#and they had a beginners learn-to-play drums set

[yet-another-autism-blog]

It's actually really ableist that I have several expensive interests and no money. I should be given 5k a month just autism related spending money

#actuallyautistic #actually autistic #autism #autistic #autism spectrum disorder #this is sarcasm #but also its true #special interest #i have several expensive special interests #they all tie into each other #glam rock music which leads into fashion/makeup #but also ties into music in general #anyway i went to the store to buy hair dye and black face glitter #because i need it for an outfit for an upcoming concert #they didnt have either one #but i stopped at the bookstore #and they had david bowies moonage daydream book #about ziggy stardust #and they had a beginners learn-to-play drums set #and i wanna learn to play drums #but i think i need to get better at guitar before i take on a whole new instrument #but i cant justify spending the money right now #especially with the upcoming concert #thats going to be expensive #i have to go out of state for it

[osaemu]

GOJO SATORU: ❛❛ BEGINNER'S LUCK ❜❜

.ೃ࿐ streamer!au: you beat him at his own game on livestream, and it's your first time playing

contents: fem!reader. gojo gets slandered by everyone </3 but he slanders toji. again. vague descriptions of what game you guys are playing, imagine whichever game u want.

author's note: thinkin' about making streamer!gojo a series, stay tuned ...

"so you're gonna want to click that when someone attacks you," satoru informs you, hand on your shoulder. his chin rests on the top of your head as he watches you learn the in's and out's of some game he's well-known for streaming. "no, not that one, silly. the other one."

you groan and make a face at the screen in exasperation. "why do all the buttons look the same?" you grumble, drumming your fingers on the table next to his luminescent keyboard. "you better go easy on me when we go live."

satoru laughs and kisses the top of your head before strolling over to his own plush seat next to you. "don't worry, sweetheart. i will, i promise."

a couple minutes later, satoru starts chatting with his thousands of viewers as you puzzle over how to join his co-op lobby. 

toji-fushiguro: is your gf gonna join? ;)

you hear satoru scoff and see him lean closer to the monitor, squinting at the message that mentions you. "i remember you," satoru huffs, white hair falling into his eyes. "you better stop bringing her up or i'll block you, fishface."

a small laugh bubbles out of your lips as satoru continues addressing the flood of comments asking about you. in his last stream, he had mentioned thinking about teaching you to play the game he got famous for, and his viewers reacted more than enthusiastically. "wow, you guys really want to see me win against my own girlfriend?" satoru tsks, wagging his finger at the screen. "nah, i promised i'd go easy on her. i like her more than you faceless strangers on the internet. i'm looking at you, toji."

"satoru?" you whisper, scrunching up your nose when he immediately turns to you, all thoughts of publicly humiliating toji set aside. "how do i... join a co-op session?"

your boyfriend grins and leans over, clicking a couple buttons in too fast of a sequence for you to follow, and soon enough, your avatar stands next to satoru's. "there!"

"thanks," you huff, watching him slide back into his chair and banter with a couple more comments. and moments later, the game starts. satoru starts out with a play-by-play of his actions, making it really easy for you to piece together the strategy and techniques of the game. to your surprise, you don't die that easily — in fact, you eliminate five other players before retreating to the top of a tree to hide.

a couple kills later, you and satoru are some of the last people on the map. satoru makes quick work of the leftovers before stretching his arms and grinning smugly. "looks like i trained you well, darling," he calls, briefly turning to you and blowing a kiss. "now, where are you? come out and let me catch you, baby."

you hum in response, not bothering to come down from your tree. thankfully, the leaves are thick enough to obscure your avatar from satoru's view, and he walks right past you without even bothering to check. you grin and lean in closer to the computer, aiming at his blissfully unaware avatar and—

"what the fuck?" satoru yelps when his avatar crumbles to the ground. a message noting his death appears on his screen, and he turns to you immediately, betrayal evident on his shocked expression. "you shot me in the back!" he whines, getting up and looking at your screen in disbelief. "how could you?!"

you stick your tongue out at him smugly. "i win!" you cheer, and satoru splutters in disbelief, stumbling over his words as he watches you reap the rewards of your win. "i can't believe you lost to a beginner," you muse, rubbing in your victory. "maybe i should take over your stream," you continue, fluttering your eyelashes at satoru as he gapes at your screen.

"it's only 'cause i went easy on you!" satoru huffs, walking back to his chair and requesting a rematch. "this time, i won't be so nice."

the next game, satoru doesn't say anything, ocean-blue eyes focused on his own screen. from the stream opened in the corner of your monitor, you see his comments blow up.

suguru-geto: wow you're really off your game today

inumaki: he just sucks wdym

toji-fushiguro: deserved 💯

you think about hiding in a tree again, but decide against it. satoru would probably expect you to repeat that strategy, and for all you know, he might have an item that could help him sneak up on you. so you run off to an area that's relatively flat and keep an eye out for other users. you eliminate two before you catch a glimpse of satoru in a tree, but just a second later, he vanishes. 

from the corner of your eye, you see satoru mouth "got you" to his screen, and just in time, you dodge an attack you wouldn't have seen otherwise. somehow, your finger slips, and you shoot without aim. and somehow, your aim was on-point — satoru's avatar falls to its knees once more, and satoru groans in defeat.

"why are you good at this?" satoru grumbles, jumping off his seat and strolling over to wear you sit with a cocky smile on your lips. he all but abandons his stream as he walks over and pokes you childishly. satoru watches you eliminate the last two users, and he scoffs at the emblem of victory that lights up your screen. he kisses you begrudgingly and mutters something about losing a bet, to which you kiss his nose affectionately.

"but really," satoru whines, plopping back down in his chair and swiveling it to face you. "how are you so good?! and shut up suguru," he snipes, leering at the chat. "i'm doing fine, she's just insane! and you too, inumaki. there's a reason all your fans are regulars on my stream! because you suck!" at that, you snicker, spinning around in your own chair and half-watching the chat blow up with more of his viewers' thoughts. 

inumaki: SHUT UP U JUST LOST TO A FIRST TIMER

megumi-fushiguro: real 

"oh, shut it, other-fushiguro," satoru scoffs, narrowing his eyes at the chatbox. "at least my hair doesn't look like how little kids draw grass."

you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle the laugh threatening to slip out, but when satoru turns and pouts at you, you can't help it. he's so petty and stubborn, but his eyes soften when he sees how big your smile is. and, not to your surprise, he matches your grin with one of his own. satoru draws a heart in the air with both his index fingers and scrunches up his nose at you, and your heart melts.

"you're so stupid," you mumble, watching him kick his feet like an antsy five year-old. satoru opens his arms in response, and no more than two seconds pass before you're nestled in his lap. he's wearing a light blue hoodie and white sweats, and nothing could make you more comfortable than that in the world. you turn your head and make eye contact with satoru's camera, and smile at the flood of comments on how cute you two look together.

yuuji-itadori: awww its kinda cute

suguru-geto: sooo down bad tbh

toji-fushiguro: you gotta be f*cking kidding me

satoru kisses the side of your face while glaring at the screen, and eventually he presses his lips to your ear and whispers, "wanna end the stream? there's too many people watching and i wanna keep you all to myself."

"hehe, let's do it!"

#osaemu #streamer!gojo #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo fluff #jjk fluff #satoru gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo drabbles #jjk drabbles

[majinbangus]

Here's a banner I made cause I actually really love the thought of drum teacher!Soap x reader:

Drum pictures found on google "drummer aesthetic"

Drum teacher!Soap sitting behind you, thighs bracketing yours and hands circling your wrists in a firm grip as he guides you how to hold the sticks and how to play.

His chest is so warm, even through his clothes, as he's pressed tightly against your back. You think you can feel his heartbeat. It sets a tempo you follow along as he uses you as a puppet to play the drums.

You don't learn anything in this lesson (it's spent with him miming your body and you not really doing anything), so he offers to make it up so your money isn't wasted, focusing it on rhythm because it was something you had trouble with.

The make up lesson is spent learning rhythm in an unconventional way (hint: he fucks you)

Bonus thoughts:

I can see this going a dark path where it's more creepy drum teacher!Soap finding excuses to touch you and give you extra lessons, even if you don't need it, but maybe i'd write it as a separate thing

Bonus Bonus thoughts:

He works at TF-141's Music Box, and the rest of the team works there. They used to be a rock band, "TF-141". Pretty famous nationally, but they're retired from that now and sell instruments and other music-related products. They offer lessons, and are good for beginners, have an affordable price, and highly reviewed with a majority 4-5 stars.

Soap teaches drums

Ghost teaches guitar

↪but he has some knowledge of the guitar

↪and he can play a little bit of drums and bass

Gaz teaches bass

↪he can also play some guitar

I like to think Price's instrument is also drums and keyboard (with a little experience with guitar and bass, like Ghost), and he was the lead singer, but he doesn't teach lessons.

They have a rival band and now also music shop "The Shadows" (guess who)

#john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soapy thoughts :] #f!reader #at least it'll be written with an f!reader in mind if i ever get to it

[sometimeswritingsometimesdying]

hcs about music and the island dads and their kids bc i am currently experiencing brainrot

x. linus used to play guitar as a kid. he wasn’t great at it, but he liked it, and he’d steal away half an hour a week to play around with the old, beaten up one they had in their public high school. he learnt all his favorite songs on it, mostly by ear, but never had the ability to practice at home. he mentions it to arthur at some point, and they magically find one back in the attic. 

x. arthur loves piano. he has the fingers for it, of course, and there’s nothing like a good jazz piano tune to pair with a philosophy book, but he also loves the expressiveness that some pianists put into their performances. when he was a young man, 20s-30s i’d say, and he didn’t live on the island yet, i like to hc he snuck into a few performances or practices for some great modern composers. 

x. lucy sees linus trying to tune the guitar and decides instantly he Must Learn How To Play alongside him. they buy a beginner’s guitar player book and start learning chords and songs together. lucy, turns out, has a great singing voice to pair with it. 

x. at some point, sal brings up the idea that maybe he could have lucy put one of his poems to music. lucy is absolutely honored, obviously. linus and arthur are in the background crying because omg their children have grown and healed so much

x. phee definitely learns how to make nature dance around her. she takes up doing it when she’s upset, and never really stops. zoe joins in sometimes, and the swaying of the branches, buzzing of bees, and soft sea breeze bring happiness all around the island.

x. talia would be amazing on drums. that’s all. she could wack them as good as she wacks people.

x. chauncey and theodore, albeit not incredibly gifted with musical instruments due to the lack of opposable thumbs, are the BEST hypemen whenever lucy wants to present a song during a lesson. cheerleading? they got u. posters, banners, and badly made t shirts? DONE. lucy isnt even making his own music, but its the thought that counts.

(yes the t shirts would just say hey yeah! music! in squiggly handwriting, instead of hell yeah, because arthur vetoed it)

x. linus and arthur actually learn how to dance instead of just swaying together; waltzing late at night in arthur’s study or the library, soft, stumbly back and forth dances in the kitchen while cooking breakfast, linus dipping arthur on the porch as the sun sets because he just felt like it and kissing the shit out of him. and, of course, the bad renditions of those dances by the children making fun of them.

x. no one expects it, but sal’s teenagehood turns out to be a big rock music phase. he never showcases it on the outside but his room slowly gets decorated with posters and cds of his favorite artists and bands. lucy and linus are over the moon about getting to add a third to their music shop escapades. sal mostly likes the music because he relates to the anger/hurt/ect of the lyrics, and it’s great to drown out any other noise in case it gets too much for him.

#the house in the cerulean sea #thitcs #linus baker #arthur parnassus #island dads #headcannons

[radioactive-synth]

🎻💯🐶💛🍝🤩 for vaughn? :^)

🎻 VIOLIN — does your oc play any instruments? what is their skill level (beginner/intermediate/advanced/virtuoso/etc)?

he always wanted to play drums since he was young, but he didn't had that chance, until on his 45th birthday, when his son gifted him a set of restored drums. you can check this lil story wrote by @theartofblossoming HERE!

💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know.

-his eyes are steel-grey, but depending on the light or even his mood, his eye color can change, sometimes could be deep blue, sometimes grey.

-he is half greek (his mom Olivia was born in USA but her parents were from Cyprus and moved in USA), and is proud of his heritage! his first language is actually greek, and loves to cook traditional food, and even teaching others how to preserve veggies and fruits by pickle them, a method that was seen as weird at first but it adopted fast.

-very much Autistic(™)

🐶 DOG FACE — does your oc have any pets?

besides Dogmeat, he also has a radchicken, named Hera! a very sweet, fearless chicken, who is the 'alpha' of the other animals in Sanctuary, despite being the smallest, and is a true animal therapy for him. she stays with him almost all the time, but she always do the morning and evening patrol with her pack, takes care of them by preening their fur or getting rid of parasites, will attack any other animal that enters her territory (she has talons like a rooster and has the meanest bite), and is a great mother hen, even that she will steal the baby chicks from other chickens. she lives in the house, as she can't stand other chickens or she will slaughter them.

i wrote a lil story from her POV HERE

here is a commission from an artist that is no longer on tumblr.

💛 YELLOW HEART — how many languages does your oc speak? what language(s) are they learning, if any?

greek is his first language, english second, knows a bit of chinese, spannish and italian.

🍝 SPAGHETTI — what is/are your oc's favorite food(s)?

he isn't picky with food anymore as he was when younger, so he would eat anything, especially if cooked fresh, as he doesn't trust the old pre war canned food. yet he would avoid molerat and bug meat at all cost, as he got sick from those.

🤩 FACE WITH STARRY EYES — is your oc a planner, or are they more spontaneous in their actions?

making plans is what makes him feel more at ease, as he is scared of changes, but sometimes plans will not work out his way, but as long as the result is the same, he would accept the situation.

thank you!!

#oc vaughn zander

[masonshaws]

15 people 15 questions

thanks @girlfriendline @giveemgreef @tblueger <333

1. are you named after anyone?

i am not! my middle name was an homage to my mom's grandparents but i have since changed it and my parents are blessedly allergic to otherwise naming anything after anybody

2. when was the last time you cried?

few days before christmas

3. do you have kids?

no and i do not want to. i have one fur baby (that i co-parent with my parents lmao) though as you all well know (scout my baby boy <3)

4. what sports do you play/have you played?

played kids' baseball/softball until i was like 10/11 bc i was constantly in the outfield and nobody can pitch until you get to like. high school. so it was boring and i hated it so i quit. i was on dance team for a while until i had to drop it bc recital dates kept being on the same days as school band concerts. was in marching band throughout high school, which counts bc i was a percussionist and had to lug around those heavy drum harnesses

5. do you use sarcasm?

a ridiculous amount. if we also count like comedic lying in this i accidentally convinced a coworker that there were only three seasons of spongebob doing that whole pretending that only the good parts of a show exist. such a shame spongebob ended after season 3. there's no more of it! just too bad

6. what’s the first thing you notice about people?

hair probably

7. what’s your eye color?

brown! medium tending towards dark

8. scary movies or happy endings?

while i love gothicness and gothyness i am a Known Weenie and certain types of gore literally make me feel faint. like the finale of the terror s1 made me a little faint and gave me the sweats and i had to fully pause the episode and lay on the floor for a while. so i guess categorically happy endings based on that. if a scary movie isn't super gory though i'll go for it

9. any talents?

i’m very performing arts inclined! i play piano, sing, dance, and act (was a theatre major in college). i memorize things quickly if i set my mind to it, am great at navigating, have great pitch memory (like i can be exactly or near-exactly on pitch when singing something i’ve heard before even without backing accompaniment. this unfortunately drives me crazy when people post pitch-shifted versions of songs and i can tell they’re off. bearer of the curse), decent stage combatant, good crowd weaver, and somehow bear the ability to unintentionally come off as intimidating to basically everyone i’ve ever met

10. where were you born?

iowa, usa

11. what are your hobbies?

i'm something of a gamer in my spare time. basically only solo joints though i'm not like gamer nhlers that play like. league of legends or fortnite or counterstrike. i've recently joined a community band and a bar trivia team (with my old middle school choir teacher lmao. he's a homie), i write fic every once in a while, read, dance around the house, go for walks when it's not cold, snuggle my pup, and obviously watch hockey. i keep telling myself i'm going to learn how to sew but trying to find beginner projects for men types is fucking dire and i keep not going out to get fabric for the pirate blouse i keep wanting to make rip

12. do you have any pets?

ah there's a separate question for this. scout, my yellow lab baby boy whose breeder had a confederate flag up in his barn when we got him (we saved you buddy). have some pictures

13. how tall are you?

5'5". short king territory

14. favorite subject in school?

i was a band/choir bitch. probably followed by english (literature). i liked basically all of it but phys ed though fuck that class i hate distance running it gives me a stitch in my side and you have to run a mile at least twice a semester (fuck you presidential fitness test). on top of all the other running they make you do. loved when they just did games though. matball my beloved

15. dream job.

actor, either stage or voice. unfortunately i do not want to live where the big voice acting studios are located and regional stage acting is kind of limited unless you go all the way out to chicago, which i tried for a couple of months before multiple breakdowns told me i should probably be closer to home. i enjoy being a librarian though :)

tagging @get-hockeyed-idiot @amandaleveille @wildaboutmnhockey @girldewar @letkirillfight @yes-perwallstedt if you guys haven't done it yet and also anyone else who wants to

#tag game

[auckland-drum-studio]

Join the Beat: A Guide to Drumming Classes

Welcome, readers and drumming enthusiasts! Whether you've always had a passion for the rhythmic beats of the drums or you're looking for a new hobby to dive into, learning to play the drums can be an incredibly exciting and rewarding experience.

Not only does it provide an outlet for creativity and self-expression, but it also offers numerous benefits, such as improved coordination, increased focus, and stress relief. In this blog post, we will delve into the world of drumming class near me and provide you with a structured outline to help you embark on your drumming journey.

Getting Started with Drumming

Choosing a Drumming Class

The first step in your drumming journey is to choose the right drumming class for you. Begin by researching local music schools, community centres, or private instructors in your area.

