#tempo crafts

[hebezunet]

i can use tumblr at work. well heres more darkman blues

[condensedmatters]

Albums I'm currently obsessed with: in no particular order (2022-10-28)

1. Thomas Dolby - The Golden Age of Wireless

Nothing quite scratches that new wave/synthpop itch like Thomas Dolby's early stuff. Golden Age, however, has a really special place in my heart—the oddly post-apocalyptic lyrics, the absolutely stunning production, and the textures in this album all combine to make something that isn't quite new wave, but not quite synth pop a-la New Order. I'd absolutely recommend this album to anyone.

My one gripe with the album is the sequencing. The album feels a bit haphazardly paced to me—it's absolutely subjective, so it's not a big deal at all.

2. Ryuichi Sakamoto - B-2 Unit

If you're looking for YMO, don't listen to this album. If you're looking for a pretty film score, don't listen to this album. B-2 Unit is an avant-garde electronic album for the masses. Each of the songs are relatively short—no more than about seven minutes at most—but they manage to pack in loads of experimentation. B-2 was made with some of the cutting-edge techniques of the day—the song Thatness and Thereness, for example, features what I think might be the first lately bass sound ever put on to an album.

I don't really have anything negative to say about the album. B-2 Unit was ahead of its time—you could probably convince a few people Aphex Twin was on this record.

3. Kitty Craft - Breaks and Beats from the Flower Patch

I don't know how to put it, but this album sounds like an old picture album at a grandparent's house. That's both for better and for worse—the gorgeous sampling lulls you in, but over time it can fade into the background. Eventually, you've seen so many sephia-tinged pictures of dead relatives that each picture feels the same.

Of course, that doesn't mean that the album isn't special—far from that, actually. Take a break and come back to the album, and you'll find every song just as charming as last time.

4. Spacemen 3 - Taking drugs to make music to take drugs to

I feel like any time I spend editorializing about this album is wasted. All I can say is if this is what heroin does to people, by god we need to make the opioid epidemic worse.

[hazbin-writings-and-musings]

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader Smutty Headcanons

I promised on this LM x Reader post things would get spicy soon, so here we are, coming so far from my first post! Just the first of probably many more smutty Lucifer posts, because we all know this man fucks and we all want a piece.

Warnings: SMUT

- This man legitimately loves everything about eating pussy. He loves performing it, he loves bragging about how well he performs it, he loves giving tips because he believes in respecting the craft, and he loves putting down anyone too entitled to provide what he sees as this most enjoyable of services for one's partner. You don't even have to ask him to go down on you, it'll be one of the first things he offers, and he'll regularly ask if you're interested in letting off a little steam. Having the ability to extend and shapeshift his tongue into having an opposable forked tip makes him capable of techniques beyond your wildest fantasies, and whether you like to receive from above or below, he's equally down to have you seated on his face or laying back to enjoy yourself.

- He's not poorly or overly endowed for a man of his size, but he's also quite literally the one who originally proved that size doesn't matter in the slightest, and he's had thousands of years to perfect those original techniques. From position to tempo, he's mastered everything he needs to hit the G-spot with impeccable accuracy, and his hands will be quite busy seeking out where you most enjoy attention as he rides you with the power and virility of an untamed stallion. All this combined results in a mind blowing time for you, every time, and he's got the stamina to answer all of your repeated requests for another round.

- Nevermind the magic he can work with his tongue or his dick, the King of Hell is also a wizard with his fingers. He's even got a carpal tunnel roller just to keep his dexterity in top shape for when his skills are needed. Finding your clit is effortless for him, and he'll show it all the love he thinks you deserve, responding eagerly to your feedback in the moment and putting his mouth to use on your neck as he does so. Whether you want him inside, outside or both at the same time, he's happy to provide, and he'll gladly push his wrists to the limit if it leaves you properly satisfied.

- If you offer to be the one servicing him, he'll happily accept, and you'll quickly find his mannerisms shift quite considerably when he's on the receiving end. He starts out confident, offering banter to match your own, but as soon as your mouth gets to work, his demeanor changes. A grin becomes an open mouthed moan, his hands tenderly take hold of you to ground himself, and witty quips turn to soft and needy sighs. The more heated things get, the more he loses himself, but it's a great way for you to gauge how well you're performing. Growls and an appearance of his horns are a sign he's really having a good time, especially considering he's always got steam to blow off. Particularly rough days will result in him losing all control by climax; fully extended wings and horns, an unfurled tail he wraps about you, hair disheveled and clinging to a fine layer of sweat, and more than a few reality bending bursts of power surging around the both of you. It's his favorite way to end the day on a good note. He'll pull his fingers from your hair as he breathlessly apologizes for the show, but the both of you know watching him go feral is part of the fun.

- The afterglow is peak cuddle time for him, and he'll be in no hurry to get dressed if there's somewhere either of you needs to be, so more than a few of his duties will end up delayed thanks to post-coital bliss. All six wings will seek you out for a fluffy embrace, and if the two of you are at all winded, the otherworldly softness of Archangel feathers might make staying awake quite impossible. Should you have some energy to spare though, he'll want to actively enjoy the snuggle. Hearing you breathe, feeling his skin against yours, and engaging in pillow talk just make him the happiest little guy. Such moments really allow him to let his guard down, and you might hear him speak with a softness and hopefulness that rarely leaves the bedroom, but he's just as interested in listening as he is in talking. Don't be too surprised if he drifts off with his head in your boobs though.

[anantaru]

synopsis. you're in a changing room trying on lingerie while rich boy aventurine admires you <3 dry humping n getting spoiled

cw. ⪩⪨ [ex]plicit, rich boy au, rich boy aventurine, reader wears lingerie, fingering & dry humping, fem! reader

somewhere amongst the fancy to love and favor you, rich boy aventurine has a habit of spoiling you without hindrance— at bottom, in the glow of his eyes, he views life as nonsense without a substance much deeper than that of materialistic possessions, all the more reason as to why you were the most valuable to the blonde.

rich boy aventurine walks you through the countless stores that were flashing the most luxurious brands— expensive bags and purses, or what about an avant-garde necklace for it to fit the other accessories? you hum, teeth sinking into your glossed lip as aventurine urges you to make him purchase it all.

your mind falls down into an emotion you could never get tired of, "this one? yeah?" aventurine says with a nasty grin, almost like he needed you to tell him again, this time a little harder, a little more sensual. his body language was becoming more excited, agitated in a way where he was struggling to hold himself back.

rich boy aventurine watches the shop workers help you get all glammed up for him, so eye-catching and entrancing until his mouth waters at the luring sight once you let him step closer, his observant gaze noting how the lingerie digs and moves in keeping with your skin.

"fuck..." his voice was much the same as gravel, saturated within a mirage of intense cadences dipped in swelling lust as he admires you, shortly after reaching one palm towards his groin to adjust himself a little.

the fancy material of your lingerie hugs up on your body as it was crafted for you, your skin glowing as you're beautifully showing off the exclusive garments that must've been used to create it, fitting you like it's only made for you to wear, for you to enjoy and aventurine to look at, the crystal-glazed necklace on your neck too, leaving nothing concealed.

rich boy aventurine cannot take his eyes off you, seeing you like this formed a thrilling mist of coveting desire inside of the small changing room, blanketing both of your bodies inside a warm conceal.

and how deeply he yearned to get a taste of you, endlessly worship your skin with his strong arms and frame your figure with them tight. aventurine believes you're so graceful when you let him spoil you in such striking manner.

like a dangerous drug, he would describe the excitement he felt whenever he was visiting multiple lavish stores to buy you exorbitant garments, barely holding himself back at the thought of ripping them off your skin later.

the dressing room was too tiny to fit two people, but the both of you made it work somehow— always, with cold glass you're being pressed at, the attention on your plushy ass growing stronger as you feel his agitated erection grind into you. he practically salivates at how he can see the reflection of you two in the mirror when he presses and fucks you through his clothes, two calloused hands holding you in place while you're sneakily brushing your fleshy ass back into his groin.

"baby, oh baby... can't wait to rip that off you…" aventurine lets out a pathetic, little whine followed by a deep rumble emitting from his throat— slowly adding a leisurely tempo to his pace as he humps his clothed sex into your ass before his tongue lewdly licks across the back of your neck.

rich boy aventurine won't stop until he's felt you up everywhere, entirely, he glissades one hand from your breasts to your stomach until settling on your clothed pussy, the small twine of fabric snuggled up between your wet folds was sitting perfectly, which gave him an optimal way to rub your cunt in erratic circles, his adams apple bobbing before he whispers your his name at his fingers gathering your slick.

your head slants back at the new, satisfying impact of two rough digits mounting over your squelching pussy— a marvel of bliss spiking your blood the moment he'd alternate between stimulating your warm cunt, lapping his tongue up and down your neck while humping his thick, clothed member into your plush ass.

it's so crowded in that small changing room, you fear aventurine might rip your new lingerie apart if he's continuing with this— how much you hope he does, it's always a pleasure when he fucks the literal clothes off you, not to mention how pretty he looks with his shirt sticking to his chest, exposing his defined abs.

most deliciously, you were certain that there must be a couple shop workers noticing the deafening noises coming from your area— what else was there to do for them other than listening to what filthy scenes were happening? while only wishing it was them instead.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[a5rora]

❤️‍🔥 | Old Flames

billy the kid x rich f!reader

word count; 2k words || dividers by @firefly-graphics

ch. 𝐈𝐈

SYPNOSIS༄In Billy’s lonesome world, comes along his significant former lover from his adolescence that he faces once again after being separated from one another. After not being with you for over a decade, he doesn’t know how to face you when he has begun a life of crime, a wanted man with many enemies. He doesn’t want to lose his lover once more, but could she ever love him along with all his flaws? Will their love prevail despite the reputation of Billy the kid?

content warning: FLUFF, angst, eventual SMUT, violence, mentions of abuse, mentions of memory loss, substance abuse¿, ollinger, mentions of alcoholism, flashbacks intended, smoking, mentions of catholicism, storytelling is inspired by the original show’s major elements/events. (billy’s birth name is henry mccarty)

Suspense collectively consumed each man in the room when the game of poker finally reached the showdown. Each remaining player placed their hands one by one until the last turn to reveal his cards was Billy. All attention was on Billy the kid.

The men watched closely with anticipation as Billy slowly placed his cards to reveal a winning hand of royal flush. The players made distinctive reactions of defeat in response to their losses.

Billy was known to be a lucky gambler among his peers but no matter how good he was, he only gambled occasionally.

He grabbed his winnings off of the table and quickly prepared to leave for another drink.

The night was the same as always. It became a habit for Billy to drink his thoughts away. It felt like his sober mind couldn’t bare the worries of the growing rivalry between Tunstall’s and Murphy’s businesses. In a room with so much liveliness, his loneliness gnawed in his chest. Billy felt lonelier, noticing his friendship with Jesse become more distant since the beginning of their time working for Murphy…

Until he saw you.

Billy couldn’t believe his eyes the moment they landed on you, there you stood metres away from the gambling den.

The lovely sleeveless silk dress you wore fit perfectly on your body, hugging the curves of your figure.

A crafted corset that matched the hues of your skirt and floral lace brushing over your smooth shoulders. His focused gaze fell upon your face and the sentiments of adulation in his soul grew for you.

It was like he fell in love with you once more.

The tempo of his heartbeat rose along with the temperature of his cheeks when he saw your smile. Billy pushed away the feelings of discomfort when he noticed Jesse beside you, clearly being friendly with you.

He slightly turned away, trying to distract himself from the current thoughts invading his mind. Billy reminded himself of the time you had spent together, growing up with each other before your individual circumstances separated you from one another. The little rebels that you once were. He remembered when you both made it a habit to venture into the wild despite the countless warnings that your parents had given you.

A particular moment stuck out to him…

The bright sunshine in the afternoon transitioned into a faint evening. It was soon that your parents would notice that you travelled farther that you both should have.

“Henry!” y/n called out from the trees. But the boy stood still, watching the thieves above the hill as they ambush the farmers who stood their ground by the stables. He was dangerously close to the hill, a clear witness to the petty crime.

“Please Henry, come here now!” y/n pleads once more, startling the boy and bringing him out of his trance. His azure eyes find hers, he begins rushing into the forest.

You took his hand as he got closer and pulled him towards you. You sat down on your knees beneath the fremont trees and gestured for him to sit down beside you.

