathan. But when he glanced over, Jonathan was still reading the scientific periodical, with only the tiniest smirk on his lips.

~~~

[idontknowreallywhy]

Composition Ch 4 -

Poco a Poco Crescendo*

Previous part here

Or you can read the whole of this short thing here (tumblr) or here (ao3).

And yes, the song is written and may make an appearance later (I’m nervous - it’s harder to write simple things!!)

(*Getting gradually louder)

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

He still wasn’t talking. Occasionally it looked as though he wanted to but that flash of panic would cross his face and he’d press his lips together and gaze into the distance.

The doctors said it was just a matter of patience - of waiting for him to be ready. But they’d also said Virgil was ready to go home and they couldn’t have been more wrong about that so in all honesty he had stopped paying them much mind.

Virgil knew his brother could form words because he muttered… pleaded… screamed them in his sleep. Not in a language Virgil could readily understand… he’d borrowed Dad’s phone once when he had stepped out to have a discussion with the consultant and whispered the clearest and most common sound into the translation app - uciec - flee? But the rest were too jumbled and it didn’t recognise his attempts as words.

It was probably better not to know.

But the not knowing clawed at him. How could he help his brother recompose his melody when he didn’t recognise the darker notes in the harmonic line?

Step by step, that’s how. He clung to the faint note of hope that resided in his chest. He had to believe that when Scott started talking it would be ok, that they could work it out together.

But so far the best Virgil could get out of him was when he’d hum along a little as Virgil sang. Sometimes it would match what he was singing, other times not so much. The clearest was when he sang Mom’s lullaby - then the tune was clearly recognisable, if husky and faint.

It was three in the morning and Virgil had startled awake, heart pounding, as his brother shouted again in his sleep. Within seconds, a nurse was at the bedside checking his stats, flicking a small torch over his face. After presumably confirming all was well with the machines they paused for a moment to pat a now quietly slumbering Scott on the shoulder before making a swift exit.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Virgil tiptoed across the floor and settled himself in his usual chair by Scott’s right shoulder. Leaning forward on the fall rail, he hummed to calm himself as he made a cursory check of the various readouts. Mostly same as usual: Moderate fever, blood pressure uncomfortable but not too concerning, oxygen sats were ok. So much better than they had been at the start. The maddening beep of the pulse monitor had thankfully been shut off but the gleaming red number betrayed a rate edging on tachycardia. Again, as expected in the immediate aftermath of a nightmare. Which was… a lot of the time.

He watched as it began to tick downwards - 102, 101, 100, 99, 98, 97, 96… 92, 87, 86… it hadn’t been that low yet, he must finally be resting… 84, 82, 80, 79… Virgil’s own galloping heart rate slowed a little too. This was good. This had to be a good sign.

He turned and reached out a hand to stroke Scott’s hair and his heart jumped nearly from his chest as the glow of the monitor screen reflected eerily from the wide dark eyes gazing up at him.

“Hey Scotty.”

His right arm lifted a little and Virgil took his hand and squeezed it. Scott frowned a little as if concentrating and Virgil’s fingers were squished together, just a little, just for a moment.

“Love you too.”

It was hard to tell in the near darkness but there seemed something different in Scott’s wildly dilated eyes. A sense of intent in the tiny muscles surrounding them. As if right now he meant to be looking rather than staring passively.

Virgil did his best reassuring smile and maintained the eye contact as gently as he could. After a little while his brother seemed to sag, exhausted and let his eyes drift closed again. Another little hand squeeze which Virgil returned while brushing the sweaty strands of too long hair from Scott’s cheek.

“You want to get some kip now, Scotty…” the tiny shake of the head rejected the suggestion before Virgil had even finished asking “… or shall we sing a little bit first?” Another squeeze confirmed.

Virgil unlocked the safety rail and shuffled forwards to drape an arm across his big brother’s emaciated chest and rest his head on the overly angular shoulder. Ever so quietly he began to sing her song and relished the sound and feel of the faint hum of accompaniment vibrating in Scott’s throat.

They’d get there they’d get there they’d get there.

A trickle of wetness ran into his hair and he faltered, his throat closing before he could reach the end of the line. He swallowed hard to recover then realised Scott had finished it for him.

“… eee.”

So softly, barely audible but it was there. It was more than a hum it was a vowel sound. The RIGHT vowel sound.

Hardly daring to believe it, Virgil started again:

“You’ll soar through the…”

“… ‘ky”

“Or sail on the…”

“… eee”

“And when you get…”

“…. hhhohh…

“That’s where I shall…”

“.. eee”

Virgil wasn’t sure whether his emotions had stumbled out in the form of giggle or a sob, perhaps somewhere in-between. With a satisfied hum, Scott pressed his cheek into his head and the timid, hopeful note in Virgil’s heart swelled into a triumphant chord of determination.

They were going to go home. Together.

💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙

[wuahae]

how about.... woozi + 'meet ugly' lol

LMAO...... extremely fitting for him i must admit

woozi + meet ugly

"jeonghan, you don't get it," you stress, taking another swig of your coffee. "i'm so serious. jihoon hates me, i just know it."

the noise of the dining hall during lunchtime rush hour has jeonghan popping an airpod out of his ear, his other hand reaching over to steal a tater tot from your lunch tray. "sorry, say that again?"

"jeonghan!" your woes bounce right off of him, stuck buried into the palms of your hands as you groan, clutching your head. "you're not even listening to me!"

"kidding, kidding," he teases lightly, taking a sip of his own coffee. decaf, obviously. lucky bastard. "who is this guy, anyway?"

lee jihoon, applied music major with a focus in composition, the source of your agony, a man you're 100% sure you would've never crossed paths with if not for the fact that every music major was required to take at least 60 credits outside of the music department. and it just so happened that one of those classes had to be one of yours. CMS 220: writing in media and cinema studies.

"i didn't even mean to debate with him," you say, insistent. "but it was a socratic seminar! what else was i supposed to do, not say anything?" popping a tater tot in your mouth, you wave your arms for emphasis. "you know how strict professor lee is with participation!"

"i told you not to take that class," jeonghan chided. "you're literally chugging your third coffee of the day and it's barely even 2."

"this isn't about me!"

jeonghan rolls his eyes goodnaturedly. "so what, you countered his answer during a socratic and now you think he hates your guts?"

"not think, jeonghan. i know."

the dirty look he had given you once class had ended was enough to have you walking on eggshells every time you saw him the rest of the week. not to mention, the way he'd looked down at his notes every time you spoke up during the socratic seminar today in class.

"maybe he just wanted to review his notes?"

"you should have seen the way he side-eyed me." you pause, taking another sip of your coffee as you drum your fingers against the table. maybe the caffeine was getting to you. "it's not even my fault. he's the one who chose to die on that hill."

who even argues that reality is objective in a unit about the multiverse anyway?

"uh huh." jeonghan checks his phone for the time, and you peer over to read the upside-down numbers. 2:15. just the amount of time needed to have a relaxed walk to your next class. scooching the chair out, you sling your backpack on one shoulder, gathering the napkins and empty trays into one pile.

"why do you care so much, anyway? isn't he just some guy?"

knitting your eyebrows together, you stop at the edge of the table. "i mean. yeah. but you know i don't like it when someone doesn't like me."

"it sounds like you don't even like him though?"

"that's different." you would have liked him fine if he didn't give you a stink eye at 8:30 in the morning.

tossing the rest of your empty tray in the trash, you sigh, shaking your coffee slightly. most of the ice had already melted. you crane your neck back to look at jeonghan as you walk towards the door. "in any case, i really just need to get past this semester. this class is honestly the least of my worries, and so is—"

jeonghan manages to get out a faint "uh—" before it all explodes. it being your half-empty iced coffee, à la crashing straight into the other person opening the door. the other person being jihoon, his white shirt and nice slacks all stained with your watered-down double shot espresso.

you stare blankly at him, mouth gaping. coffee drips from your hand to the floor. "i have to go to class," you blurt out, hand slapping over your mouth the second you do. fuck.

well. if he didn't hate you before, lee jihoon definitely hates you now.

[therealgchu]

WIP Wednesday - Surprise To the Shore Snippet!

late post for the day. woke up with a killer migraine, but still went to work. went home when i realized that looking at anything for longer than 5 seconds caused vertigo. came home. so, only been up and at it since 2:30.

i finished the next chapter in To the Shore! but, it won't be published friday, as friday is my 23rd wedding anniversary, and me and the husband are off on a little jaunt. this is the first time we're doing something like this. i'm terribly excited <3. i'll publish it on sunday.

so, today you'll get a sneak peek from the next chapter.

ok, enough of the numbered list. tagging the coemancer crew, as always. you peeps are the best!

branes are funny. Seven Days was begging to be written, and i have about 2/3rds of it done. and, something about working that made some things clearer for To the Shore.

if you want to read the whole thing, it's here on ao3.

if you want to check out Seven Days, it's also here on ao3.

sneak peek incoming!

It took about a week of intermittent work to get the camera in working order. Sam and Barrett helped set up a dark room in the basement of the Lodge, clearing out the spare storage room. Once the work was done, Cora started photographing everything and anything she could find. Walter, once again, was instrumental in assisting her new hobby, as he was her source for acquiring film. He felt it was a good investment as it “recorded Constellation’s endeavors for posterity.”

She had a good eye for composition, but it was quite the learning curve to understand the mechanics of things like aperture speed, film grain, and lenses. And, there was both a craft and an art to developing the film. It was a couple weeks before decent enough photos were produced, for which Cora showed off proudly to the members.

The first batch she showed to her dad, especially one photo of which she was particularly proud of, and thought he’d like. It was of him and Hwa aboard the Razorleaf, with Hwa holding onto his arm and laughing. 

“Oh, gum drop,” Sam said, a little choked up, “this is beautiful. My mom used to show me pictures like this. Can I have this?” he asked. 

“Of course. I can always make a copy from the negative.”

“Thank you so much,” he whispered to Cora, and hugged her tightly. He let her go, sniffled, and wiped his nose. “I want to get this framed. Have you shown this to Hwa yet?”

“No, I thought you’d like to show it to her.”

Sam smiled widely, “That I would. This is the best gift I think I’ve ever received.” He gave Cora another hug. “Do you know where Hwa is? Is she in her room?”

“No, last I saw her, she was downstairs working on her armor.”

Sam headed down the stairs, two steps at a time, and found Hwa was tinkering with the Mantis helmet, head down and goggles on, soldering servos. He walked over and put his arm around her waist when she stood up. Hwa jumped a little, but calmed when she felt him kiss her neck. “Cora’s first batch of photos are done. I wanted to show this one to you,” he said, and handed her the photograph.

She briefly glanced at it. Her body went rigid and her breathing stopped. She stared at it a couple more seconds, then dropped the picture. She removed his arm from her waist. and without a word, left the basement, leaving Sam flabbergasted.

It took him several seconds to register what happened, it was so unexpected. He picked up the photo and stared at it, trying to see what had affected Hwa negatively. It was just a photo of them on the Razorleaf. He thought he looked kinda goofy, as he was grinning from ear to ear, probably told some terrible dad joke that Hwa loved so much. And, indeed, she was laughing hard, hanging off his arm. There was nothing else in the photo.

He walked back up to see if Hwa went to her room. Finding it empty, he checked the rest of the Lodge. No Hwa. He paused for a minute, and thought about where she would be. He headed to the Waterfall Promenade.

[druidx]

Her Countenance was Light - Chapter 25

CW: None AO3 ; Chapters: 01. 10. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. Tag list (ask for +/-): @aquadestinyswriting, @hannah-heartstrings, @jacqueswriteblrlibrary, @babyblueetbaemonster @mr-orion

Room 23 is a basic meeting room, one level up. There's nothing particularly remarkable about it, except it's where Elo tucks herself away when they are struggling with a case. Maybe it's the smooth chalkboard or the windows that catch a lot of morning light. It could be the big table in the middle of the room that is perfect for laying out her thoughts. Whatever the reason, it feels like a home-away-from-home as she walks in.