Look for establishments that have a good reputation and offer a wide range of classes for different skill levels. Consider the teaching styles and class formats that resonate with you the most.

Assessing Your Skill Level

Before enrolling in a drumming class near me, it's important to assess your current skill level. Understanding your skill level will help you find a class that aligns with your abilities and goals. 

Setting Goals

Setting goals is a crucial part of any learning journey, and drumming is no exception. Take some time to define your short-term and long-term goals as a drummer. Setting goals will not only help motivate you but also allow you to track your progress and celebrate your achievements along the way.

What to Expect in Drumming Classes

Class Structure

Drumming classes vary in terms of duration and frequency. Some classes may meet once a week for an hour, while others may have more intensive schedules. Consider your availability and commitments when choosing a class. Additionally, classes can be conducted in different formats, such as group classes or one-on-one lessons.

Basic Techniques Covered

Beginner drumming classes typically focus on teaching foundational techniques. These techniques include proper stick grip, posture, basic drumming patterns, and rudiments. You'll also learn how to read drum sheet music and understand drum notation.

Advanced Techniques & Specializations

As you progress in your drumming journey, intermediate and advanced classes will cover more complex techniques. This may include advanced drum fills, polyrhythms, odd-time signatures, and improvisation. In addition to these techniques, some drumming classes offer specialisations in different genres, such as rock, jazz, Latin, or fusion.

III. Making the Most of Your Drumming Classes

Practicing Regularly

Attending drumming classes alone is not enough to become a proficient drummer. Consistent practice outside of class time is vital for improvement. Create a practice schedule that works with your daily routine and commit to it.

Enhancing Learning Experience

To enhance your learning experience, consider utilising additional resources. There are numerous books, online tutorials, and drumming communities available that can supplement your class lessons. These resources can provide additional exercises, tips, and insights to help you grow as a drummer.

Building a Supportive Network

Connecting with fellow drummers can be a valuable source of support and inspiration throughout your drumming journey. Locally, seek out music groups or organisations where you can meet and collaborate with other musicians.

Conclusion

Embarking on a drumming journey is an exciting endeavour that offers endless possibilities for growth and self-expression. Now it's time for you to take action and explore the drumming class near me in your area. Remember, the beat awaits, so grab your sticks and join the rhythm.

Source By : Join the Beat: A Guide to Drumming Classes

[chanmiles54]

6 wire phone cable

For tastes us he busy life usually causes delays in our social lives and entertainment needs. Watching the latest movies associated with of these delays due to the fact can be really in order to give period for going on the theater all of us had hardly find time to yourself. We usually prefer to rest. You can never get bored of chatting as a number of interesting customers to interact with the help of. They are available 24 hours a day and few days a two or three. Some of the websites even feature live music from DJs on the website. If wirecast pro Cracked want besides, cam show, you'll not be using pitch with your ideas then add activity new terms. Who knows the chat site may actually add those features to create chatting more interesting? Save for these, you could also browse through members' profiles once you might have signed up and review message blocks. Also, there is worldwide online chat taking place at year 'round. Understand in which you really realize what get yourself a for. Lots of want to buy a great services having a budget quote. You will give you the option to find them, and you will obtain a production from them. However, since the work of your photographer along with the videographer will represent your lasting memories, I would recommend getting those that price rrnside the industry. Just like your photographer or videographer is charging industry rates then they know what industry professionals are defined seeing that. Which means they will have commercial industry equipment and along with commercial industry editing software, and they will be competed in creative imaging. wirecast pro Activation Code Free sets them a part and end up being worth the invest in. Your pictures and videos won't be point and check. They will accessories and awesome. You additionally be access video sharing websites, such as YouTube for you are lots of beginner drummer lessons available via streaming video. And, the best thing about this method is that it's absolutely at no cost. You can also find plenty of tips the ways to play the drums as well as learn at the different techniques that aren't usually taught in traditional private drum lessons. While I used to soak up everything, I'm certain I missed some nifty stuff given it was all just so overwhelming. However, I did try to a target two things: new Windows Mobile devices and UMPCs. You can request buddies and family to join you within a secret office. You can have an intimate cam chat or share your opinions or have some amazing. There are adult free chat rooms and Adult Webcams rooms too. Just after you open one from the chat rooms, you can meet a person on one other end waiting to be friends along with you. You do not need to be afraid a person can information can leaked out. You can simply register by signing wirecast pro a username and password. How many users? Is the site very well liked? Is your streaming video usually viewed by many people people at the same time? You need must yourself researching have your site hosted on the special streaming server. This style of server can handle a a lot more traffic when compared with a normal machine. A streaming server also offers the ability to make live broadcasts (or webcasts), which is virtually impossible on a traditional server. Henceforth, no problem if you are not effective at reach home in to be able to get present status any specific match. Just hook to as much as any among the websites named above and gain benefit from the cricket Live! I have tried it at many occasions does not stop is really exciting!

#WIRECAST PRO

[musiclessonslosangeles]

How To Choose The Best Online Music Lessons

You signed up for music lessons in Los Angeles, went to a couple, but eventually had to stop due to time constraints. We all have musicians buried inside. However, not everyone has the opportunity to develop their gift.

Online music lessons are a terrific method to begin started, regardless of whether you're a die-hard music lover eager to learn how to play the guitar or one who wants to pick up a passion left unfinished.

In this post, the alternatives and things to think about when selecting online classes are discussed.

Online music lessons: are they a viable option?

As per tradition anyone who wanted to learn to play an instrument had to sign up for a class. There, a teacher would coach students on proper hand positions, postures, and playing techniques. There are several online sources that offer helpful piano and guitar tuition. Videos and readings on theory are also included. Professional musicians and other music experts prepared the study materials. Along with fundamental skills, they also offer helpful advice that even a regular tutor might not offer. Online music classes are a trustworthy source as a result.

The Best Ways to Pick Online Music Lessons

Specialized instruction: There are several online music courses that are made to cater to different demographics. They feature tutorials for various musical instruments like the guitar, piano, drums, and horn. Specific programs offer specific training for a given instrument. You should pick the online music courses that best suit your needs.

The various teaching techniques that the instructors employ are one of the main factors to be taken into account. While some web-based courses train students using online module presentations, others use textbooks. The finest courses incorporate both module presentations and instrument theory.

Background check:

It's important to have access to reliable information when looking for online music courses. Based on example tutorials that are available online, you can assess the learning experience's quality. Another excellent method of evaluating a class is through other students' testimonials. First-person stories illustrate a class's advantages and disadvantages, assisting you in making an intelligent decision.

Customer service:

In order to work, web modules and music video lessons need the proper software. Customer service is therefore essential. If there are ever any problems with functionality or access, a strong tech support will assist.

Convenience and adaptability:

The typical training setting did not fit your schedule or financial situation, which is one of the main reasons you chose to enroll in online music classes. Choose a training plan that enables you to train at your own speed. You can download some apps at one time and use them later.

Cost:

Numerous websites offer free music classes, theory, and resources. Free educational resources, however, frequently just cover the fundamentals. Students frequently need to pay a small fee to access premium content on most music websites. If you decide to pay, find out how much it will cost and whether there is a money-back guarantee. You can select an online music course that fits your budget based on this.

Best Place to take music Lessons Los Angeles online

Craft Music School los angeles is the Best Place to take music Lessons online in Los Angeles because we offer a variety of different types of lessons with the top-rated music teachers in LA. We have piano, vocal, guitar and ukulele lessons for beginners as well as intermediate and advanced students.

Craft music Los Angeles service for In-Home

Head Office :

Craft Music

Phone : [phone]

Address: 1445 Bruce Ave, Glendale, CA 91202

Service area

Glendale, CA, USA

Los Angeles County, CA, USA

Pasadena, CA, USA

Santa Monica, CA, USAPortland, OR, USA

Beverly Hills, CA, USA

#music producer #music lessons #music lessons los angeles #piano lessons #los angeles #california #music school los angeles #music school

[samwisethewitch]

Pathworking and Astral Travel

In spirit work, we often connect with the spirits that have crossed over and are present in the physical world. However, there are also ways to cross over into the spirit world and connect with spirits in their home environment.

Pathworking

As I mentioned in a previous post, a pathworking is a specific type of meditation where you go on a psychic journey, but are still anchored to your physical body. It’s sort of like dipping your toes into the spirit world.

There are two important elements to a pathworking: a clear entrance/exit point and a way to retrace your steps. Pathworking journeys are typically cyclical — there is both a journey out and a return where you go back the way you came. This makes it easier to fully return your consciousness to your body, and failing to do so can cause you to feel disoriented upon the return.

Your entry/exit point can be absolutely anything, but common examples include a door, a gateway, a tree (or sometimes The World Tree), a cave/tunnel, or a natural landmark like a beach or mountaintop. What’s important is that it’s recognizable and easy to find your way back to.

If you want to try pathworking, make a rough “road map” of your journey beforehand. This doesn’t have to be super specific, but it should contain the following: a goal for the pathworking (such as to connect with a certain spirit), an entry/exit point, and a general idea for the route you’re going to take. If you’re worried about getting lost, author Thea Sabin recommends using “the Theseus trick.” Like in the myth of Theseus and the Minotaur, you can tie a golden thread or rope to your entry point and the other end to your astral body. If you get lost, you can follow the thread back.

Pathworking is fairly beginner friendly, and I highly, highly, highly recommend starting with pathworking and becoming comfortable with this method before trying astral travel. Even for more advanced witches, pathworking is often a better option than astral travel because it’s less involved and requires a little bit less effort. I personally prefer pathworking for most situations.

Performing a Pathworking

Before you begin, establish a clear goal for your pathworking and write out a rough “road map.” At the very least, you should know what your purpose is, where your entry point is, and how to find your way back.

Begin in a dark, quiet room. Cleanse the room by burning incense, diffusing or spraying essential oils, or using a ritual broom to sweep out old energy.

Find a comfortable place to sit or lie down and begin meditating. You may want to play meditation music, practice breathing techniques, or use some other method to help you reach a meditative state.

Once you reach a meditative state (you should know what this feels like if you have experience with meditation), see yourself standing at your entry point. This is your entrance to the astral realm.

Set out on your pathworking.

When you are ready to leave the astral realm, you will need to find your way back to your entry point. Once you reach your entry point, it should be fairly easy to return to your body.

Once you’re fully present in your physical body, use your favorite method to ground yourself.

Write down everything you experienced during your pathworking in a journal.

Astral Travel

If pathworking is dipping your toes into the spirit world, astral travel is diving in the deep end. Also called spirit flight and hedge riding, astral travel includes actually sending your soul/consciousness out of your body and into the spirit world. As you might guess, this is more complicated and requires more effort than pathworking. For this reason, astral travel is not beginner-friendly. If you are completely new to meditation, witchcraft, and spirit work, it’s best to learn to pathwork before you attempt astral travel.

A word of warning: you may want to avoid astral travel at times when you’re in a very vulnerable or volatile emotional state. Some days you just aren’t up for it, and that’s okay. On those days, a pathworking or another form of spirit work may be a better option.

Triggering Spirit Flight

In astral travel, a trigger of some kind is used to help disconnect the soul from the physical body. Common triggers include drumming, special music, shaking a rattle, chanting, and dancing.

You can find shamanic drumming tracks on YouTube that can help you achieve astral travel. If you find that repetitive motion helps you trance out, you may look into getting a small drum or rattle to play.

Animal Guides

In many cultures, those who travel into the spirit world do so with the guidance and protection of an animal spirit. From the Norse fylgja, to the shamanic power animal, to the witch’s familiar, history is full of examples of these types of guides.

Before you begin astral travel, do a pathworking to meet your animal guide. It’s important to note that you aren’t choosing an animal guide — only meeting one that has always been with you. Your guide may be an animal that you like or identify with, or it may not. When I first began experimenting with astral travel, my guide was a coyote — an animal I had never identified with before, but who I learned was deeply connected to my inner self.

It’s important to always have your animal guide with you when going on astral journeys, as they are an important source of protection and power. They may also literally guide you to the things you need to see and the spirits you need to meet.

Flying Ointments

Historical accounts describe witches using “flying ointment” to help them achieve spirit flight. These traditional flying ointments contained toxic and/or hallucinogenic plants like belladonna, datura, henbane, mandrake, and opium poppies. For obvious reasons, most modern witches do not use these herbs.

Please do not try to create your own flying ointment with poisonous plants. If you’re a true traditionalist and feel like you just have to try a historically accurate flying ointment, Bane Folk Apothecary sells several. Bane Folk is run by Sarah Anne Lawless, a kickass witch who knows her stuff and produces safe, medicinal products inspired by traditional flying ointment formulas. I am usually very pro-DIY, especially when it comes to witchcraft, but this is one case where it really is best to defer to a professional.

To create a modern, non-toxic flying ointment: heat eight ounces (or one cup) of poppy seed oil over low heat on the stove. Once the oil is warm, add 2 ounces (or 1/4 cup) of beeswax into the oil. (Use carnauba wax for a vegan alternative.) Take the mixture off the heat, and allow it to cool off a bit. Once it has cooled (but before it’s begun to solidify), add nine drops each of mugwort essential oil, star anise essential oil, and peppermint essential oil. Pour the mixture into a mason jar and seal tightly. To extend your ointment’s shelf life, add a few drops of Vitamin E oil and store in the refrigerator. If you don’t have access to essential oils or prefer a more traditional method, you can buy dry herbs and infuse them into your oil instead — to do this, crush up 2.5 ounces (or 1/3 cup) each of dried mugwort, star anise, and peppermint and add them to a mason jar; add enough oil to the jar to cover the herbs completely, with about an inch of oil above them; seal the jar and place it in a sunny window for 2-3 weeks to infuse; and finally, strain the herbs out of the oil with a mesh sieve or a cheesecloth. You can then add your Vitamin E oil and beeswax to create an ointment.

This modern recipe does not contain hallucinogens, but it does contain plants that are commonly used in magic to increase psychic abilities and aid in astral travel. You can say an incantation over this ointment while making it to add some extra magical potency. Applying the flying ointment can also become a sort of ritual that prepares you for spirit flight by helping you slip into a more spiritual head space.

Performing Astral Travel/Spirit Flight

Before you begin, know why you are journeying to the spirit world. You should always have a clear goal for your astral journeys.

Begin in a dark, quiet room. Cleanse the room by burning incense (mugwort incense aids in astral travel), diffusing or spraying essential oils, or using a ritual broom to sweep out old energy.

Use your favorite method to ground yourself.

If you are choosing to use a flying ointment, rub it on your skin now.

Hold a protective item in one of your hands. I like physical items for protection during spirit flight, because they can ground you and help you find your way back to your body. Examples of protective items include a sprig of rue, a piece of iron, or a protective crystal like black tourmaline. If you ever feel scared or uncomfortable during your journey, you can bring this object into the astral realm to protect you. It will also keep your body safe while your consciousness is occupied.

Start up your trigger, whether this is drumming, rattling, dancing, etc.

Allow yourself to drift into a trance state, and then to disconnect from your body.

Call your animal guide to you.

Set out on your journey in the spirit world.

When you are ready, feel yourself returning to your physical body. Allow yourself to come back slowly — don’t rush it.

Ground yourself. One good way to ground after astral travel is by eating a snack.

Write down your experiences in a journal.

Resources:

Wicca for Beginners by Thea Sabin

Southern Cunning: Folkloric Witchcraft in the American South by Aaron Oberon

Hedge Riding by Harmonia Saille

“How to Make Herb-Infused Oils for Culinary & Body Care Use” and “How to Make Herbal Salves” from the Mountain Rose Herbs blog

#baby witch bootcamp #baby witch #witchcraft #witch #witchblr #spirit work #spiritual #spirituality #pathworking #astral travel #astral projection #soul flight #hedge riding #spirit flight #magic #magick #pagan #paganism #wicca #wiccan #pagan witch #meditation #long post #mine #my writing

[sichengtual]

— summary: wanting to make his big break as a song-writer, jun gets assigned to work with a band that has every intent on making it big. but it’s the 70’s, and just as he’s about to discover, love and rock&roll go hand in hand.

— pairing: wen junhui x reader.

— au: 70’s, song-writer!jun, rockstar!reader. 

— genre: fluff. 

— word count: 15, 273 (15.2k)

— playlist: somebody to love — queen ;  your song — elton john ; where you lead — carole king ;  tiny dancer — elton john. 

— warnings: alcohol consumption, some cursing, josh saying groovy every time he speaks.

— a/n: a part of me really wishes i was living in the 70′s and i think it shows here lol also, the moonwalker is inspired on the troubadour and the song jun writes is tiny dancer because it carried me the entire way, what an mvp. 

this one’s for @chocosvt​ ! i really hope you like it <3

Jun is nervous. 

The tapping of his feet against the cold, faux tiled floor produces no audible sound over the music coming from the speakers, but it’s still noticeable to him. He tries to keep a steady pace, even counting along to the beat as he plays the same words over and over inside his head. It’s his own voice speaking back at him, words a mere reminder, and, if he were to be completely honest, part of the reason behind his nerves.

He had promised you, on the very first day he met you, that he’d help you shine. That he’d make you succeed. Part a rush of the moment, part wanting to impress his boss and part a reassurance for himself, his promise had been easy to make. Then. And it’s not that he doubts himself, or you, but, at the end of the day, he’s a 24 year old making his debut in the music industry. And it’s hard, of course, because even when he’s not the one performing, it’s still his words that are being sung. 

Doing what he does is harder than people usually think. Jun’s lyrics are heart-felt, authentic, with his entire soul poured on the paper and ready to be dissected by whoever got to listen to the songs he wrote. He surrenders it to the artist, basically giving up any kind and sort of hold he has over the feelings he’s just reflected, giving them away for someone else to interpret them the way they want. The way they can. And as difficult as it is sometimes, it’s part of the job, and all that he can hope for is for them to be interpreted in the most authentic way possible. It’s hard, definitely, but after years and years of trying, he knows that having them expressed are way better than keeping them in.