You looked to him, his gaze focused straight into space. Bringing your hand to his cheek, you turn his face towards you and wipe the teardrops from his sad, doe eyes.

You bring his forehead to yours and he takes your hands in his. “It’ll be okay Henry, I promise.”

Ever since that occurence, you had an unspoken devotion of loyalty for one another.

Before his immigrant family moved away, you and Billy made a promise to find each other again in this lifetime. But over time, his faith and hope diminished slowly after he lost you along with the latter of his loved ones.

Now here you were, walking and smiling before his eyes. Before this moment, his life seemed to be nothing but desperate and lonely. However, being in your presence made him feel like the hope that he had lost long ago returned to his heart. Billy’s mind was piqued by the irresistible urge to be near you, to meet you and seek refuge in your comfort.

But his present reality prevented him from fulfilling his wish of coming up to you. The aching feeling grew in his heart and flooded his soul. He felt guilty from the betrayal of his promise to you while you stood there, oblivious and looking so beautiful.

Laughter and chatter repeated throughout the entire saloon as you followed your friend Jessie who accompanied you to the bar, “How does it feel to be free y/n?” the blonde smiles at you which you return.

You exhaled and leaned your elbows on the bar counter behind you, “Feels amazin’- Girl like me can only dream of being this free forever.” A genuine sigh left your mouth, in contrast to your previously bright and bubbly mood a few minutes ago.

Your friend frowns slightly at you out of sympathy. The fading conversation between you and Jessie was interrupted by a tall cowboy who entered from the other room.

He towered over you both and you take notice of his wavy brunette hair as he lowers his head to take off his hat.

When he straightened himself, your eyes met with his familiar blue pair. His intense gaze trapped the air in your lungs and you swallowed, trying to remind yourself of the confidence you walked into this bar with.

You were proud of yourself for not getting caught sneaking out from your balcony tonight compared to your weekend night two weeks ago.

At the time of the incident, you didn’t have the best luck when you were sneaking past the gate doors. Your brother having caught you just after you managed to pass by the gate entrance.

Luckily tonight, you were here to have fun. You promised not to be bounded by the standards of your status.

You wanted to celebrate your newfound freedom and feel comfortable in your appearance.

The brunette did not hesitate with his wandering gaze over your body. As much as he wanted to, he wanted to upkeep his appearance as a gentleman towards you of course.

Jessie wrapped his arm towards his friend and brings him closer to you. “This is my good friend William.” you tilted your head, confused by the feelings that consumed you when your eyes met and every moment leading up to this one. You had seen him before but you were unsure why and how he was so familiar to you.

“Names’ Y/n, Y/f/n.” you introduced, your mouth couldn’t help but to return his handsome smile.

Your heart fluttered and so did your lashes when you looked up in his eyes. You shared a moment of awe towards each other, you were lost in his captivating blue eyes.

Jesse stood awkwardly between you two, “Y’all know each other or sumn?” Feeling uncomfortable from the silence that your moment with Billy distracted you from. You shook your head no to answer his question.

Billy looked away and placed his hat back onto his head. “No, but sure would’ve been nice to know such a pretty girl like you.” You pressed your lips to a smile, feeling your heart sieze from his words.

“Luckily you’ve got lots of time to get to know me William.”

“Y’can call me Billy.” He offered. Billy’s usual cold and inscrutable demeanour was swept away when it came to you. A tender smile appearing across his face. “I’ll take you up on that cariña.”

“Well, I’ll leave ya two lovebirds to mingle.” Jessie chuckles, taking a sip of his drink before going in the direction Billy came from.

“So where’d you come from?” He quickly asks you before ordering a drink for himself. His own curiosity getting to him. He needed to know for sure that it was you, not necessarily in the right mind to feed into the thoughts that swarmed his head. It was only your answer that could give him the clarity that he was searching for.

“Damn Billy,” you giggled, “buy the girl a drink first.” You teased, nudging his arm and he grins.

“Hmm, well my family’s from New Mexico originally but we moved to New York for a bit where my daddy started a coal business back there.” You started and leaned your back against the counter, noticing Billy’s concentration on you and what you had say. You felt his sincere reverence towards you and his character seemed unlike most men- If not every man that you usually meet in the towns you had stayed in previously.

You exhaled, “Then we moved from town to town quite a bit to grow our business.” He nodded, his continued fixation on you starting to make you feel slightly nervous from how he acted towards you. “My brother and I are just followin’ my old man to take care of him wherever he goes and wherever the business takes us.” You exhaled before continuing. “Took us to here now, in Lincoln.” You explained, swirling the drink in your hand before finishing the rest of it.

“I see.” He finishes his drink before asking, “You like it here?”

You played with the cup in your hands. “I think so. I’m just startin’ to like it a lot more.” you flirt with a smile and his lips beam with shyness.

“Would you like another?” He points to your glass in your hands.

You grinned, “How could I turn down a drink from you?”

He smiles at you, ordering your drink for you like a gentleman. He grabs your drinks from the bartender, gesturing you to a seat beside him. You sit down on the barstool, Billy pushes your glass closer to you and you take it. “What about you, Billy?” You look to him beside you, swallowing his drink before clearing his throat.

“What’d you like to know?” He gazed at you with an inscrutable expression.

You bit your bottom lip, “Where are you from then?”

Your question didn’t come as a surprise but it still made his heart ache to know that you didn’t remember.

You didn’t recognize him. Which meant you didn’t remember the time you had spent together in your early adolescence. He tried to hold onto his hope but he had himself to blame for not reminding you of those memories sooner.

He drove away the doubts in his mind and turned to you. “My family immigrated from Ireland way back.” He answered shortly, in contrast to the plentiful conversation you gave him and you frown.

“What do you do? You a cowboy too?” You ask out of curiosity. But before he could reply, Jesse storms out of the saloon, he pushes the doors that start swinging hard and bang hard against the walls. The hinges squeak from the impact. “I’ll be right back.” Billy says to you before following after his friend outside the bar. You nod and let out a quiet sigh as you watched him disappear into the darkness.

“Hey beautiful, did Billy leave ya on your own?” A man said from behind you, making you flinch.

The man was Bob Ollinger. You turn to face him completely and you smelled a swift of liquor from his mouth. You tilt your head at the drunk man, “Y’know anything about what’s happening outside?” He looks at you for a moment, Ollinger seemed like he was still trying to comprehend your words. That was all you needed to confirm that he is way too drunk. You blinked repeatedly for a second before your eyes settle to the ground.

Ollinger ignores your question, “C’mon with me. I wouldn’t leave you here just by yourself.”

It didn’t matter anymore what little friendship you developed with the guy, you didn’t want to be disrespected due to his intoxication. “Best you go somewhere else Ollinger.” You drank the last of the alcohol in your glass as he stands there dumbfounded.

“Y’gettin smart on me girl, that it?” He challenged with a sour tone in his growl.

“You can go on your way to bother another poor woman with your vices.” You spat, earning chuckles from the men and women around you.

“Don’t be a fucking tease you little bitch.” There went the last bit of respect you had for him, along with your unrequited friendship. Ollinger definitely did not see you as your friend and to your trepidation, he grabs your arm and pulls you off your seat.

You wince from his hurtful grip, “Fuck off!” Tears starting to pool in your eyes and blur the corners of your vision. You came to the realization that no reaction or intervention would ever come from anybody that watched you struggle.

You scream as Billy abruptly strikes a punch across Ollinger’s face, his body falling to the floor on impact. You could see the blood immediately coming out of his nose when Ollinger picks himself up from the ground. A dark smirk appears across his face. “Sorry didn’t know she was your whore.” You watched in horror as Billy punches him once more. The two drunk men proceeded to attack one another with punches while you shouted for Billy to stop.

Ollinger’s words made your chest twinge in pain. You didn’t want to be just one of Billy’s sluts, although you reckon that they probably enjoyed it.

You tried your best to remember why he looked so familiar.

But what stuck out to you was the longing feeling in your chest of being in his presence and more.

However, that’s when you remember where you recognize Billy from. The same poster you saw prior to meeting Billy tonight was plastered along the pillar that stood next to the saloon doors.

A wanted poster for the outlaw, Billy the kid.

-

thank you for reading <33 this is my first fic on tumblr

im also taking requests for any billy drabbles & oneshots ;)

this will be a short series, follow for pt2! it’s currently in the drafts and ill make sure to post it before finals lolol pls reblog it means a lot <3

[zomboivex]

Hi there! Hope you are doing super well. I have a HC request. How would Jin, Romeo, Ritsu, and Taiga; react to hearing MC singing and playing an instrument? Like a guitar, piano or harmonica.

Anyways! Stay hydrated and be sure to eat. I look forward to reading your work.

The Sound of Music

How Jin, Romeo, Ritsu, and Taiga would react to hearing my any musical talent from MC.

.・✫・゜・。. .・✫・゜・。. .・✫

Fingers would position themselves at the ready. Each key hit with the varying intensity needed- soft subtle tunes carrying through the building you called home. The piano, when you first found it, had been quite dusty. Clear that no one had paid it any mind for some time. Your hesitation to actually take a seat and play clad with the trepidation of each note that carried out from your delicate touch.

The build up from each key growing louder as you found a budding confidence within you. It had been some time since you last played. Since you last found any joy in music. Especially since you first came to Darkwick with the newly placed curse. That fact weighing heavy on your chest. But.. your time was nearing an end. The anomaly inside you growing- gnawing and chewing away at your own consciousness. Each day becoming that much harder to push through. So.. the least you could do was pour your heart out through the sound of music.

Each note carrying the weight of your feelings. Even if no one were here to listen, you hardly cared. It was a mournful song for yourself. Lamenting over what was to come. What had passed. What will never be.

Engrossed in your own melody, you wouldn’t hear the footsteps approaching from behind you.

𝓙𝓲𝓷 𝓚𝓪𝓶𝓾𝓻𝓪𝓲

Hands appeared beside you, the slender fingers carefully pressing onto the keys to complement the melody you were so carefully crafting. The subtly of your duet echoing up through the high-rise ceiling, reverberating throughout the Clementia halls. The two of you made quite the pair on the piano, the melody coming to its end before your eyes met the Frostheim Captain. His gaze icy and unwavering.

A nervous chuckle worked its way from your lips. “I wasn’t expecting any visitors.”

Jin’s gaze piercing through you before his answer, which came out in an assured mumble- what an odd combination, “I didn’t expect you to know how to play.”

Anxiously, you would look back at your fingers. The tips resting gracefully atop the keys. Long slender ones reaching over to now place gently over yours, pressing down as a few notes rang out in response.

“When did you learn how to play?” The question must have caught Jin by surprise because he would let his eyes rest to his hand resting on yours.

“Does it really matter?”

Maybe it didn’t. You asked to try and get to know the ghoul before you just a little more. But he didn’t seem too keen on giving away more information than necessary. Why would it matter, anyways? You wouldn’t exactly be around to remember the details, anyways. Not with the curse transforming you as it was.

“You play nice.” Your words quiet. Topic shifting from your question.

A smirk, albeit small, formed on the male’s lips as his hands pulled from yours, resting in position as he began to play once more. Your fingers going to match the duet. Notes of musical splendor dancing between the two of you and throughout the room and no words shared. There wasn’t a reason for either of you to say much else, enjoying the simplicity in the moment, instead. Let things be as they were. Enjoy what you could while you were able.

𝓡𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓸 𝓢𝓬𝓸𝓻𝓹𝓲𝓾𝓼 𝓛𝓾𝓬𝓬𝓲

You continued to play, the tempo picking up and crescendo building as the climax of the song began to take off. You were fully engrossed in the music you were creating, lost in the melody that carried your thoughts to a world with less worries. A more carefree time- before you had been cursed. Every ounce of feelings poured into each brushing of the keys until the music would lull down and stop.

A soft clap followed by their own build up as you felt your body stiffen up. Turning your head, you were greeted with a gaze that could pierce through your soul.

“I didn’t expect you, of all people, to know how to play. Color me impressed.”

Your posture relaxed slightly. Romeo wasn’t one to give compliments. So it was odd he found himself here, in Clementia, listening as you play. This time, you were acutely aware of the approaching footsteps as Romeo would come closer- now standing behind you.

Fingers brushed along the keys, the melody carrying your melancholy throughout. Gentle. Soft. Sad. The notes each heavy on your heart before the lilting sound came to a natural end. No clapping followed this time. Only silence.

A reminder that Romeo was there when he spoke, “You’re not allowed to give up, BB.”