From the shelves in the corner, Elo takes a recording device, slots in a new cassette tape and hits 'record'. As she prepares her workspace, she explains the details of the case in a penetrating and measured tone. "Detective Sarg– Lieutenant Elowyn O'Toreguarde, Special Cases, recording observations on examination of new evidence for the Evelyn Strucker murder, case number 1-2,1-1, 2-0, 1-7." She snaps on the gloves, lays out the towel and, with care, pulls out the book and the cloth. "Evidence being recorded is a book of some kind. It was delivered sometime last night by an acquaintance of my Confidential Informant on this case. The cloth is a maroon colour, although it's still damp. My CI said that the book may be a key part of why the victim was killed, as my CI alleges it was on the same scuppered barge as she was. Quite how it has been retrieved, I don't know. It does not appear very water damaged, so one assumes it was kept somewhere water-tight." Elo picks the tome up, examining the cover and spine, and continues, "It appears to be hand-bound in a type of red stained leather, rather like that case from a few years ago with the Kurtulmak worshipper and his homemade text of human skin. Once my initial observations are complete, the book will be passed to our forensic tech, Candice Green, for her analysis." Elo pauses and regards the thing in her hands. "Cuthbert's Scales, I hope this one isn't human skin too."

With a small shudder, she places the book back on the towel. "The cover is tooled with strange lettering vertically down each side, and in the center is a tree reminiscent of the Wiccan 'as above, so below' image. That is, the top half is in the full flush of summer, but the bottom is bare branches, indistinguishable from roots. It's really quite beautiful," she adds reverently, smoothing her hand over the cover. Elo grips the cover, bracing herself as she opens the book. Only the front page greets her. Her sharp-gasped breath is slowly released. Flipping over a few more pages, she continues her narration, "While the pages are damp, they're not sticking together, nor is the ink running. They're made from a coarse material, quite unlike paper. Ms Green will be able to confirm their exact composition. "Many of the pages seem to be filled with text in the same style as the front cover, following a vertical pattern, such as in Oriental writings, and are interspersed with crude drawings of plants and creatures, perhaps mythological in nature." She flicks a few more pages. "The whole book seems to be written in the same language. It's a unique writing style… Makes me think a little of the sway of rain falling down a window pane." Elo blinks as the text swims in her vision. For a moment, there is a strange kind of recognition, as one might get trying to read German; sharing the Latin alphabet and the same linguistic root as English, the false friends are inviting. She feels like if she had enough time and space, she could intuit how to read the poetic, dancing words. She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head. Gods, she needs another cup of coffee.

To distract herself, Elo flips to the center of the book. "Ah, now this is interesting. The center spread of the book contains a double-wide illustration of a wolf, displaying a use of perspective which is not present elsewhere thus far. It's depicted face-on, standing aside two coloured islands – one purple and one green. The wolf is black and grey, and its eyes are two different colours also – one pale blue and the other yellow." Hoping to find some hidden clues to explain… well, everything, Elo leans forward to examine the picture. The wolf twitches its head and winks at her.

Elo yelps and falls back, shaking her head to clear the spinning in her vision. "My observations must pause for a moment," she says. "An injury sustained previously seems to be affecting my… vision. I'm going to crack a window and get some air…" She doesn't pause the recording – it is enough to state what she is doing – as she cracks a window open, taking a breath of cool air. It helps for a moment, but as she returns, she is overcome with a wave of dizziness and a sick, lurching feeling, as though she has taken a corner too hard on her motorbike. She immediately sinks to one knee – because it is always better to jump than fall – and stays like that for a moment. When she feels able, Elo stands and reaches to sit on a chair. Another wave of dizziness hits, and she feels nauseous. Despite the blazing spring day outside, the room is getting darker and she feels cold in her chest. She hunches over, clutching her head, trying to draw a breath, to keep herself warm. "Hey, Bug? It's gone a lot longer than– Elo!" Then the darkness is receding, rushing away from her. Warmth returns to her core as he holds her, and she uncurls to give Farren a shaky smile. "I'm fine," she warbles. "You are not fine. Gods, I can't leave you alone at all, can I?" Elo takes a deep breath, gently pulling away from where Farren still has an arm around her shoulders as he kneels in front of the chair. "I'm okay, really. I just got a little overwhelmed for a moment." "You're ice cold," he points out. "Elowyn, go home. Get some rest." "I can't," she says, a stubborn frown pulling at her brow and lips. "I have work to do." "You'll get nothing done at all if you work yourself into a pit now." "Brek, I know my limits. I haven't had enough coffee today, is all. Please, stop worrying over me." Farren sighs heavily. "But Bug, who else is gonna do it? Despite what you keep saying, you never look like you know when to stop. You don't worry about yourself, you never have, which leaves me to pick up the slack." She stares at him, mouth agape. She'd never thought of it like that. "I must be such a burden to you," she whispers, not meaning to say it out loud. "No," he says, cross. "You are not a burden. But, just for once, maybe accept that there's the possibility you can't do it all? You haven't quite been yourself since we were given the Strucker case." Elo blinks. Now she thinks about it, she has to admit he's right. Between the case, the King, and the Fairy Stories running around her city, she has felt a touch pushed. It's made the odd dream-like quality of her life more pronounced. "A little longer," she says. "Give me a little longer. I'll take it easier. I'll focus on His Majesty's sight-seeing and leave the case to you and… the team. And I won't go off hunting dragons on my own." She isn't quite sure why she said that last part, but it gets the message across. Farren gives a reluctant nod. "Alright, Bug. That's fair. But the moment you need to stop, you tell me. You know I've got your back on this?" "Yes. Thank you." "Good." Farren nods to where the book still lies open on the table. "What d'you want to do about that?" "Oh, crap! The recording!"

She stands too quickly, gets a wave of dizziness for her trouble. But it feels more like a blood rush than whatever happened before, and subsides quickly. She reaches over to switch the recording device off and pops out the magnetic tape. With a flush rising to her cheeks, Elo waves it at Farren and slides it into the case. "I'm afraid," Elo says with an apologetic wince, "your declarations of worry and the affirmations of my stubbornness are now part of the chain of evidence." He grins. "Both those things are already a matter of public record. I hardly think one little recording is going to make much difference." She gives him a wane smile. "Did Candy get a hold of that professor yet?" "Yeah, but last I heard there was some argument about a consultation fee, so he hasn't been by yet." "Hm. I think the text in the book matches the one on the artefact, so he'd better take a look at both. I also want her to evaluate what this thing's made of. And if it's anything other than normal materials, tell her to stick it in a report because I'm not sure I want to know." "Worried it's human leather?" Elo gives him a tired, pensive look. With a grin, he says, "You got it, Bug." Elo slides the book and cloth back into the evidence baggy, laying the cassette on top. "And it should go without saying it needs to live in the safe as well." "Roger that." Farren gathers the evidence and towel. "Might wanna warn Candy what's on the tape, so she doesn't get–" What – embarrassed? Psh, says the little voice, Farren isn't wrong: the whole precinct is well aware already. "…surprised." At that, her partner just grins. As they walk downstairs, Farren says, "Since Irvine is the only one who can operate the copy machine, I sent him to make duplicates of our interim report. Cap said the Acting Magister needed to be kept in the loop, as well as the General." "Thanks." Elo is grateful for all the work he and Cobbleskater have been putting in during her absence, she is. But it feels weird, this giving orders, hardly doing any real police work. Then they are in the ground floor stairwell. "I'll run this down to Candy," Farren says.

Elo nods absently as he trundles off, whistling some pop song. She wonders if this is what it'll be like from now on. She isn't sure she likes it. Despite what Fugit said about the City needing her, it feels less and less true. Like she can stand back, take a breath – and won't be missed all the while. The thought leaves her feeling cold. "Yo, O'Toreguarde, you forget where your desk is?" Elo blinks. Hughes is walking backwards on his way to the gym with Komens. "Ah, leave her alone," Komens rumbles, smacking his partner with his towel. "She's been away with the fairies a lot." Hughes snorts. Elo sighs – because if nothing else, it's accurate. Komens looks back at her as he passes through the doorway. "Keep your head up, kid." Elo gives a tired smile. "Trying my best."

Back at her desk, Elo finds a Manilla file folder containing three sheets of paper filled with Cobbleskater's neat handwriting. "Ah, Lieutenant?" The man himself materialises at her elbow. "I rather stuck my foot in it, didn't I? About your promotion." "Yes, you did." Cobbleskater heaves a sigh. "I would like to apologise for that." "Accepted. You weren't aware he hadn't yet been told, so your first mistake was forgivable. However, you must be more observant. The way he reacted should have given you a clue about that fact, so you could have stopped talking then." "Ah, yes, I see," Cobbleskater frowns, thinking it through. "Not to worry, I shall amend my behaviour in future!" He smiles at her, and she has to smile back – he is that damn cheerful. "See that you do," she says with an approving nod and a smile in her tone. "I've organised a patrol car to give you a ride to City Hall. They're waiting for you in the breakroom, whenever you're ready." "Thank you, Cobbleskater. Your efficiency more than makes up for any personality issues." And if anything, it makes him beam larger under the hand of her praise. Elo sucks in a breath. "Would you mind doing me a couple more favours?" "Of course. Anything I can do to help." "Thank you." She smiles and hands him some cash from her wallet. "Can you find who our attending officers were and get them a beer each as my thanks for finding Ms Strucker?" He nods as he takes the money. "I've already taken the liberty of locating them. Just in case." "You are a scholar and a gentleman." He accepts this with a smile and an inclination of his head. "And the second request?" "I want you to look into what might have caused Iceland to suddenly reinitiate trade." "You want to know why the King is really here." "Yes." He smiles. "No problem." "Cheers, Irvine."

Elo wanders into the breakroom then. The patrolling officers due to take her to City Hall greet her with an affable nod. They've not been in long, so a doughnut and coffee are pushed her way.

While they all finish up, Elo takes the time to skim the report from Cobbleskater. In the victim's apartment, it says, they found a stack of notepads and journals, all written in a strange code, like nothing either of them has ever seen. There were books about mythology and maps of the city marked out, again in a code of coloured circles and crosses. They found nothing else pertinent to the case, and the report continues with conjecture. Judging by the disastrous state of her apartment – with the pantry nearly empty, sink filled with dirty dishes, and clothes strewn around – the Detectives believe her state of mind was frenzied by the feeling she had discovered something big. This was echoed by the handwriting in her journals becoming messier towards the end of her work. Her editor knew nothing about whatever she was working on, and had no inkling either, as all her fluff pieces were submitted as usual. They will not know what the victim was working on, Cobbleskater reports, until they can find a way to decipher the text. At the bottom of one of the sheets are two additional notes. One is about a cat – since it appeared in no ill health and could freely come and go, the Detectives topped up its food and water and left it alone. The other is a sample of the code, with a request for more information from the General regarding it. If Elo squints, she thinks maybe it looks a little like the text in the book… But then the patrolmen have finished their doughnuts, so she can't double-check.

They make a stop-over at her tenement, where she leaves the bag of clothes in her room with 'For Snotgrut' pinned to it, and then on to City Hall.

[ask-de-writer]

FIENDSHIP IS MAGIC  

(Part 65 of ?)  

18+ readers only  (sex scenes)

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FIENDSHIP IS MAGIC

or

Making Fiends and Influencing Ponies

An Anthro *Tail* of the Mane Six

Part 65 of ? (Work in Progress)

by

De Writer

74848 words (story in progress)

© 2022 by Glen Ten-Eyck

All rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed on   or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

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Users  of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may   reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact.  They may use the characters or original  characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story?  Read from the start HERE

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Kin snickered, “You three, boring? No, I rather think not, especially for those who are watching!”

Luna chortled and quietly put away her magic net mirror. “You will never guess what just happened on Ponyville Mainline siding number one! By the way, Celestia, you needn't worry about the casualty train from the Gryphon Empire. They had to pause for a few because some Royal Marines were busy removing passengers from the Charter Train on the siding! We have snared the entire Ducal Council! I really do expect to find that there are one or two who are actually not guilty, maybe more.”