Following the loud bang of a drum, he looks around as he keeps the pace with his foot. The entire room smells like entrapped smoke, and warm coffee, and it looks somewhat like it too. There’s a thick, almost translucent layer of fog-like smoke hanging on the air, slowly rising to the ceiling as minutes keep passing. There’s also a big arrangement of paper cups, both full and empty, resting on all possible surfaces around him, almost reflecting the passing of time in their placement; 8 in the morning on the desks, 2 in the evening on the equipment luggage, and a few hours past midnight on some parts of the floor. 

The practice room is a dimly-lit space, with a few round, orange and yellow glass lamps hanging on the ceiling and set a few meters apart, barely even enough to illuminate the entire room. In the evening, the last few rays of sunshine manage to break through the high set windows, reflecting on the tinged glass and breaking upon the dark purple walls in bright, warm shades of orange. 

He hasn’t been there a lot, only a few days since he had arrived for the first stop of the tour, but as he sets his eyes on it, he can’t help but think it almost resembles a sunset. He can see the colors, the exact same ones that paint over the sky just as the night is about to fall down, and it serves to help him ease a little bit. Sunsets, even the ones reflected upon the walls of a world tour practice room, are the same all around. 

“Why are you still getting it wrong? It’s all about the groove, man,” Josh whines. He’s sitting on a small wooden stool, his guitar propped up on his knee. 

“I don’t know, Josh, I’m the one that wrote this riff and for some reason I just can’t play it correctly again!”

“Beginner’s luck,” Chan comments, not really involved in the argument, but never one to pass the opportunity to strike a joke. He looks down to tune down his guitar once Mingyu turns to give him a stare. 

“That doesn’t make sense, I’ve been doing this for years.”

“Well, it certainly doesn't seem like it! Just try to make it groovy!”

He’s still getting used to the band. 

They’re a nice group of people; kind, loud and boisterous, but that’s just every band he knows. Having worked in the label for years, he’s used to seeing bands come and go, submitting his songs with no much more room for interaction left other than a Jun, they liked it! coming from his boss on the good days (the bad days are different, a little less remarkable, but they’re the ones he tries not to think about). This, his first time on the road with one of them, is a completely new experience, and if it wasn’t for finally seeing his dream beginning to get on track, it’d be one that would probably have him shaking in fear. 

But they’re warm, laid-back and easy to talk to, which he appreciates, knowing he’s not the best at initiating conversations... or maintaining them. He had felt intimidated at first, looking into a group of rising rock stars from the outlook of someone who’s just as into their world as he’s out of it, standing somewhere between the line that divides the outside and the inside. But he’s entering, just walking in and slowly stepping his toes on the water; and he’s doing it by the side of people he’s glad he can finally get to call his friends. 

“Jun, could you possibly tell Mingyu he’s been playing the wrong note the entire time?” 

“Yeah Josh, I already know I’ve been playing it wrong.” 

“Please stop fighting so we can practice!” Soonyoung says from his spot on the drums, backed up with a nod from Vernon, the bassist looking surprisingly bored at the altercation.

“Can you tell him to play the right note this time? And remember, make it groovy!”

He hadn’t heard the door opening, but you’re walking in the room just he finally tears his gaze from Josh’s bright red guitar. You turn to give him a smile, one he quickly returns, before turning back to the two bickering guitarists. He turns to look at the set playlist, with his name carefully penned down below all fifteen songs, and he tells himself that, despite his nerves, he might just be perfectly ready for the tour to start. 

“Are you okay? You looked a little distracted today.” 

The diner is quiet. 

There’s really not much movement, with only another customer besides him inside the small establishment. He can focus on the clinging of his spoon as he moves it around in his cup, light, creamy bellows of steam rising as the aftermath of the ripples he creates on the dark liquid. The coffee really isn’t great, tasting a bit tangy against his tongue, even after he had added a small packet of sugar to try and ease the bitterness of the beverage. If he focuses enough, he can even make out a light buzz coming from the neon lights advertising the diner in the street, sound low but crisp against the pouring rain. 

It’s cold, and a part of him really regrets coming to the diner straight out of practice without going to his room first. He had just needed to write, and to do that, he needed silence. He runs a hand up and down his left arm, the coolness from his rings perceivable even through the thick wool of his shirt. 

He looks up, the ripples inside his cup long forgotten. 

You’re standing in front of him, looking just as tired as he feels, with a completely different stance than the one you usually show inside the practice room. Or on the stage. It’s relaxed, at ease, a little shy, even, and he can’t help but wonder if, behind the whole rockstar facade, maybe the two of you aren’t really that different. 

You take a seat in the chair in front of him, the laminated red seat squeaking as response to the movement. 

“Huh?” He lets out.

“At practice,” you move, trying to get comfortable in the cold, plastic chair. “You looked a little distracted. Everything okay?”

Jun shrugs, smiling softly. “It’s just nerves, I think.”

It’s not the first time you’ve seen Jun smile, but it’s the first time you’ve seen him smile like that. And, in complete honesty, it was the first time it had been completely directed at you. He had always been a little quiet, ever since he was first introduced as the “new song-writer” by the label director, and, because of the chaos that naturally ensued whenever surrounded by the entire band, your interactions with Jun had been few and far-between. 

Here’s what you’ve managed to learn about him in the months you’ve known him: he likes to be alone when he writes, but he can also do it when sitting as far away from the speakers as possible. He likes drinking his coffee with both sugar and cream, and even if he doesn’t drink too much of it, he always finds a way to spill even a little bit, be it on his shirt or somewhere near his notebook (which has been the cause of many scares inside the practice room). He keeps a pen in his shirt pocket at all times, whether it be for writing down an incoming idea wherever he found or for clicking the seconds away whenever he got nervous. 

And he’s surprisingly shy about his lyrics, even when he sounds completely confident in them. You can tell, whenever you’re given them to sing them, that they are words he’s proud of; words that came from his heart as bits and pieces of the most beautiful poetry you’ve ever read. And they’re always accompanied by a small, shy smile and the slight reddening of his cheeks. 

“I know what you mean,” you say. You call the waiter just as Jun takes a sip from his coffee, not missing the slight purse of his lips as he swallows down the warm beverage. “I’m nervous too.”

“You don’t seem to be,” he comments. He looks back down at his coffee, hand still making circles with the spoon. “Whenever you sing, it’s like you’re completely used to it. It feels as if it were something you’ve always done, something you know like the back of your hand. And still… I don’t know how to explain it. It’s like you’re thrilled by it, even more so every day.” 

Jun looks up at you, hiding his words behind a smile. You don’t notice, too busy ordering a cup of chamomile tea to make anything of the way he’s staring at you from the other side of the table. 

“It’s amazing what putting on a brave face can do, then,” you answer. “I love being on stage. It’s just nerve wracking to think about it when I’m not there. It’s like Mingyu not being able to get his own riff right unless he’s playing in front of a live crowd.” 

“Oh, please don’t remind me of the riff incident. Joshua’s voice hasn’t left my head the entire day.” 

Rain continues falling. You can hear some melody coming from the speakers, which, even when it feels completely unfamiliar, makes Jun’s sway to the side as he rests his head on his hand. Maybe he knows it. 

“I hope it’s not a bad sign,” Jun mentions, pointing to the window with his thumb. “Starting the tour with a little bit of rain.”

“Seungkwan was talking about that earlier, too,” you say, thinking back of the keyboardist’s words from before you left the practice room. “But you know, if anything, I think it might be a good sign.” 

Jun purses his lips, head moving to the side. His fingers move across the table, fiddling with the empty sugar packet he had used. The bright pink paper shines bright against his hands, fluorescent yellow light reflecting from outside. It captures his eyes, and yours, and for a brief second, the both of you are stuck on watching how the packet’s shadow grows whenever Jun moves it around his fingers. It reminds you of him with the pen, a mere distraction. Or maybe just a way for him to set his ideas in order. 

You can tell he’s still a bit hesitant about the interaction, not knowing if they’re nerves at talking about the tour or just nerves at talking to you. As soon as he looks up from his hands, you give him a smile. 

“It’s a bit of a fresh start, isn’t it? And I think, right now, that’s what we all need.”

As much as Jun wants to say he’s not surprised at the turn-out, his eyes are wide open at the influx of people coming through the doors. 

His heart beats loud against his chest as he looks down at the stage, empty of people but perfectly set with an array of instruments that are only waiting to be lit alive. The entire place is full of chatter; the ever-growing excitement of a crowd begging to be enchanted by an unknown performance. Up from his spot at the balcony, he can’t make out what they’re saying but he doesn’t miss how they’re saying it: and the pure excitement in their voices draws a chill from his spine. 

It’s a scene like the ones he’s been hearing about for years. Like the ones he’s been dreaming of witnessing, of being a part of it. And now he’s in one, not only as an spectator, but as the man behind the words. 

“It’s amazing, don’t you think? Or as Josh would say, incredibly groovy.” 

Seungcheol, the band’s manager, asks as he walks into the balcony. Him and Jun went way back, much more than anyone else in their group besides the band themselves. They were the new generation, the young dreamers at the office that were only waiting to be given a shot to prove themselves. They had been hired at the same time, both meant to work with a completely different artist that had ended up not taking them because of how young they were. 

They had built up their experience together, and it had been those late-night talks at the label’s office that made Jun able to call Seungcheol his friend, powered through by cheap coffee and tired conversations full of laughter. And they’re only part of the reason why Jun always refers to Seungcheol as a long-lost brother more than a newly found friend. 

“It’s almost sold out!” Seungcheol continues. He’s wearing a dark pin-stripe suit, as he always is whenever he’s on official business. His hair is slicked back, and his usual pair of gold wire-frame glasses rest on top of his nose, specs perfectly clean. “People keep walking in and walking in and walking in! It’s almost as if they’re the freaking Rolling Stones and not a band barely making their debut. Is that Hoshi or is it Charlie Watts on the drums?”

“It’s the Monday night show, it’s a guaranteed success,” Jun mutters. He knows Seungcheol would be able to see past his facade, to make out the true meaning of his words. Three years after meeting him, there isn’t much he can hide from him. “I’m happy for them, though. The first night’s important.”

“Yeah, me too,” Seungcheol smiles. “Vernon’s been freaking out in the backstage since he started hearing the crowd coming in. He’s just staring at his bass and Hoshi’s about to smack his head with his drumsticks.”

“They’re gonna do amazing. If Mingyu gets his riff right, that is.” 

“And everybody’s gonna love the songs,” Seungcheol says, pressing a gentle palm on Jun’s shoulder. He hadn’t even noticed he was shaking. “If only they knew the stud that wrote them. I bet they’d even like looking at those nice bell bottoms you’re wearing. Since when do you like purple pants?” 

“I bet they’re gonna prefer looking at Mingyu,” Jun laughs before Seungcheol does, and it almost distracts him from his surroundings. “Or even Josh. And Minghao gave me the pants, by the way.”

“Or even Josh,” Seungcheol laughs, shaking his head as he looks away from his friend. 

“Groovy,” Jun says. 

“Groovy,” his friend responds. 

Jun’s nerves have calmed down by the time the lights fall down. 

A half-empty beer bottle looks over the crowd, sitting immediately next to the balcony’s railing. He notices an entirely new atmosphere now that the room is only barely lit, as if the lights falling had only served to heighten the people’s emotions. It’s almost as if they’re in a different place altogether, with expectating hanging high in the air and out of everyone’s reach. 

The Moonwalker they had walked in, just a few hours before, barely resembles the Moonwalker they’re in right now. 

It had been lit by the natural light coming from the windows, bouncing over the wood-covered walls and reflecting over the little trinkets that served to adorn them. They had been the highlight of the place, attracting the eyes of everyone that entered to the rows and rows of pictures and memorabilia. What was that hanging over the bar, Bob Dylan’s hat? Jun had only been more impressed by the bright neon sign that spelled the bar’s name right on the center of the stage, after seeing it on newspaper cuttings for most of his life. 

A few days back, when Seungcheol had told him of the gig they had landed the band through a friend of his girlfriend (bless you Lily!), Jun almost couldn’t believe his words. The bright blue cursive sign had been the first thing that had come to mind, consuming his thoughts as a sort of finish line at the end of a marathon. It wasn’t only the bar’s trademark, it was also the backdrop of some of the most amazing debuts in modern rock n’ roll history. And now, looking at it shining brightly against the low-lit room, a part of him still can’t believe he might be about to see one of them with his own two eyes. 

He had heard of concert nights on the Moonwalker the same way he had heard the stories of the great mythic heroes. He had seen pictures the same way he had learned of iconic places and happenings. He remembers spending entire nights finding motivation in the dream of listening to his songs being played in the exact same place some of his favorite songs had been presented, of them finally finding their home within the same crowd that had once listened to The Byrds and Carole King. 

And as you walk onto the stage, commanding attention with each step, Jun is sure tonight is going to become one of those. And that it’s his songs that will be sung back by the crowd, resounding against the walls and enveloping the entire place in their meaning. 

The band had already been introduced by the club owner, but no one had actually turned to pay attention until you had walked on stage. You’re met by countless excited bellowings, a smile on your face forming at the sudden attention. 

“We hope you enjoy the show!”

The rest of the band follows, and Jun is struck by a thought. Words materialize in his head as if prompted by the first few notes, threading together into a complete, coherent phrase. It’s a phrase Jun knows. He might have heard it from someone, or read it from somewhere, and it’s stuck in his brain the same way the bridge of the song you’re singing once was. Or maybe it was just something someone had once told him. 

He knows that there are moments in an artist’s life that will define their career. Moments that let you know how it's gonna go. A preview of sorts. And he knows, looking at you shining under the spotlight, that he’s just witnessed something big. 

The entire crowd has gone wild at the music, and Jun knows it’s only the beginning. 

For now, he just smiles, and like the people dancing down below, he lets himself go. 

The party is in full-swing by the time Jun walks in. 

The house itself is small, one story and a few rooms that hold a big part of the party-goers. He can tell it’s usually used as a holiday residence, not exactly a place of staying but merely a place of passing, because every single thing that’s visible doesn’t really have a function different from simply looking good. The entire place is covered in small, colorful trinkets that look like they’re part of some random collection that everyone always sees but no one actually ever looks at. 

It’s truly a rock-star’s house, because, really, nothing about it makes sense. 

Countless bookshelves rest against the colorfully draped walls, an array of uneven, colorful wallpapers shining under the light of the multiple glass chandeliers, but not a single book is visible to the eye. The floor itself is a great quality wood, but everything’s hidden below a series of fuzzy rugs that somehow match the randomness of the wallpapers. 

The music changes slightly as he keeps walking, an entire ensemble of genres, styles and decades all the product of a number of record players playing simultaneously all over the house. All of them are playing a completely different thing, but somehow it all blends into one cohesive beat. Jun could go into the technicalities behind it and say it’s probably in the beats per minute, or could maybe go somewhere into the meaning behind the lyrics, but for now, he just lets himself get immersed into the scene. 

The party doesn’t resemble anything he had lived before, or even heard of. And it’s full of people. 

The entire team (band and staff alike) had been invited to an after-party held by some music executive that’s friends with the owner of the club. It happened every monday after the show, they had said, entertaining executives, artists, and club-goers alike. And no one really cared who was which as long as there was music playing all around them. 

“Jesus, is that Billy Joel?” Seungcheol asks as he walks closely behind Jun. The two of them and Minghao, the band’s stylist, had been the last to leave for the party, having to stay behind to finish the last of the arrangements that followed a successful concert at the Moonwalker, with the rest of you leaving with some of the club’s crew. “Guys, I think that’s Billy Jo- jesus, he’s talking to Chan and Seungkwan.”

“Of course he’d be talking to Chan and Seungkwan, they probably went right to him when they saw him,” Minghao says. “Hey, can you see Vernon around?”

“He’s probably sitting somewhere next to the drinks or something. Or maybe he’s outside, I think there’s a live band playing somewhere out there,” Jun comments.

“Damn, should’ve booked us too for that, right?” Seungcheol says, laughing with the words.

“Don’t you rather just enjoy the party and forget about performing for a bit?” Minghao questions. Out of the corner of his eye, Jun can see Seungkwan and Chan walking away from the group of people they had been talking to, probably on their way outside for some fresh air. “The guys seem to be having a great time. Let go for a bit, Cheol! Let’s enjoy this whole rockstar life even if it’s just for tonight!”

He can hear Mingyu’s laugh coming from somewhere nearby, even if his eyes can’t locate the tall guitar player. He’s surprised he can hear him, with how low his laugh usually is and how high the music is playing, but once Seungcheol points him out in the crowd, he’s only a few steps away. He’s entertaining a large group of people, with Joshua smiling by his side, the both of them holding two glasses of what looks like beer. 

It’s no surprise the two of them would like to be around the growing crowd, with how easily they seem to be able to strike a conversation with whoever walks by. He had known them to be sociable, in comparison with some like Vernon, Minghao or himself. It’s still a bit surprising, though, how in control they seem to be of a conversation held with people they probably didn’t know five minutes ago. 

“I’m gonna go find us something to drink,” Seungcheol says, patting Jun on the back before walking away with Minghao closely following his steps. 

And Jun is left alone. Still, in a house full of people, he sticks his hands in the front bottom of his purple jeans. They had really been Minghao’s suggestion, along with the slick yellow button up and a pair of red boots. It was comfy, and Seungcheol had assured him he really did look good, so he hadn’t dwelled much on it when leaving the hotel room. 

He debates joining Mingyu and Joshua’s crowd for a second, but the growing scent of tobacco and beer has him making his way to the door after he raises his hand in a greeting. Josh manages to signal him to the backyard before Jun leaves, and he wonders whether he’s simply pointing in the direction of the live band, or Vernon, or you. 

As he walks outside, bumping bodies with a never-ceasing crowd, he discovers it’s the later. The outside of the house is just as impressive as the inside, or, as he finds once he begins to look around, even more. 