Ah. There it was.

“Who’s going to be the one to help me keep that BTH in check!? And don’t even suggest Shinjo! He’s almost worse! I can barely keep it together! So you’re not allowed to turn into that thing! Do you understand me!?” The histrionics following as his words echoed throughout the cathedral of Clementia.

You couldn’t find your voice- letting Romeo on his tirade of colorful words before he finally seemed to stop, voice catching in his own throat. His emotions on full display. He always was one to make his displeasures known. But you were surprised he actually cared.

“I understand.” You respond back quietly, turning once again to look back at the Sinostra student. His eyes aching and the threat of tears lingering. So unlike him. And yet- perfectly like him, at the same time. “We still have time.” You reassured him. You reassured yourself.

𝓡𝓲𝓽𝓼𝓾 𝓢𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓳𝓸

The entrance of another was not lost on you, your playing coming to an abrupt halt as your gaze would turn to look over at the approaching figure. Ritsu Shinjo. The last person you had ever expected to see visiting you.

His expression was that always confident gaze- unwavering in the assuredness of his entire being. You had grown fond of this aspect of Ritsu. If you had any doubts, they were quashed when you saw how sure of any outcome Ritsu was. Never faltering. It had given you your own strength to pursue breaking your curse. Even now, with the end nearing, you still found yourself feeling hopeful with how sure he was.

“You play well. As expected of my partner.” The words of praise reaching you. And you couldn’t help but to smile at them.

“It’s just a small hobby. Nothing to boast of-“ you tried to remain humble.

To which Ritsu immediately would call you out on, “Why be shy about it? The world should know just how great you are!” He definitely seemed confused on the matter. Why wouldn’t you want everyone to know?

But the thought was banished when your hand gently pat the seat next to you. “Do you play, Ritsu?”

The paralegal would, with poised posture, sit beside you as you had requested. Hands covering over the keys before giving that trademark grin of his, “I do.”

And then he’d press down, an elegant melody following. One you barely recognized. But the strokes were simple and easy enough to follow along so you’d let him take the lead.

The two of you would play together, your trepidation of each note clear while the radiant confidence from Ritsu would guide you along. Eventually, the song would reach its conclusion and, ever so gently, you felt a brief touch to your hand. The ghoul having brushed his fingers softly to the top of your hands before retracting. As if he could only interact momentarily. And- for a second- you thought you saw a hint of melancholy in his eyes. Brief. But it was there.

Perhaps Ritsu wasn’t as confident in the outcome as you had been hoping he’d be.

𝓣𝓪𝓲𝓰𝓪 𝓗𝓸𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓫𝓪𝓶𝓲

“The fuck is this?” A familiar voice spoke out, your hands pausing and head whipping around. Surely, you were just as confused as Taiga was. After all, what was he doing here? Of all the people to walk in on you- it had to be him.

“Taiga, what are you-?” Before you could continue asking, the ghoul would lazily plop down beside you on the bench. His eyes landing on the keys. For a moment, you thought that the two of you would have a moment. His own hand hovering over as if ready to press down. Did Taiga know how to play…?

This thought was quickly banished when the loud mashing of notes caused your ears to ring and eyes to squint. The abrupt noises ending as quickly as they had started and wild eyes meeting yours.

“How’d you make it sound so good?” Another mash of keys as if to emphasize his question. A bit of a smile tugging at your lips in response.

Fingers going to delicately take their place before softly pressing down. Once. Twice. Then you’d speak, “You press gently. Slow.”

Taiga observed for a moment before he’d go to place a finger on the key, pressing down as the string would vibrate to create a softer sound than before. A few soft taps. And then he’d stop, watching your hands.

“Show me how you made music.”

You would oblige, going to begin a softer melody. Taiga watching and observing. He would never remember how to play. But he wanted to remember how you played. So he would etch the melody you presented into his mind as best as he could.

𝓑𝓸𝓷𝓾𝓼

𝓗𝓪𝓻𝓾 𝓢𝓪𝓰𝓪𝓻𝓪

You had been practicing for hours, it seemed. The instrument firm in your hands as fingers plucked at strings. Thankful you lived alone in Clementia. Not because of shame but it made practice less distracting. The twinge of strings resounding throughout as your banjo played its bop. You had been engrossed in what you were doing- the gasp that followed shocking you as your eyes widened to meet equally (and surprisingly widened) eyes. Ones you had never seen before. Though you looked away quickly- afraid to make contact for long. Your cheeks burning.

“You know how to play banjo!?” The words excited as they left the ghoul in question.

“Y-yes.” You stammered.

Haru would give a toothy grin. In true Sims fashion, he would produce his own banjo from his pocket. And he would begin to play. Your nervous demeanor melting as you’d soon join in. And the both of you joyously playing the banjo together in Clementia halls.

.・✫・゜・。. .・✫・゜・。. .・✫

Thank you so much for your patience! I hope this is satisfactory for you. I’m not really much of a music person, myself. But I still had fun writing this.

[artificialfanfiction]

Rainfall Patterns – One Shot

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Disclaimer: The content on this blog is entirely fictional and created for entertainment purposes. None of the scenarios depicted here are based on real-life occurrences. Enjoy the stories and let your imagination run wild!

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pairing Noah Sebastian x reader

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warning smut

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The heavy rain tapped against the studio windows, casting a rhythmic pattern of shadows across the floor. Inside, the atmosphere was electric, charged with a tension that had been building between Noah Sebastian and y/n for weeks. They had been working late into the night, their fingers flying across instruments and mixing boards, crafting a symphony of sound that echoed their tumultuous emotions. The studio was their sanctuary, a place where they could lose themselves in the music, but tonight, the music was leading them down an unexpected path. Noah paused, his hand hovering over the piano keys, and glanced at y/n. She had been standing by the soundboard, her eyes closed, lost in the melody. He watched as she swayed gently to the unspoken rhythm, her dark hair brushing against her cheekbones. Something about her vulnerability in that moment was too much for him to ignore. He pushed his chair back and stood up, the wood scraping against the floor, a sharp sound in the otherwise silent room. Y/n's eyes snapped open, and she met his gaze. In the dim light, he could see the questions swirling in her eyes, the same questions he was asking himself. Was this really happening? Could they risk it all for this? But the music was speaking louder than their fears, and the pull was undeniable. With a silent nod, she stepped away from the board, her heels clicking against the hardwood. They approached each other slowly, as if they were afraid to shatter the moment with a sudden movement. When they were just inches apart, Noah reached out and brushed a strand of hair from y/n's face. His thumb grazed her cheek, and she leaned into his touch, her eyes never leaving his. The air was thick with unspoken desires, and the space between them seemed to vibrate with the energy of a thousand unplayed notes. With a deep breath, Noah leaned in, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was as fiery as it was tender. It was a declaration, a promise, and a surrender all rolled into one. The music that had brought them here had become the backdrop to a passion that had been simmering just beneath the surface for far too long. The rain outside grew heavier, the droplets racing each other down the glass panes as if trying to match the tempo of their hearts. As their kiss deepened, the studio faded away, and they were lost in a world of their own making, a place where only the two of them and their music existed. They had crossed a line, and there was no going back. But in that moment, as their bodies melded together, it was the only place they wanted to be.

"Noah," y/n murmured against his lips, her voice barely audible over the pounding of the rain.

"I know," he whispered back, his eyes searching hers for reassurance. "But I can't ignore this anymore."

"Neither can I," she admitted, her breath warm and sweet. "We've been dancing around it for too long."

He nodded, and they shared a knowing smile that spoke volumes. With a gentle tug, he led her to the couch in the corner, the leather cool against their heated skin. They sat down, their bodies still touching, the air charged with anticipation.

"Are you sure?" Noah asked, his voice thick with want.

Y/n nodded, her eyes gleaming with determination. "More than I've ever been about anything."

And with that, the last of their inhibitions melted away, leaving only the music and their unbridled passion to guide them. They kissed again, this time with a newfound urgency, their hands exploring each other with a hunger that had been building for weeks. The studio was their stage, and the storm outside was their soundtrack, setting the tempo for a night that would change their relationship forever.

"I've wanted this for so long," Noah confessed, his voice hoarse with desire as he trailed kisses down y/n's neck.

"Me too," she gasped, her hands fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. "But we should..."

He silenced her with another kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth as if seeking to claim her very soul. "There's no should or shouldn't tonight," he murmured against her lips. "Just us and the music." Their passion grew more intense, a wild crescendo that mirrored the storm outside. Noah's hands slid down to y/n's waist, gripping her tightly as he pulled her closer. She could feel the tension in his body, the restraint giving way to something more primal. The music swelled around them, a cacophony of beats and melodies that seemed to fuel their desire. With a sudden surge of strength, he lifted her onto the piano bench, the cold metal sending a thrill through her body. The sound of the rain grew louder, a relentless beat that seemed to demand they give in to their desires completely. Their kisses grew rougher, teeth clashing and breaths mingling in a frenzied dance. Noah's hands roamed her body with a possessive urgency, pushing aside her shirt to expose her bra. He unclasped it with a swiftness that made her heart race even faster. The fabric fell away, revealing her bare skin to the cool air. Y/n's own hands weren't idle; she was tugging at his belt, desperate to feel the warmth of him against her. The storm outside was a tempest, but the storm within them was far more powerful. As Noah's fingers found their way under her skirt, y/n wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. The sound of their breaths and the thunder outside became a symphony of passion. The rain hammered against the windows, a fierce serenade to their love making. They were lost in each other, the lines between music and desire blurring into a harmony that neither of them had ever experienced before. The studio, once a place of creativity and artistry, had become their battlefield of love, and they were ready to conquer every inch of it. Their clothes fell away like discarded sheet music, leaving them exposed and vulnerable to the tempestuous symphony that surrounded them. Noah's kisses grew more demanding, his teeth grazing her skin as he whispered fiery promises into her ear. "I need you," he groaned, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through her very core. "Take me," y/n breathed, her nails digging into his back as she pulled him closer. The piano keys beneath her thighs were cold and unforgiving, but she didn't care. All she could feel was the heat of Noah's body pressing into hers, the roughness of his touch setting her skin alight. He didn't hesitate, his hands gripping her hips as he lifted her onto the piano. The wood was slick with rainwater that had seeped in from the windows, adding an edge of danger to their already explosive passion. The storm outside was a cacophony of sound, but the only music that mattered was the desperate rhythm of their bodies crashing together.

"Fuck, y/n," Noah growled, his eyes dark with lust as he slammed into her, each thrust punctuated by a crack of thunder. Her moans melded with the sound of the rain, a harmony of pleasure that seemed to shake the very foundations of the studio. The piano vibrated beneath them, a silent witness to their passionate duet. Y/n clung to him, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he claimed her with a ferocity that left her breathless. The pain and pleasure mixed into a heady cocktail, driving her closer to the edge with every pounding beat. "Harder," she gasped, her voice barely a whisper above the storm. "I want all of you." He complied, his movements growing more frenzied, his hips moving in a powerful crescendo that mirrored the tempest outside. They were a maelstrom of passion, a fiery embrace that threatened to consume them both.

"I'm close," Noah grunted, his muscles tensing. "Come with me."