Twilight spoke up wistfully, “I hope that Carton, Duke of the Camarg is not one of the cabal. I really like him and besides, I don't think that any of us would want to upset his mother, the Rom, Dame Megan Blackberry IV, Knight of Justice and heroine of the Great South Bay invasion!”

Celestia joined them and agreed, “I would hope so too, Twilight. That said, Vinyl has chosen our music and Foamy and Clarice have been putting the finishing touches to our routine. Shall we put aside other worries for now and go see what our dance is going to be like?”

Luna brightened up at once! “That sounds like so much more fun than politics!”

They found the Gryphon Ambassador coming with them. “When the Throne of Empire heard of this amazing show, all three have requested permission to fly in with their Guard to watch the show! What shall I reply?”

Luna nearly stumbled, she was laughing so hard! “Of course! That will make a perfect finale when Pinkie decides to call a halt! We can present them with the results of our fund raising!”

Pinkie overheard and put a hand to her forelock! “Oh my, the Twins and little fishies! We need another set, A.S.A.P!”

They saw her digging like a mad terrier at image after image on her Magic Net mirror! Then she was calling, “Smithsons! Pinkie here. No, no problems with your sets! They are working perfectly. It is just that we need another, like yesterday! I am sending you pictures.

“Right! It is a reproduction of the Gryphon Throne of Empire!

“Why? They are coming, the Empress and BOTH of her Strong Wings of the Throne! They will have a Court Guard of eighteen. The set up that I sent you will be perfect if you can do it!

“You will! Cool! I will have the stage door guards notified!”

Pinkie put away her mirror and told them, “Smithson's will have the set ready by tomorrow! Were you TRYING to give me a heart attack!? You almost did!”

Celestia replied gently, “No, Pinkie, we were not! But it was amazing to watch you in action! The Throne of Empire surprised us as well.

“Now, we need to see our whole routine and listen to its music as well.”

Pinkie nodded, “Sounds good, my mares. With your permission, we have one more thing to add. A Glamor spell backdrop beginning with dawn, working through a nice day with puffy clouds, to evening with a neat sunset going to nightfall, with a rising crescent moon going to full and waning as it sets. It will be coordinated with your dance routines, if that's OK.”

Luna nodded, “That sounds perfect, Pinkie. Will it be done by Grumpy or do you want me to cast it?”

They were joined by a piebald black, tan, and brown goat with full curl horns that had an ever burning candle between them. With a slightly bleaty voice, he answered, “That's my department. Pinkie has engaged me for the duration of the show.”

Pinkie wrinkled her snout and grinned as she commented, “He charged me a whole silver bit for it and then donated the bit to our fund!”

The goat nodded, “True. Pinkie, I need to correct your earlier speech. As the chairman of the board for Ponyville Trust and Loan, I did arrange for their matching grant. The other large donation, also a matching grant, is a Wholeheart Grant. I did have to prepare its paperwork.”

Pinkie put hand to snout in contrition as she asked, “Oh dear, it is? How is Mister Wholeheart these days? Have you ever found a way to help him sleep without those awful dreams? At least half of the mares here have had a Wholeheart grant to help them out of tight spots.”

Grumpy shook his head, “No, we have not had any luck at helping him. A day or two at the best. The Litch King says that he will have the dreams for the rest of his life and that it will be a long one. I do know about those grants. He does try to return as much good as the harm that he got.”

Celestia shook her head, “I wish that more ponies reacted to evil happenings in their lives the way that Mister Wholeheart has. It must be difficult for him.”

The goat nodded, “It is indeed. Now, was the Glamor described how you want it or do you want any adjustments?”

Pinkie suggested, “We do have a practice stage that we can use for the first run through. Foamy and Clarice will guide you and we can perfect the lighting too.”

Following Pinkie's lead, the three of them found themselves behind a curtain. Foamy and Clarice went over their dance score with them first and then went to the other side of the curtain.

The music began and the three Princesses slipped through the curtain to the stage proper. The music, Damare's classical and romantic Day of Love and Love of Night, swelled as the three came into view, already beginning the dance. The stage where they were perfoming was dimly lit as they emerged. The morning began to light up the curtain behind them and a spotlight shown down on Celestia as she began to gyrate and undulate to the music that lifted and the spotlight brightened, making Princess Celestia nearly glow! She carried out the first parts of her strip, opening the buttons that let her generous cleavage show, while at the same time, her wings lifted up from her sides, beginning to frame her as she finished freeing her blouse, exposing a lacy blue bra!

Her dance took on a wilder more hip swaying set of steps and her wings, now fully open swept about her in arches and crescents to frame and display her body to the audience! Her hands, almost invisible in the midst of the swirling wings and swaying body, released her skirt to slide down her very active legs, artfully delayed at first, her lifted tail and then hung up on an artfully raised leg! It finally fell away entirely, leaving her a glowing vision of lightly glowing fur and undergarments!

She posed for a second, framed by glorious wings spread in circle of lustrous feathers! She brought her wings in closer as she spun about! They partly hid it as she released her bra, coming about to face the audience, she bared her right breast and then covering it back up, bared her left one and recovered it. The tease over, she slid the shoulder straps down to her elbows! With only a slight move, the whole of her brassiere fell away, down her arms where her right hand caught it and whirled it in a flourish before letting it fly.

She swept about the stage, doing slow turns that alternately hid and showed her magnificent bosom! She ended up stage center, once again framed by her spread wings.

She continued to dance topless for a few more minutes while the spotlight softened and the day went toward evening, her wings folding in to leave her a topless vision of marehood as she stepped back, staying gloriously bared of breasts.

Princess Twilight took over the stage as the day paled. Her blouse already framed her from shoulders to under her boobs and snug to her waist with a pretty, contrasting white underblouse showing off her tits.

She danced and did a cleavage reveal by releasing buttons down the underblouse's front! Coyly pulling her wings free and wrapping herself in them, she spread them wide along with the now fully opened underblouse which was now seen to be only a dicky and it fully spread to show her bright red, low cut bra! She happily posed to show off her pretty bra and the mare inside it! She began some hip lifting and swaying steps while her wings pulled close and spread again, revealing that her whole blouse was unfastened down both sides! Her arms slid under the blouse front and lifted high, flipping the whole garment up, past her horn, to fall away, dicky and all! She danced with twisting poses to show off the red bra on smooth and shiny lavender fur!

Her wings pulled in close once more and with a swirl, spread wide, leaving Twilight bare from the waist down, but for skimpy panties! Her wraparound skirt waved like a flag from right hand to left!

She danced and flaunted herself, framing her body with her wings, then swirling about, pulling them close again! When they spread wide, her bra was in her hand and her full breasts had no place left to hide. Her bra was flourished about from hand to hand in loops and figure eights before being let go! She posed, wings wide spread to both sides and up, displaying her beautifully framed body!

She danced a few more minutes, pulling her wings closer but hiding nothing and made way for Princess Luna to take the stage!

Like the others, Luna took the stage, wings folded, hidden away. Unlike the rest, when she unbuttoned her front to the waist, there was no blouse but full length dress, now spread wide to show off a nearly sheer light blue bra! The cunning spotlight operator set his light with a filter that made her dark blue fur and feathers glow against the night scene behind her!

Her right wing cleverly held in an almost narrow arch, matched the arc of the rising moon behind her, she pulled her left wing close about her and as she spread them both to the now fuller moon behind her, her dress had fallen from her shoulders and was held up only by her wings!

She began a swirling twirl, her wings hiding her from the audience and ending with both arms up and wings spread wide! Her dress was still about her hips, held from falling only by her upraised tail!

In that moment, her tail dropped and so did the whole dress! Princess Luna stood seductively displayed by the cunning lights and her spread wings cupped to catch the lights and show off her body, clad only in panties and bra! She swept into motion again, a vision of highlights and glowing dark fur.

Soon she entered a familiar close winged swirl and when she spread her wings, yes, both of her tits were bare, framed and displayed by the bra that no longer covered them at all! It made a better show than if it were gone entirely!

The spotlight brightened strongly to show her to the best advantage, as she undulated and wriggled seductively! She did another slow turn, the wing facing the audience covering her. When the turn was done, her bra was off and she finished with a wide spread wing pose to let herself show to best advantage!

She danced back to join the rest of the Princesses, all now topless! Joining arms and lifting wings, they made a kick line first and then danced back through the curtains!

A stage hand gathered the scattered garments and took them backstage.

A few moments later, they came out, fully dressed to ask with a grin, “Well, how did it come off?”

TO BE CONTINUED

<==PREVIOUS ~ NEXT==>

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[afpwestcoast]

The Social, Orlando, FL, 6/18/23

Before the show I ran into Brian on the street and asked him what the new song (which had been dubbed Tom’s New Favorite Song at last night’s show) was actually called. He said it’s called ‘Boyfriend in a Coma’ and was actually written about 19 years ago but had only recently been arranged as a Dresden Dolls song. It’s based on her then-boyfriend Brendon suddenly collapsing during a load-out after a show, developing Guillain–Barré syndrome, and going into a coma for like 6 months, during which time Amanda hardly left his bedside. You can hear a demo of it here. It will always be Tom’s New Favorite Song to me.

When my nephew was 12 or 13 years old he googled Amanda Palmer to find out why his uncle kept jetting around all over the place to see her. Afterwards, due to the number of pictures that came up of Amanda in various stages of undress, he asked, “Is she a porn star?”

When I told Amanda this story she inscribed a copy of ‘Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance’ for him: “To Dylan - I am not a porn star. No really. Love, -Amanda.” I gave him the book for his 18th birthday.

He’s now 26, and he lives in Orlando, so I brought him to the show. When I planted him in the front row against the stage I said, “Just so you understand: there are thousands of people all over the world who would kill to be standing where you are right now.” At the time I’m sure there was some eye rolling, but by the end of the evening I think he understood.

Unfortunately, guest bassist Tilley Komorny had come down with COVID in the past 24 hours, so we were not able to fight for our right (to party!). Despite this the band torched through another stellar set, with only minimal property damage.

Annotated Set List:

Good Day (featuring Brian on guitar to start)

Sex Changes

Gravity

Backstabber - Due to a “band miscommunication” they actually started playing different songs. I kinda think they shoulda just gone with it, but they restarted and both played Backstabber.

Modern Moonlight - Once again Brian led the crowd in the backing-vocal part before diving into the song.

My Alcoholic Friends

There was a pause in the set to introduce the band, tape down the piano pedal, and, of course, say GAY!

Rock and Roll Part 2 (aka The Hey Song - Gary Glitter cover) - Brief excerpt with the shout of “Hey!” replaced with “GAY!”

“If you’re looking for a gay band, look no further!”

Boyfriend in a Coma - By way of introduction Amanda said, “I’ve been sitting here for the last few nights thinking ‘I wouldn’t want to break up with me.’ Just warning you: I’m like the goth Taylor Swift. If you go out with me, and we break up in a bad way, you’re fucked. You’re SO fucked! This song is not quite really like that, but it lives in that dimension.”

Merch commercial

Welcome to the Internet (Bo Burnham cover)

Bad Habit

Missed Me

Amsterdam (Jacques Brel cover) - During her rampage up and down the bar tonight Amanda actually broke one of the lighting fixtures. “We broke that light, which means we’re gonna have to pay for that light. Buy more merch!”

Delilah (featuring Veronica Swift)

After taking a huge swig of wine straight from the bottle, Amanda said, “The truth is I stopped being as much of a lush when I had a child cause it just didn’t work. I don’t know if anybody has ever tried to have a small child and be hungover, but it’s fucking impossible.”

Whakanewha (pronounced Fuckin-A-Fa)

Mrs. O

Twenty Years Ago, Part 2 - Another impromptu composition about a song about climate denialism being more true now than when it was written 20 years ago. Conclusion: That’s fucked up.

They then welcomed to the stage Father Nathan Monk, who told the story of why he left the priesthood. Bottom line: The conservative (read: ignorant, bigoted, and, frankly, unchristian) dictates of his church were incompatible with his progressive world view.

Mandy Goes to Med School

Coin-Operated Boy - At the start of the song instead of singing the lyrics Amanda just sang, “Gay, gaygaygaygaygay” to the tune. Then at the end she changed the line to “Gay and to the point.”