The entire yard (or at least the part that’s closest to the house) has been decked in continuous rows of fairy lights, hanging from the trees like a mere reproduction of the constellations shining up above. There are at least five campfires, all surrounded by people holding guitars or dancing along to the songs being played by a live band nearby. Their silhouettes are reflected on the ground, a product of the blazing fire, and it’s almost like they’re dancing with the people themselves, more than being a plain reflection of them. 

It’s almost like a scene taken right out of a move, only livelier than any he could ever think of. 

Jun finds you with your back against a tree, sitting cross-legged on a furry carpet, completely enthralled in the music. There’s a series of carpets draped all over the grass, the exact same kind he saw inside, completing the part of the scene that connects both places. As he walks over to you, he wonders where the rest of the band is, with you being alone in the backyard, until he sees Seungkwan and Chan, still hanging close together, sitting a few feet away with what he assumes is another group. A part of him is thankful at the seeming privacy, finding a bit odd how comfortable he is in the middle of a growing crowd when just a few minutes ago he had felt overwhelmed by the loneliness behind it. But then he turns to look at you, smiling carelessly even with your eyes closed, and he knows it’s not a product of the environment.

It's because of you.

“I just wanted to say congratulations,” Jun says, making sure to fall as carefully as possible as he sits down next to you. “Tonight was amazing. Truly, got me tearing up at all.”

“You’ve got your own lyrics to thank for that, mister,” you say, followed by a laugh. You’re still in your concert outfit, although wearing a pair of sneakers as opposed to the platform shoes that had been paired up with the colorful overalls. “I’m pretty sure you weren’t the only one tearing up tonight. I think Hoshi even cried a bit himself.”

“He probably cried at the crowd making tiger claws back at him more than he did at the lyrics.” 

“Yeah, Vernon told him not to do it but he did it anyway!”

“Where are those two, by the way?”

“Somewhere next to where the band is playing,” you answer. You close your eyes as you speak, resting your back against the tree. “I just wanted to get away from everything. Sometimes it’s fun to just observe from a distance.”

“I know what you mean. I’ve been looking at life from a distance for so long, sometimes I forget what it is to actually be living it. I guess it makes for some interesting lyrics though, so it’s been kind of worth it, at least in that way,” Jun says, smiling at you even when you don’t see him. He moves closer to you as he hugs his knees to his chest, feeling the top of your shoulder brush against his. “I think coming with you guys on tour might change that.”

“It’s the rock-star life, huh?” You smile, and Jun can’t help but notice it’s a mirroring of his own smile. In some way, it looks just as vulnerable. He looks away when he feels his cheeks heat up. “You know, you’re much different from what I thought you were when I used to see you at the office.” 

“Different how?”

“I don’t know. I just know I really like talking to you. Every day, I really look forward to being around you,” you laugh, and when he turns to look back at you, you’re finally looking at him again. “You’re a breath of fresh air, Wen Junhui.”

“Says the rock-star,” he laughs. He’s smiling, holding his knees as close to his chest as he can manage as he tries to hide his fluester in his body language. Not that it’s working, anyways. “I’m just some guy.”

“You’re the most interesting guy I’ve ever met.”

You shake your head, and by the way your eyes set on the sky, Jun isn’t completely sure if you’re talking to him or if you’re simply talking to the stars, trying to set your story in the skies for the entire world to see. It makes him smile even wider, anyways. 

“I wonder which one shines brighter. From down here, they look almost the same. But maybe it’s just the distance that taints our perspective,” you mutter, pointing to the lights on the trees. 

“I’d like to think it’s the stars,” Jun comments. “When I was a kid, I always enjoyed watching them. I’d find patterns and have them in my head for weeks as a sort of picture out of a coloring book. Somehow, the stars always seemed to have the answers to every single question that would run through my head, even when miles away.”

“You speak like that and call yourself ‘some guy’,” you laugh. “It’s always poetry coming out of your lips, and I’d listen to every single bit of it.”

The conversation stops, but silence never envelops the both of you, because there is music all around. And there are people dancing, so when you lose focus on each other and gian it in your surroundings, their movement is everything you see. It’s almost as if they’re dancing for the two of you to watch, and neither of you notice the moment your head comes to rest in Jun’s shoulder, way too immersed in a ballet of silhouettes to make anything out of the sudden movement. 

“I hope tonight was good,” you say. “It felt different from other nights, and I don’t know what it was. I’ve never felt that way when performing at home. It felt almost magical, standing there, under the limelight, in front of all those people. Maybe it’s just me, though.” 

Jun shakes his head, muttering a soft no as an answer. You turn to look at each other when he starts speaking, still as close as before. But now he gets to look at you as he speaks. 

“I can’t begin to imagine what you must have felt. I’m not familiar with that side of the gig,” he says, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible. Somehow, the beer he had drank back at the club was still making his blood run wild through his veins, cheeks reddening at the eye contact. “I wish you could’ve seen it from my eyes. Listened to it through my ears, felt what I felt the moment you started singing. I’ve never seen you shine any brighter.”

"You’ve been attending our concerts long enough. Well,if the fifteen person presentations back home even count as concerts.”

“I’ve been to all of your concerts,” he laughs. “And believe me, tonight was really special.” 

“It’s the Moonwalker’s magic,” you say, and Jun turns to look at you. “You saw the place, it was special. It made it special.”

And he doesn’t know if it’s the effect of the lights shining above your head, or the remaining adrenaline coursing through his veins, but he’s sure he can hear his heart beating against his chest. He can hear it over the loud music, thumping so hard his mind goes blank, falling closer to you as he begins to lean in. 

Because even when far away from the Moonwalker, he’s still smiling the same. He feels just as happy, somewhere in the backyard of a stranger’s house. The place is special, for sure, but only as much as you made it. 

“It wasn’t the Moonwalker that was magical. It was you.”

And you can hear him, because even when the world around you is spinning completely out of order, his smile is still front and center in your eyes. He’s smiling at you and everything else only but circles around it. 

As a new song starts playing from a record player far away, Jun kisses you under a thousand fairy lights. You’re still not sure of which one shines brighter -the artificial lights or the stars high above- but as Jun’s hand finds yours over your lap, you decide you don’t really care. 

A part of you would really like to think nothing had changed after the kiss. 

In reality, the two of you had been so flustered he had ran back to Seungcheol and Minghao while you went to find Vernon and Hoshi, refusing to say anything about the moment to any of them. It was part of some unofficial and unspoken deal, sealed with only a look, sparing the both of you of any kind of conversation immediately afterwards. It had been a product of the moment, of adrenaline and slight tipsiness combined with a romantic scenery, and nothing else. 

That’s what you told yourself the entire night, even when questioned by Seungkwan about the sudden giddiness in your smile and the change in your gaze, slightly unfocused on the world in front of you, as if something more important was playing inside your head. As if that something was the memory of the feeling of Jun’s lips against yours, leaving your skin tingling as an aftermath of his touch. As if that something had been the way he had smiled at you right after, looking as if the affection you’d just shared was as unbelievable to him as it was to you. 

In all honesty, Jun’s kiss was more than one of the many that were shared that night by the people around you. It wasn’t just a product of the moment, of adrenaline and slight tipsiness combined with a romantic scenery, because the way you had looked at each other just before your lips connected had been a long time coming. That was the product of months of unknown pining; of you looking for him as soon as you entered the office, and of him not being able to take his eyes off you as soon as he saw you walking by. It was a product in the exchange that came with you singing for the world the words he had shared with you in messy scribbles over coffee-stained paper, something about the entire thing feeling growingly intimate the thought ran through your head. 

Because even when he wasn’t writing songs for you, or about you, he still trusted you with them. In your eyes, that was worth more than him signing one of them with your name on top of the page for everyone to see. And while you were sure it wasn’t an act of love (or at least not yet), you couldn’t deny it always opened the door for that possibility to walk in. Or for you to walk towards it, at least. Just like his songs, and for months on end, Jun had always been there. 

Well, at least up until the night he kissed you. 

You weren’t sure if it was intentional or fate making a cruel joke out of your feelings, but Jun had been avoiding you. As much as he could be avoiding you in the span of a few hours, at least. 

“Wanna sit with me on the bus?” 

You can’t really tell what Vernon’s wearing. He’s sitting next to you on the curb in front of the bus, a pair of sparkly sunglasses resting atop of his nose. He’s wearing a yellow hat that matches the color of his shoes, but that doesn’t really go with any of the other pieces of his outfit. 

“Aren’t you gonna sit with Hao?” 

“Ah, I don’t know,” Vernon drinks from a styrofoam cup he has on his hand. It’s the same as yours, so it’s probably to-go coffee from the hotel’s restaurant. “He’s been trying to talk about some outfit ideas he had during the concert last night. He called it a revelation or something. I’m pretty sure Seungkwan could be of more use to that conversation than me.”

You don’t really want to sit with Vernon. And it’s not that you don’t enjoy his company, because out of everyone in the band, he’s always been the one you’re closest to. But somehow, you know sitting next to Vernon will prevent you from any chances of even talking to Jun in the next six hours until you reach the next spot. You’re not sure if he’s even actually avoiding you, but you don’t really want to be correct. 

“Are you kidding? You wear this kind of outfits and you think you don’t have a sense of fashion? Vern, if anything, you’ve always been the Mick Jagger amongst all of us.” 

“Okay, those stage outfits were chosen by Minghao, it wasn’t really me putting together those suits and - whatever he has me wearing all the time.” 

You roll your eyes, playfully. 

“Although, I guess I could use this chance to keep him from putting me in another sparkly overall like the one from last night.”

“But you were such a star! It looked pretty nifty if you ask me.” 

“Keep going and I’ll tell him to find the most ridiculous hats for our next concert, just you wait!”

The rest of the band starts walking out of the hotel, Chan’s laughter pulling your attention from Vernon. As they walk next to you, you decide to ignore Hoshi’s tiger print overalls and Mingyu’s conversation of how he had met and talked to George Harrison at the party once Joshua had walked away from him.

“I don’t believe George Harrison would ever like to be entertained by your presence, Gyu. There were definitely groovier people to be around last night.”

“It’s not my fault you decided talking to Seungcheol was more important than stickin’ around, we literally see the guy every day.”

“Hey, I’m your manager!” Seungcheol wines from the hotel door, walking behind a groggy Seungkwan.

“Yeah, we literally see you every day,” Mingyu retorts. He has one foot on the bus steps, only turning to argue with the eldest. “Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing you so often, with all your random hair-do’s.”

“Can it and get in, we’re late anyways. Everyone keep steppin’!”

“The only reason we’re late is because you couldn’t stop talking to your girlfriend on the phone,” Mingyu lets out before climbing in, somehow managing to avoid getting yelled at yet again. 

You get up after Vernon, following him into the bus as soon as Mingyu, Josh and Seungcheol had gotten in. You’d seen Seungkwan, Hoshi and Chan passing by, and quickly found them sitting together near a small kitchen area. 

The bus itself isn’t much different from others you’ve seen, with rows of faux leather seats set one after the other along the central aisle. All the way to the back there’s an area with what looks like a small bed, a door leading to a tight bathroom and a small kitchen space consisting of two cabinets and a microwave. And every single thing is either muted yellow or a dark orange, making the entire espace look probably smaller than it actually is. It’s comfortable enough, though. 

“Hey, Vern, come here,” Minghao calls from one of the seats. He’s resting his back against the window, with his feet on the couch and his knees pulled close to his chest. A small notepad rests on top of them, having only looked up from his sketches to greet the bassist. “Let me show you what I’ve been thinking of. I swear, the setting of the Moonwalker gave me so much clarity on what I want to put all of you guys in for the rest of the tour.” 

“Hao, give Josh a groovy Bob Dylan inspired hat!” 

“You wear the damn Bob Dylan inspired hat if you want, see how groovy it looks on your head.” 

Vernon looks at you to give you a small smile before sitting down next to Minghao as you walk past, stealing one of Hoshi’s snacks before plopping down on the seat behind him. You shift in your seat, hearing the slick material of the seat squeaking against the courness of your jeans. You quickly look at the small smiling daisies Minghao had painted with black markers all over the light surface, making for an interesting pattern when looked at from far away. Your fingers trace over the figures as you rest your head on the window, closing your eyes until you feel someone coming to sit right next to you. You had quickly placed your book on the seat when sitting down, but you find it on top of Jun’s lap as you see it’s him who’s by your side. 

“What an interesting thing to be reading!” He exclaims, looking at the beat up copy of On The Road. “You’re a Kerouac fan?” 

“You’ve read Kerouac?” You ask. 

Jun smiles. “Of course not,” he says, before breaking into a laugh. He doesn’t give you the book back, but turns it to read the back cover. “Read to me? It will keep us both entertained.” 

Without focusing too carefully on it, you can hear the distinct crisp sound of Joshua’s guitar coming from the front of the bus, and can make out the first notes of the Stairway to Heaven solo. It sounds better than you’ve heard him play, most likely the product of constant practice. But it all disappears when you turn to look at Jun. 

Smiling at you, Jun lets you straighten up on your seat before placing his head on your shoulder as he hands you the copy. You’re surprised by how familiar it feels, and feel your lips curling up at the memory of doing the exact same thing the night before. 

And you know that things have changed from the kiss, because now you’re not able to ignore the feeling in your chest that arises when Jun takes your hand in his. And you can only wonder if he feels the same, because he lets out a soft sigh the minute you tighten the grip, nuzzling his cheek against the fuzzy fabric of your corduroy jacket. 

Smiling at his touch, your eyes start glazing over the print as you begin to read. 

“I first met Dean not long after my wife and I split up…”

The dinner lounge of the second hotel is much fancier than the first one. 

The entire place looks like it’s been draped in velvet, every single ridge looking as smooth as a crease in the fabric. There’s a combination of wooden panels and wall-height mirrors adorning the walls, only interrupted by the golden frames of the windows. A dome rises on the center of the center, a thousand red roses painted in a mosaic of tinted glass, while the rest of the ceiling is covered in the exact same wood as the walls. The tables are all draped in expensive looking tablecloths, placed carefully under meticulously set tableware, and they’re accompanied by tufted chairs, all of them in matching red. The dark colors in the scheme makes the entire place look dim, despite all the chandeliers shining bright against up above the clients’ heads. There are candles decorating the tables, along with fresh roses matching the ones in the dome, but they serve more as a simple ambiance decoration than an actual light source.

And, even though the city they had been in had been just as big as the one they’re in now, and the budget had not changed in the slightest, the shiny grand piano that sits at the center of the small wooden stage at the back of the restaurant had caught Jun’s eyes as soon as you had walked in for dinner. 

It was supposed to be a group dinner, but Mingyu, Chan and Minghao had gone sight-seeing, Vernon had fallen asleep and Seungcheol had stayed back in his room to rest (and, probably, talk to his girlfriend on the phone while eating something from the room service). At the end, it’s dinner of five instead of a dinner of ten, and while it would have been nice to share it with everyone, the company you had was more than enough. 

“This place is groovy! Oh, Seungcheol went all out with this hotel,” Josh exclaims as you sit down at a table neighboring the windows, all five of you immediately drawn to the exterior scene. “I’d say he did an excellent job booking if it weren’t for the fact I’m rooming with Hoshi.”

“Hey!” The younger exclaims. “I’ll have you know I’m an excellent roommate. Best you’ll ever have, you’ll see.” 

“Yeah, I’ll start thinking that once you pick up your dirty socks from the floor after taking them off, that’s not groovy at all.”

“Jesus, can we not talk about Hoshi’s dirty socks while at the table, that’s fucking gross.”

“You’re just overreacting, and please just stop saying groovy,” Soonyoung says, rolling his eyes and picking up the pastel pink menu from the table, locking his eyes on the cardboard. “Anyways, this one burger looks way too nifty to pass it up.”

“I was thinking of ordering the same thing,” Seungkwan says, closing the menu. 

“Have you seen the kind of restaurant we’re in? Order a pasta, or a salad, not a plain burger, go with the groove.” 

“Do you think we’re Seungcheol, Joshua? If you had asked for his card like we told you, maybe we’d be buying pasta and wine for the five of us without you having to tell us about it!”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re scary when you’re angry?” Joshua asks, probably deciding on a burger as well as he imitates Seungkwan and places the menu back on the table. 

“Only sometimes,” Soonyoung responds, smiling. 

You’re not listening to their argument, though, with your chin resting over your hand and your gaze lost somewhere in the movement of a stranger. 

It’s funny how being in a completely different country, in a city a million miles away, there’s some sense of familiarity behind simply watching people walking by. You’re not sure if it’s just the mere action, or maybe a combination of the movement in a similarly urban setting, with the lights reflecting upon the crowd as a sort of kaleidoscopic filter, but it never feels entirely too different. 

“Do you want to play a game?” Jun asks, whispering right into your ear. He’s leaning close to your body, sitting between you and Joshua. You can make out the scent of his cologne as he scoots even closer to you to point to a stranger outside the window. “Like when we counted the number of headlights on the highway on our way here.”

You nod, words suddenly stuck on your throat as soon as you see Seungkwan looking at the both of you. Because truly, it was oh so very easy to get lost in the moment whenever Jun was around, and the thought has you smiling as soon as you notice. It’s oh so very easy to get lost in him. 

“Okay, we’ll make it interesting. Whoever wins buys the other a cherry cola!” he says, his voice still sounding just as soft. If he’s aware of Seungkwan’s stare, he doesn’t show it. Or maybe he just doesn’t care. “Let's spot all the people that look like they’re dressed by Minghao after looking at the Moonwalker, starting… now!”

But his words have you laughing, so deeply you can feel it in your chest as you throw your head back. He looks at you, a care-free smile etched all over your face, and he can’t resist the laugh that forms at the center of the stomach, completely imitating your actions as the rest of the guys simply observe. And it’s amazing, because somehow, you have found just enough comfort in the presence of each other to be able to forget about everyone else. It’s not shy smiles and nervous laughs when in public, but full on grins and bursts of laughter. 

The thing no one notices though, completely distracted by the boisterous laugh, is Jun placing his hand on your thigh under the table, thumb moving in delicate circles against the fabric of your jeans. He doesn’t spare a second thought on it, finding way too much comfort in your closeness to make it a conscious action. And you aren’t even surprised on how natural his touch feels by now, because, somehow, it feels like coming home. 

