#i moved a marimba in heels

[aquaticsoul]

on this fine munday, i'd like to share something very close to my heart. (it's sielu. big surprise, i know.)

i have been a musician since before i even started school. all my life, i've lived and breathed music. when i was eleven years old, i picked up the clarinet.

immediately, i fell head over heels for it. it became the main way i could express myself, the only way i could really get all my energy and thoughts out. as a physically disabled, autistic, ADHD child, it allowed me to connect to my peers in ways i never would have dreamed of ofherwise.

my clarinet became a part of me just as much as my eyes or my skin or my nails were.

i began teaching private lessons. i began writing music of my own. i began to think of what i wanted to do with myself, and that was music.

it was no surprise to anyone around me when i declared myself a music major in the fall of 2019, when i was accepted to my university. i dove all in.

i made friends. i took lessons. i went to recitals. i played in many ensembles.

and then, in february of 2020, i got carpal tunnel syndrome. i kept playing anyway.

in 2021, the pain forced me to stop being a music major. i changed to business, stayed in a few ensembles, and was ultimately devastated regardless that my bone disorder and bad connective tissues would continue to betray me as long as i played too much.

i pulled back a little. i thought i'd be fine.

and then came spring of 2023, almost a full year ago now. i sat in my clarinet professor's office, a man who i'd studied under for several years, bawling my eyes out as i explained to him that the left side of my jaw had stopped working. the doctors i went to all said the same thing: i was not allowed to play my clarinet anymore at all. this had happened basically overnight, yet... it forced me to quit.

all my hard work was gone. over a decade of dedication, practice, joy, and light were all suddenly ripped away from me.

concerts came and went. i did not play in them.

my social circle slowly but surely dissolved itself. they moved on without me.

i spent a year rehabilitating my hands and my jaw just to be able to function again. i spent a year relearning how to hold a pen, how to eat, how to smile, how to sing.

my clarinet sat in its case. dust began to gather on the top. i tried to avoid looking at it.

i received a text in late december from one of the few friends i still have, asking if i would play in her senior recital or if the wounds were still too fresh. she was writing the ensemble piece, so she was willing to adjust things if need be.

"you can play marimba if you want, instead of clarinet," she said, "because of your jaw."

i looked at my case.

i told her to write the clarinet part anyway.

and i went to work with the bare fundamentals. i did hours of frustrating long tones and pained popsicle munching. i built strength back into my face.

my skill level is still nowhere near what it once was back in 2019. i won't be playing benny goodman solos anytime soon.

but i played the hell out of my clarinet today during her recital approval, in front of that clarinet professor and a few other woodwind faculty.

we passed unanimously.

and he stopped me, just to tell me congratulations and that he's happy for me.

and... honestly, i wouldn't have been able to do what i did today if it weren't for sielu. i would have likely given up creative endeavors entirely if not for him. after all, i had nothing to pursue. i had barely any hope.

but i'd just made an OC who teaches music. i'd just made an OC that has the mindset i had all those years ago, back when music was for music's sake and not to get a score. i'd just made an OC for, really, no reason at all other than for fun and passing the time.

and it hit me, somewhere last year after the initial shock of my jaw, that music used to be home for me. it hit me that i didn't start playing music to be "good" at it. i started playing music just because i liked it. overplaying to injury was not good musicianship - it was just something i had to do in order to fulfill academic requirements.

sielu has reminded me of all the things i used to love. he got me through the hardest time in my life by forcing me to step back and shift my perspective. he's become so much more to me than just a random character.

and i kind of just... needed to tell someone that. i needed someone to know how much i appreciate the people who have been on this ride with me and how much i appreciate my followers. if you read this far, thank you.

it's a great day for music.

#dealing with the paperwork ; ooc. #injury tw #hopelessness tw #long post

[thanatosisactuallythanatoes]

sousuke: you might be cool, but were you there for sombreo else?

nitori: yes i was

momo: i did 4 roundoffs barefoot in a stolen tutu

rin: i did what i was supposed to and moved the marimba

#rin matsuoka #momotaro mikoshiba #Nitori Aiichirou #sousuke yamazaki #free incorrect quotes #band class #band concerts #what can i say #public school is wack #i moved a marimba in heels #then speant the rest of the time barefoot #sombreo elsa was a vibe #hate that kid #but i can apprecate it

[nightmaresart]

Mc playlist

I got tagged to make a playlist for my mc by @danceworshipper so thank you!

I'll be doing all four of my mcs because I cant just do one and ignore the other three, so the five songs per mc are under the cut

Brooke Atkinson

Boss bitch - Doja Cat

Yeah, ain't tryna be cool like you

Wobblin' around in your high heel shoes

I'm clumsy, made friends with the floor

Two for one, you know a bitch buy four

And two left feet, you know I always drop

First thing a girl did was a bop

I'm the whole damn cake and the cherry on top

Shook up the bottle, made a good girl pop

Nails, hair, hips, heels - Todrickhall

Nails, hair, hips, heels, ass fat, lips real

Purse full, big bills, bitch I'm a big deal

Legs, legs, face, eyes, thin waist, thick thighs

You, me, you wish, new phone, who this?

Pussy puss, puss

Give them cunt, cunt, cunt, bitch

Mama yes god when you pop that tongue bitch

This whole club is my runway, run bitch

Y'all five, four, three, twos, I'm a one bitch

Womanizer - Britney Spears

Look at you

Gettin' more than just a re-up

Baby you

Got all the puppets with their strings up

Fakin' like a good one

But I call 'em like I see 'em

I know what you are

What you are, baby

God is a woman - Ariana Grande

You, you love it how I move you

You love it how I touch you

My one, when all is said and done

You'll believe God is a woman

And I, I feel it after midnight

A feelin' that you can't fight

My one, it lingers when we're done

You'll believe God is a woman

Queen - Loren Gray

Cross my heart and hope to die

I don't need another guy

To fight my battles, to overshadow me

Don't ya know I'm dangerous?