Y/n's eyes squeezed shut as she nodded, her body already tightening around him. With one final, desperate thrust, they reached the climax together, their cries of ecstasy ringing out in time with the lightning that illuminated the night sky. The storm raged on, but in that moment, nothing else mattered. They had found refuge in each other's arms, a shelter from the chaos that was only just beginning. Their bodies crashed together, the piano's vibrations setting off a symphony of passionate cries. The rain pummeled the windows in time with their fervent rhythm. "Harder," y/n begged, her nails digging into his shoulders, leaving half-moons of pleasure and pain. "I need it, Noah." He groaned, his grip tightening on her hips, driving into her with an intensity that sent waves of ecstasy through her core. "You're so wet," he murmured, his voice ragged with need. "So tight." His words were punctuated by the slap of skin against skin, the sound echoing through the studio. "Yes," she hissed, her voice strained. "Like that." The storm outside had become a part of them, its fury fueling their love making. Noah leaned in, capturing her bottom lip between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to make her whimper. "You're mine," he growled, his eyes burning with possession. "Always." Y/n's breath hitched as she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper. "And you're mine," she countered, her voice a fierce whisper. They moved as one, the storm outside a testament to the tempest within. "Fuck, y/n, I can't hold on much longer," Noah panted, his hips stuttering with the effort to maintain control. "Come for me," he demanded, his voice a dark promise. And she did, her body convulsing around him as she shattered into a million pieces. With a roar, Noah followed, his release as powerful as the thunder that crashed above them. For a moment, they were the eye of the storm, lost in each other's embrace, as the world around them continued to rage. Their bodies rocked in sync with the tempest, the piano's vibrations a symphony of desire beneath them. "You're so fucking beautiful," Noah rasped, his eyes never leaving hers as he pounded into her with a fierce need that seemed to consume them both. Y/n's breathy moans grew louder, each one a sweet symphony of pleasure that sent his blood racing. "Noah, I'm... I'm...," she stuttered, her eyes rolling back in her head. "Come for me, baby," he urged, his voice low and commanding. With a final, powerful thrust, she did, her orgasm ripping through her like a bolt of lightning, setting her body alight. He followed her over the edge, his release a thunderous crescendo that seemed to shake the very air around them. They collapsed against each other, their hearts beating a wild tattoo on their drenched skin, the storm outside a mere echo of the passion that had just been unleashed between them. "That was... fuck," y/n managed to gasp, her voice filled with awe and satisfaction. "Incredible," Noah murmured, his lips finding hers in a gentle kiss that belied the frenzy of moments before. They were spent, but the connection between them remained as strong as the storm that raged outside, a testament to the intensity of their love and lust.

[verity-hollow]

How high would the flames leap? That's what the witch wondered as she set her doll alight.

She had worked so hard to make her first doll that it seemed like a waste. But she insisted that the doll would be fine. It wasn't enough to simply make a doll. She had to make the best, the pinnacle of her craft. She filled her doll with kindling, nursed the embers, and told her creation to dance.

The doll spun, the flames licking around its dress flared to life in hues of vermillion as it swirled. As the automaton leaped, so too did the fire, rising with the doll's increasing tempo as it capered and twirled.

The witch's eyes were aglow, reveling in the wonder of the perfection she had wrought. The doll rose higher in the flames, spinning and flitting ever upward in a pyretic display to meet ts maker's demands. The doll vanished from sight, and the witch's gaze lay fixed on the stars.

[flurry-of-stars]

⋆˖⁺‧₊☼𝓞 𝓢𝓸𝓵 𝓮 𝓪 𝓛𝓾𝓪☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Idol! Nikolai x Idol! Reader

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒: Fluff, romance, reader is a bit anxious/experiencing some self-doubts.

𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 3.2k 𝓐𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓸𝓻'𝓼 𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: I was possessed, trust. It's been a rough week so I'm writing something soft. This was only meant to be like 1k words so oopsss. Set a few years before this fic! Also this is my first time writing a proper dance scene so-- (ᵕ—ᴗ—) Also, also for the songs mentioned, the first could be any song of your choosing! I listened to like three different songs so ( ≧ᗜ≦) For the second, it's Señorita by Camila Cabello and Shawn Mendes. And the third is We're in love by Boygenius ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

𝕽𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖛𝖊𝖗𝖞 𝖆𝖕𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖙𝖊𝖉 ♡

You were like the moon. Mystifyingly bewitching, with an aura of mystery and intrigue that drew Nikolai’s gaze like a moth to a flame.

His heterochromatic eyes remain fixed on you as you twirl and dance to the pulsating rhythm of the music, following the choreography you’d meticulously crafted together over the past two months. 

Your movements were graceful and energetic, your body gliding effortlessly across the stage as you immersed yourself in your performance, the ruffles of your short blue skirt and white blouse swaying with your movements.

From time to time, you lift a prop microphone to your lips, singing along with the song playing. Though Nikolai notices you mostly forget to lift the prop when you sing. But it’s not a big deal; not when your dance was flawless, every step executed with precision and passion. Not to mention the way you kept a steady singing voice while dancing across the stage like this. As you dance under the soft, white light of the theatre stage, bathed in the glow of the spotlight that make you shine like a star, Nikolai leans back in his seat, captivated by your performance.

The generic pop song served as the backing track for your stunning performance, it’s upbeat tempo driving the rhythm of your dance, filling the air with an infectious energy. He flashes you a mischievous grin as you walk up to the edge of the stage, crouching, pretending to reach out to touch his hand as if he would be an adoring fan.

He chuckles under his breath; well, he supposed he was technically your biggest fan.

A sweet smile adorns your face as you extend your hand towards his when suddenly, a devious glint flickers in his eyes. He suddenly seizes your wrist, pulling you off the stage with a playful tug. A surprised squeal escapes your lips, the prop microphone slipping from your grasp as he easily pulls you into his embrace. His grin widens as he nuzzles into the side of your face, the pop song fading into silence as your playlist comes to an end.  “Kolya~!” You giggle as he peppers kisses the side of your neck and cheek, showering you with affection. Your hands find their way to his cheeks, cupping them tenderly as your foreheads press together tenderly. You whisper, “You’re supposed to be critiquing me…~” “Mmm, here’s my critique,” he murmurs,leaning in to kiss your nose fleetingly, “Perfect~”

He moves to your cheek, pressing a soft kiss against it, “Remarkable~”

And the other, “Dazzling~”

Finally, his lips hover just millimeters from yours, teasingly close. Your warm breath intermingles with his, and you catch the scent of the cologne he’s chosen to wear today. It smells rich and sweet, reminiscent of a sticky caramel apple bought fresh from the fair.

Your fingers tenderly caress his soft cheeks, your index finger tenderly caressing the bottom of the scar sliced down his left eye as he hums, moving in closer. “You looked like a true idol~” He finishes, letting his lips press to yours in a tender kiss. Your lips melt into his, pressing together like two pieces of a puzzle. As though you were meant to be. It lasts only a few seconds before he withdraws, pale blue and green eyes gleaming with a mixture of warmth and playfulness as he tousles your hair, earning another delighted squeal from you, “I don’t understand why you’re so anxious about the audition, songbird. You have a natural gift for this.” As you smooth down your hair, a lingering sense of uncertainty and doubt persists in the depths of your heart.

Nikolai had been saying that on repeat ever since you first shared the flyer for the auditions with him. He had been genuinely excited and eager to join you in trying out for this new idol company. You knew without a shadow of a doubt that Nikolai would shine. 

As the university’s most known theatre major, he ranked at the top of his class, exuding charisma and a presence fit for the stage. He was like the sun, radiating confident, full of energy, yet veiled in an air of mystery not even you had even uncovered yet. One thing was for certain; he was born for the stage. Compared to you, who merely dreamed of actually performing. That’s why only one of you was a theatre major. He was captivating and talented beyond his years. You weren’t the only one who thought that.

According to the rumours you’d overheard, well known and popular acting companies and directors were reaching out to him, vying for his attention. His name was becoming more and more well known around the country.

It left you lying awake at night in your shared dorm, wondering if he’d actually received these opportunities and hadn't told you about them. Or if he’d accept one without even mentioning it to you first.  Would Nikolai actually do that? Would he really accept one of these opportunities without discussing it with you first? It wouldn't surprise you; after all, the sun didn’t need the moon in order to shine… His reaction when you presented him with the audition flyer mirrored how you’d always imagined he would react when the talent scouts came knocking.

And yet, when the rumours began circulating, you’d returned to your shared dorm to find him idly playing a game, engrossed by it in fact. Well, until you walked in at least. 

At this moment, sitting in silence like this, Nikolai’s gaze scans your features, eyes narrowing slightly.

A subtle frown tugs at your lips, your expression troubled. Your brows knit together with concern and your eyes shimmer with self-doubt. With a soft exhale, Nikolai discerns your anxiety and inner turmoil all too well. You gasp as Nikolai suddenly scoops you up, rising out of the theatre's cramped chair and carrying you back towards the stage as if you weighed nothing.

His shoes thump against the hardwood of the stage, gently moving his arms and helping you place your feet back onto the ground. “Let’s practice the duo routine,” he brightly suggested, his hand reaching out towards yours, his mismatched eyes glimmering under the intense lights of the stage that shone around him like a halo of light, casting his frame in the warm light. Illuminating. Just like the sun. Your bottom lip trembles, brows furrowing and eyes moving between Nikolai’s warm, comforting smile and the hand he’s offering you. You reach out for a moment, hesitating. Your hand pauses before you begin to draw it back. But Nikolai doesn’t let you refuse him, his hand reaching forward to grab your hand before you can recoil. His fingers intertwine with yours as he pulls you in, a soft gasp escaping you, your chest almost pressing against his toned chest. He gives you a sly grin, his eyes shining with mischief, “Well? Are you gonna start the music~?” There’s a flutter of urgency in your chest as you turn your head, calling out your phone in a soft voice as you pull away from each other. Your voice echoes across the empty theatre as you walk to one side of the stage and Nikolai to the other, “Play my duo playlist.” A few heartbeats later, the first notes of a Latin Pop melody fill the empty theatre, its rhythm moderate and enticing.

The smooth, sultry beat pulses through the room, electrifying the atmosphere. Your heart quickens, a mixture of excitement and anxiety pumping through your veins. For months, amidst the chaos of exams and assignments, you’ve rehearsed this choreography relentlessly and now, as the music envelops you, it’s time to prove how far you’ve come. You follow Nikolai’s lead, his confident strides drawing you towards the centre of the stage. With each step, the spotlight intensifies, casting a warm glow upon you in anticipation. As you inhale deeply, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind, Nikolai’s voice cuts through the chaos. “Songbird.” He murmurs, his tone gentle yet firm, pulling you back from the edge of your nerves. You meet his gaze and a reassuring smile curves onto his lips, “Don’t overthink it. Let the music guide you. Trust yourself, remember?” You nod, swallowing the lump of apprehension in your throat. Trust. Feel. Pushing aside your doubts, you allow yourself to submit to the intoxicating rhythm of the music. Your body moves instinctively, syncing with Nikolai’s as your body brushes against his, the heat of his presence searing through the air. His touch is electrifying as his hand trails from your hair down to cup your cheek, his thumb gently brushing against it in silent reassurance. Your own gentle hands find their place on his broad chest, a tangible connection that grounds you in the moment as you caress the soft fabric of his tight, ruffled top and the firm muscles beneath.

With a gentle push, you feign resistance, a playful spark igniting between you as you dance. It’s not just a choreography now; it’s a story woven through movement and touch. You begin to lose yourself in the dance, the boundaries between reality and performance blurring, leaving only the raw emotion pulsing between you and Nikolai.

His hand delicately intertwines with yours, the rhythm of the music guiding your swaying hips in perfect harmony.

But as the tension mounts, you pull away, your backs now pressed intimately against each other, the heat between you palpable. In this moment of separation, the spark between you ignites into a familiar blaze of passion, drawing you back together in a magnetic pull.

As you turn to face one another, your hand grazes his chest, sensing the rapid beat of his heart beneath your touch.

His gaze, a mesmerizing blend of colors, smolders with an underlying fervor for you, compelling you to circle around him. His grasp on your hand is firm yet tender, drawing you back into his embrace.

With the music swelling around you, Nikolai's hand finds your knee, pulling you into a graceful dip, your foreheads meeting in a fleeting moment of tenderness. In the depths of his captivating eyes, the flames of desire burn brightly, consuming you both in their fiery embrace. Lost in the moment, you almost falter, but his touch grounds you, guiding you back to your feet and into the next sequence of the dance.

As you gracefully execute your solo choreography, Nikolai mirrors your movements, his own steps echoing a tale of unwavering devotion and determination.

Each twirl and flourish of his hands speaks volumes of his relentless pursuit of your heart.

In contrast, your choreography tells a story of vulnerability and guardedness, a woman wary of surrendering to love once more.

But as your bodies draw near once more, the narrative shifts, the barriers crumbling in the face of undeniable attraction. His hands find your hips, anchoring you to him, while your arms encircle his shoulders, sealing the inevitable conclusion of your intertwined destinies.

In this dance of love and longing, the conclusion is clear: he has won your heart, just as you have won his.

As the music fades into the background, the echo of your shared journey lingers in the air, a testament to the power of connection and the magic of the dance.

You pant softly, not pulling away from Nikolai right away as he holds you. His blue-green eyes shine under the stagelight like two burning stars, aching for you. His warm breath lightly caresses your lips as he leans in close to you. You move closer to him as the next song begins to play; a soft indie folk song this time.