Or maybe they do, but they just smile at the sight. There’s something enthralling about watching two people falling in love, bit by bit, gesture by gesture. It’s a tell behind the warmth of a smile and the fondness of a look, and while it’s not entirely common, it’s too beautiful to disrupt. 

“Josh, have you really been looking at your reflection this entire time?” 

It’s late, and everyone but you and Jun have left the restaurant by the time the piano player arrives.

You’ve long since finished your meal, having shared a large plate of spaghetti and meatballs after Jun had said he wasn’t even that hungry anyways. You had ordered two cups of coffee and a shared berry panna cotta, way too lost in making conversation about everything and anything to actually notice the passing of time. In reality, it’s only when the coffee has run cold and the musician has started playing that you notice an hour has passed since the guys had left for their rooms. 

The song is not one you recognize, but apparently does, judging from the movement of his fingers against the table. He’s looking at the musician while he runs his fingers on the tablecloth like it’s some sort of invisible piano, making sure to get every single movement right in a tempo that perfectly matches the one that’s being played. You’re not sure if he notices, but his body has begun to sway ever so slightly, somehow matching the movement of his fingers.

The place is the same, yet it feels like a completely different one, even when the only thing that has changed is the music. It’s almost atemporal, like it could be night and day at the exact same time, as if it was simply something out of a dream. 

“Do you know this song?” 

Jun nods. He keeps his eyes on the musician, and a part of you wonders if it’s because he wishes that were him. 

“Yeah, it’s one of my favorites,” he answers, smiling. “I used to play it when I was growing up, back when I was learning. I remember how excited my parents were when I finally got the movements right after years of practice. I guess a part of their excitement that day was a part of what made me fall so in love with music that I decided it was what I wanted to do with my life.” 

“How did you learn to play the piano? Seungcheol says you’re really good, and yet, you’ve never played with me around.”

“My mom’s a piano teacher. She used to give classes at this one prestigious school in our neighborhood, and I would hide behind the kitchen door and listen whenever she had a student,” Jun says. “I always liked how it sounded, so one night I just sat down on the piano and started playing. My mom started giving me classes the very next day.” 

“And what about composing? How did that start?” 

You had ordered a refill for your coffee and drink from your cup as Jun starts talking. 

“I don’t know, maybe with school, or maybe just with books in general. I was always dreaming, thinking about stories. Sometimes I couldn’t get the ones I was learning about out of my mind, and before I knew it, there were so many scenarios being born in my head that I simply had no idea what to do with them.” 

“So you started writing them.” 

Jun nods. “After some time, they started turning into songs. I would be looking at the lyrics and would suddenly start hearing a certain tune playing from the back of my mind. It was only a matter of time until I realized what I kept writing were songs rather than just tales, and they started meaning something more to me. Music makes the world go round, but it’s the lyrics that give it meaning.” 

“Said like a true poet,” you say, a soft laugh leaving your lips as you raise your cup to then once more. “I can tell your lyrics mean a lot to you. I know it probably sounds a bit silly, but I can feel it, you know? The emotion behind them. The words come alive before they’re even in my mouth.”

“Sometimes I can’t really tell what I’m feeling until I turn it into a song. The words come from a place so deep inside I can’t reach them on my own, but have to turn onto a pen and a piece of paper to know what they are,” he finally looks away from the musician. He’s still smiling, softly, gently. “It's a little weird. They feel both so deeply personal yet completely different from myself, as if the Jun that exists in the songs is a completely different person from the Jun in the real world.”

You fall quiet. You try to make sense of Jun’s words in your head as he reaches to grab a hold of your hand, but they’re way too beautiful, too meaningful, for you to tamper with. So you feel your heart grow warm at the passion behind them, looking at the man in front of you like he had just painted the stars upon the night sky. 

“Will you dance with me?” 

“Jun, no one is dancing.” 

“And when have you let that stop you?”

Setting the napkin over the table, Jun gets up from his seat. He stretches his arm out at you, offering his hand, his silver rings reflecting the light upon its touch. And he looks at you, eyes sparkling brighter than ever under the restaurant’s delicate lightning, completely absorbed in the way your body imitates his movements.

You let Jun lead you through the sea of tables, all the way to where the little stage is located. There’s a small space that has been left between the stage and the neighboring tables, and you wonder if maybe dancing is what it’s meant for, despite not being used for it. But Jun is quick to replace your thoughts until they’re only about him, pulling you close to his chest and letting his hand rest against your waist. 

“Just focus on me and I’ll focus on you,” he whispers, moving to talk right against your ear. “Hold me a bit closer and forget about everything else.” 

Pulled flush against his frame, you let your hands fall on his back, closing your eyes as you allow him to sway you to the rhythm of the music. He moves in a way that almost has you wondering if maybe you are flying, but you’re not sure if it’s because of his dancing or if it’s just because it’s him. 

You recognize the song the minute Jun starts singing the words. It’s soft, so much you wouldn’t have heard him if you hadn’t been standing so close to him, basically hugging him flush against yourself. It’s Love Is (The Tender Trap) by Frank Sinatra, and you smile at the similarity between the lyrics and the feeling in your stomach. 

He gives you a twirl and it’s like there are a thousand butterflies flying within you, knowing there really is no getting out, because there is no denying something that manages to make you feel so wonderful. He smiles at you and you’re sure you’re falling in love with Wen Junhui, thinking of the way his kiss had made you tingle once upon a starry night. 

“Keep on steppin’, you’re falling behind!” 

Jun laughs, turning back to face you. The breeze ruffles his hair as he moves, thin strands falling onto his forehead. The sky is a bright blue and the sun is shining with all its might, but Jun’s light blue button up and beige bell-bottoms still rustle in the wind. 

“It’s not my fault you walk that fast,” you say, quickening your pace to catch up with him. He moves smoothly as you meet him, circling your waist with his arm and holding you next to him as you walk. 

“Ah, that’s more like it,” he mumbles as he resumes his walk. His pace is not as fast, looking so much more at ease as he looks around at his surroundings. 

It had been Jun’s idea to spend your free day walking around the city, after Mingyu and the rest of his expedition crew had talked about their experience over breakfast. Some of the other guys had left earlier, excited about going to whatever stores they had seen on the bus before reaching the hotel, leaving you and Jun to simply stroll around and see what you find. 

“This is nice,” he mentions. “It’s been a while since I felt this relaxed.” 

“It’s nice you can feel relaxed in the middle of a tour,” you say, giggling. “But I get what you mean, having a break in the schedule, even if we’re only starting.”

“I think you’re the only rockstar I’ve met that actually uses the word schedule in their daily vocabulary.”

“Yeah, but that’s because I’m the only ‘rockstar’ you’ve met. I mean, besides… Seungkwan. Honestly, he’s the most rockstar material out of all of us.”

“Okay, Barbra Streisand.”

“You have not met Barbra Streisand!” 

“In my dreams.”

“Oh, I didn’t know those counted.”

The boulevard is lively. There’s people strolling up and down on both sides of the street, very much like you and Jun, with their pace and actions revealing there’s not much hurry behind their walks. Cars of all models and colors drive through the street, your walk having a varied background orchestra composed of revving engines, passing conversations and the occasional music that was audible from the entrance of some business. It made for the typical city noise, not much different from the one at home, but somehow perfectly fitting for the particularities of the sight. 

The two of you walk while holding the other, occasionally bumping shoulders with some other pedestrian when not paying particular attention. There’s truly not much on either of your minds behind the wonder of getting to know yet another city and enjoying the warmth of a sunny Thursday evening in each other’s company.

“Is there anything you wanna do?” Jun asks, slowing down his pace but not completely stopping. 

“Not right now,” you answer. “We could stop somewhere for a soda or something later, if you want. You know, since you won yesterday and all.” 

“Let’s go in here, then,” Jun says, moving his hand from your waist to your hand, softly pulling on you to the side. 

You quickly follow him as he walks inside one of the stores, never losing the grip on his hand. The front is small, walls painted red and a bright purple signboard hanging over the glass doors, reading Vintage Records and Books, along with a few music notes that look hand drawn over the surface in multiple colors. There are crates full of books and vinyls, the covers of all of them a bit faded by the sun or scraped over the passage of time. At a first glance you can identify some Johnny Cash copies alongside the assorted records, what must have been a bright green cover now looking surprisingly muted. 

And once you walk inside, the interior is just as lively as the outside. The place is covered in shelves, littered with books on one side of the store and with records in the other, with small placards dividing the shelves and categorizing the products. You can tell it’s a wide variety, with hundreds upon hundreds of colorful covers composing a contrast with the burnt purple of the walls. There are horizontal lines painted all across the walls in a bright green and an almost creamy white, which is replicated in a triangle patterned rug of the exact same colors, resting in the middle of the store. 

Among the shelves, there’s an assortment of indoor plants hanging from the ceiling in bright green ceramic pots, along with a few small trees located between some of the shelves themselves. On the rare vacant spaces in the walls there are band posters or book quotes, some of them autographed and some of them pasted one over the other with washed out tape. 

It feels oddly warm inside the shop, and you wonder if it’s merely because of the way the light breaks in from the tall windows up front. There’s a faint scent of flowers that reaches your nose as soon as you walk in, mixing in with the smell of paper and wood. And it’s heavenly.

“Hey, welcome!” Says someone from behind the bright pink counter. He looks around Jun’s age, with a long mane of dark brown hair that goes below his shoulders. He’s wearing a black hat and a green jacket, grinning at the two of you over the pages of a magazine. “Let me know if you see something you’re down with!” 

“It smells nice in here,” Jun tells you, but he must have spoken loud enough for the man to hear, because his grin grows in size. 

“Thanks, it’s home-made potpourri! I make it myself when there aren’t as many customers coming in,” he says, gesturing to a few jars displayed on a small counter. A few minutes ago, you wouldn’t think it was actually possible for someone to smile so big. “It’s for sale too, and it works really well on large spaces! Looks pretty groovy when it’s on display, if I do say so myself.” 

Jun smiles back, walking over to one of the tall stands where a bright orange sign announces a deal on the records.

“Oh, if you buy one of those, you can take a book from this bin right here for free,” the man says. You can’t make out the letters in his name tag from a distance, but you’re almost sure they start with an S. “You can try them out on that player over there, see if it’s nifty. They’re all second hand, but the quality’s off the hook.” 

You look around as Jun’s fingers graze over the records, flicking them so quick you’re not sure if he’s actually reading the title before discarding them. You hadn’t noticed the man had a record playing in the turntable he had signaled to, quickly recognizing the guitar solo of Jimi Hendrix’s Love or Confusion. 

“Hey, wanna get this Bob Dylan one for Josh? See if he likes the hat?” Jun asks, holding a record in his hand without turning back at you. “Maybe there’s a Kerouac book in that bin you can take with you. You know, for the next bus ride - oh, this one’s groovy!”

“Oh, of course you’d pick a Barbra Streisand record.”

“Yeah, she’s my best friend!” Jun giggles. “You know, besides from you. And Seungcheol, but he doesn’t really count.” 

“I’ll keep your secret, don’t worry. He won’t know you like me better.”

“A lot better.” 

You spend hours browsing the shop, laughing at the silly jokes made by the cashier (whose name is Seokmin) and talking about pasts spent together and pasts spent apart, conversations sewn together by a smile. You had even slow-danced to a couple Elvis songs, all while resting your head against Jun’s chest as Seokmin clapped at the two of you for, as he had said it, resembling a romantic scene from one of his favorite movies. 

And you’re not surprised at how familiar it feels, because in the last few days, Jun had come to mean much more to you than anything you could have ever thought. If you were as much of a hopeless romantic as he was, you’d even think it’s because your conexion runs even deeper than the simple process of falling for a friend, but you merely smile as the thought begins to form inside your head. And you laugh at how much it sounds like one of his songs. 

Because there’s as much beauty in the way he smiles as there is in the way it makes you feel. 

The sun’s beginning to set by the time you and Jun leave the record shop. The wind has gotten colder and the breeze has grown stronger, but as Jun tugs you close to his side, you don’t think you’ve ever felt warmer. 

He’s holding just as many records as you’re holding books, letting you make all the picks from the bin once he had purchased his vinyls, along with a jar of Seokmin’s home-made potpourri. 

His hand searches for yours as soon as you step outside.

“Can’t believe we’re almost there.”

The walk back to the hotel is surprisingly quick. 

Jun had been humming the melody to a song Seokmin had played back when you were at the shop, adding a slight bounce to his step as the pitch in his voice rose and fell with the beat of the song. He had smiled the entire way back, occasionally stopping his hum to point at the colors in the sky or their effects on your shadows on the ground, never failing to look at the smaller details that worked together in one beautiful, cohesive picture. 

But it still feels so much quicker than it had been the other way around, almost seems shorter, as if it had been a different path altogether.

Maybe it’s because you’re not as distracted by the storefront and the other passerbys, or maybe it’s just the feeling of bathing in the setting sun when making your way back that somehow makes the entire thing seem shorter. Jun had stopped to get a pair of pastries and two cups of coffee at a small bakery you hadn’t noticed earlier but went unaverted once the signs lit up, which now await inside a small paper bag and in two paper cups, respectively. As you sip from one of the cups, you think it’s the best coffee you’ve had in a long while. 

Jun suggests yet another game on the way back, making you smile as he tries to locate every single red platform shoe worn by a woman over 5’0”, which, surprisingly, aren’t really that many. And you should have guessed from the moment he had said it, but he was just trying to let you win (because, after all, he had won the last two games and just had to pay the coke back). 

“Ah, you’re getting lucky with your pick!” 

“You were the one that chose what we’d look for!” 

“Just let it be our secret,” he says, turning to wink in your direction. 

You can feel the coolness of the breeze nipping at your nose when you finally reach the hotel, walking through the glass doors with Jun following close behind. He still hasn’t let go of your hand. 

“Do you want to get dinner?” You ask. You can smell the sugar and the cinnamon from the pastries, and your mouth begins to water. “There’s this other pasta dish on the menu that sounds just as good as the one we had yesterday.” 

Jun purses his lips, giving a slight squeezing to your hand. “Let’s get room service, I want to show you something.” 

He starts walking towards the elevator, moving slowly and letting you admire the pastel green lobby in all of its glory. There’s some faint jazz music playing as you walk through the lobby, which you hadn’t noticed until then. A big tree rises from the center of the room, matching some smaller ones that are perched next to the deep green tufted couches and complimenting the flower arrangements that have been used as decorations in both the small coffee tables and the bar at the reception. It’s a slightly different vibe than the one from the dining hall, but somehow, both of them look just as fancy. 

“What is it?” You ask. 

“You’ll see.”

“Can I get a clue?”

“No, you’re going to help me finish it.”

“Please don’t tell me you also collect those freaky deaky puzzles Chan likes to put together in his free time.”

Jun giggles, shaking his head as you reach the elevator. “Ew, the anatomy ones? No, no way.” 

The way up to Jun’s room is spent with him trying to guess the elevator music by singing random lyrics and seeing which one sounds best. Not that he got a single one right, but it was certainly entertaining to watch him try. When you finally reach the 10th floor, Jun is singing the lyrics to Cher’s Where Do You Go to a jazz melody very much similar to the one from the lobby, and you’re sure he’s only doing it to make you smile. 

“Bienvenue to my humble abode,” Jun mutters as he opens the door to his room, making sure to bow down and open his arm to signal the room, completing the entire gesture with a short giggle. “I escaped having Hoshi as a roommate so I have the room all to myself.” 

“And you have Seungkwan’s piano,” you mention as you walk inside, pointing to the small electronic piano that was carefully positioned next to the window. “Does he know?”

“No, I stole it from the van last night,” he answers, laughing and plopping onto the bed. “Oh, I’m so tired!”

The room is not too different from yours; a muted orange wallpaper matching the fuzzy carpet. Both twin beds in Jun’s room are covered in a dandelion yellow duvet, one of them holding all of his luggage while Jun rests on the other one (the one he must have slept in last night, closest to the window). There’s a small television on the vanity, the box a combination of bright beige plastic and faux wood, surprisingly going along with the white lamps that stand on both sides of it. 

“What is it that you wanted to show me?” You ask, coming to sit in one of the chairs next to the vanity. They’re big, tufted, and the color matches with the one of the duvets. The chair is not the most comfortable, but as long as the bed is, you don’t really have to worry about it. 

Jun’s purchases lay next to him on the bed, Barbra Streisand’s Stoney End sitting on top of the pile. He had bought five records, four for himself and one for you (though he had refused to tell you which one it was, insisting it would be a surprise). You had selected five books to match his purchase, including a copy of Ray Bradbury’s The Martian Chronicles, which Jun had suggested you take because of the colorful cover. 

“I’ve been working on a song,” he mutters, still facing down on the bed. The words come out muffled, but they’re still audible. “I think you’ll like it.”

You let out a laugh. “I like all of your songs.” 

“This one’s special,” he says, moving so he’s resting on his shoulders. His hair has gotten a bit disheveled, falling all over his face as his lips curl up in a hazy smile. “I’m working on the melody, too. I just need to hear your opinion about it.” 

“You’ve been inspired,” you comment, reaching over to the vanity where Jun had placed the pastries bag. You take a roll into your hand and notice it’s still warm. 

Jun winks before sitting up. “You’d know all about it.” 

“All I do is sing your songs,” you say, breaking a piece of bread and tucking it into your mouth. It melts as soon as it meets your tongue. “You’re the artist behind the art. Should I start calling you Da Vinci?” 

“I like Monet better. I’m a huge fan of the Impression Sunrise, even got a poster of it up in my room back at home,” Jun answers. He moves so he’s sitting down on the edge of the bed next to Seungkwan’s piano, grabbing a small notebook from the bedside table. You recognize it instantly, because it’s the one he always carries with him. He pats the space next to himself. “Here, I’ll show you.” 