Half Jack

——

War Pigs (Black Sabbath cover)

Girl Anachronism - At this point, at the end of the third night in a row, I was exhausted and could barely stand. In a fit of wishful thinking, I actually thought they were going to close with “Sing,” and I would have a nice, calm denouement - I even took out my earplugs. Instead, I got a face full of Girl A. I managed to power through … and then collapsed on the stage.

Photo Gallery:

Dylan’s final few moments of pre-Dresden Dolls innocence (photo by Laurie Steiger)

Merch commercial; I was too enthralled through the first part of the set to take pix

Welcome to the Internet!

Grrrrrr!

Amsterdam

One of those light fixtures will not survive

Delilah

Let’s see how fast this thing can go!

Brian: You know what you did. Amanda: I know tee-hee!

Father Nathan Monk

The many faces of Brian Viglione

Really dude?

I remain convinced that Amanda’s stare can shatter glass

The end!

I’m not the only one who collapsed on the stage afterwards

[sheetmusiclibrarypdf]

Ryuichi Sakamoto - Solari (Piano Solo arr.) from "async" (2017) 楽譜

Ryuichi Sakamoto - Solari (Piano Solo arr.) from async (2017) Sheet Music 楽譜 Best Sheet Music download from our Library. Please, subscribe to our Library. Thank you!async is the nineteenth solo studio album of Japanese musician Ryuichi Sakamoto and his first one in eight years since Out of Noise (2009). 『async』（アシンク、エイシンク）は2017年3月29日にcommmonsから発売された坂本龍一の20枚目のオリジナル・アルバム。 私たちのライブラリから最高の楽譜をダウンロードしてください。 私たちのライブラリを購読してください。ありがとうございました！

Ryuichi Sakamoto - Solari (Piano Solo arr.) from async (2017) Sheet Music 楽譜

https://rumble.com/embed/v2puulk/?pub=14hjof

async is the nineteenth solo studio album of Japanese musician Ryuichi Sakamoto and his first one in eight years since Out of Noise (2009). It is also his first full-length solo record since recovering from throat cancer in 2015. Consisting of a combination of bizarre interpretations of familiar musical instruments, unusual textures both acoustic and electronically-made, samples of recordings of people such as David Sylvian and Paul Bowles doing readings, and everyday sounds borrowed from field recordings of city streets, async has underlying themes of the worries of the end of life and the interaction of differing viewpoints in humanity. Promoted with two art museum installations, a short film contest, and premiering via a listening event at Big Ears Festival, async was first released in Japan by Sakamoto's label Commmons in March 2017 before Milan distributed it to other nations in April 2017. It was critically acclaimed, landed in the top twenty of the Japanese albums chart and in the top five of Billboard's American Top Classical Albums chart, and was ranked the best album of 2017 by Fact magazine. A set of remixes of songs from async, titled ASYNC – REMODELS, was released in December 2017. Since 2009, Ryuichi Sakamoto had an eight-year period where he was unable to inspire himself in his composition process. As a result, he focused most of his time on scoring films instead of producing solo material. He started sketching ideas for a solo album in 2014, but they were scrapped after being diagnosed with throat cancer in 2014, which he had to pause his career entirely. Despite recovering from the disease in August 2015, Sakamoto thought async would be his last album: "That’s why I tried to forget all the rules and forms, anything. I just wanted to put down just what I wanted to hear, just a sound or music, it doesn’t matter. This could be the last time." He began making it entirely from scratch in April 2016, which was after completing his soundtrack for the film Rage (2016), and finished it in eight months. The only track made before Sakamoto's cancer diagnosis that appears on async is "andata." Inspired by the minimal structures of the works of Claude Debussy and the free jazz stylings of John Coltrane, async, as Milan Records summarized, is a set of representations of Sakamoto's thinking that "plays with ideas of a-synchronism, prime numbers, chaos, quantum physics and the blurred lines of life and artificiality/noise and music." Sakamoto conceived the album as the soundtrack for a nonexistent movie by Andrei Tarkovsky, whose works mostly deal with mortality (see the Worries of death subsection of this article) and employed walking scenes with the type of foley featured on async. When making async, "I just wanted to hear sounds of things, everyday things, even the sounds of instruments, musical instruments as things," Sakamoto said. Sakamoto cited the works of sound art sculptor Harry Bertoia as a major influence when making the LP. The instrumentation includes both regular orchestral instruments and unusual acoustic and programmed textures, more specifically bizarre interpretations of otherwise familiar instruments and the "musical aspect" of everyday noise. async employs a variety of sound-producing techniques, such as field recordings, making mist textures out of chorales, and wailing sounds from glass. Some of the tracks include out-of-tune pianos; he recorded two Steinway pianos he had in his home studio, and a piano that was drowned in tsunami water was used on the track "Zure." He thought it was "nature" that was responsible for the notes the broken pianos played: "the piano is a very systematically, industrially-designed thing, but they were a part of nature, taken from nature. Mankind artificially tuned and set the well-tempered scale, but the thing is if you leave the piano for a long time without a tuning, it will be out of tune. "Tri" is an unedited recording of triangles performed by three musicians: Ian Antonio, Levy Lorenzo, and Ross Karre. In a 2017 conversation with Sakamoto, Ruth Saxelby assumed the triangle sounds that were in the later part of the track were digitally programmed. However, Sakamoto corrected Saxelby by saying "Tri" went through more than ten takes because the three musicians were "perfectionists" and thus wanted the triangles to sound machine-like. As Sakamoto described the album's main idea, Sakamoto said it was human nature, most people "find pleasure in being in sync. That's why I wanted to create nontraditional music that doesn't synchronize, speaking in a language that doesn't exist." He wanted to make a record like this for a long time, but it was difficult to do because he "wanted to make something async but still musical." On async, all of its sounds come together but never create a proper harmony. However, Sakamoto described these sounds as "significant in their own way because their "existence has meaning." He explained, "As human beings, we take the liberty to decide which sound is good or bad. I'm suggesting we open our ears and listen to each sound without prejudice." Sakamoto did this to symbolize as well as commentate on how the differing viewpoints of humanity worked: "In this world of myriad viewpoints and unlimited information, every single person is choosing only the information that he or she is interested in, and people with similar interests gather and form a group. Then, groups with similar interests exchange views with one another, accelerating the movement to narrow the conversation down to ever-more specific views bound by a particular concern. And so, groups with different interests barely communicate with each other, or even if they do, they tend to dismiss the views of the other." The message of async is that, like dissonant sounds coming together to create music, humans of all different viewpoints should come together and respect each other. This theme of async was compared by writer Karl Smith to the works of Shane Carruth, whose films also deal with chaos in human nature. He used "Zure"'s mixture of "intangible synthetic panes with the more earthly, percussive tones of the piano" and "walker"'s combination of noises with a "call and response gentle swells and vibrations" as examples of the record's use of juxtapositions, which present "the idea that any one thing is more than just that one thing." While a majority of async consists of subdued pieces, the LP also contains more dissonant tracks like "tri," "disintegration," which places awkwardly-tuned piano plucks aside warm synthesizer pads, and the title track, which includes harshly plucked pizzicato strings. This is to symbolize a "never ending pendulum swing between solace and chaos," Paste magazine stated. Some critics noted Sakamoto's worries about death seeping into the album, which were influenced not only by his experience with cancer, but also the many earthquakes and tsunamis that occurred in Japan in 2011. He said in an interview, "We were warned about how our civilization is fragile and how the force of nature is great." 『async』（アシンク、エイシンク）は2017年3月29日にcommmonsから発売された坂本龍一の20枚目のオリジナル・アルバム。 前々作『アウト・オブ・ノイズ』以来、オリジナル・アルバムとしては8年ぶり。 本作は坂本龍一のドキュメンタリー映画『Ryuichi Sakamoto: CODA』に描かれているように「非同期な音楽を作る」目標の下に制作。アルバムタイトルも「非同期」を意味する「asynchronization」の略称から採用している。 2010年代を掛けて普及してきたハイレゾ再生環境に対応するために、これまで使用してきた数多くのデジタル機材を撤廃し、アナログ機材を中心としたシンプルな制作環境で制作されている。元は「架空の映画のサウンドトラック」というコンセプトがあり、一度は作り上げるも、2014年に坂本が中咽頭癌に罹患。治療と療養を経て回復すると、すべて作り直された。 2016年12月29日、坂本の公式サイトに「Ryuichi Sakamoto: SN/M比 50%」のメッセージを掲載。翌年2月17日、本作の特設サイトを開設し、そこで「あまりに好きすぎて、誰にも聴かせたくない」という坂本の意向と、それにともなう事前の音源公開を一切行わない旨を表明。さらに坂本の足跡を辿る「予習」と、各界著名人によるニューアルバムの「予想」を公開した。 本作発売直後の2017年3月31日、J-WAVEの自身の番組「RADIO SAKAMOTO」の特番として「J-WAVE SPECIAL RADIO SAKAMOTO EXTRA 〜坂本龍一ニューアルバム『async』緊急生試聴会〜」を放送。ラジオにてアルバムの全容を公開した。 4月4日 - 5月28日、ワタリウム美術館にて「Ryuichi Sakamoto｜async 設置音楽展」を開催。本作の5.1チャンネルサラウンドミックス版を、高谷史郎の映像とともに鑑賞するフロアや、アピチャートポン・ウィーラセータクンによる短編映像などで構成された。また、美術館の1階では来訪者が付箋にてコメントを寄せられ、その抜粋である「解読」と、一部コメントに対する坂本の「返信」が、本作特設サイトに掲載された。 4月25・26日、ニューヨーク・パークアベニュー・アーモリー（英語版）にて、本作収録曲を演奏するライヴを開催。後にその模様を編集した映画『坂本龍一 PERFORMANCE IN NEW YORK : async』が、翌2018年1月27日より公開された。 イギリスの『FACT』誌がThe 50 best albums of 2017の1位に本作品を選んだ Read the full article

[collecting-stories]

Inventory - Daryl Dixon

Request: you can write anything tbh! just something small and sweet, if you don’t mind :) (daryl anon)

A/N: This is honestly just random established relationship fluff or something.

The Walking Dead Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

You weren’t entirely sure that you liked Alexandria. It felt like someone had captured the old world in a time capsule and you were viewing all the things that you had forgotten about. Shower pressure and hot water and actual running water weren’t things that you took for granted and you’d practically cried in the bathroom when the toilet flushed but all the other parts felt uncomfortable. Like clothing that didn’t fit you anymore. You weren’t Daryl, waiting with his hand on a gun for the moment everything went to shit, but you certainly weren’t about to done a cardigan and act like a soccer mom getting ready for a bake sale either. You would let Carol handle the assimilating and gossip. Or at least the former, the latter, you couldn’t escape.  

“I wouldn’t’ve pegged him as your type.” Olivia mentioned, hellbent on making inventory a gossip session.  

“What?” You looked away from the open garage door to where Olivia was stacking cans of corn and writing down their number in her composition book.  

“Daryl. I noticed you watch him a lot...is that like, you guys got a thing going on or you just looking?” She asked.  

You paused in your rearranging of cans to look back out the garage door again. Daryl was across the street talking to Aaron and Michonne and you tried to formulate an answer that made sense for Olivia and for you. She hadn’t technically asked if you were ‘together’ (that ominous word that felt so weighty when you said it to yourself) but she was definitely asking for a definition. Were you more than friends, absolutely. That wasn’t even something you needed to think about. You certainly weren’t sharing beds with your friends the way you did with Daryl. But he’d never given any definition to your togetherness and somehow, even defining it felt like such an archaic thing. Another piece of the old world pulled from the time capsule.  

“I mean...” you shrugged, “both I guess?” There was a thing, for lack of a more concrete term, but you also liked looking at him a whole lot. You’d been enjoying looking at him for a while now and sometimes on the road you’d thought, if something happened, who would you look for in a crowd. It wasn’t just that you liked the view, it was that feeling of something that anchored you into the moment, made your head a little less dizzy, made all this more bearable.  