The tempo is much slower, more gentle. It’s a song from the playlist you made for yourself and Nikolai. You’re not sure how this song ended up on your duo playlist. It isn’t exactly a melody you could dance to. But the gentle melody tugs you closer to Nikolai. Your soft lips linger near his, overwhelmed by the rich smell of his cologne and the warmth of his body. Only then to pause right before making contact. What if I’m not enough for him? As if overhearing your inner fears, Nikolai takes the plunge with renewed vigor. He suddenly lifts you off the ground, making you gasp in surprise, your legs wrapping around his waist tightly.

One palm rests under your rear, supporting you. The other grabs the back of your neck, pulling you in for an intimate kiss. The passion that had been ignited between you both through dance spills over into the kiss, causing him to kiss you hungrily. You sigh, your eyes closing as you return his kiss with equal fervor. Your hands grip his shoulders desperately. His hand trails up to the back of your head, entangling itself in your soft locks as he deepens the kiss, his teeth grazing against your bottom lip before he pulls back, leaving you both panting and breathless for a few moments. White strands of hair press against your forehead as he leans his forehead against yours, gazing into the depths of your eyes.

He whispers, his voice carrying with it the firm determination of a promise, “My songbird, how many times will I have to tell you not to overthink things?” You attempt to look away as your cheeks heat up but Nikolai doesn’t allow you to avert your gaze.

His hand stays firm on the back of your head, his eyes peering into the depths of yours as he adds, “You know if I truly wanted to, I wouldn’t still be here by your side. So why do you keep looking at me like that?” Your eyes widen. Nikolai gives the faintest smirk; of course he’d notice. You should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to slip your emotions past him undetected. He could read you like a book. He always could. You take a deep breath, pulling back as much as he will allow you. Your hands move to caress his shoulders, your gaze averting his as you mumble, “You’re so amazing, you know that?” Blinking a few times in surprise, Nikolai chuckles softly, leaning forward to kiss your cheek, “Compliments? All of a sudden, songbird–”

He’s taken off guard when your hands suddenly cup his cheeks, stopping him mid-kiss. When you look at him, he doesn’t see the usual flustered or loving warmth in your eyes he usually sees when you compliment him. Instead, he sees a flicker of fear in your eyes. He watches you swallow before continuing to speak, the song that was playing slowly fading into silence. Your voice is soft, filled with pride but also anxiety,

“I mean it, Kolya. You’re the top theatre major in the entire university. Possibly in the entire country. You breathe and you get any lead role you want..” You take a sharp breath, feeling your anxieties rising to the surface. “The minute we arrive at the audition, I bet they’ll be begging you to sign a contract with them. Just like all those acting companies…” You watch as his expression softens into a look of understanding. You offer a small, bitter smile, “The rumors are true, aren’t they?” You hop forward in his arms, feeling Nikolai’s arm tighten under you. “Did you sign anything? Where will you be going? They’re letting you finish university first, aren’t they?” “No,” he replies, clicking his tongue and shaking his head softly. “I didn’t sign anything, songbird.”

You stare at him in surprise, the shock evident in your eyes. After a few moments of stunned silence, you manage to utter one simple word, “...What?”

He chuckles, his smirk lighting up your heart as you see it. “I didn’t sign any of the contracts,” he confesses. He looks away, humming in thought. “There were some really good ones there too…”

“Wait, why not?!” You rock in his arms, causing him to groan. His hand moves fast, placing itself on your back to steady you. “Wasn’t becoming an actor your dream?”

Still humming, he looks back at you, shrugging idly.

His voice is rather chipper as he replies, “Well, I definitely could still accept one of the contracts in the future. But being an idol with my pretty songbird sounds much more fun. Can you imagine it?”

You squeal as he spins, holding you close. His dazzling eyes never leave yours as he stares up at you, twirling and stepping around the stage, spinning you with him. “Us performing together! I can already hear the crowd screaming for us!~”

As his spinning slowly comes to a stop, you wait a few moments for your stomach to settle before speaking up, “But what if I don’t get in? What if I don’t make the cut?”

A warm chuckle escapes his lips as he shakes his head, his hand lightly caressing your back. “I told you before, didn’t I? When you start performing, when you're not overthinking every step, you look like a true idol songbird.”

He leans forward to boop his nose against yours, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. He doesn't comment on the growing kindness in your cheeks as he whispers.

“I wasn’t just saying that to be nice. I meant it. And if that company can’t see that, then I wouldn’t want to sign with them anyway~”

“But you can’t keep passing up opportunities like this–” You squeak as he leans in, nuzzling against your cheek playfully, yet affectionately.

“If they don’t know true talent when they see it, why would I ever think about signing with them? And I’m not passing up opportunities. I’m just exploring all possible avenues~”

You huff, a small amused smile lifting onto your face.

Doubt attempts to creep into your heart once more, your smile faltering as you ask, “Are you really–”

“Yes, songbird. I’m really serious,” he interrupts you, his voice losing its playful tone and becoming more serious. He cups your cheek, turning your head gently so he can gaze into your eyes once more.

His thumb lightly caresses your soft skin as he whispers, “You’re going to shine so much out there, all the stars in the sky will be jealous~” He kisses your cheek softly, sweetly, adding, “Trust yourself, remember songbird?”

Your lips quirk upwards into a grateful smile, your arms wrapping around Nikolai as you embrace him tightly once more.

He chuckles, slowly settling you back down on your feet, his hand resting ontop of your head. Instead of ruffling your hair, he gently pats your head.

“I’ll…do my best,” you reply. Eyes turning upwards towards Nikolai, you offer him a slightly brighter smile. He grins at you, letting you go collect your belongings from backstage, his eyes watching you closely.

There was a bit more pep in your step. Good. His grin grows as he approaches you, taking his black jacket off, covering your shoulders with it as he speaks to you in a more cheerful voice, “Why don’t we grab dinner. My treat~”

You grab the warm fabric of his jacket, tugging it close. Then, you pick up your handbag, “You promise you’ll get anything?”

He clicks his tongue, his arm wrapping around your shoulders as he begins to guide you towards the theatre’s doors, chuckling, “Okay, okay~ Only because you did so amazing today. You were practising instead of studying, weren’t you?”

“No I wasn’t–~!”

“You moved so elegantly, and the energy you had on stage this time... You've come such a long way! Just think of how much more you’ll shine when you’re in your outfit! We’ll have to get up early to get a head start on your makeup too–!”

As he eagerly leads you out of the theatre, dimming the lights as you depart together, he wraps his arm around you, savouring the way you giggle and blush.

In that moment, as dusk envelops you both, it's clear: while the moon may doubt her significance to the sun, the sun knows his light would dim without the moon by his side.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

@tecchoussuperlady @hearts4heidi @lovestruckbook @wixxlemuff @twinkaesop @livelaughyo @yonseibananamilk @honeyangelsblog @soggyoreoinmilk @verminthorr @lunarmin716 @cherridove @slowlyfoulenthusiast

Dividers: @/saradika

[dont-offend-the-bees]

Spinning on That Dizzy Edge

So I was NOT gonna write one today. But then I had a train ride, a notes app, completionist tendencies and no self control. So I'm gonna keep the commentary short and sweet, as I am writing/posting all of this on my phone xD

Short, sweet, somewhat suggestive (the M rating is probably over-cautious, but Charles is feeling frisky!), no warnings off the top of my head. Bon appetit!

Title/various lyrics referenced in the fic are, of course, from Just Like Heaven by The Cure. The other lyrics referenced are A Little Respect by Erasure!

1k, M-rated, also available on Ao3. Thanks again, @painlandweek !

There was a haunting at the old Lamplighter's Arms. 'Least that's what the locals said.

It was an ancient place, older than the dirt, all bare brick and low beams. Inside there was an old upright piano, and it couldn't have been as old as the building, but no one could actually prove that. Dark wood and centuries of drunken etchings, a little warp and wonk in the keys that lent it a honky tonk air. No one knew how it had survived so long, and no one had ever had the heart to replace it. Or the courage to disturb a piano that, supposedly, on a dark and stormy night, was known to play itself.

Urban legend had it that it was the spirit of Susie Shipton, the old innkeeper's daughter - mournfully playing for her husband who went to sea, never to return. Singing sweet songs to lure his wandering spirit home from the troubled depths.

Unlike most pub-haunting legends Charles had come across, this one was actually bang on. Or at least it had been. They'd met Susie Shipton last year; lovely girl! And with a little help from the Dead Boy Detectives, she'd been able to shuffle off to her lovely afterlife. Hand in hand with that wayward soul she'd been singing to all those years. It was dead romantic — Charles might've had a bit of a cry about it.

Susie had moved on, but the Lamplighter still had a haunting. It had just swapped the one resident ghost for a couple of part-timers.

"Bit gloomy this one, innit?" said Charles, swaying on the spot. It was about as close to dancing as he could do when the tempo was this bloody wistful.

Edwin hummed, not looking up. His hands spidered effortlessly along the old wooden keys, picking out interesting little harmonies like it was nothing. He handled the notes like he was crafting a spell. "Mother used to play this one." His brow furrowed. "At least, I seem to recall..."

Charles leaned on a table, smiling at the back of Edwin's bowed head. He remembered the way Edwin's eyes had lit right up when they first spotted the old upright piano. How he'd watched Susie's hands on the keys with barely-disguised envy. He'd been eyeing up her spot on that piano stool since the moment he clapped eyes on it.

"The legend of Susie Shipton has long been a staple of this establishment, Charles," he'd said, all pretending to be casual, as he'd suggested what they ought to do with the first stormy night since solving the case. "It would be a pity to let it die out, don't you think? One must consider historical preservation..."

They'd been coming ever since, showing up with the thunder and lightning. It was one of Charles' favourite things to do. Dancing around, having a laugh. Or even just lounging against the bar, listening to Edwin's music pattering along with the rain on the rattly old glass windows.

Edwin lifted his head a little, tilting his ear back like he was listening for Charles. Then, his playing shifted, smoothly. Slow, meandering melodies gradually becoming faster, more repetitive. Sketching out a familiar riff...

Charles laughed, clapping his hands together. "I tried to discoooover!" he sang, cheerfully off-key.

"A little something to make me sweeter," Edwin joined in softly, throwing a smirk and a twinkle of his eye over his shoulder.

"Oh baby refrain! From breakin' my heeeeaaart!"

Edwin chuckled as he played, watching Charles dance around out the corner of his eye.

"Mate," Charles gushed, a bit breathless after belting out the chorus. "When'd you learn to play this one?"

"I'm quite good at picking things up by ear," said Edwin, smiling as he threw in a few little flourishes that weren't there on Charles' record. "And you've certainly listened to it in the office enough."

"It's brills," Charles grinned, sloping on over to drape an arm round Edwin's shoulders. "You're brills."

Edwin smiled, a lopsided flash of his teeth, and he played on - finding ways to work in some more of Charles' favourite eighties riffs into some sort of medley. When he meandered into The Cure, Charles, tongue in his cheek, tucked his face into Edwin's. Sang the words into his ear, quiet and personal.

"Show me, show me, show me how you do that trick, the one that makes me scream, she said..."

Edwin shivered, just a little, eyes dark as they flickered to him. "Charles," he said, sternly. "You're being very distracting."

Charles grinned. "God, I hope so." He stepped up close, fitting himself into the sliver of space between the piano and the stool, pressed as near to Edwin as he could manage. Fingers teasing the hair at the nape of his neck. "Show me how you do it, and I promise you, I promise that —"

"I'll run away with you," Edwin chorused, smiling eyes and smiling voice.

Charles felt fizzy on the inside, like someone had grabbed him by the heart and given it a shake. Sometimes Edwin just had to look at him, and all Charles could feel was bubbles. "Oh, oh I'll run away with you!"

Charles let him finish the first chorus without interruption. But before Edwin could sidle into the next verse — the proper sad one — Charles took his face in his hands and kissed him.

Edwin's hands came down in a clumsy thonk on the keys, before getting with the programme and getting all over Charles, instead. Well, not quite all over — so far, he was keeping them settled oh-so-politely on his waist.

Charles made to lean on the nearest thing — which just so happened to be the keyboard — but Edwin stopped him with a pointed clear of his throat at the first hint of discordant notes. Edwin reached around him, with both hands, and carefully lowered the wooden lid over the keys.

"You may proceed," he said primly.

Charles laughed, propped himself up on the piano lid, and got right back on the job of tempting Edwin into doing some very impolite things to him on it.

Give him a minute or two, he'd have Edwin forgetting his manners good and proper!