You leave your things on the bed next to all his luggage, books carefully propped against a faux leather duffle bag. Jun takes a piece of the cinnamon bread as soon as you sit down next to him, moving closer as he does, a whiff of his cologne reaching your nose. The duvet is of fine linen, surprisingly soft against your fingertips as you place your hands at your sides. 

“I started writing it the other day,” he says, opening his notebook and placing it on his laps. You try to take a peek at it, but the (messily written) words aren’t readable from a distance. It looks beautiful though, fine lines of black ink rising like a carefully painted artwork on the thick, creamy white paper. “When you fell asleep on the bus.” 

“It’s your fault for making me read to you!” You laugh, moving and bumping his shoulder with yours. “And, in my defense, the top of your head was extremely comfortable.” 

“Yeah it’s like a portable pillow,” he jokes. “Maybe I should start advertising it.”

“Bet Seungkwan would take you up on it, he got asleep on the bus too!” 

There is something about Jun that makes everything seem lighter, helping the seconds run fast against the clock. 

“Here, I’ll show you the melody,” he says, straightening his back and placing his fingers on the keyboard. The assortment of rings he’s wearing had felt cool against your fingers. “I stayed up all night to come up with it. I haven’t finished the lyrics yet, but the music is already here.” 

“Is that why you asked me for help? Are you gonna fall asleep on me?” 

Jun smiles, but doesn’t turn to look at you. “No, not really,” he mutters. 

He plays a key, but doesn’t give it much thought. It’s a quick, crisp sound, not really one that’s a part of a movement, even less of a song. Maybe it’s a reflex, like the clicking of the pen had once been, a mere outlet for his nervousness. He keeps his eyes set on his fingers as he speaks, not really directing his words at you but surely saying them because you’re there to hear them. 

His voice is soft, almost shy. “It’s because you’re the inspiration behind it.” 

And he doesn’t say anything else, but lets his fingers graze upon the keys as he starts playing. You’re not exactly sure what you’re thinking of, mind and heart running a thousand beats per second as you feel it thumping against your chest. There’s a feeling growing in your stomach, and whether it's due to adrenaline or some deeper, more complex feeling remains a mystery. 

You close your eyes as Jun plays, each note igniting fireworks in your head. The music flows into your ears like honey, setting light upon the darkest places of your mind, overflowing your senses with Jun’s interpretation. Every single note sounds just like him, as if he’s becoming the music as he’s making it. His fingers run over the keys in the same way an artist’s brush glazes over a canvas, immersing itself in their creation to a point their creation is all they are. He has become a song, a beautifully crafted sonata, making your heart feel warmer with every moment. You know it’s because the song itself is beautiful - but so is he, and that translates into every single sound, every single feeling. 

You let out a gasp as he begins to sing; it’s broken, a few lines here and there. You can tell it’s the bits he’s finished, the ones he’s comfortable with, leaving everything like a game of fill in the blanks. He had sung to you before, either in the song demos or in some practices where he had been finishing a song nearby - but his voice had never sounded sweeter. Your heart tugs against your chest as you listen to him, words coming alive in your head like the ones in the pages of a romance novel. 

“Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you’ll marry a music man…”

Your hands ball up into fists, scrunching the soft duvet as you try to keep your eyes closed, no matter how much your eyelids are threatening to flutter open. You don’t want to see anything that isn’t him, or his voice; don’t want to feel anything that isn’t the sudden warmth that rises all over your body, making you feel like you’re flying - 

And he stops, hands suddenly moving away from the keyboard after a faulty note. 

“Stop distracting me!” He says, laughing as his cheeks grow red in embarrassment. He hands his hands on his lap, fingers absentmindedly fumbling with the rings he has on. 

You don’t open your eyes, joining him in his laughter and falling on your back onto the bed. You bring your hands to your face, hiding behind them as your laughter grows louder. 

“I wasn’t doing anything!” You answer. 

You feel the space next to you dip as Jun imitates your movement, resting onto his back. His notebook has fallen to the floor, open in half, but he doesn’t notice. He brings his hand to your face, taking your own and moving it away from your face. He props himself up on his elbow, connecting your fingers over the duvet in the space that separates the two of you. 

“Did you like it?” He asks, words falling from his lips between jolts of laughter. His voice is soft, and it feels like velvet against your ears. “You know, before I messed up.” 

“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard,” you whisper, opening your eyes and rolling to your side to look back at him. “Did you really write it because of me?”

Jun nods. He’s smiling, looking at you fondly as he searches for the words inside his head. “You’re a song in and out of yourself.” 

He doesn’t move as you stare into his eyes. Looking at him, you’re suddenly reminded of the night he had kissed you - the same constellations that had shined high above your heads now reflected in his eyes, drawing you deeper into his spell. You feel like you’re falling, the entire world falling as you lay on the bed, his hand on yours the only thing pulling you back into reality. It’s as if the world around you changes every single time you’re with Jun, spinning wildly out of orbit and transforming into an unknown fantasy, with the only sure thing being the way his eyes come to rest upon you. You’re not sure if anything else exists apart from Jun, because suddenly he’s all you can see. All you can feel. 

“And I think I’ve fallen in love with you,” he continues. He keeps his eyes on you as he speaks, as if trying to assure you his words are only for you to hear. “Or maybe I already was, but only just noticed. I hear your voice in every word, see your face every time I turn around with your name etched deep in my heart. I don’t think I could get you out of my head no matter how hard I tried. And I don’t think I would ever want to.” 

You hadn’t noticed there were tears forming in your eyes until one fell down on your hand, ice cold against the warm skin. You open your mouth, searching for words deep down in your heart, but Jun shakes his head. 

“Just… let me say it, you can go after,” he says. “I’ve been dreaming of love my entire life. As far as I can remember, I’ve always dreamed of feeling it. It wasn’t just something out of a fairytale or a novel, not even a dream coming out to a song. It’s been the theme behind all my songs and the happy ending of all my stories. And never would I have thought it would feel like this. Never would I have thought those dreams would become you, but you’re there, in every single word. In every single thought.” 

He moves, fingers caressing the back of your hand as he gives it a squeeze. He moves his hand, placing yours over his chest, directly over his heart. Although faintly, you’re sure you can feel it beat. 

And you move forward, your other hand on his neck, connecting his lips with yours. It’s warm, and you can make out a vague saltness that is no doubt a product of your tears. But they are long forgotten, the feeling of Jun’s lips against yours setting your body on fire as his hands come to rest upon your skin. You can feel your every vein light up as you move as close to him as you can manage, the space between you always weighing upon the both of you no matter how much you try to reduce it, because the feeling of your bodies pressed against each other is one you simply can’t get enough of. 

He opens his eyes, eyelids fluttering open at the need to see you; to set the final piece of the puzzle in his mind. It’s a puzzle that looks, sounds and moves like you, composed of a love that burns too bright to ignore. 

And as he looks at you, resting comfortably on the soft linen sheets, he’s sure he has never seen such a beautiful sight.

The next few days go by in a flash. 

The days start early, as early as the sun goes up and you have breakfast on some terrace with Jun by your side, with the sun reflected upon his skin like a golden veil. They’re spent in jolts of laughter with your friends, soaking in the sun when sight-seeing in all the cities you’ve visited. They’re spent carelessly singing in the bus, with Joshua and Chan backing up the vocals with loud strums of their guitars, not really caring about beat, or tune, or whoever may be listening. They’re spent getting to know the world with the people that make the entire thing worth it, smiling and laughing along. They’re spent in sleepless nights on stages or someone’s backyard, twisting and turning in Jun’s hand as he moves you to the rhythm of the music. They’re spent in him watching you from a balcony, dancing and singing along to the crowds adoring your every move, finding himself lost in your voice. 

And they’re spent in composing, with Jun finding inspiration in the smallest of your movements, lyrics suddenly being born in the crack of a smile and the fondness behind a look. 

By the time the song is finally ready to be sung, he’s still a bit nervous. It feels like a deja vu, with him tapping quickly upon a faux tiled floor. 

He rests his back against a wall, standing next to a closed door. He tries to move out of the way as people pass in a hurry, carrying equipment or reading from lists, simply looking around as he tries to count on the passing of time. He tries to maintain a steady beat with his foot, counting along in his head as he reads from the piece of paper he’s holding. Trying not to think about the sounds of a growing crowd, he can feel the paper crumpling in his hand, thinking that his grip on it might be a little too tight. Nonetheless, he can’t loosen it up, no matter how much he wants to. 

Night has fallen, and he can see the stars from the small window that rises at the top of the wall in front of him. There’s some moonlight breaking in, lighting up the ground and the glass detailings on the colorful tiles. For a second, he thinks of how familiar it feels, to be able to see a picture where there is none, and he smiles. Backstage or not, the night looks the same all around. 

He lets out a big breath, moving his free hand around as he does until he hears the door next to him flutter open. A laughing Chan walks out from it, followed by Josh and Mingyu, all of them with their guitars strapped down and ready to be played. They pat Jun on the back before they follow the small arrows on the ground, walking in the direction of the stage. 

He runs through the lyrics in his head as the rest of the band follows, you walking behind while trying to fix the back of your jacket. Minghao had suggested some fringes on the sleeves to add some “movement” but they had proven a bit impractical when getting stuck whenever you moved your arms. 

“Hey,” Jun says, grabbing your attention. “Do you have a moment?” 

You smile. “What are you doing back here? I thought you and Cheol were gonna watch from the balcony.”

“We are,” he confirms, nodding his head. “I just wanted to say hi.”

His voice is shaking as he speaks, as much as he tries to hide it. You take his free hand in yours, stopping his movements in midair, giving his fingers a slight squeeze as you attempt to bring him some comfort. 

“Are you nervous?” You ask. He simply nods, smiling when he feels you tightening your grip on his hand. “Is it because of the song?” 

“I know it’s a bit silly,” he comments. Despite holding the piece of paper, he runs his hand through his combed-back hair, causing a few strands to fall messily over his forehead. It looks so much better than when it’s gelled up. “But it feels different this time around. I don’t know, It feels a lot more personal somehow.” 

Bringing his hand up to your face, you give it a kiss. He sighs at the feeling. 

“They’re gonna love it, Jun,” you say. 

He smiles at you. “As long as you love it, that’s more than enough for me.” 

“Well, you already know that I do,” you giggle. “I’ll always love every single song you write.”

Laughing with you, he pulls you to his chest as he envelops you in a hug. Sighing against you, he tucks his face in your neck as he feels you hugging him back. You smile, feeling him press a light kiss on the exposed skin. He smells of sugar and cinnamon. 

“Leave them breathless,” he whispers as he breaks apart from the embrace. 

He kisses you one more time, quickly pecking the top of your head before he walks away. You give him one last smile, running your fingers down his arm as you begin to part.  

You walk in opposing directions, and Jun quickens his pace as he climbs the stairs leading to the balcony. He can hear the crowd growing with every step he takes, feeling a knot forming in his stomach as he moves his fingers around in an attempt to control his nerves. The way up seems familiar, consisting in dimly lit hallways and semi-peeled off posters on the walls, and he doesn’t even notice a few minutes have passed by the time he finally reaches the balcony. 

It’s not the Moonwalker, but the place shines just as bright. He greets Seungcheol, placing a palm on his friend’s back as he comes to stand next to him. 

“Hey, I was about to go looking for you,” he says, as a form of greeting. He smiles at his friend and motions to the public below with his beer bottle. “Great turn out tonight! I think this is our biggest venue yet, it’s amazing! I was talking to some guy over there, and he says a story is being printed on the newspapers about how successful the tour has been so far.” 

Jun smiles. “They deserve it. They’re an amazing group.”

“And they have amazing songs,” Seungcheol comments, nudging Jun’s shoulder with his own. 

Jun sets his eyes on the empty stage just as the lights begin to fall. A limelight focuses on the center of it, right where the standing microphone rises high among the sea of instruments. You walk out from the side with the rest of the band following close behind, and just like his very own, everyone’s eyes are on you. 

“We have a very special song for you tonight,” you say. You look up in the direction of the balcony, and Jun feels his heart beat loudly against his chest when you wink at him. “We hope you enjoy the show.” 

A breath gets caught in his throat when Seungkwan starts playing, fingers delicately grazing over the keyboard of his piano. He can feel Seungcheol’s hand coming to rest on his shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze, but all he can focus on is you. 

It’s always been that way, and the feeling on his chest lets him know it always will. It feels like a thousand butterflies finally setting flight. 

He smiles when you begin to sing, forgetting about everything else. The world around him stops existing, and just as the words start leaving your lips, he lets himself go. Because he had spent his entire life dreaming of this moment, thinking about the feeling being born in his chest. And he’s happy he’s waited, because it feels better than he could have ever imagined. 

Completely shaking off his nerves, he closes his eyes and lets out a breath. 

Hold me closer tiny dancer… 

#caratwritersclub #svtsource #kwritersworldnet #seventeen scenarios #jun scenario #jun scenarios #seventeen scenario #svt scenarios #svt scenario #svt fic #jun x reader #seventeen jun x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #jun fluff #mar.writing

[fiddlepickdouglas]

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 18 -Chemistry

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, what will they do?, 2.5k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17

“Two, three, four!” Alex counted off and the band sprung into action inside the studio. The one good thing about the drums was that it made him hyper aware of every limb on his body. There was no room for distractions or intrusive thoughts when he was keeping time. It was almost like the euphoria of being dizzy, only without the dizziness. He could be okay in this state for a little while - just long enough to reset his mind and declutter itself.

As they finished their take, they heard a familiar voice from the sound booth.

“Sounds incredible boys!”

Caleb. There went the whole ‘reset and declutter’ thing he had going.

Each of the guys looked around at each other, knowing they would have to do their best to pretend they didn’t know anything. This was the first time they were seeing him since Alex had given the news to the rest of the band. None of them had actually discussed what they would do the next time Caleb happened to stop in. Setting down their instruments and slowly filing into the sound booth, they all greeted Caleb, trying to appear happy to see him.

“Let’s hear that playback, shall we?” he said as they all sat together. He pressed a few knobs on his soundboard and they all listened closely to their own song. It was just gonna be another session with notes on where they could dub vocals here and there or duplicate tracks to fill things out - it had to be normal, Alex prayed.

“And let’s stop here for a minute,” Caleb was saying after getting into a couple minutes of the track. “Reggie. What happened to the bassline?” Reggie sat up, blinking at being called out. “That’s not what was on your demo; why did you change it?”

Reggie’s face had already fallen as he made flustered attempts to respond.

“I-I...I just liked that line better...I think it fits the style and the direction of the song,” he stammered, shoulders slumped, avoiding eye contact. His hands came together in his usual fidget - the one he did when he got yelled at. Alex saw Bobby’s hand curl into a fist.

“Alright, alright, trust me,” Caleb placated. “I understand, probably more than any of you, why improvising a part feels so good. I wouldn’t host a jazz club if I didn’t get that. But here the difference is that no one knows your songs yet, boys.”

“We’ve had faithful fans for years,” Luke interrupted.

Caleb cut him off with a mere look. Shutting his mouth, Luke scratched the back of his head nervously. After taking a breath, Caleb simply let out a sigh.

“Boys.” His tone was really drawing on the charisma, Alex noticed. “My job in helping you reach the stardom that you all one hundred percent deserve is to help you create a footprint on the walk of fame. A footprint means as beginners we can’t mess with the core elements that make your brand. These songs need to stay consistent until we have thousands of fans singing back to you in the audience the very lines you wrote in your humble garage. They need to know the first few seconds of that drumbeat and recall who you are on the radio. They are going to learn those basslines and those chords and add them to their own repertoire while they aspire to be legends like you! Don’t you see how important that is? I know. Playing around is fun; experimenting with new ideas and sounds is the whole reason we’re here. But from now on, I want you boys to stay in one lane, and I will match your speed.”

Eyeing each other warily, they all awkwardly murmured and nodded to agree with him. None of his words had been all that comforting. Alex was stuck thinking about how Caleb had made an appeal to every single one of them and somehow been right on the nose. It was like he could read their minds and it felt rather invasive.

“We’ll remember that,” Alex told him. He knew the other three were battling with their fight or flight responses and it would be suspicious.

“Oh, good,” Caleb replied. “I can see we’re having an off day, but maybe Alex can get the rest of you on board. Let’s run that song again.”

Exchanging glances, the guys stood up and headed back into the recording booth.

“Man, chemistry sucks,” Bobby complained from his seat in the armchair in his garage. Books were spread out around him, as well as about a dozen crumpled up pieces of notebook paper. “Reggie would get this.”

Alex looked up from the history homework he’d been focused on. He was gaining such an ear for whenever Reggie or Bobby mentioned one another and it made him laugh inwardly. For now, though, he had to hide the smirk.

“Well, I would call him, but he’s taking care of his sister tonight.”

“Yeah, I know. I don’t want to bother him anyways.”

This was one of the rare occasions where it was just Alex and Bobby together. Usually at least Luke would be around, but he was out on some date with Julie and there was no telling when he was expected back. Bobby had been helping Alex with history for a little bit but about half an hour ago remembered his own homework in a panic. Now they were both having trouble focusing. Their time in the studio that morning was clearly still on both of their minds.

“Hey, did Reggie tell you we were playing for his cousin’s wedding?” Alex asked in a non sequitur fashion.

“What?” Bobby said, finally sitting up and tearing his eyes off the diagram he was making. “No, he didn’t. Since when was that happening?”

“I’ve known for a couple weeks,” Alex told him casually.

“Oh.” Bobby looked down at the floor. “Any reason you haven’t mentioned it until now?”

Alex shifted in his seat on the couch at the suspicion in Bobby’s voice, but tried to play it off with a shrug.

“I just forgot. We’ve had a lot going on since he mentioned it to me.”

It did the trick. Still, Bobby sat in thought for a while, playing with his tongue inside his mouth absent-mindedly. Alex physically bit his own tongue to keep himself from asking what was on Bobby’s mind and pretended to turn his attention back to his history work. There was a long, static pause.

“Reggie’s been really weird lately,” Bobby said.

“Is that so?” Alex didn’t look up this time.