“I guess he’s not bad looking.” Olivia laughed a little, her cheeks reddening at the thought and you wanted to agree. He most certainly was not bad looking. And you had told him so plenty of times, in the privacy of your own room. “He doesn’t seem very...” she paused, looking over at you as if she had caught herself speaking out of turn.  

Small talk and social etiquettes felt like something you’d left behind too, far too used to being direct with people. It almost felt odd for her to be so unforthcoming.  

“Friendly?” You asked. She didn’t need to say it for you to know what she was thinking. It seemed to be a consensus throughout Alexandria. The community had differing opinions about all of you but the one thing they all agreed on was Daryl’s lack of acceptable behavior. He wasn’t particularly friendly with any of them (aside from Aaron maybe) and he acted more like a caged animal than someone who was grateful for shelter and protection.  

“Uh, yeah.” Olivia nodded, pink cheeks staining darker, “I mean, I’m sure he talks to you, of course...it’s just, I’ve never found him to be particularly...warm.”  

Warm, you felt like the word echoed in your mind once she said it. You’d never really spent too much time thinking about the way you would describe Daryl, he was just, himself, and that was it. You didn’t linger on what he was, what you expected him to be. Even if you didn’t ever think of yourselves as ‘together’ you knew exactly what you were.  

You thought about offering up a defense for him, explaining that he was warm. He was being wrapped in a blanket on a cold night or feeling the sun on your shoulders in the early morning. It wasn’t something you considered often, that you felt like you needed to name, but you knew it right away. The words came on the tip of your tongue, like you’d been waiting to think them. But you didn’t get the chance.  

Daryl came up the driveway while you were staring at him and the softest of smiles graced your features as you watched him, giving a small wave. Maybe you wouldn’t have thought about it if you hadn’t been talking to Olivia but, as Daryl held your gaze the whole up the drive, you were reminded of when you might’ve categorised his behaviour as more shy than reserved. Now it felt like he held back because he chose to, deciding what parts of himself other people got to see. When you’d first known him it was more a defense mechanism than an ordinary occurrence, and he’d never been comfortable meeting your eye.  

“Did you come to help with inventory?” You teased, already hearing the grumbled response in your mind before he said it.  

“Just passing by,” he replied, glancing over to the far corner where Olivia was still sitting, notebook open in her lap. “Morning.”

You wondered if she was scrutinising the interaction. Trying to see for herself what you saw in Daryl, as if that was possible.  

“I’ll go check to make sure we’ve got all the dry foods from upstairs.” Olivia announced, standing from her spot and bumping her chair back against the sorting table. It rattled but nothing fell over and she went so quickly out of the room she looked like she was power-walking.  

“What’s a matter with her?” Daryl asked, taking your water bottle from the ground by your chair and unscrewing the cap so he could drink some.  

“She was asking about you, weren’t your ears burning?” You joked.  

He glanced down at you, unamused, before finally taking the bait, “why’s she asking?”  

“Said I stare at you all the time.”  

“So quit staring.” He capped the water bottle and set it back in its place before fiddling with different cans on the shelves, pulling them off and reading the labels.  

“Easier said then done,” you replied, grabbing your notebook off the shelf in front of you, “besides, I don’t wanna forget what you look like.”  

“Why? You going somewhere?”  

You scrunched your nose at his words and shook your head, “no, but you are right…saw you talking to Aaron.”

“Think ya watch me just ta spy on what I’m doing.”  

“I’m right though, you two are headed out?” You asked.  

“Don’t make it something it ain’t…I’ll be back in a few days time.”  

Daryl was good at coming back when he left, you knew it from experience. He’d come back when he’d left with Merle, he’d come back when he’d left to find Beth, when he went off on his own to hunt he always came back. As sure as you were that he would leave, you were just as sure he would find his way back again. It wasn’t something you had to think about or reassure yourself of but sometimes it was easier to give in to that worst case scenario that sat in the back of your mind.  

“I know,” you said it like you were promising him, “but that’s a few days without seeing you…who am I supposed to look for?”  

Daryl set down the can of beets he was looking at and walked the short distance back to you. His hand wrapped around the end of your ponytail and he gave a gentle tug, guiding your head all the way back so you were looking straight up at him. You thought it was probably a good thing Olivia wasn’t here, she’d seemed scandalised enough at his presence in the room, you could imagine all the things she’s knock over if she saw him now, one hand holding your ponytail and the other on your neck as he leaned down and kissed you.  

It was a softer kiss than the hold implied and you considered the juxtaposition of Daryl’s softness and roughness your favorite thing about him. It’d taken a while, to see the soft bits, but now you saw them all the time. How he kissed you so comfortably, like he’d always been doing it. His tongue brushing your bottom lip almost teasingly but he pulled away before you could do more, standing back up straight and dropping his hands. He gripped the back of your folding chair and you leaned against his hand, feeling them press into the skin between your shoulder blades, bare from your tank top. You kept your head tilted back, a little more comfortably though.  

“When do you leave?” You asked, half expecting him to tell you he was headed to the gate now. Your brain still felt a little dizzy from the kiss but that was a normal occurrence.  

“Tomorrow morning.” He replied, letting go of the chair to run his knuckles along your spine. “Shouldn’t be longer than a day or two.”  

There was a quieter bumping noise and a soft curse as Olivia peeked back into the doorway, a few boxes of pasta haphazardly held in her arms. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”  

“It’s alright,” you replied but truthfully you were just being nice. Because Daryl had already retracted his hand you felt goosebumps on your skin in his absence, as if your body was trying to chase the sensation of him.  

“Ya need help?” He asked, motioning to the boxes as she dropped them onto the sorting table.  

“Would you mind? I’ve got another laundry basket full of them to bring down here and I dropped like five on the staircase.” She explained, following after him to point them out.  

Daryl disappeared through the door, Olivia right behind him, and you went back to organising the latter half of the alphabetically arranged cans. Olivia tended to be more loose-lipped than her other Alexandria counterparts and you couldn’t help imagining her asking him questions, trying to dig out some part of a person under the cold exterior he’d given off while he was here. Searching for the warmth she thought was lacking. They weren’t gone long, Olivia’s chipper voice carrying down the stairs.  

Daryl came through first, laundry basket piled high and the slightest hint of a glare as his eyes met yours, as if you’d somehow put him up to the task of helping.  

“You can set them on the sorting table,” Olivia instructed, “I’ll go through them once I’m finished the canned goods.”  

Setting them down, Daryl just nodded in agreement. You stopped from saying you’d see him tonight, in case that information was somehow on a need to know basis. But he was obviously being less purposefully withdrawn than you’d thought because he took another sip from your water bottle before telling you the exact thing you’d been too reserved to say.  

“I’ll see ya tonight,” he promised, putting your water bottle back and giving your ponytail a playful tug before leaving back down the driveway.  

You watched after him until he turned the corner and was out of eyesight.  

“I can see why you like him so much…” Olivia finally said, getting your attention as you looked back at her.  

“What?” You asked, wondering if he’d said something to her that changed her mind.  

Her cheeks tinged pink again and she looked down at her notebook, “I wasn’t trying to spy or anything…just, you know, wanted to bring those boxes in.”  

You nodded, prompting her to continue.

“I saw him kissing you…” she let out an airy sigh, “I’d be staring at somebody all day if they kissed me like that.”  

[fumiko-matsubara]

September 29, 2014 - 09:52

English class just ended when Chiba felt his phone vibrate.

Pulling his phone from under his desk, Chiba immediately answered the call, not bothering to check the display ID. "Hello?"

"Ryuunosuke you bastard-!"

And Chiba ended the call. He does not want to hear that voice especially in the morning.

His phone lit up and a message popped up from his lockscreen. Chiba clicked his tongue when he read the words "Don't cut me off!" displayed on the notification bubble.

His phone vibrated once again and Chiba almost tightened his grip on it. With a vehement sigh, he answered the call from the same number yet again.

"I'm in class, Eiji. The hell do you want?" He made sure to keep his voice low.

"Oh you know damn well what I want! This track you sent me-"

"So you finally remembered to check it, congrats." Chiba stood from his seat and manuveured his way to the back doorway.

"Listen to me, you sadist. I checked the bass track and are you seriously expecting me to play this shit?!"

"Yeah."

"My fingers are gonna burn off!"

"So you can't do it, then?" Chiba leaned onto the wall by the hallway when he's a distance away from the classroom.

"It's not that I can't. I CAN but-"

"Then what are you whining about if you can actually do it?"

"I'm talking about live performances! Ugh, let me finish for once, dammit!"

Chiba fought back a smirk. "Eiji, we rarely perform our b-sides."

There was a slight pause from the other line and Chiba could tell exactly the moment when Eiji finally processed his words. "...Joy Ride is a b-side?"

"You weren't listening last Saturday, were you?"

Chiba could only sigh when he heard sheepish chuckles. "I swear to god, Eiji... Anyways, you can definitely pull your part off in the recording, right?"

"...yeah. I hate you."

"I hate you too." He responded right back. "See you later."

Chiba then cut the call off, not allowing Eiji to make any more possible remarks, and walked back to class. He was suddenly feeling more drain that he already was.

And it's only been the first period.

"I thought I heard you swearing earlier." Chiba nearly jumped in surprise when someone spoke right behind his ear. He turned to see Nakamura looking at him almost expectantly. "Usually, it'd take you by third period to swear for the first time," she pointed out, grinning.

Chiba frowned a little. Nakamura can be incredibly perceptive when she chooses to. Since she is no exception to not knowing much of what he's thinking since he hides it well enough, she then resorted to paying attention to his habits and make something out of them.

The fact that she's right and can read him easier this way makes him feel uneasy.

Chiba leaned onto his desk and let out another tired sigh. "So I wrote a song," he began.

"Uh huh." Nakamura took his seat.

"And our bassist had a lot to complain about his part." He inwardly rolled his eyes at the thought. "Said he can't pull it off live."

"So it's a difficult song?"

"Sorta. The composition didn't take much, but I guess performing it live would be a challenge." Chiba briefly explained. "Not even my parts are easy."

Nakamura blinked, especially at the last part. "Then shouldn't it make sense that your bassist would complain about the difficulty?"

"Except that we never perform our b-sides live. And that song is a b-side." While saying so, Chiba opened his phone and began scrolling through his messaging app. "He probably wasn't listening when I briefed them last weekend."

Finding what he's looking for, Chiba turned his phone for Nakamura to see what was displayed on the screen.

"I even sent a message to our group chat yesterday as a reminder and look." Nakamura took notice at how irritated Chiba began to sound like and bit down a laugh. "The idiot hadn't opened this gc since last Wednesday!"

"Sounds a lot like you but worse." Nakamura bursted into laughter when Chiba sharply looked at her, visibly offended.

"Unlike him, at least I do read everyone's messages!" He pulled his phone away from her with a huff. "I only send messages when I got something to say. Otherwise, I see no point to when my questions were already being answered by our other chatty classmates."

"You really treat our class group chat like it's an online meeting board, huh?"

"Like we can talk about anything outside of school and assassination, anyways." Chiba frowned. "Kataoka-san moderates the group chat, especially with Okajima on the loose."

"That's true..." Nakamura trailed off for a moment. "We should really start making our own group chat. It's been more than half a year already..."

Chiba smiled wryly in response. "Yeah, you do that. Add Puey too if you want. Not much language barrier for him on there since we don't really type in Japanese that much anyways."

He paused for a bit.

"...do we?"

"You don't." Nakamura snorted. "I could search for your message history in our gc and I swear they'd be mostly in English."

She let out a chuckle. "Or just stickers and gifs."

"It's faster that way," Chiba muttered with a frown, facing away from her.

"But anyways, enough about the gc." Nakamura tapped his elbow to get him to face her again. "You sound and looked really cranky this morning, like you even snapped at Okajima on the way here. I doubt Fukiyose-kun was the cause, so what's up?" She raised an eyebrow.

Chiba began to sweat nervously at her sudden expectant gaze. Clearing his throat, he took another glance to his phone.

"Anyways, 2nd period's about to start." Chiba stood from his desk and turned to Nakamura. "I need my seat back. Shoo."