~~

Thanks for reading beloveds!! I shall see you tomorrow for the grand finale of Painland Week! 💛💛💛💛💛

[brucesterling]

The Sharing Association is pleased to announce the 16th edition of the Share Prize, the competition dedicated to contemporary art focusing on technology and science.

The artworks nominated for the prize must follow the theme:

'ALL-NATURAL'

curated by Share Festival artistic director Bruce Sterling and curator Jasmina Tešanović

The platform invites artists from all over the world to submit their works.

Call for entries open from 12 April 2024 to 9 June 2024

The six prize nominees will be announced in July 2024. The announcement will be published on our website: www.toshareproject.it

The winner will be announced during the Share Festival Opening,in Turin from 28 October to 3 November 2024 during the Turin Contemporary Art Week.

Link website:

Link Call:

Link form:

Prize Summary: Winner gets 2500 euro prize Event date: April 12, 2024 to June 9, 2024 Location: Torino Deadline: 09/June/2024

"ALL-NATURAL"

Per la XVIII edizione di Share Festival vogliamo avanzare una proposta che sappiamo essere impossibile.

Qui nell'elegante Torino - città famosa per il suo caloroso sostegno verso ogni forma d'arte - non riusciamo a fare un respiro che non sia contaminato. Non è solo l'intera atmosfera del nostro pianeta a essere inquinata dai gas serra: a causa della sua eredità industriale e della sua peculiare situazione geografica, Torino si trova in una situazione particolarmente preoccupante per via dell'onnipresente foschia dovuta alle polveri sottili che includono metalli, prodotti della combustione e persino polveri agricole. Mentre voi leggete, noi stiamo respirando tutto questo.

Eppure, allo stesso tempo, la provincia piemontese è rinomata nel mondo per la sua dedizione all'artigianalità dello Slow Food, il cibo che nasce grazie alle varietà uniche di piante e animali presenti sul fertile suolo italiano.

Nel prossimo Festival vogliamo prendere di petto questa contraddizione e affrontarla attraverso il nostro mezzo d'elezione, l'arte tecnologica. Possiamo farla diventare un momento dialettico, invece che farla restare una mera contraddizione? Riusciremo a vedere della net-art plasmata sugli uccelli, gli insetti, le api e il paesaggio naturale e locale? Potremo interagire con robot fatti di legno, sculture digitali ricavate dal marmo e opere interattive composte da corni, canne, conchiglie, bambù, paglia, ossa, fossili o - ancor meglio - materiali naturali che rischiano di scomparire e interamente appartenenti alla regione da cui proviene l'artista?

"Difendere l'ambiente" non è sufficiente: questi materiali naturali saranno in grado di infiltrarsi nella sostanza innaturale del domani e prendersi la loro infestante, tremenda vendetta?

Fate del vostro meglio, per favore. Abbiamo bisogno di una boccata d'aria fresca!

Bruce Sterling, Direttore Artistico di Share Festival Jasmina Tesanovic, Curatrice di Share Prize

For the XVIII edition of Share Festival, we make this demand because we know it's impossible.

Here in glamorous Torino -- a city known for its cordial support of "every form of art" -- we can't take one natural, untainted breath. Not only is the planet's whole atmosphere polluted with Greenhouse gases -- here in Torino, thanks to our industrial heritage and our specific geographic climate, we're particularly badly off from an all-pervasive haze of PM2.5 micrometer pollution particles, including metals, combustion products and even agricultural dust. As you read this, we breathe that.

And yet, at the very same time, our Italian province of Piedmont is world-famous for its devotion to hand-crafted, artisanal "Slow Foods" grown from the unique plant and animal varieties of the fruitful Italian soil.

In our forthcoming Festival, we plan to tackle this contradiction headlong -- through our favorite medium of technology art. Can this become a dialectic instead of a contradiction? Can we witness net.art that is all about birds, bugs, bees and natural local landscapes? Can we interact with robots made of natural woods, sculptures digitally carved from marble, and interactive artworks composed of horn, reeds, seashells, bamboo, straw, bones, fossils, or better yet, severely imperiled natural materials entirely unique to the artist's own region in the world?

It's not enough to "defend the environment" -- how can natural materials infiltrate tomorrow's unnatural substance and take some terrible, weedy revenge? Please do your best for us. We need a breath of fresh air!

Bruce Sterling, Direttore Artistico di Share Festival Jasmina Tesanovic, Curatrice di Share Prize

[scuderiasundays]

dancing queen

summary: post-breakup reeling, a lizzy mcalpine cover, and flashbacks to slow dancing in the kitchen 💌

words: 618

a/n: this idea popped into my head on my commute and i just had to write it! tagging @vamossainz55, @sainzcaleruega, @monzabee, @ssainzz, and @diorleclerc just because. feedback appreciated as always. hugs and kisses 🫶🏼

When fatigue set in after a long day, the kitchen was your retreat. Although your body longed to collapse onto the couch the minute you walked through the door, the 2-for-1 avocados in the shop window had caught your eye. Your tense shoulders relaxed as you began to sauté some onions to go along with the avocados and some leftover salmon. The very act of cooking had fascinated you since childhood, the way the ingredients could start off one way and completely metamorphose at your hand.

As summer slowly ebbed towards its end, you found yourself reflecting on the year's pace – swift in its early months and achingly slow as of late. You turned to Siri, your trusty confidante, hoping to dial down the lights and prevent yourself from spiraling. She clearly didn’t get the memo as you began to hear the faint strumming of a guitar.

The truth is your world had been on mute since the breakup. Those who knew you well enough understood just how deeply you connected with music. In fact, your love for it was so profound that your girlfriends would frequently enlist your expertise when crafting playlists for various occasions, be it a night out on the town or navigating the rough waters of a midlife crisis.

The smallest smile crept onto your lips as you marveled at the irony of fate. Out of all the songs in the world Siri could have chosen, it just had to be the one you least desired to hear. In an instant, you found yourself transported to a memory of a night spent cooking alongside Carlos. Ever the optimist, it was he who had come up with the idea of making fresh pasta from scratch. The tasks were evenly divided between you two; you were in charge of prep and crafting the pasta, while Carlos was committed to whipping up his signature carbonara and doing the dishes.

"Are you absolutely sure you can't get a head start on the sauce?" you'd playfully inquired while Carlos settled onto a barstool opposite you.

"I quite enjoy watching you work your magic. I feel like Gordon Ramsay," he chuckled, inching closer. He reached for two slices of focaccia from the kitchen counter and placed them on either side of your head.

"What are you?" he quizzed, reenacting an iconic scene from one of the British chef's shows.

Without hesitation, you replied, "An idiot sandwich." Carlos burst into laughter. "That you are, mi amor, but you're my idiot sandwich."

The night wouldn't have been complete without a soundtrack, as the speakers hummed to life. "This one's my absolute favorite," you declared as a Lizzy McAlpine cover of "Dancing Queen" filled the air.

Carlos chimed in, "This is that ABBA song, no?" You nodded in agreement. The tempo was just right, and he extended his hand, a devilish smile gracing his lips.

"May I have this dance?" he asked, and just like that, he was spinning you around the kitchen, all while completely butchering the lyrics.

In his warm embrace, you couldn't help but let the dreamlike feeling wash over you. How could any of this be real? The fact that he had chosen you, that everything between you two felt so blissfully effortless—it was almost too good to be true.

A few months later, you were faced with the unsparing truth that your whirlwind romance had been nothing more than a fleeting, beautiful illusion. The worst part was he hadn't given you enough time or reason to truly fall out of love. The sting lingered, and as you crumbled to the kitchen floor, you could only hold onto the hope that time might one day dull the ache.

[mcntsee]

Fires of Passion, Ashes of Hate— The End

previous part series’ masterlist!

Summary: Lovers (mentioned) to enemies.

Warnings: Hate (?), blood, injuries, a lot of cursing, ooc Kaz. Also, not proofread.

Notes: As always, italics are flashbacks! I’m not entirely happy about how rushed this feels. I do, however, really like the end and I hope you guys do too. I do plan to make up for rushing this with extras, which so far are going to be the begging of their relationship and the breakup (and why they broke up.)

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

For months, Kaz had been meticulously planning, sacrificing meals and sleep along the way. For months, Kaz tirelessly brainstormed different ideas, only to abandon them upon discovering minor flaws. Long months of hair-pulling, lip-biting, and picking at the skin around his nails.

He preferred his plans to be flawless, or at least as close to flawless as possible. He had a penchant for meticulously attending to small details that most would overlook. Opportunities that most would miss.

But this? He found himself adrift, unsure of his next move. The thought of proceeding blindly grated on him, intensifying his frustration. Even worse were the relentless doubts echoing in his mind, like the constant cawing of crows.

Despite Jesper and Inej's pleas to join him in his reckless pursuit, he adamantly refused. He couldn't bear the thought of putting them in harm's way, not because of his own anger and thirst for revenge.

All those months spent tirelessly searching for a way to strike back at Pekka led him to find refuge inside the old building. There, he meticulously set up device after device crafted by Wylan. He harbored no desire to simply end Pekka, for that would be too merciful by his standards. Instead, he yearned to inflict upon him the same agony he had endured years ago. He wanted him to hurt physically and financially, and the most effective means to accomplish this was by detonating his new acquisition.

In an instant, all the effort he had poured into his questionable plan was nullified by none other than her.

He had anticipated the Dime Lions to find him, engaging in a battle until only one remained victorious. This inevitable showdown was something he had prepared for, though uncertain of its timing. However, her involvement was never part of the equation.

To say Kaz was scared was a revelation, a sensation he had long relegated to the recesses of childhood memories. The darkness of their home, Jordie’s teasing laughter echoing down the corridors, the frantic escape from the pigs’ relentless pursuit—each a fragment of his past, each a reminder of the fear he had once known.

There was also the memory of Pekka’s betrayal looming large, a specter of fear that gripped his heart with icy fingers. Back then, she had tried to comfort him, to bridge the chasm of his terror with a simple embrace, but he had recoiled, the weight of his own emotions too heavy to bear. The repulsion lingering, the image of his brother’s accusing gaze etched into his mind’s eye.

Back then, he had left behind more than just his last name. Kaz Rietveld’s fear was a relic of his past, a burden he could no longer carry. Brekker, on the other hand, was immune to such weaknesses. Fear was a luxury he couldn’t afford, a shadow he refused to let darken his path. For him, fear was not an obstacle; it was merely a whisper in the wind, easily drowned out by the thunder of his determination.

Yet, there he stood in the darkness of the crumbling house. A solitary figure bathed in the moon's silver glow, his silhouette a stark contrast against the velvety blackness that enveloped him. The air hung heavy with an unnameable dread, thick with the weight of his own apprehension, wrapping around him like a suffocating cloak.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears like the beating of distant drums, a relentless cacophony echoing the frantic tempo of his escalating panic. Each breath he took was a struggle, a desperate gasp for air in a room that seemed to shrink around him, constricting his chest with invisible hands.

Tremors wracked his frame, his muscles tense and coiled like a spring wound too tight, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. His gloved hands shook with a violent tremor, fingers twitching with the restless energy of fear while the once-familiar leather felt foreign against his skin, slick with the sweat that had gathered within.

His mind spun in dizzying circles, a whirlwind of fragmented memories and shadowy phantoms.

And then, a sensation so primal, so overwhelming, that it threatened to consume him whole. A knot formed in the pit of his stomach, a gnawing emptiness that seemed to stretch on for eternity, swallowing him up in its dark embrace. It was a fear born not of the tangible, but of the intangible, a nameless dread that lurked in the deepest recesses of his soul.

In that moment, Kaz Brekker was not merely scared; he was consumed by an overwhelming, bone-deep terror.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

In all the years since assuming his new identity, she was the sole individual who evoked a semblance of fear within him. Not because he feared her, but because he feared for her. He fretted over her safety, yet true terror never gripped him. Not like it did now. Never like it did now.

“No, what are you doing here, Kaz?What is— How could you be so unbelievably foolish?”

“I had it all planned you fucking idiot.”

“Planned? Planned what? Your fucking death? Is that it?”

“Of course not! What the fuck do you think I’m trying to do?”

Kaz’s fists clenched at his sides, his knuckles white with tension. His jaw tensed, muscles rippling with the effort to contain his rising fury. He paced back and forth for a second, the floorboards creaking beneath his weight, before her voice interrupted his steps.