“Yeah. I mean, he’s always been goofy and everything, but I mean, he’s been unusual even for him. You know what I mean?”

“I guess I haven’t been paying as close of attention.” Alex flipped a page in his text book. “But I’ll take your word. Are you worried about him?”

Furrowing his brow, Bobby frowned in thought.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “I mean, I always worry about him, you know, cuz of everything he deals with at home. But I don’t know...this is different.”

“Is it because of what Caleb said today?”

“I didn’t like that either, but no, that’s not it.”

He looked so serious that Alex couldn’t find it funny anymore. Actually, Bobby seemed so distressed by it that it was making Alex distressed.

“Hey,” he said with concern. “Why do you look so bummed about it?”

He received a glance as though a great weight sat upon Bobby’s shoulders. It was so familiar it shot him in the chest. His friend looked so lost and uncertain, so afraid to speak his mind. And Alex thought Reggie had been conflicted. It was a little worrying.

“I think you actually know what's going on, huh?” Bobby said in resignation.

Nope. Now it was just frustrating. Alex sat up and looked at Bobby directly.

“Okay, I know expressing yourself isn’t your strong suit, Bobby, but please say it out loud. You can do it. Especially with me.”

His friend’s eyebrows knit together even further, trying to convince himself to get it off his chest. A minute passed, and finally he shut his chemistry book, set it aside, and faced Alex.

“I have feelings for Reggie.”

Thank god.

“Good job! You’re officially the last to know!”

Bobby’s face fell into a confused expression.

“What?”

Alex merely shrugged. They were so helpless, but luckily he was better at trying to solve others’ problems than his own.

“I had to let you come to your own conclusion. It was exhausting; you took forever.”

Bobby folded his hands and fidgeted with his thumbs.

“How long have you noticed?”

“Technically? Since before playing at the Pearl. But that’s when it really started to be obvious.”

Smirking, Bobby just bowed and shook his head.

“You know,” he began. “When I was first getting to know you, I didn’t trust you. Luke and I were already so close, and he introduced me to you and Reggie and you two already were such good friends. For a while I couldn’t figure out when you were being sarcastic or serious and I didn’t want to admit I was too sensitive. Reggie helped me figure out the difference and I just sort of dropped anything I was upset about.”

Alex listened carefully, nodding at his words.

“And now you’ve started getting all personal because you know I’m the most trustworthy one here, right?” he half-teased.

Nodding, Bobby smiled a little.

“I guess this is the part where you tell me to get my crap together and tell Reggie?”

“Yep,” Alex said. “But go at your own pace. The last thing I want is you two making things even weirder than they already are by trying to discuss things when you’re not prepared. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s great, but don’t forget the rest of the band in the process.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bobby pondered. “You have a point. Speaking of weird business, I’m still not cool about us pretending to go along with making the album while knowing what we do about Caleb.”

“Me neither, but I think Luke was right. We’re just being careful.”

“Since when is Sunset Curve careful, though? We would just set up and play wherever we could until we got chased off the property, and then we’d just find a new location the next night.”

“The difference is we were nobody fifteen year olds who didn’t have contracts signed. You said it yourself, we could risk losing the rights to our own music if we break things off.”

“We read the contracts, though, right?” Bobby insisted. “I made sure we did. I don’t remember anything that seemed too controlling in them.”

“Would we have known what to look for?” Alex responded.

Sighing heavily and flopping back into his chair, Bobby stared up into the ceiling. It felt like no good answer could be given. Alex was frustrated too, but he remembered what Tía Victoria had told him as well. He believed Willie, of course, especially since Victoria hadn’t actually seen or spoken to him. She hadn’t been able to get a sniff of Caleb’s true nature, and she was a professional investigator. If Caleb could fool her that easily, he’d tied their hands while they willingly held them out.

“Bobby,” Alex started. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking we should stop laying ourselves on the ground and letting him walk all over us. None of this ‘establish the brand’ B.S.”

Straightening his posture, Alex sat up and folded his hands. That was exactly what he wanted to do, too. Even if he didn’t know anything else about Caleb, the way he’d gone after Reggie had left a sour enough taste in his mouth. Before he could say anything else to Bobby, Luke stepped into the garage.

“Guys, I was thinking - ” he started.

“You wanna go after Caleb too?” Bobby said.

“Whoa, how did you know?” he sat back in surprise.

“Bobby and I were just talking about it,” Alex told him. Luke raised his eyebrows as he flopped onto the couch beside Alex.

“Were you guys mad when he singled out Reggie, too?”

“Yes!”

“Nobody shames Reggie like that!”

“Bobby, you should go cheer him up,” Luke suggested. “We all know you’re in love with him.”

“Oh my god!” Bobby cried, throwing his arms into the air in exasperation. Immediately he stood up and gathered all his books. “Just for that, I’m turning in you guys. Have a nice night, Alex. Luke, I hope it’s cold.” He stormed out of the garage and into his house while Luke and Alex simply laughed together.

“I, uh… I already gave him a speech about it,” Alex told Luke, smirking.

“Thank you!” Luke cried. “I know they tease me about being dense but at least I go for what I want! And so do you!”

Smiling at the acknowledgement of him and Willie, Alex slowly started packing up his homework. He could finish it tomorrow night.

“By the way, how was hanging out with Julie?” he asked.

Placing his arms behind his head, Luke got that dreamy far-off look on his face. The ‘Julie on the mind’ look. He smiled like he’d seen an angel and the angel had smiled back in kind.

“Oh, she’s awesome. She’s way better at roller skating than me. I wish there were two of me just so one of us could hold her hand while skating with her and the other could sit down and watch.”

Alex made a face at the odd visual, but he understood what Luke was talking about. He wondered what he and Willie looked like from an outside perspective. Did they look as happy as he felt? Did Willie bring out something in him that he’d never seen in the mirror? Or even something the rest of the guys didn’t know yet? That was something he really wanted to discuss with Willie now.

“I can’t wait until her mom gets out of the hospital,” Luke was saying. “I want to learn everything she can teach me. She told me she took two years just working on the production of an album for her band. Imagine what we could do with our songs if we had her in the studio instead of Caleb.”

“Wow,” Alex commented. “At this point, I really wish we were working with the Molinas. At least they seem to get us.”

Luke looked at him and Alex knew he’d heard all the underlying meaning in that sentence. All the guys had been accepted by Julie’s family in a way none of their own seemed capable of. Alex almost wished he hadn’t said it out loud because it only tempted him to forget about heading home.

“Maybe one day, we will, Alex,” Luke said, giving him an encouraging smile.

He chuckled as he shouldered his backpack and headed out the door.

“Yeah. That’d be sweet.”

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #fanfic #jatp fanfic #sunset curve #alive au #willex #willie #alex mercer #luke patterson #reggie peters #bobby wilson #julie molina #caleb covington #viva las vegas #vlv #chemistry #fiddlepickdouglas

[half-a-hetero]

ATLA BATTLE OF THE BANDS AU SETUP PT. 1

oK SO I’VE HAD THIS AU IN MY HEAD FOR TWO FKN DAYS AND I HAVE COME TO EVER SO GRACIOUSLY INJECT IT INTO YOUR MIND- THE GAANG PLUS YUE AND THE FIRE NATION GALS IN BANDS. a battle of the bands au. tHINK OF THE aRt. n i’m thinking zukka and yueki, and they meet at battle of the bands but yk...we got 2 sets of pining idiots yk yk. i thought this up five (5) days ago and iM DYING 

(tw: mentions of canon-typical abuse, and past death)

this is basically just the setup but i’ll add little tidbits and worldbuilding and art later

zuko (18): drums + backup vocals

mai (16): bass guitar

ty lee (15): keyboard

azula (15): lead guitar + vocals

suki (17/18): rhythm guitar

they do some group vocals/harmonies but not that often

so like azula has this really strong, really powerful voice, and that means she could do really moving rock ballads/power ballads, and etc etc. she took extensive guitar and voice lessons as a kid because of That Fucker Ozai™ and thats why she has so much control. same with zuko, except he didnt take voice lessons (he just liked singing) and quit guitar after ozai went to jail (it was a painful reminder of The Shit He Went Through) and took up drums to let out his anger and frustrations instead. Azula stuck with guitar because it was something she loved to do, despite her past.

where azula has a bold voice, zuko has a raspy-yet-smooth-at-the-same-time one that matches azula’s really well. while she’s off singing power notes, hes singing the lower, raspier undertones and it sounds really nice.

zuko also took up art classes and is genuinely proud of his work.

he’s secretly (its not that much of a secret) an art nerd

zuko, azula, and suki wrote a few songs together, kinda

for lack of better explanation, ozai was (canon-typically) abusive, and he got drunk one day and got mad at zuko and pushed him. zuko fell into the fireplace, and boom. scar.

azula got mainly mental trauma because zuko would take the blow for her, but she got therapy and theyre both for the most part better (there are still some relapses)

azula’s secretly a DC nerd

zUkO wEaRs riNgs 

the canon-typical atla “ozai pitting them against eachother sibling rivalry” comes into play through guitar (hence why zuko drops it. he wanted to let his sister have something she loved for herself. also, he didnt like it). ozai was a classical guitarist and famous [the money and the “royalty” canon aspects]

should i….mullet zuko?

aro azula and toph >>>>

ty lee is still from the circus, except this time mai was there too, which is where she learned knife-throwing. they both ran away from the circus summer after freshman year and met azula though mai’s bass lessons (alternatively, they met at martial arts classes). theyre 14/15. they moved in with azula, zuko, and iroh around the middle of sophomore year (grade 10) when ozai was arrested. the azula and ty lee were 15, mai was 16, and zuko was 17 at the time, around the ages they were in the show when the war ended (i think??)

azula said it didn't matter cause they had a huge house. she says it was half-empty, anyways, but mai and ty lee know that meant she liked their company.

they get along really well with suki

everyone realizes they can all play instruments, the core parts of a [rock] band. they start playing together, and eventually decide to become a band

their band is called ‘the kyoshi warriors’ (or something idk this is off the top of my head) in honor of the girls’ martial arts instructor, master kyoshi, who passed away

WAIT SJITGHHFSD FAN THE FLAMES IS A GOOD NAME TOO WHAT (although i can see that being more of a song name) credits to boom ( @boomerangsandadora) for that (go check out their ideas on this au)

theyre inseparable

together, mai, ty lee, suki, azula and zuko look fucking menacing. just imagine that. fucking bamfs

mai skateboards. just. this is a kind of important plot device. shh.

suki joins their friend group gradually. first, she’s attended azula’s martial arts class since they were in second grade, and moved up the belts like wildfire (along with azula). she tried to befriend azula a few times, but gave up over the years because azula wasnt interested in friendship (no thanks to ozai pressuring her to always be first. azula saw her as a rival, suki saw azula as a particularly competitive classmate and but equal in skill). She was zuko’s classmate since freshman year (grade 9) but only became his friend in sophomore year through a literature assignment the two were paired up in. she was really his only friend, cause everyone was too busy sizing up his scar. the two became inseparable then on.

she plays rhythm guitar because she loves guitar but agrees that azula is better at being in the (relative) spotlight

on the outside, suki and zuko looked tough, but underneath that, they’re two bumbling, pining gay idiots

suki’s parents both died in a fire, so she grew up with her “cool gay aunt” who was also a feminist and a mixed martial arts instructor.

suki spends her time teaching the beginner classes at the dojo

she met azula + the girls thru martial arts and zuko

overall thingies:

even though zuko is oblivious to sokka’s reciprocate feelings, no one else is. mai, azula, and ty le are just like “zuko wtf you’re more blind than toph”

he thinks the rest of his friends dont know about his crush bu he forgets who his sister is. honestly. all he talks about is sokka, it isnt hard.

unlike a lot of other bands, they actually have more complicated and interesting bass riffs, and a lot of times when writing songs they start with bass and build up from there

azula and toph get along becaus theyre the only sensible ones around. all their friends are pining idiots and they bond over their mutual superiority 🪄🧃🧃

mai skateboards at the same skatepark as sokka and aang. she’s long since past trying to teach zuko (he’s an uncoordinated gay mess) (who can somehow still play drums ??what???)but once she sees him agree to learn to skate from sokka she knows what’s up

suki’s birthday is during th time this fic happens, and she invites yue to the party (she tells zuko he has to invite sokka because even though she loves her bestie, he really is dumb)

“hey yue, we’re having a little get-together for my birthday, and i was wondering if you wanted to come?” compare to zuko’s “uh—hey sokka? i, um. suki’s birthday is pretty soon, and, well. we’re having a get-together to celebrate? and i—she asked me to invite someone? andifyoudontwannagothatstotallyfineimsorryforbotheringyou-” (includes much stammering and heavy blushing)

on the outside suki’s all calm (someone has to be the “i’m a mess but i dont look it” friend🙄🙄. honestly)but on the inside she’s like

“oh my gOD is that dyed hair hOLY FUcK thats so badass and she pLAYS BASS TOo that’s hOt”

“WAITWHATTHEFUCKISSHESPEAKINGTOME- ?? she’s laughing now she’s gORGEOUS- ThE giGGLEs i CANt bREatHE-”

“hOLY mOtHEr of kYosHi sHe’s wEAriNG lEsbiAn riNgS sHIT and her voice is so nice too fUCK i think i’m in love-”

#battle of the bands au #atla #i dont know what happened but i drank a gallon of fic idea juice and this happened #iT HASNT WORN OFF #THIS IS JUST PART ONE I HAVE THE REST TOO #im drowning in this fic idea #@writers 😏😏 hey #anyone wanna cowrite #zukka #yueki #possibly mailee #mailee #ITS ON #i’m so excited #im drafting some art too #avatar the last airbender fanfic #ideas #AYYO IF YALL HAVE INPUT AND IDEAS ILL TAKE IT #zukka fanfiction #yueki fanfiction #its a gay mess #okay imma stop it with the tags now #bye #suki #yue #sokka #zuko #azula #toph #aang

[raitrolling]

No more worlds like this, no more days like that

[Easy reading version on Toyhou.se]

Katrin woke from her ‘nap’ on the couch, one that she thinks was just meant to be a twenty minute thing that turned into sleeping through the entire day. She never intended to make the couch her typical sleeping location when she had a perfectly fine recuperacoon in her respiteblock, but she always just… Ended up staying here. It was her nightly routine by now; leave her hive for either a night working at Barsho’s boutique or wandering around the city with a vague aim to do some pickpocketing, try to sneak her way into a bar, get caught, then go home to finish off whatever drinks that still happened to be lying around. It was genuinely not a way to live, she knew that very well. But, she just felt… Stuck. Certainly getting through each night fine and meeting the minimum requirements for socialising before people started openly worrying about her, but not making any sort of progress. A monotonous loop of drunkenness and misery.

She wasn’t rostered on to work tonight, and she didn’t feel the motivation to leave the hive. The drive to write had been gone for a long time, the tales of Rirsan Katish had become too unbelievably over-the-top in her desperate attempts for escapism that the life of her self-insert character was no longer appealing. There wasn’t much left for her to do, aside from locate the remote and an unopened alcoholic beverage...

However, as she moved to sit up, Katrin caught a glimpse of something she had forgotten that she still owned: An old keyboard propped up against the wall. 

It was a gift from her kismesis, although Katrin couldn’t recall exactly which 12th Perigees it was. Of course Klavir would buy her something related to his own hobbies, it was his way of sharing a part of himself with his quadrant. Katrin had given him some books she’d stolen in return, her way of telling him to get better hobbies than playing piano and being depressed. He retorted that it was better than her hobby of drinking and being depressed, to which she couldn’t argue with. He was right, as much as she hated to admit it. 

She recalled a conversation she had with her neighbour one night. Soroll had invited her over to listen to the latest song he had been practicing on his drum set - which was a homemade mishmash of discarded rubbish bins and some actual drums he had scavenged from the local garbage dump. It sounded horrible, as expected, but whenever he hit the bass drum and crash cymbal (which accounted for half of the proper equipment he owned), she could recognise the alt-rock song he was trying to play. She had asked him why he likes to play, despite not being able to play properly and gain any sort of recognition or money from it. He shrugged. 

“I dunno. Its jus fun.”

He was probably right about that too. Soroll and Klavir spoke of playing music as just something you do whenever you feel troubled. Klavir was never away from the piano for too long, it was equally his career and his down time, and he’d mentioned the therapeutic undercurrent behind each note and key change. The same could be said about Soroll; Katrin didn’t know much about his “job” in the gang as he didn’t like to talk about it, but late into the night after he’d gotten home from whatever he did, she could sometimes hear him practicing his drumming.

Perhaps there is something about hitting things in a non-destructive way that can be beneficial. It’d be healthier than opening another bottle of cheap wine, and safer than breaking into someone’s hive, at the very least. Katrin lazily rolled off the couch, getting to her feet and then wandering over to the keyboard.

Eichio had gifted her a couple books for learning the keyboard after he noticed it when he came over one time: A few simple sheet music collections for beginners that allows one to play classic tunes with just one octave, and one slightly more advanced one to play some famous pop songs. If she put her mind to it, she could probably play the latter ones with ease. Klavir had given her countless lessons, but over time had given up trying to teach her when she either became too discouraged from not being able to keep up with him, or their lessons would devolve into some sort of black-fuelled flirting session. Needless to say, whenever Katrin attempted to recall the times she did play decently, her mind would wander to the way she would slip under Klavir’s arms while he was performing to sit on his lap in an attempt to distract him from his music, only to get flustered herself when he would grab her wrists and guide her to play for him. He was much too good at turning the tables on her.

… Right, the books. Katrin picked up the keyboard and one of the simple sheet music collections, using the weight of the instrument to push numerous empty cans and clutter off the coffee table for it to rest on top. She never bothered to buy a proper stand for it, nor a chair to sit on. Pulling the couch cushions off onto the floor and stacking them on top of one another will have to suffice. It’s not like there’s any foot pedals to worry about. Without any room under the coffee table for her legs, Katrin opted to kneel on the cushions as she flicks through the pages of the piano book. 