Nakamura could only look amused. "You're dodging the question, Chiba-kun. What's up?"

"Koro-sensei's about to arrive, Nakamura-san." Chiba tried again, his jaw tightening.

"I'm not gonna move until you tell me anything." Nakamura firmly told him.

How stubborn!

But Chiba found himself relenting in the end. "It's a long story and a period break just isn't gonna cut it. I'll... I'll tell you later at lunch."

Nakamura eyed him for a moment before letting out a tired sigh.

"See? It's not that hard, isn't it? Didn't Koro-sensei told you that it's okay to rely onto other people? Most especially you to voice out your concerns?"

She stood from Chiba's seat and walked by him.

"Don't always keep your problems to yourself, you hyper independent workaholic." With a grin, Nakamura playfully nudged him with her elbow. "Think of it as venting. You do that sometimes, don't you? It's like that but you get a good advice or not as a little bonus, or something."

Chiba laughed dryly in response as Nakamura was about to waltz her way back to her own seat. She turned to him once more, this time looking almost sheepish.

"My bad if that was kinda blunt, by the way." She raised an unsure fist towards him.

Almost fondly, Chiba bumped the raised fist with his own. "Like I'd care about bluntness." He huffed.

"True." Nakamura agreed.

Chiba wordlessly watched Nakamura walking back to her seat, then crashed into his own seat, with what little bit of energy left of him now completely sucked dry.

And it's only been the first period.

He is not looking forward to the rest of the day.

Navigation: Calendar Mark Masterlist

[chokemewanda]

Bucky

masterlist

Reactions Masterlist

warnings: swearing, sarcasm, mentions of assault

Bucky doesn’t know Natasha Romanoff. But Soldat used to.

Bucky had never known Natasha. But Soldat had. He'd known her when she was impossibly young, wielding knives and using her body as a weapon before it had even developed. She had never cried like some of the girls, never complained about the rigorous training they had been put through as children. Years passed where he hadn't seen her and then she had become a woman. A woman Soldat had taken interest in teaching new things.

She had responded receptively, something Bucky was glad of because if he had hurt her he would owe another debt he would never be able to repay. Soldat had been sweet on her, as sweet as he was capable of in his state of being. He had been home quite some time before he remembered her. It was a twisted nightmare and dream where she had been whispering in his ear, tying him up with ballet ribbons before stabbing him.

She assured him she had never actually stabbed him, it was an overlap for the number of times she'd tried to in recent years she had joked. He had been the first and last man she slept with without an ulterior motive. Soldat liked that thought, never losing the warmth he had felt for her. Steve had laughed when Bucky admitted as much, worried that he might be attracted to Natasha.

"Who isn't attracted to her?" He asked. "She's a competent, funny, and gorgeous woman. She's any man's dream."

Bucky was glad Steve had never been the jealous type. Residual from all the girls Bucky had dated in the forties to keep their cover he imagined. He and Natasha became close, as good as best friends. He trusted her almost as much as he trusted Stevie and he was almost sure she felt the same. He couldn't read her, not how Steve seemed to but he rarely had to, she told him more than most. She'd never mentioned you. Never mentioned an interest in women but he should have known better.

You were not someone who belonged in the world of blood and death and horrors. Natasha knew it too but she had taken the same risk that Bucky had taken with Steve, praying that she could protect you. Bucky knew no one would voice it but she had failed. They were all gathered around your bed in the med bay, staring at shallow cuts on your hand while Parker explained everything that had just happened. Bruce was muttering about doing more blood tests while Steve asked about the composition of the chemicals Wanda had salvaged.

Natasha was sat next to your bed, staring up at your face as you took in what everyone was saying. He didn't have to be Steve to see the worry and regret on her face. Bucky knew that Natasha had come to the same realization he had. She ruined something pure, darkened it with a past that she would never escape. Almost like you were sensing her thoughts you looked down, cupping her cheek gently as if you were afraid she'd break.

"I'm okay, I feel fine. It was just adrenaline, like when mothers lift cars off children and all that stuff." She promised and Natasha nodded, nuzzling into her hand and kissing your palm.

"I know, baby." She agreed before sharing a look with Parker who didn't look as sure. Natasha had a strange fondness for the boy, often worried that he was too young for all the pressure that being an Avenger put on him. Bucky had reminded her that she'd been younger. It had only earned him a dirty look. She and Parker had joined forces it seemed, to be your personal bodyguards. "Just a few tests, that's all."

That night Bucky had a familiar nightmare, still able to feel the ribbons as they cut off his air and he woke with a start. Steve snuffled into his pillow but didn't wake and so Bucky let himself out of bed, making his way down to visit you. Peter and Natasha were still guarding you, well keeping you company in Parker's case as he had fallen asleep by your bedside. You were whispering quietly to Natasha, pausing when you heard Bucky approach. Noticeably before Natasha heard you approach. Your senses had heightened.

"Sergeant Barnes, I've heard a lot about you." You spoke up, a small smile on your lips. "Not all of it good but most of it filthy."

"Kind of a weird foreplay to discuss your sex life, Nat," Bucky remarked, leaning against the door jam with a smirk.

"She asks and she gets." Natasha shrugged, her own smile on her lips. Peter blinked awake, looking up and taking in the room before stretching out.

"Time for bed kid, you've school in the morning." Bucky nodded his head back to the elevator and Peter looked to you before sighing and making his way from the room with a muttered goodbye. Bucky took his vacated seat, sitting back comfortably. "You too Nat, Y/N, and I have notes to compare. It'll be like a slumber party."

"Definitely not." Natasha protested immediately, her smile dropping. "I'm okay where I am."

"Well if you don't take a nap in an actual bed, how about a shower because you stink," Bucky told her honestly and Natasha looked affronted.

"I do not-"

"You are a little musky babe, which is only hot after a sex marathon." You told her honestly and she let her jaw drop, eyes flickering between you and Bucky.

"Oh I see how it is, your tag-teaming me?" She asked in shock and you tilted your head side to side.

"Not yet but it can be arranged. I'll have to talk to Steve." Bucky told Natasha making you laugh loudly. She huffed a sigh about the betrayal before giving in with a parting kiss for you and a glare at Bucky.

"So her tongue, right?" You asked before she'd even left the room and Bucky nodded seriously.

"I see that and raise you her ass." Bucky offered and you nodded sagely, absorbing the news.

"Screw you both." Natasha sighed, shutting the door.

"You already did!" Bucky and you yelled together, laughing when she only raised her middle finger without looking back at either of you.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" You asked quietly. Bucky knew that opposites attracted in a certain sense of the word. He and Stevie made it work every day but there were things they had in common. They both had shared experiences, a rich and winding history, and an all-knowing truth that no one would ever replace the other. Bucky couldn't get a grasp on how you and Natasha worked. What could you both possibly share that made it click?

"Scoping out the competition," Bucky told you jokingly, running his metal index finger against the bed rail. "Couldn't sleep, figured I could play guard dog."

"If the news is to be believed I don't need one anymore." You looked down at your hands in wonder and flexed your fingers. "I could be as strong as you are now."

"Maybe, if Banner is right it's the same bastardized serum. They thought it would kill you." Bucky told you and you sighed, your smile falling.

"I asked them to." You told him honestly. You looked up and shrugged when you met his eyes. "It hurt so bad and I was scared."

"I've been there." He told her, taking her hand.

"They took my clothes off and I thought that, god, I thought they were gonna-"

"You don't need to say it," Bucky promised, letting her squeeze his hand between hers. "But they were wrong about you, wrong about how strong you are."

"I didn't want Nat to find me dead." You confessed and were surprised by the sniffle Bucky gave, looking up.

He could see it now, the unwavering strength that wouldn't let you give up. The same one that made sure Natasha hadn't cried as a child, hadn't folded under the pressure.

There was what you both had in common.

"I'm glad she didn't. I think you and I have a very bright future ahead of us." He told you and you laughed again.

"She's going to be sorry we ever met. Forget the spider twins, they can call me the Spring Soldier." You flicked your hair over your shoulder and he couldn't help but laugh while he agreed on the inside. You were the spring to the dark winter. A spark of joy in the lives of people who thought they'd never deserve to see it.

///

Natasha found you both in the early morning, eyes blazing with anger. Bucky had moved you without telling anyone and she had arrived back to your room only to find your bed empty.

"In my defense, I thought we'd be back before you got there." Bucky winced when Natasha grabbed his ear and twisted until he came down to her height.

"Don't fuck with me Barnes, I will cut your balls off and feed them to your cat." She hissed before turning her eyes to you and softening her features.

"Hey baby, feeling better?" She asked gently like she hadn't just threatened castration.

"I was and then I started getting restless. Bucky thought it would be a good idea for me to run it off." You explained, stepping off the treadmill into her open arms. "He told me that you knew."

Bucky's jaw dropped when you winked over Natasha's shoulder before pulling out of her hug and offering her a gentle kiss. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"Better than okay, I just ran ten miles in an hour. Which isn't like super fast but I don't even run usually." You told her cheerfully and watched the mask she wore around everyone but you shutter into place. "Which you didn't want to hear."

Bucky watched you with her idly, watching Natasha try to rip toe the line of being open and honest with you without letting everyone else know she did in fact have feelings.

"I'm scared that it's going to be good until it's bad," Natasha told you and Bucky was so proud of how steady her voice was. She never admitted fear, never allowed herself to be weak. He was so happy that you had your version of what he had with Steve. He wanted Hydra to see this, the two best soldiers they ever created falling weak at the knees for someone they loved.

"That's what we're doing the tests for. She's not much more enhanced than someone who's in good physical shape. Plenty of normal people run a mile in an hour, her strength isn't even that of a decently good bodybuilder." Bucky explained. "She only got a half dose."

"It's still more than she should've got." Natasha sighed, curling her hand possessively around your hip and sighing heavily. "It might get stronger."

"I'm not arguing with you but things were pretty similar for Steve and me. We didn't get stronger over time or any different. Well if you don't count the arm, I suppose." Bucky shrugged and Natasha sighed heavily before nodding.

"You do smell better." You muttered, nosing against Natasha's neck and the red-head couldn't help her laugh, crushing you into a hug and Bucky smiled, turning his back and giving you both some privacy. "Wanna show me your room now?"

///

The next day Bucky found you both curled up on the couch in the communal area watching a Spanish soap opera. He opened his mouth to tease Natasha but one look reminded him that he did not, in fact, want to die and so he went in search of dinner.

"Hey, spider twin," Peter called quietly on his way through the living room. He fell into an overstuffed armchair, his favorite according to Tony who paid attention to that kind of thing.

"Huh, spider twins. How lame." Bucky scoffed, ruffling your hair in passing to his own favorite armchair. "Season Soldiers are much more superior."

"Season Soldiers?" Natasha asked, narrowing her eyes and looking between both you and Bucky.

"Yeah!" You told her with a bright grin. "Bucky is the Winter Soldier and I'm gonna be the Spring Soldier. We're gonna be a way better duo than you two."

"Is that right?" She asked, eyebrow raised. "I mean you can try but Peter and I make a pretty kickass team."

Peter had flushed red but was grinning in a way Bucky had only seen when Tony praised him. Bucky should probably be nicer to the kid. He wasn't all that bad. He was just so very young and he kind of reminded Bucky of Steve before he got the serum.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." You told Natasha, patting her chest and shooting Bucky a glance when he snorted.

"You already know what helps me sleep at night, Sweetheart." Natasha hummed, catching your hand and holding it in hers, a predatorial gleam in her eyes. "Suprised the whole place wasn't woken up last night with the noise."

"Yeah, those rain noises can be completely over the top sometimes." You told her, voice shaky.

"Wet noises but not rain." Natasha grinned and you flushed bright red, slapping her hands away. She laughed as you rolled off the sofa, catching yourself with your brand new reflexes and smirking.

"There are minors present." You hissed, perching on the arm of Bucky's chair and folding your arms. Natasha only laughed, sitting up on the sofa and stretching. "You'll corrupt Peter's innocence."

"I uh- have the room next to yours. I stay there at the weekends." Peter admitted quietly, cheeks firetruck red. "After last night I can safely say my innocence has been washed away."