“I know exactly what you think you are doing but let me tell you, this is not the way you absolute idiot! Saints! This is certain death, Kaz.”

“I know what I’m doing!” His voice was a defiant growl, his eyes blazing with determination as she stepped closer, her gaze searching his for any hint of doubt. “Do you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Open your fucking eyes, Brekker! You are going to get yourself killed.”

A humorless chuckle escaped his lips, morphing the frown into a semblance of a smile as his eyes swept over her features.

“So what? Why does that matter to you, huh? Why would you possibly care now when you never did before?”

“Never did? How fucking stupid can you be? Never cared?”

“You never fucking did!”

Breath caught in his throat, his chest heaving with the weight of his words. He turned away, unable to meet her gaze, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Brekker?”

“You!” His voice, a fragile facade shattered, cracked with emotion as his bottom lip quivered. His gloved hand rose to grasp at the ends of his disheveled hair in frustration. “Fuck— You! You are what’s wrong with me. You and your infuriating face, your grating voice, your laughter that pierces like needles, and those patronizing eyes.”

The sound of her footsteps reached his ears, and soon, the rhythm of his own steps joined in, creating a dissonant duet that mirrored the discord in his heart.

"So what, you just decide to concoct some half-baked scheme to take down Rollins, knowing full well it's a death sentence?"

His steps faltered, the fiery tempest within his soul halting his movement with a sudden, jarring intensity. Fury, a relentless inferno, blazed through his veins, igniting every fiber of his being with an uncontrollable rage.

With a primal roar, he surged forward, his fingers curled around her arms like iron vices, muscles flexing with a raw, primal strength as he propelled her backwards, her back colliding with the unyielding surface of the wall with a resounding thud.

“Get the fuck out of here-“

“No.”

“I’m not fucking asking.”

“You either leave with me, or we both stay.”

His grip tightened, fingers digging into flesh as he pinned her against the unforgiving barrier, every ounce of his being consumed by the need to dominate, to assert his power over her form.

His gloved fingers, their relentless grip now slackened, traced a deliberate path from her arm, gliding along the delicate curve of her collarbone before settling upon her neck. There, they tightened with a forceful resolve, constricting her airway with an iron grip that left no room for escape. “Get. Out.”

Her mouth open, his gaze flickered downward to her now parted lips, desperate for air, as she shook her head in refusal.

With a frustrated groan, his hand relinquished its grip on her body, her form leaning forward as if seeking solace in the precious air her lungs yearned for.

“I hate you,” she whispered, her voice mixed with the soft gasps for air that left her lips. He reached out again and grabbed her chin, — as he once did when her eyes sparkled with love instead of tears— forcing her to meet his eyes. “Say it again,” he demanded, his grip firm yet tinged with a hint of desperation.

“I hate you.”

As he looked into her eyes, he struggled to reconcile the present with the past, finding it difficult to believe that there was once a time when she had adored him, loved him with every fiber of her being. A time when he, too, had been consumed by love for her, his passion burning bright and untamed, bordering on dangerous obsession.

He could still vividly recall the first time she had uttered those three words, a moment etched into his memory with indelible ink. It was a poignant reminder of a love that had once flourished between them, a love so powerful that its absence now left behind a breathtaking ache, a hollow longing for what could never be forgotten.

He recalls the biting cold, how their noses had turned red from the chill. Yet, amidst the frosty air, he remembers the warmth that enveloped them both as they finally made their way inside the slat, eager to kindle the little fireplace she had insisted on building.

Forest green was the hue of the blanket she had chosen, a subtle barrier that separated them, granting the illusion of closeness without the need for full physical contact.

“I love you,” she had whispered, her voice carrying a shy vulnerability that was a stark departure from her usual confidence. Without hesitation, his gloved hand had reached out, gently cradling her chin and tilting her head to meet her eyes. “Say it again,” he had urged, and the moment she did, his heart skipped a beat.

His hand traced a tender path, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear before returning to gently caress her cheek. “I love you too, love.”

He had winced slightly at the repetition of the word in the same sentence, but her soft smile eased his unease, and he watched her confidence reappear. “I know.”

“I hate you too, love.”

“I know.”

With a sigh, he allowed his fingers to travel up her face, their touch gentle as he pushed the loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Get out.”

He did not want her to get hurt because of this. While his mind rationalized it as not wanting to tend to her wounds as he had months ago, his heart simply couldn’t bear the thought of her being hurt, let alone gone. “Please.”

“Come with me.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes you can! Kaz— you are going to kill yourself.”

He wasn't entirely convinced of that. Despite the messiness of his plan, he had crafted numerous scenarios where only two outcomes guaranteed certain death. He couldn't afford to perish before exacting vengeance upon Ronllins.

“How cute.”

For a moment, he feared he had finally succumbed to madness. The relentless thirst for revenge seemed to manifest as auditory hallucinations of Pekka's voice. Yet, as he glanced into her eyes only to see them fixed on something behind him, he realized the voice was no figment of his imagination.

“Mr. Brekker, a pleasure as always.”

His fingers tightened around her chin once more, forcing her to meet his gaze, which pleaded silently. With a shake of her head, Kaz knew she had no intention of leaving.

“Rollins.”

“And who do we have here? A new dreg?”

With one last defeated glance in her direction, he pivoted to confront Rollins. His men shadowing behind him, armed with an array of weapons, their faces adorned with smirks.

He was confident he had placed enough detonators strategically around the structure. His fingers instinctively traced the cold metal of the gun Jesper had entrusted to him, ready to trigger the devices with a single bullet. The explosions, however, were not intended to harm any of them; their sole purpose was to weaken the structure, creating a brief window of opportunity for him to slip away before the inevitable collapse.

Now, he found himself hesitating to pull the trigger. This was precisely the mistake of proceeding blindly with the plan—it had led to this unforeseen risk, one he had not calculated and, even more troubling, had not found a solution to. He hadn't anticipated Pekka's arrival; he had assumed it would only be a few of his men. Men who wouldn't know when to retreat and would likely perish amidst the rubble and dust.

But, much like his own men, Pekka would be oblivious to the right moment to escape and save himself, which would prematurely end all the suffering Kaz intended to inflict upon him.

And she... She had no idea either. If he pulled the trigger, she would likely end up trapped beneath the collapsing building as well. Which left Kaz with the stark realization that he was fucked.

Of all the meticulously crafted plans, these miscalculations had moved Kaz from Plan A to Plan T— one of the only two plans that meant certain death. Which, despite its initial premise relying on the gun misfiring and failing to detonate the bombs, would yield the same outcome if he couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger.

“Kaz.”

Her gentle whisper was the sole anchor that pulled him back from the uncertain future to the stark reality of the present. Meeting her gaze once more, he found reassurance in her nod and the quick glance she cast at the gun he still held. This time, however, it was he who shook his head in refusal.

“Do it.”

“You all will die.”

“No,” she interjected, her voice firm as she shook her head. The strand of hair he had brushed aside moments ago falling back into place by her face with the movement. “Pekka will be out the door as soon as the first explosion goes off.”

“You will die.”

“I’ll follow you.”

Once more, he hesitated, but before any other words could escape his lips, she seized the gun from his grasp. With a single nod of determination, she fired, hitting the bomb that would soon set off the rest in the chain reaction.

The building trembled, sending dust cascading down, dirtying his hair as he observed the Dime Lions exchanging worried glances with one another. And as she had assured, the instant the first explosion reverberated through the air, Rollins began barking orders before hastily making his escape from the scene.

Before long, the building convulsed once more with the force of the second explosion, coinciding with Rollins' men launching their assault. One by one, bodies dropped, their falls drowned out by the deafening cacophony of the bombs.

As the first piece of the roof plummeted to the ground, signaling the urgency to flee, he would have heeded the warning if not for the sight of her collapsing to her knees, clutching her now bleeding arm. Against his instinct to flee, his legs propelled him in the opposite direction, deeper into the building. With swift strides, he sprinted towards the assailant who had shot her and now aimed his gun at her vulnerable form.

A grunt escaped his lips as his body collided with the Dime Lion, successfully tackling him to the ground and forcing the gun out of his reach. As anger consumed him, his punches became swifter and more forceful, each one finding its mark on the rival's face. The only sounds reaching his ears were the cracks of impact and the pained moans escaping the Dime Lion, all else was muffled.

He emitted a surprised sound as someone pulled him away from the unrecognizable face of his rival. Before he could question it, another sizable chunk of concrete crashed down exactly where he had been just moments before.

“We have to go.”

Unlike before, he swiftly rose to his feet and acquiesced to leaving with her, their quick footsteps drowned out by the agonized shouts of the Lions they were leaving behind.

The floor gave way beneath them, pillars collapsed all around, and glass flew in their direction. There had been many close calls, but they still made it out alive.

They continued running until their legs could carry them no further, seeking refuge in a nearby alley. Soon after the entire building collapsed, and the stadwatch sirens began to blare. They waited in tense silence until the stadwatch had passed by, allowing them to finally relax. Leaning against the wall, he eased the weight off his bad leg, taking a moment to try and massage away the pain.

Once they could properly catch their breath, and the pain in his side had subsided, he began to walk back to the slat, only pausing when he realized he didn't hear her quiet footsteps following behind.

As he turned, he found her looking around, trying to discern where to go next without attracting attention. With a sigh, he approached her and asked, "Are you coming?"

They walked in silence until the crooked silhouette of the building he called home came into view. With a deliberate slowness, he opened the door, gesturing for her to enter first, before following closely behind.

Once in his office, he shrugged off his now ruined coat and made his way to the bathroom. Inside, he located the new sewing kit he had recently purchased and retrieved it. He then exited the bathroom and moved to the liquor cabinet, grabbing a bottle of rye whiskey.

Drawing closer to her, his eyes keenly observed her movements. When he was near enough, he extended both items to her, watching as the hand that had been covering the wound reached out to accept them. “Rye. My favorite.” A quiet chuckle escaped his lips. “Not for drinking.”

While she tended to herself, he swiftly changed out of his soiled shirt into a clean one, taking the opportunity to dust off his hair and wash his face as best as he could.

He returned to the room to find her comfortably resting in his bed, her eyes closed as she softly hummed a bar song.

He moved to his desk but allowed his gaze to linger on her form for a moment, memories of the many times he had seen her in such a peaceful state flooding his thoughts. He opened one of the drawers and retrieved a stack of papers, carefully searching between them until he found what he had hidden within.

He moved closer to her and sat on the bed beside her. "Here," he said, his hand extending out, offering a gift that had long been intended for her. He observed as she opened her eyes, her gaze traced down his face, following the line of his arm until her eyes settled on the paper folded between his extended fingers.

His eyes focused on her hand as it reached out, carefully taking the paper from his hand, before gently pulling it open. “Kaz-“

Her words were interrupted by a happy sigh leaving her lips as her eyes brimmed with tears. Her thumb gently tracing over the portrait that she had longed for since its mysterious disappearance.

Once her eyes had followed every stoke of paint in the portrait, she gently turned the paper over, revealing a message in the back of it. “My girl and I.”

He could see the pain in her eyes. It was the same one that graced his eyes every time he read her words on the back of the portrait that he had. The pain of knowing what was, but couldn’t continue to be. “How did you get this?”

He had looked for the street artist for a week. He was going to give up, but then he saw him. Sleeping under some stairs, shivering from the cold. He had asked him to recreate the portrait, and had payed a decent amount once the kid had been done.

He had been eager to give it to her as a ‘Sorry I stole the other one but surprise!’ gift of sorts, but he never got the chance. Between jobs and meetings they distanced themselves, and when they were together, they had become explosive. Too tired to do anything, too angry or frustrated to have a conversation.

It had continued to grow for a long time, and slowly they started to hate it. To hate one another.

They broke up before he even got the chance to add a message to the back of the portrait. “I found the artist and asked him to recreate the original.”

“Why?”

“Because I loved you.”

Loved. As the weight of his words settled in, her gentle smile slowly faded. Her eyes drifted away from his, returning to the message inscribed on the back of the portrait. With a tender touch, her thumb traced over each letter, lost in thought. “Why give it to me now?”

“Because I love you.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief, brows furrowed as she struggled to comprehend his words. A subtle tremor ran through her hands, and her lips parted, unable to articulate the myriad thoughts racing through her mind. “You-“ Her voice faltered as she started to articulate a response, but she hesitated, searching for the right words, leaving a pregnant pause in the air.

“You love me?”