She settles on one short song: My Favourite Things. The sheet music only covers two pages and three verses of the song, and the keys don’t go beyond the centre of the keyboard. The book is propped up on the music stand attached to the keyboard. Katrin rests her hands on the keys, right thumb on middle C as she remembers Klavir teaching her, and plays.

E - B - B | G - E - E | B - E - E | F - E

Rain - drops on | rose - es and | whis - kers on | kit - tens

E - B - B | G - E - E | B - E - E | F - E

Bright cop - per | ket - tles and | warm woo - len | mit - tens

E - B - A | E - F - D | D - A - G | C

Brown pa - per | pack - a - ges | tied up with | strings

B - C - D | E - F - G | A - B - A | D#

These are a | few of my | fav - our - ite | things

She plays slow the first time, trying to get a feel for the keys again. There’s no metronome to keep time, but she’s heard the original song enough for her to recall how it should sound. This melody is simple, there’s only one sharp for her to keep track of and only one note is played at a time. There’s a small sense of accomplishment when she completes the first verse without any mistakes, such a thing doesn’t happen often to her. If she hadn’t sat through those lessons with Klavir and was trying solely on her own, she probably would have given up immediately when things didn’t go perfectly. But she at least knows something, and not some fantastic idea straight from her imagination that she could immediately discover that she’s a prodigy who will make millions performing for others. She should probably give her kismesis credit, if it wasn’t for him she wouldn’t be here right now. She begins the second verse.

E - B - B | G - E - E | B - E - E | F - E

Cream co - loured | pon - ies and | crisp ap - ple | stru - dels

E - B - B | G - E - E | B - E - E | F - E

Door - bells and | sleigh - bells and | schitz - el with | noo - dles

E - B - A | E - F - D | D - A - G | C

Wild geese that | fly with the | moon on their | wings

B - C - D | E - F - G | A - B - A | D#

These are a | few of my | fav - our - ite | things

The pace picks up, and rather than singing the lyrics listed in the book, Katrin finds it easier to repeat the name of the note as she plays it. Nothing any of her friends could teach her - Soroll and Eichio don’t know how to read sheet music, and Klavir is such a natural he struggled to dumb anything down to her level. It was her own way of playing, and a way that felt right to her. 

E - B - B | G - E - E | B - E - E | F - E

Girls in white | dress - es with | sat - in white | sa - shes

E - B - B | G - E - E | B - E - E | F - E

Snow - flakes that | stay on my | nose and eye - | las - shes

E - B - A | E - F - D | D - A - G | C

Sil - ver white | win - ters that | melt in - to | spring

B - C - D | E - F - G | A - B - A | D#

These are a | few of my | fav - our - ite | things

If the book of sheet music continued to the next verse, Katrin would have kept playing. It felt good to play, to make the instrument make sounds that were pleasing to the ear, even if they were much simpler to the music other people would make. It even felt a little fun, for reasons she nor her neighbour could elaborate when she first posed that question to him all that time ago. She thinks she understands it now, and plays the song over from the beginning. Her pace continues to quicken, until finally reaching the tempo of which the song is meant to be played. When she vocalises the notes, it stops being a mnemonic tool and turns into an accompanying harmony. E - B - B | G - E - E | B - E - E | F - E. E - B - B | G - E - E | B - E - E | F - E. E - B - A | E - F - D | D - A - G | C. B - C - D | E - F - G | A - B - A | D. 

Again and again she plays, until if anyone could hear the song from outside of her hive they would undoubtedly be sick of it. She could flip the page and try a different song, but something about this one just feels right. There’s a calming rhythm to the repetition of the notes, and a sense of progress as she scales the keys in the final line of each verse. Progression. Another thing that doesn’t happen often to her, but here it feels doable. Maybe tomorrow she’ll try another song in the book, and maybe she’ll keep going until she feels ready to try the more difficult piano book later on. For now, she’s content - perhaps another emotion that feels foreign to her - to play whatever she feels like because to feel something at all is an improvement to her current lifestyle. And unlike everything else, she has no reason to play, there’s no monetary gain from playing alone in her lounge room, no reason to impress anyone, no skills that can be carried on into any career or useful activity. It’s just fun.

#drabble #katrin rissah #also mentioning #soroll delfim #eichio maccau #sharp knives #inspired by the song ive taken the title from and the piano scene from eva 3.33 LMAO #also i nabbed the sheet music off this rly shit copy i found on google images that the website required u to make an account #to get a high-quality scan and I Aint Doing That #i did try it out on an online keyboard cuz i cbf getting my old one out and idk if its just me but that D sharp sounds rancid as hell #but idk enough about music to know what the note should be so rip

[xxred-riotxx]

Beverly Hills Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

I decided to write up some quick little one shots(?) based around songs for some of my favorite characters. Bakugou’s, however, took a turn and became smut. Oops. Anyways. Enjoy. 

Somehow you convinced your friend, Bakugou, to teach you how to play drums. But that’s not the only thing you want to bang. 

BakugouxFem!Reader

I do not own the song. Based off the song “Beverly Hills” by Weezer. 

Warnings: 18+. strong language. dirty talk. dirty thoughts. smut. foreplay. everything about sex without actually having sex. 

All characters are over the age of 18. 

Word count: 1038

“Come on, dumbass it’s not that hard.” irritation dripped from Bakugou’s mouth. You had asked him to teach you to play drums- (he looked undeniably sexy while playing so you thought watching him teach would explode your ovaries). “Katsuki, I’m trying. I just can’t keep up. Can we please try something easier?” Hands pressed together, you begged your friend to ease the difficulty. You were a beginner after all. “Alright, fine. Whatever, baka.” Bakugou rolled his eyes before continuing. “But you WILL learn ‘King For A Day’ once you get the hang of shit.” The explosive blonde shoved his hands in his pockets before pacing around the room. “One, two, three. One, two, three. Bass, bass, snare. Bass, bass, snare.” Bakugou’s vermillion eyes glared at you, waiting for you to follow his instructions on the drums. “Oh! Uh-” Your foot connected with the foot pedal and began to count the beats. One, two, three. One, two, three. Once you felt comfortable you added the snare drum to the mix. Tapping the snare drum’s head on the third beat, you slowly got the hang of it- until Bakugou added another step. “Now on each count, hit your high-hat. But keep doing what you’re doing.” Your right hand reached over to tap the high-hat on every beat, just like Bakugou had said. After a few seconds, your focus was broken. “Katsuki…” you whispered, still beating away on the drum set. 

“Where I come from isn’t all that great. 

My automobile is a piece of crap.

My fashion sense is a little whack. 

And my friends are just as screwy as me.” 

Jaw dropped, you noticed Bakugou’s hand move in a circular motion- signaling you to continue playing. 

“I didn’t go to boarding schools. 

Preppy girls never looked at me.

Why should they? I ain’t nobody

Got nothing in my pocket.”

Still pacing, Bakugou made his way behind you. Occasionally hitting the crash symbol with a spare drum stick, he had continued to sing…

“Beverly Hills

That’s where I want to be.

Living in Beverly Hills. 

Beverly Hills

Rolling like a celebrity. 

Living in Beverly Hills.”

The aroma of caramel and embers filled your nose. Bakugou was extremely close to you. Not wanting to disturb the hot-headed boy, you tried your best to fixate yourself on the music. 

“Look at all those movie stars. 

They’re all so beautiful and clean.

When the housemaids scrub the floors

They get the spaces in between.”

You had never heard Bakugou sing. Sure you and all of 1A had seen him play the drums, but he had never let on that he had the voice of an angel. One, two, three. One, two, three. You had to remind yourself to continue playing the drums. Bakugou’s hand gently touched your shoulder. Immediately you tensed up, until he began rubbing circles on your collarbone. 

“I wanna live a life like that.

I wanna be just like a king.

Take my picture by the pool

‘Cause I’m the next big thing.”

The loss of a steady beat caused Bakugou to silence. You spun around on the throne, your y/e/c trailing up his muscular torso. His crimson eyes locked with your’s, feeling a deep burning in your stomach. It was almost like your body had a mind of its own as you slowly rose from your seat, finger tips tracing up his sternum until finally locking behind his neck. His warm breath could be felt on your skin. “Y/N…” a husky whimper left his blush lips. Strong hands found their way to the belt loops of your shorts, pulling your hips against his. “Fuck it.” you mumbled before attaching your lips to his. 

You moved your hands to the nape of his neck, tangling them into his locks before gently tugging. A harsh groan slipped from his mouth. “Get the smirk off your face, dumbass.” he muttered against you. Swiftly, his hands grabbed the back of your thighs, lifting you up. Your back was pushed against the wall, lips never leaving his. Bakugou’s wet tongue swiped across your bottom lip begging for entrance. You felt lightheaded, overwhelmed by bliss, as his tongue met your’s in a sloppy kiss. “Katsuki…” your voice trailed off as he left wet kisses trailing down your neck, settling on your sweet spot. “I’ve… waited… so… long… for… this… teddy bear.” Bakugou breathed in between kisses. He bit your neck, tongue following over the tender spot, causing your breath to hitch. “Please kiss me, Katsu.” you whined. You missed the feeling of his now swollen lips. Bakugou smirked, you begging caused his ego to inflate. He loved knowing you were putty in his hands. “Hmm. What if I kiss here?” A devious smile caught your eye as he trailed down to the valley between your breasts. Light kisses grazed your skin. “Or maybe here?” His rough hands moved under your shirt before latching onto your waist. You watched as he kneeled down, agonizingly slow, and kissed above your navel. “Better yet…” His fingers fumbled with the button of your shorts, unhooking it and pulling the material down just far enough to kiss right at your panty line. 

Your back arched at the feeling, hips jutting. He drug his tongue back up your ribs. Rising back to his feet, he grasped your neck with one hand. “Get on the bed, baby girl.” The intense glare you received told you not to defy his order. You shuffled over to the bed and positioned yourself in the middle, waiting for further instructions. Bakugou pulled his black top over his head, revealing his toned body. It was hypnotizing watching the blonde pull his shirt off. You could see the muscles in his abdomen flex and a sheen of sweat coated his chest. “For once in your life, you’ve been awfully quiet, dumbass.” Bakugou chuckled. He missed hearing you beg. He had only imagined hearing his name drip from your tongue for months. He dreamt about how good you’d look with your mouth around him, tears rolling down your cheek. He wanted to see you overwhelmed with pleasure. He wanted your nails to scrape down his back, screaming in desire, as he claimed you. Your innocent voice shattered his trance. 

“Fuck me, Ground Zero.” 

#bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #mha bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou x fem!reader

[scottymcgeesterwrites]

Final Fantasy V Review

Year: 1992

Original Platform: Super Nintendo

Also available on: PlayStation One (Final Fantasy Anthology), Game Boy Advance, Steam (updated graphics)

Version I Played: Game Boy Advance

Synopsis:

Bartz is a drifter, riding across the world with his chocobo – Boko. One day, the wind seems to fall. Lenna’s father, the king of Tycoon, goes off to make sure the Wind Crystal is all right, but doesn’t return. Meanwhile, a meteorite falls. Lenna and Bartz check it out separately, where they find each other and a man named Galuf with amnesia. Together they figure out that the world is falling apart – the crystals that drive wind, fire, earth and water are dying out. They stumble upon a pirate hideout led by Faris, and together they seek to restore the world and uncover the mysterious forces behind the destruction of the crystals.

Background:

Once again, this Final Fantasy game was originally unreleased outside of Japan. Unlike II and III, the developers thought that the game was a different tone than the others and the vast job system would be too complicated for Western audiences. The West didn’t experience Final Fantasy V until 1999 with Playstation One’s Final Fantasy Anthology; a compilation of both V and VI. One notable change from the Japanese version is the name Bartz. The original name for Bartz in the Japanese release was translated as Butz, but because Americans are immature and laugh at such a name, they changed it in the localization to Bartz.

Gameplay:

Holy capitalism, Batman – so many jobs!

Not only that, but each job has abilities that you can mix and match! Every time you level up a job, you earn a new ability for that job. You can switch those abilities across jobs.

The possibilities are seemingly endless!

The gameplay is the most fun I had with customization in a while in any video game RPG. The best part is that the Job System is so rewarding by the time you reach the third act of the game. It gives you such a variety that it allows you to approach battles from many different angles. There’s no one way to be a badass and deal destructive damage.

It’s so much fun that once a year, Final Fantasy V gamers join in “Final Fantasy Five Four Job Fiesta”. It’s a challenge where you are randomly assigned four jobs in the game and have to finish the game ONLY with those four jobs. I’ve joined in the challenge myself and it’s a great way to come together with Final Fantasy players.

I had fun unlocking the legendary weapons and hunting down the most powerful summons - this time naturally without looking anything up. I find it interesting to say that I had legit fun hunting down all the extras. Sometimes in other Final Fantasy games I get weary over hunting for some extra, higher powered spells and summons. I sometimes even wonder if I should bother going after them. The vast Job System in Final Fantasy V keeps you occupied for the entire game and more. I finished the game and there are still some jobs that I haven't even touched. Luckily, the Game Boy Advance version adds some extra dungeons after you complete the game.

Graphics:

The sprites in this game look a bit rough around the edges. They also come off as too small in my opinion. The same is said of the Game Boy Advance version. Regardless, it now looks like an actual SNES game. Unlike Final Fantasy IV, it has more color, structure, and doesn’t look faded.

Something irked me though about the sounds. I never have anything bad to say about the sound effects, but for some reason, in this game, the battle sound effects were meek. Even when someone had a sword, the attack sounded puny.

The PlayStation One version has an FMV sequence that look awkward and ugly as fuck, just like the FMV sequence for the PlayStation One version of Final Fantasy IV. As much as I love Yoshitaka Amano, trying to transplant his style into 3D is not a good idea.

Story:

The story transcends that of Final Fantasy IV. Where Final Fantasy IV can feel weak or simple at times, Final Fantasy V delivers a strong, emotionally charged storyline.

It starts simple. Once again, the world is in danger because the crystals are in danger – but this time because humans are misusing their power and breaking them. So this is a rare Final Fantasy game without any evil empires or rebellions.

Out of all the Final Fantasy games, I had heard the least about what happens in V. Heck – I knew more about II before going into it, mostly because of what people said about the Star Wars parallels. It’s been a long time since I went into a Final Fantasy game completely blind. I kept it that way and was very pleasantly surprised.

I can see what the developers meant by a “change in tone.” Final Fantasy V is probably the funniest of them all. It’s not campy – just humorous. Galuf loves to share puns. Bartz can be a klutz. The characters bicker a lot during their journey. One part actually made me genuinely laugh out loud when you are in a certain underground place searching for clues:

Despite the lighter tone, each character has a pretty sensitive, delicate backstory. I cared for Bartz’s personal history with his parents. I worried about whether Lenna’s father would die or not. I wondered what Galuf forgot and who Faris really was. There are dashes of tropes here but none of them stand out too much. You have to remember that tropes themselves are not inherently bad – what matters is how you utilize them. There’s no hokey romantic subplot thrown in either, which is extremely rare in a JRPG.

It was so rewarding to go into it blind because there was even a shocking death. I thought maybe they would be all right in the end through some Disney cop out.

No. That person is dead. Dead as a door nail. Never coming back. I also enjoyed the bit where they tried to revive said dead person with spells and phoenix downs. They finally imply that there can be a point where someone can go beyond and it’s too late to bring them back.

The henchman Gilgamesh is very memorable and lovable, probably the most memorable character of the entire game. He serves as great comic relief while not being at all annoying. I kept hoping he would show up.

My only real complaint, if I’m ever forced to say anything bad, is that Boko wasn’t really an asset in the story, at least not as much as I assumed he would be.

The story is unfortunately very overlooked. I can understand that maybe at the time American and other Western gamers may have found the third act strange – especially after learning about the villain Exdeath’s true nature. Compared to the other Final Fantasy backstories, it’s a little out there, and something tells me it relates to Japanese mythology. But today? You’d be sorry to miss out on it.

Music:

Final Fantasy V’s main theme is somewhat reminiscent of Final Fantasy IV’s main theme. They have this melodic soaring feel with a continuous beat. “The Four Warriors of Dawn” in Final Fantasy V is reminiscent of “Red Wings” in IV. Meanwhile, the biggest and most interesting display is “Battle with Gilgamesh”. (sometimes titled “Clash/Battle on the Big Bridge”). The piece opens up with some intense drumming. While the later orchestrations and adaptations of “Battle with Gilgamesh” are pretty good, nothing seems to capture the tempo and umph of the original.

“Dear Friends” is probably the most endearing tune in the soundtrack. It’s played at the end and gives a really bittersweet feel. The Distant Worlds concert version is extremely bittersweet. It has a sweet, gentle guitar, and it reminds me of how Uematsu said one of his inspirations was Simon and Garfunkel. “Dear Friends” definitely has that folk tune.

Exdeath’s theme song gives a heavy rock vibe. That heavy rock vibe was last heard in the opening segment of the final boss fight in Final Fantasy IV. The rest of the score has a lot of drumming incorporated, partially due to the fact that pirates are involved in most of the plot. Ultimately, this Final Fantasy score broke out all of Uematsu’s classic and hard rock inspirations – and it’s fucking awesome.

Notable Theme:

“Battle with Gilgamesh”

I have replayed this song over a thousand times by now.

Verdict:

Definite must-play. It’s the most underrated Final Fantasy game. The Kob System can be overwhelming, especially if you have never played a Final Fantasy game before. I wouldn’t suggest playing this for beginners – more after you get your hands wet.

Direct Sequel?

Yes. And No.

While not a video game, Final Fantasy V did receive an anime sequel titled Final Fantasy: Legend of the Crystals. It’s technically the first sequel to a Final Fantasy game. The anime is set 200 years in the future, with the heroes of the original game having become legend. Critical reception of the miniseries was mixed.

#final fantasy #final fantasy v #square enix #super nintendo #nintendo #underrated video games #video games #onvideogames #fantasy #rpg #jrpg #rpg game #video game rpg #chocobo #four job fiesta #final fantasy five four job fiesta