"Oh no." You squeaked making them all laugh loudly. Bucky poked you in the ribs and you slapped his hands away before covering your face with yours. "This is the worst day of my life."

"If it makes you feel any better, Wanda had to move out of her room beside Steve and Bucky," Natasha told you causing Bucky to flush this time.

"She was over-reacting." Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair before smirking. "Steve knows how to keep me quiet."

taglist: @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @eldritchfloof @llamadramaonthefarma @username23345 @invictusbabey @confusinggemini612 @blackxwidowsxwife @diaryoflife @messuhp @reminiscingtonight @moonflowcrr

[jemej3m]

Aaron takes the mental health course part of pre med (is that a thing?) and starts recognizing Andrew grounding himself, having an episode, etc

bruhhhhh 

bruuhhh

*

Aaron winced as his son sprinted for the door, yelling the whole way. The twins knew that their uncle was coming to visit and were absolutely ecstatic about it. A well-known fact amongst the old Foxes and their children was that Andrew was very, very good with kids. 

Well, Aaron conceded. Andrew wasn’t good with them. He just didn’t even have to try: they loved him right off the bat. And barring the slight furrow in his brows whenever one of Aaron’s twins or Kevin’s spawn whined ‘please!’, he didn’t seem to mind being around them, either. 

His son was jumping for the doorhandle excitedly, so Aaron put his hand atop of his head and stilled him before swinging the door open. 

Andrew was much the same. They were aging the same way, albeit the slight muscular composition difference. Andrew’s teeth were a little more yellow, though he’d given up smoking a few years ago, and Aaron had reading glasses tucked into the collar of his shirt. Other than that, they were just as similar as they always had been. 

“Hey,” Aaron said, but his son was already yelling and jumping and tugging on Andrew’s hand. Andrew’s lips nearly twitched into a smile. Nearly. 

Once his bags were deposited and shoes tucked into a corner, Katelyn handed him a mug of cocoa and they all sat on the couch as the kids regaled their uncle with stories of preschool and their neighbour’s new dog and how Dad had found them in the bathroom with craft scissors, which was why Aaron’s son had such a short haircut now. 

Katelyn got them settled for bed soon after: Andrew had arrived relatively late in the evening, just in time for ‘adult dinner’. 

“How was the flight?” Aaron asked, taking a dish of potatoes out of the oven. 

Andrew hummed into his glass of wine. “Miserable.” 

Aaron had known for quite a while Andrew’s deliberating fear of heights, ever since the Foxes had taken a reunion trip to Hawaii a few years ago. When his wife hustled back into the kitchen, Andrew nodded at her and she smiled back. Aaron felt something odd in his chest. Andrew had been very tolerant of Katelyn lately. He assumed it was the kids’ doing. 

They ate dinner quietly. Katelyn chattered about the kids, and their medical placements. Andrew asked about their specialties. 

Aaron stared at the plate. Katelyn nudged his shoulder. 

“Right.” He glanced up. “I’m not sure. What I want to choose, that is. It’s between surgery or psychiatry.” 

Andrew hummed. “Psychiatry.” 

Aaron shrugged. He’d done a lot of mental health work throughout his postgraduate degree. It just seemed to make sense that he’d go into that field. It takes one to know one, and all that. “What do you think?”

Andrew just arched an eyebrow. “Does it matter?”

“Well, yes,” Aaron said, tone a little frigid. Drake’s trial had been a public debacle, but it was Dr Richmond Proust that Aaron couldn’t get out of his head. It was during their fourth year when the news had come on about a psychiatrist at Easthaven being exposed for forceful sexual conduct with patients. Andrew hadn’t spoken to anyone but Neil for a week, and then disappeared for another two when Waterhouse asked him to stand witness to Proust’s trial. 

“Psychiatry is glorified drug dealing,” Andrew decided, stabbing a piece of broccoli with his fork. He paused, then shrugged. “Could probably do with a bit of Minyard fuckery, though.”

Aaron was finally able to read Andrew’s subtext though: that was the biggest compliment he’d ever get. Unable to bite down a smile, he said “I thought so, too.” 

His brother simply hummed. 

The rest of dinner passed quietly. Andrew had three of Katelyn’s triple fudge brownies and sent a photo of them to Kevin, just to piss him off. The evening slowed down with a nightcap in front of the news, Katelyn heading to bed early. She’d agreed to take the kids to their daycare in Aaron’s stead so that he could have breakfast with his brother alone.

Aaron was just about to turn in for the night when Andrew’s phone rang. Andrew squinted at the unknown number, mouth turned down: he could remember everyone’s phone numbers, and this was clearly one he didn’t recognise.  

He rose the phone to his ear. The slight frown disappeared and transformed into a blank stare, something far deadlier. Aaron hadn’t seen him wear it since college. 

“When,” Andrew snapped, gripping the phone so hard Aaron thought it would break. The voice continued. “And you only thought to call me now? I’m his next-of-kin.” Aaron froze. 

Eventually, Andrew hung up, holding the phone midair as his eyes glossed over. 

“Andrew?” 

“Neil got in a head-on collision,” he mumbled. 

“Dead?”

“Unstable.” 

“I’ll book you a flight.”

Andrew wasn’t moving. When Aaron saw a flush rise in his cheeks, he realised Andrew wasn’t breathing, either. Shit. Shit. His brother was having a fucking meltdown. Goddammit, next time Aaron saw Neil he was going to strangle him. 

He got off the couch and crouched down in front of Andrew, careful not to touch him. “Andrew.”

Andrew didn’t move. 

“Hey, Andrew.” Aaron stood up a little more so that they were eye level. “Andrew, you need to breathe. Okay? If you’re going to go make sure Neil’s okay, I need you to breathe.” 

Andrew finally looked at him. He was angry. Terrified. Aaron couldn’t really tell: his gaze was like looking into a void, pupils blown wide. 

Calming someone down was a lot simpler when Aaron didn’t know them. This was like walking a tightrope of barbed wire over an alligator-infested pit. 

“Can I have your phone? I’m going to book you a flight. Okay? Nod if you can hear me.”

Andrew nodded but didn’t relinquish the phone. Aaron grit his teeth. 

“Andrew. It’s going to be okay. He’s unstable, but he’ll make it. He’s always made it. He’s impossible to kill, right?” 

“I hate him,” Andrew mumbled. 

“I know. Can I use your phone?” 

Andrew dropped the phone into Aaron’s hand and dropped his head into his hands, utterly still. His breathing went all ragged and choppy. 

There was a springy voice on the other end of the line. “Hello, this is the service desk for Terminal 1 domestic, how can I -?”

“I need a flight for Denver as soon as you can,” Aaron snapped. “It’s an emergency. When’s the next available one? I’m willing to pay whatever’s necessary.” 

“Oh,” the woman sputtered. “Um, there’s a red-eye leaving in an hour, but there’s only first-class left - ”

“That’s fine. Please book it for Andrew Minyard. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” 

“Sir, I really can’t - wait, Andrew Minyard? Seriously?”

“Dead serious.” 

“Alright,” she allowed. “Okay. If you can make it to this desk in 25 minutes, I’ll have a seat for you, Mr Minyard.”

Aaron hung up. “Andrew, we need to go.” 

Andrew’s breathing sped up, fingers digging into his hair and pulling hard enough to rip it out. Aaron’s chest began to ache, watching as the sleeves of his shirt fell down to reveal the black armbands, still everpresent after all these years. 

“Hey,” he said, keeping his voice gentle. “Are you with me, Andrew?”

Andrew glanced up slightly, glaring at Aaron’s collarbone. 

“All you need to do is breathe. Neil is okay. He’s going to be okay. You’ll see him soon, alright?” 

Aaron tapped his hand gently on his knee, palm down for four counts, then holding his fist closed for eight counts, then palm up for four counts. Andrew slowly began to breathe in time with his hand, chest heaving as he inhaled through his teeth. 

It took a while, but Aaron watched him slowly come back to his senses. His hands slipped over his eyes once his breathing was steady, kneading at his temples. 

“I’ll drive you to the airport,” Aaron said. 

“Okay,” Andrew rasped. 

*

“Babe,” Katelyn whispered. “Your phone is going off.”  

Aaron blinked his eyes open, glaring at the ceiling. Why’d he been up so late? 

Oh. Right. 

He blindly reached out for his phone. 

Most of it was the Foxes going mad, but there in the midst of chaos, was Andrew’s number. 

he’s going to be ok. thank you.

Aaron sighed, oddly relieved. He didn’t like Neil Josten one bit, but it would’ve been a slight hiccup if he’d died. 

good, he said, texting blindly without his glasses. don’t mention it.

trust me, his brother texted back. I won’t.

*

nawww twinyards!

[codylabs]

Metroid Dread

I'm seeing a lot of people mad that Samus appears to be back to working with the Federation in the new game, despite having blown up a shady government-funded bioweapon research station in the last game, which seems like it logically should have made her Public Enemy Number One.

But I find it actually sort of touching? Like, yeah, she doubtlessly messed with the plans of some pretty big wigs, she probably made a lot of people mad, a big PR fiasco, but then it all just... Blew over?

This is a woman with a flawless track record of saving the Galaxy from threats that nobody else knew existed at the time. She's saved civilizations, saved mankind, in Prime 2 we read in trooper logs that she's something of a mythic Santa-Claus-like figure in the outskirts of human space, she's done countless heroic feats, most of them she's done thanklessly, and most of them, for free.

She's shown the galaxy nothing over the years except silent, stoic goodwill, and I suppose the implication here is that somewhere along the line, that goodwill was repaid. Maybe there was a trial of some kind. Maybe they couldn't decide whether to try her as a soldier or a civilian or a terrorist, since she isn't even a Federation citizen, and her status as the last remnant of the Chozo makes her legally count as a sovereign nation of one. Maybe there were protests outside the courthouse, people from remote mining colonies she singlehandedly saved from pirate raids, flying in from across the galaxy to throw in their two cents. Maybe former squadmates from her time in the service show up to give her glowing character commendations, climaxing in none other than GOSH DARN FLEET ADMIRAL CASTOR DANE THE MAN HIMSELF bursting through the doors of the courtroom in full navy dress, then proceeding to put is foot up on a chair and jaw on for hours about all her sacrifices and brave deeds in the Phazon War. Maybe elsewhere, high up the military ladder, there were some top-secret weapons projects suddenly subject to some very thorough internal review. Maybe A.I. Adam sent them helmet-cam footage he'd been taking through the whole incident, so that it's clear to anyone watching why Samus made the decisions she did. Maybe it's clear that she was right.

Samus wasn't around for this trial, mind you; they couldn't even find her. She was off somewhere in the far reaches of the cold vacuum of space, eating a reheated space-burrito in 0g inside her tiny ship, browsing space-Ebay to see how much money she could get for a used missile launcher, when suddenly Adam chimes in to tell her he intercepted a transmission from the inner worlds: she'd been cleared of all charges, and they even had a new job for her. Something a little lower-profile this time maybe; a warlord or a xenomorph outbreak or something. But she pauses for a moment in confusion and relief, as it dawns on her that for once, the whole galaxy isn't out to get her. Somewhere, somehow, she isn't quite alone.

And then that's more or less the end of it.

Years pass, the jobs come and go, and now here we are in the Metroid Dread part of the timeline. Her suit's partially repaired from the damage sustained in Fusion; Federation engineers managed to recreate something like Chozo armor composite in small quantities, and have been bolting it on a bit at a time, over several appointments. They can't always get the color right; sometimes it's blue, sometimes it's white; paint doesn't seem to stick to the hyper-magnetic nanotubes, so she might not ever wear orange again. But as she leaves the station wearing her new look, the guard gives her a little salute. She salutes back.

Things are about back to normal.

The Federation still has its champion.

The galaxy still has its hero.

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

How about a musician reader x character fic? Maybe a singer who performs in a cafe, or a classical musician who plays in an orchestra, or who plays in a rock band? I dunno I have a lot of ideas in my mind but I'm just too lazy to write them :D What do you think?