The blurred line between love and hate only truly revealed itself to him when she entered his life.

The depth of his love became painfully evident when she walked away, leaving him feeling like nothing, yet the frustration remained as he couldn't shake the love that persisted.

Conflicting desires surged within him – the urge to kiss her clashed with the impulse to punch her. He wrestled with wanting to support her while simultaneously desiring her to endure solitude and suffering.

The desire to hear her voice warred with the anger that surged within him every time she addressed him. The yearning to embrace her and the desperate need to keep her at a distance.

How can he love her so passionately but hate her so brutally all at the same time?

“Hopelessly.”

Her eyes softened with a hint of disbelief, and a gentle blush tinted her cheeks as his unexpected response left her momentarily speechless, a subtle warmth spreading through her.

“But you hate me?”

“Dangerously.”

He noticed a spark in her eyes, a subtle sway in her form, and a teasing smile playing on her lips as the satisfaction of his answer radiated through her.

“I hate you too, Kaz Brekker.”

And if her feelings toward him were only filled with hatred, he'd find peace in knowing that at least she felt something for him.

For the first time in years, she flashed him a smile. A genuine smile, a familiar one. One he had seen countless times before, one his heart had desperately yearned for, and in return, he flashed one of his own.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

taglist!: @moonstruck-poet @the-dumpster-fire-of-life @littleshadow17 @izzyisstuff @amybonehouse @justvibbinghere @circus-of-thoughts @anonymous-creep @myownpainintheass hope you guys enjoyed it! <3

[girasois]

hiatus!

bom, minha vida tem sido uma montanha russa em todos os sentidos possíveis dessa expressão... eu tive um tempo maravilhoso trabalhando em uma escola como professora assistente, mas infelizmente como nada dura para sempre, precisei seguir outro caminho e infelizmente o caminho que precisarei seguir agora é um extremamente cansativo e que demanda muito de mim, fisicamente e mentalmente falando.

fazer edits é meu hobby (e hiperfoco) desde que me conheço por gente. aprendi a mexer no photoshop com 11 anos e desde 2009 estou nesse site doando meu tempo e tudo de mim por amor à esse hobby. no entanto, como estou seguindo outro caminho no momento, pela minha saúde, precisarei me ausentar do que mais amo fazer. a jornada de trabalho 6x1 é extremamente cansativa e as primeiras semanas são as piores, e, por isso, estarei entrando em hiatus em todos os meus blogs de edits e resources, para conseguir focar na minha vida profissional.

isso não é um adeus, é apenas um até breve, eu trarei edits e resources assim que eu conseguir me acostumar mais uma vez com a rotina da jornada 6x1, o que espero ser rápido. de qualquer forma, estarei ausente na maior parte do tempo, estarei apenas no bluesky reclamando e registrando um diário. então, se vocês quiserem ficar pertinho de mim nesse período, fiquem à vontade para me seguir no app.

foi um prazer servir vocês, nos vemos em breve!

(english version under the cut)

hiatus!

well, my life has been a roller coaster in every possible sense of the expression. i had a wonderful time working as a teaching assistant at a school, but unfortunately, as nothing lasts forever, i had to move on to a different path. sadly, the path i must take now is extremely exhausting and demands a lot from me, both physically and mentally.

editing has been my passion (and hyperfocus) for as long as i can remember. i learned to use photoshop when i was 11 years old, and since 2009, i’ve been dedicating my time and energy to this site purely out of love for the craft. however, as i embark on this new journey, i must prioritize my health, which means stepping away from what i love most. the 6-day workweek is incredibly draining, and the first few weeks are the toughest. because of this, i will be taking a hiatus from all my edit and resource blogs to focus on my professional life.

this isn’t a goodbye; it’s just a “see you soon”. i plan to return with new edits and resources once i’ve adjusted to the 6-day work routine, which i hope won’t take too long. in the meantime, i’ll be mostly absent, except for the occasional posts on bluesky, where i’ll be sharing my thoughts and keeping a diary. if you’d like to stay connected with me during this time, feel free to follow me on the app.

it’s been a pleasure serving you all. see you guys soon!

[aliteral-ghost]

This is the piece I did for @hermitzine! It was so much fun to be a part of this project and get to work with everyone! The theme of this zine was music and I hope that's obvious in this piece :)

~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of the record skipping is Joe’s alarm clock this morning, and it’s only because it skips multiple times that he actually gets up. Darn, he slept in again, and now he has to stay up late again so he can finish the parts of the machine that he needs to get done, and it’ll just end with him sleeping in again. At least he has–oh. The record that has been playing all night (and also for the past few weeks, if he’s honest) has a massive groove in it, tearing through all of the ridges and splintering the vinyl.

“Aw, man,” Joe mutters, staring at the destroyed disk in his hands. “That’s my last one of those.” To be fair, he probably should have expected something like this to happen after using the record player while placing hundreds of blocks of sand, but it’s still sad. To be fair, this has happened to the last five disks he overplayed, but Joe is nothing if not persistent. 

The next day he and Cleo are halfway through their weekly crafting session when they hum. “No music today?” Joe waves a hand.

“Some days the best music is the sound of nature around you.” He sets down a pencil and listens to said sound of nature, which is currently someone very violently chopping down trees. “You know, be in the moment, and all that.” He’s never lived in the moment once in his life and they both know it, but then again neither has Cleo.

“Sure.” Cleo pauses for just a minute. “Not this music, though. Ugh, who is…” They both glance over across the river, where Keralis is hard at work collecting wood. He pauses briefly to wave once he’s noticed them looking, smiling widely. They both wave back and Keralis continues, moving on to the next tree.

“Do you ever think about how our lives have a soundtrack?” Joe says after a minute, mindlessly coloring the sheets of paper he brought, tracing out the blueprint for a part of the pinball machine. Cleo looks over from where she’s drawing in her own notebook. 

“No?” They say, voice lilting up like a question. “I don’t? Why, do you?” She wrinkles her eyebrows, more focused on the calligraphy than really focusing on the conversation. It’s how they roll, most weeks. Joe talks and Cleo nods along.

“Well, sure! I like to think about the song that might be playing while things are happening. For a while, it was otherside, but…” Cleo glances over again, this time more interested. 

“You broke all of your disks, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. I must have played them in the sand too much or something. Whomp, whomp.” He follows the statement up with a laugh, sort of high-pitched and frantic. “D’you think we all have different soundtracks then, if we do?”

“Oh, for sure,” Cleo says, in a voice that still sounds like they’re just humoring him. “Like Doc? His soundtrack is all scary, like heavy metal, right? There’s no way he and Scar have the same backing tracks.” They pause for just a second. “No, I lied. Doc’s isn’t heavy metal, he’s too much of a softie. Pearl’s is. She’s bloody hardcore.”

That’s an accurate assumption, Joe guesses. He hasn’t been privy to much Pearl has done this season, but he’s fairly certain she just built an entire Ender dragon out of pilfered dragon eggs. If there’s someone able to intimidate Cleo, it’s her.

“So what’s yours, then?” Cleo asks, setting her pen down and leaning on her hands. “Whatever song you’re obsessed with now over and over?”

“I don’t have much time for anything else.” Joe laughs again. “Besides, sometimes the best soundtrack is the same song, over and over, just played at different tempos depending on mood.”

This earns him a patented Cleo lookTM as she turns back to her journal, picking up a small knife. They don’t talk for a while after that, instead listening to the leaves rustle, water flow, and trees topple. 

“Here,” they say eventually, after the wood-collecting has gotten to be too much, and pass Joe a record. “Put this on, I know you’re aching to.” He gasps, energy he hasn’t felt in a while jolting through him, and pulls out his jukebox. 

“Thanks, Cleo!”

The aforementioned record is a simple piano tune, the melody and harmony weaving in and out of each other’s path, spinning down the river and floating high into the air. It fills the server with its music, and although Joe knows that the little song is barely reaching further than Keralis he’d like to think that Tango, in the depths of Decked Out 2, and False, high up on a snowy peak, and Grian and Doc, fighting their battles over the perimeter, can hear it. 

It’s a song that, although the notion is cliche, feels like home. It has managed to encapsulate the feeling that persists, from all ten years of Hermitcraft, of family and friends and feeling like belonging.

[cherrygirlystuff]

Lo-Fi Love: Creating the Perfect 2010s Indie-Inspired Mixtape 🎶

Hey, mixtape maestro! 💿 Ready to dive into the world of lo-fi and indie sounds from the 2010s? Whether you're crafting the ultimate nostalgic playlist or just looking to channel those chill vibes, creating a mixtape that captures the essence of this era is all about blending raw emotion with cool, laid-back sounds. Let’s get into it and make a mixtape that feels like a warm hug from the past.

1. Start with the Essentials: Lo-Fi and Indie Touchstones

To set the stage for your mixtape, you’ll want to include some key tracks and artists that defined the lo-fi and indie scenes of the 2010s. These songs are your foundation, bringing that authentic, nostalgic vibe to your mix.

Lo-Fi Essentials: Think dreamy beats and mellow melodies. Artists like Mac DeMarco, Toro y Moi, and Washed Out were masters of this chill, hazy sound. Include tracks that showcase their signature lo-fi production and laid-back rhythms.

Indie Icons: For that indie edge, mix in songs from bands like Tame Impala, Vampire Weekend, and Arcade Fire. Their innovative sounds and catchy hooks helped shape the indie landscape of the 2010s, making them perfect additions to your mixtape.

2. Craft a Flow: Build a Journey with Your Tracks

The beauty of a great mixtape is how it takes listeners on a journey. You want to create a seamless flow, moving from one track to the next in a way that feels natural and engaging.

Start with a Bang: Kick off your mixtape with a track that sets the tone. Choose something with a memorable melody or a captivating beat to grab attention right away. This could be a standout hit or a hidden gem that encapsulates the lo-fi vibe.

Mix Up the Pace: Vary the tempo and mood of your tracks to keep things interesting. Transition from upbeat indie anthems to more mellow lo-fi tunes, creating a dynamic listening experience. This helps maintain engagement and keeps the mixtape feeling fresh.

End on a High Note: Finish strong with a track that leaves a lasting impression. This could be a powerful anthem, a heartwarming ballad, or a song with an unexpected twist. Make sure it wraps up your mixtape on a memorable note.

3. Add Personal Touches: Reflect Your Unique Taste

While it’s great to include iconic tracks, don’t forget to add your personal touch to the mixtape. This is where you can showcase your unique taste and make the mix truly your own.

Deep Cuts and Hidden Gems: Include a few lesser-known tracks or deep cuts that reflect your personal favorites. These could be underrated songs from well-known artists or tracks from obscure bands that deserve more attention.

Personal Stories: If you’re sharing your mixtape with friends, consider adding a personal note about why you included certain songs. Share memories or anecdotes related to the tracks to give the mixtape an extra layer of meaning.

4. Perfect the Aesthetic: Lo-Fi Visuals and Themes

The visual and thematic elements of your mixtape are just as important as the music. Create a cohesive look and feel that complements the lo-fi and indie vibes of your playlist.

Cover Art: Design a mixtape cover that reflects the aesthetic of the 2010s indie scene. Use vintage-inspired graphics, soft pastel colors, or retro fonts to capture that lo-fi vibe. Websites like Canva can help you create eye-catching cover art even if you’re not a design pro.

Track List Design: Present your track list in a way that feels authentic to the era. Consider using a handwritten font or incorporating elements like cassette tapes or vintage records for a nostalgic touch.

5. Share the Love: Distribute Your Mixtape

Once your mixtape is ready, it’s time to share it with the world! Whether you’re giving it to friends or sharing it online, make sure it gets the love it deserves.

Digital Platforms: Upload your mixtape to platforms like Spotify, SoundCloud, or Bandcamp. Create a playlist and share the link on social media to reach a wider audience.

Physical Copies: For a more personal touch, consider making physical copies of your mixtape. Burn it onto CDs or create custom mixtape cassettes for a nostalgic keepsake.

Final Thoughts, Babe: Embrace the Lo-Fi Magic

Creating the perfect 2010s indie-inspired mixtape is all about capturing the magic of lo-fi and indie music while adding your personal touch. Embrace the nostalgia, experiment with different sounds, and let your mixtape tell a story. Whether you’re reminiscing about the past or introducing a new generation to these iconic sounds, your mixtape is a celebration of the music that defined a decade.

So grab those tracks, get creative with your playlist, and let the lo-fi love flow. Happy mixing! 🎶✨