So here's the baseline you gave me - a musician reader fic x character. Here's what I decided to fill in for this lovely fic- a fluffy bsd collage Au where the reader is majoring in music and has the side job of a stage performer. Then, because they would match well, so I decided to go with a Fyodor x reader. Hope this is alright!

Words- 1728 ~

Hearts Composition | fyodor x musician reader | (collage Au)

Music thudded against the walls, muffled only by the thick layers that hid backstage from the audience. The aroma of heavily worn perfume surrounded people in pleasant bliss. Waitresses and waiters swayed with heavy plates rested along arms and in hands. Carrying much-wanted foods and booze to awaiting customers. The collection of accents muted under the heavy beats of taps and clicks from the metal of the dancer's shoes. Picking up a smaller wooden, finely carved, and rather expensive model of a violin, stood yourself. With a smile, your hands trailed the curves and strings of the delicate instrument. With all the work you had to do for university you had truly didn’t have time to be doing some minimum wage job. Though you didn’t care much, if you could play something, it would be fine. You performed here every once in a blue moon. You weren't one of the performers, but they would grace you with the intermission on busy nights. Much like these nights, when the crowd was full and the people rowdy and in need of constant entertainment. You could soothe those shouts and demands of perverted drunk men; Soothe the cries of broken women and rich spoiled children.

Stepping onto the wooden stage as the lights dim, allowing you the bare minimum of the peeping moonlight to find the microphone located at the center. Inhaling as your anxiety turned into bliss, you waited. As the colored light flew on, you rested your chin on the soft velvet. Holding up the bow, you set it to the strings. With a final inhale, your eyes fluttered shut as you played a classical piece; one constructed for an upcoming project that was due for your music composition class. You had nearly all the string instruments you could play finished; all but the cello. With every strum of your instrument, the crowd fell silent, enjoying the break from all the heavy excitement. Even the children's chatter soothed down, so your instrument could echo off the thin walls of the pub.

Sipping nothing but a cup of tea with a small side of biscuits, a male leaned in his seat. Sitting with a pristine, perfect posture, he listened to the soft sound. The way his violet eyes slowly lidded, and his hair fell back against his face, lit his features in a urethral, almost divine light. His mind working to recognize the piece. As an up-and-coming musician, he had several classics memorized. He could join in by ear, or even write out the full pieces without needing to see the original sheet music. This piece wasn’t something he recognized, could it be an original piece?

If you were to open your eyes as you neared the end of the first piece, you would notice his gaze rested on you. Eyes open halfway with hidden interest, and yet, the stare was attractive. The blank look that hid everything beneath a mask laid strewn across his features. As you finished and stood up, surrounded by applause, he watched your every stride. It was funny, he thought he could almost recognize you.

~

With shaking hands, your fingers typed within a group chat of other college students you had met and become close to. “I’m so nervous. I have to hand in that piece today. I pulled an all-nighter trying to decide on the cello part, but nothing sounded right, so now I might not get a full mark.” You could hear the whine through the text. When replies of good luck came to you, except for two replies, you chuckled. One read “could always just die before handing it in.” Another wrote, “I've got the wine ready.” laughing to yourself as you walked into the classroom and set down the folder in the bin. Glancing through the room, you took a seat with your head down. It was unusual for you to arrive early to class, but your anxiety with this project was slowly picking at you to just get there and hand it in. With twenty minutes till class started, you decided to pull out your laptop and listen to the recording from last week.

Taking out your notebook, you started jotting notes about small things to improve, and things you hated about your performances. You didn’t notice somebody else enter the classroom rather early. Carrying his bag, he set it down at one of the desks before the sound of a violin entered his ears. Sitting down he listened to the melody you had played several nights before. As the piece finished, his eyes traveled to the bin. Now understanding where you had gotten the piece from, he sighed. “You’re not half bad, you played a little flat, but it sounds okay. Becoming a flustered disaster, you froze glancing over to him. This wasn’t the first time you had noticed him in class, he was hard to miss. His completely perfect grades, perfect posture, and looks made him stand out. Not only that, but he had strong ideals and his debate skills could sway anybody. Though, you knew it wasn’t really skill, more manipulation. To add to everything his Russian accent stuck out with every word he spoke. “Could you play that again?” hesitating at first you restarted the piece.

He took out a blank piece of sheet music and started scribbling down notes. As if memorizing the piece, he tapped his fingers before bringing his thumb to his mouth and chewing on it. Tapping his foot as the piece came to an end, he glanced at the time before walking over to one of the room's cellos. His face resembled discontent as he looked at it. Looking to where he sat, you realized he didn’t have his with him. You presumed it had to do with the instrument being heavy and somewhat large. Though for somebody of his height, it may not be that big of a deal. Perhaps he didn’t want to lug it around with him, considering he had all of those other books for classes. “So uh, why did you want to hear it again?” you mumbled, rubbing the back of your neck as you watched him strum a few strings. He was checking the accuracy and pitch of the notes. With a contempt sigh, he shrugged.

“Your writing is considerably well done. I wished to try something that is all.” He did not shed a glance as he sat down and ran the bow across the strings. The sound was heaven within your ears, but to him, it was nothing but ordinary. The sound of a well-made expensive Russian model, the model he owned, was much better than this school-provided variant. As the melody played, you recognized it as your piece. Smiling slightly as your eyes sparkled. You bolted from your seat to grab your folder; the music that was due in 10 minutes.

Looking over the cello part you had constructed, you changed the key signature to hold a few new sharps and took away some of the flats. Boldly, you handed the male the sheet music and pointed as if asking "Is this the piece you were playing?" Setting the cello aside, he ran a finger over the bars with a nod. “So that’s what I was missing! You're a god at memorizing and creating. Now I'm excited to see what you concocted for the presentation.” You smiled lightly before placing the folder in the bin. “Oh, I never got your name. I’m-” he cut you off before you could formally introduce yourself.

“You’re y/n. I do pay attention to people who aren't a complete waste of time.” The layers of his ego began to shine through his solid expression. The way you'd called him god just then, was another layer added to the ever-growing ego this man had. He thought he was above everybody else; he indeed was. In every way possible, he was above the normal human. With an exceptionally sharp mind, emotionless facade, and a spin of extraordinary talents, he was a god among men. “I’m taken aback, you don’t know me.” frowning you sat back at your desk. Leaning your head against the palm of your hand with a frown, you clicked your tongue.

Coming up with a sharp reply, you rolled your eyes. “Please, who doesn't know the great Dostoevsky. You’re only at the top of our class. Correcting myself before you can, the top in everything.” He snickered his brows raising in interest. His lips curled into a smirk moments before breaking to speak to you again.

“Consider your words before speaking. That wasn’t exactly the best wording to say "I'm better than everybody at everything.” It took you several seconds to realize what had gone through his head. Of course, he understood what you were saying, but he also managed to nitpick everything.

Blushing you placed your hands in front of your face. “I didn't think about it because that’s not what I was saying!” he snickered again. Listening to him stand you peeked from your hands to watch him set away the cello and bow.

“How often do you perform at that pub?” He switched the discussion relatively quickly. But with the sudden pause of your reaction and the setting away of the instrument, it flowed nicely with the conversation.

“Once or twice a month?” You answer honestly. A bit upset by the lack of real performances you had.

“Next time, I'll reserve something, and we’ll set something up. I want to see if you can play something… difficult.” It wasn't much of a question, more a demand. Nodding you wrote down your number, sliding it to the student with a smile as the bell rang.

For the next week, the two of you met in the unused rooms Fyodor managed to snag for practicing. He often shook his head at your way of playing. He did compliment the several different instruments you would take with you. From the cello to the violin, there wasn’t much you couldn’t play. Each was expertly designed and crafted to fit your arm length and height. Custom made and shipped from all over the world. Eventually, it became a routine, going to his concerts as he attended yours. While you praised how good he was, he would find the smallest mistakes to condemn you about.

[dokifluffs]

Help | Kuroo Tetsurō

Pairing: Kuroo X Reader (gender neutral) 

Genre: teheh fluff, maybe a lil suggestive 

Request: “HIII uhm i have this idea but idk how it's gonna flow so can i request it to u lol it's kuroo with a classmate oc who pretends not to understand the lessons and comes to kuroo for help but actually just wants to get his attention LOL TY IN ADVANCE ???” - anonnie

Author’s Note: sorry you had to wait so long for this to be posted aakjshahs i had quite a few reqs i had to fulfill and post before this one 😅 but here it is! Thank you for requesting, anonnie! and you’re welcome~~ Happy reading! 

People around you ate their lunch but you chose not to- not yet at least… not when he wasn’t here yet

Looking at the lab in front of you, it was so simple and so straightforward, it made you feel a little embarrassed at what you were doing

But all you had to do was wait for him since you needed all the “help” you could get since the class was “challenging” for you

Reading over the directions for the second time to spare time, it was so painfully easy

All you had to do was perform several experiments and for each one, write out an equation and indicate which kind of reaction it was- composition, decomposition, single replacement, or double replacement

You really could’ve done it without any parter or anyone. You excelled in your STEM classes but if it you “struggling” just a little meant help from him and his undivided attention on you, so be it then

After letting out a bored sigh for the nth time, he finally appeared

He peaked his head through the door and stepped in when he saw you, giving you a little smile

It was happening again. Your heart beat faster when you saw his smile, the way the uniform, that so many others also wore, fit him so well

The uniform actually looked since since he was tall and his stature broad

He settled his blazer and bag down on the counter beside the window out of the way and sat in the stool beside you

“So what do you need help with today?” He asked. He rolled up the white sleeves of his uniform shirt, revealing his nicely tanned, and toned, arms, resting them on the black lab table, leaning forward and close to you

His eyes were so so enchanting. Since the two of you sat at the lab stations in the back of the classroom, it was beside the windows so the lights made his hazel eyes seem so golden and ethereal

“Uh, reactions and um, equations,” you snapped yourself out of it, glancing at the paper you had stared at since class

“Hm, let me see..” He took the paper and slid it in front of him, reading through it

You sat on the stool beside him, waiting for him to finish reading through

This was almost always the routine. Whenever you needed help, you made sure to take the opportunity to ask Kuroo

“Did you already eat?” He paused from his reading, looking over to you

You shook your head. “I didn’t want to eat while doing the lab”

“Well, very lucky for you, I remember doing this lab last year. And.” He leaned closer. “I can help you out with the actual procedures,” he whispered, sitting back up to continue reading. “Plus you need to eat so you can grow taller or else you’ll just stay as my arm rest”

To which this comment made you slap his arm playfully but he insisted you ate anyways

He made sure you watched how he did the procedure, every step so next time if you guys did it again in class, you wouldn’t be “clueless”

He pointed out which ones for you were which kind of reaction, explaining thoroughly as to why they were those

He glanced back and forth to you, catching the way you nodded along to his words, your eyes wide looking at the reactions, differentiating them

Now it was time for you to write out equations

He wrote out one of them for you, helping you out and letting you try them out

You nodded along, tilting your head every now and then pretending you were understanding for the first time

When he let you try it out, you did the second one slowly, putting a wrong number here and there, mixing up the variables for Kuroo to correct you

After getting it right, you tried the third, going a little faster, getting the “hang” of it

When it came to the fourth one, you got a little carried away and did it flawlessly

“When’s this little game going to end?” He asked, resting his chin on his folded arms, looking to you, making you freeze

“Game? What are you talking about?” You stuttered over your words, furrowing your brows

“This game, where you pretend to not know what you’re doing,” he slid your paper away and took the pencil from your hand, setting it aside. “After the first few times, I actually thought you needed help but you’re as transparent as glass”

“I played along but I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty over it.” He stood from his stool, standing up and resting his arms on both sides of the lab table, trapping you in the little space where students sat

He leaned close to your now flustered face, a light blush tinting your cheeks. “Why don’t we play… a different game?” He looked down to your with his teasing eyes but it was like there was something behind them that you couldn’t figure out

“What kind of game?” You bashfully asked

“Any game you want. What do you say?” He leaned close, his voice and breath hot against your ear, one hand taking yours  

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