Fire burnin' in my blood

I got this handled, I don't need rescuin'

Kai Williams

Hot2touch - Felix Jaehn

My love, it's easy for you

Setting the rules and playing it cool

My heart, like a broken cassette

Echoes in my chest, we're getting close

We're getting close

Play with fire - Sam Tinnesz

Right of passage classic maverick

Match in the gas tank

Ooh that's wretched

Unstoppable legendary animals (mm)

Digital justice

Now you're gonna know us

Hail to the king and queen of the ruckus

Yacht Money wired

No denying

Sway with me - Saweetie

When marimba rhythms starts to play

Dance with me

Make me sway

Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore

Hold me close

Sway me more

Super bass - Nicky Minaj

Boy you got my heartbeat runnin' away

Beating like a drum and it's coming your way

Can't you hear that

Boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom, bass?

He got that super bass

Boom, badoom, boom, boom, badoom, boom, bass

Yeah that's that super bass

Alors on danse - Stromae

Alors on chante

Alors on chante

Et puis seulement quand c'est fini

Alors on danse

Keira Jones

Panic room - Au/Ra

Welcome to the panic room

Where all your darkest fears are gonna

Come for you, come for you

Welcome to the panic room

You'll know I wasn't joking

When you see them too, see them too

Arcade - Duncan Laurence

I spent all of the love I've saved

We were always a losing game

Small-town boy in a big arcade

I got addicted to a losing game

Ooh, ooh

All I know, all I know

Loving you is a losing game

You dont own me - SAYGRACE

You don't own me

Don't try to change me in any way

You don't own me

Don't tie me down 'cause I'd never stay

I don't tell you what to say

I don't tell you what to do

So just let me be myself

That's all I ask of you

Control - Halsey

And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me"

I can't help this awful energy

God damn right, you should be scared of me

Who is in control?

Shatter me - Lindsey Stirling

Somebody shine a light

I'm frozen by the fear in me

Somebody make me feel alive

And shatter me

So cut me from the line

Dizzy, spinning endlessly

Somebody make me feel alive

And shatter me!

Ryan Seacrest

Show and tell - Melanie Martinez

Show and tell

I'm on display for all you fuckers to see

Show and tell

Harsh words if you don't get a pic with me

Buy and sell (buy and sell me, baby)

Like I'm a product to society

Art don't sell

Unless you fucked every authority

Glitter and gold - Barns Courtney

Do you walk in the valley of kings?

Do you walk in the shadow of men

Who sold their lives to a dream?

Do you ponder the manner of things

In the dark

The dark, the dark, the dark

Wicked ones - DOROTHY

This night ain't for the faint of heart

For the faint of heart, for the faint of heart

This night ain't for the faint of heart

'Cause the faint of heart gonna fall apart

Candy man - Christina Aguilera

I met him out for dinner on a Friday night

He really got me working up an appetite

He had tattoos up and down his arm

There's nothing more dangerous than a boy with charm

He's a one stop shop, makes the panties drop

He's a sweet talkin' sugar coated candy man

A sweet talkin' sugar coated candy man

Bury a friend - Billie Eilish

What do you want from me? Why don't you run from me?

What are you wondering? What do you know?

Why aren't you scared of me? Why do you care for me?

When we all fall asleep, where do we go?

#hphm mc #hphm #harry potter #harry potter hogwarts mystery #harry potter hogwarts game #mc #brooke atkinson #keira jones #kai williams #ryan seacrest #hphm playlist #mc playlist

[ashitpos-t]

It Had To Be You

Chapter 3 of my Husk x Fem!Reader on my AO3 account.

CW: Murder, Suggestive Themes, and Alcohol

"Well, It's been a pleasure talking to you." you smiled.

"It sure has! See you for dinner?" she bounced on her toes

"Oh, I'm afraid not, I'll be going to a show tonight."

Her smile faltered slightly, "That's fine, I hope you have fun."

She skipped away to the elevator, swiftly walking in and leaving you in your door way.

"I sure hope I do."

---

You straightened your posture, a small sigh leaving your lips as you walked back into your room, locking the door behind you.  Scanning your floor, your eyes meet with a small, leather bag to the side of your bed.  With a huff, you picked it up and set it on your bed, walking over to your vanity to see all of your makeup and brushes neatly laid out, at least Alastor was polite.  Grabbing a few brushes and products, you placed them into a small compartment of the bag, quickly walking over to your closet to look for what you'd be wearing on stage that night.

Opening your sliding closet, all neatly arranged thanks to Alastor, you sifted through the many skirts, tops, and dresses to find a dazzling black sequenced dress with matching black gloves.  You picked it up with a smile, slowly shifting it in your hands to see the sparkling nature of it's fabric.

You neatly folded it in your bag, setting a pair of satin high heels on top, making sure they lay flat before snapping the bag into place with small clasps.  You walked to your vanity, smiling at your reflection, fluffing your hair as you did, "I have a feeling this performance is gonna be a good one!"

---

"God dammnit-" you muttered, messing up your eyeliner for the third time that night.  

You quickly grabbed makeup wipes and cleaned your smeared look before drawing right back over it to finish your cat eye, and thankfully, by the mercy of Lucifer, you finally got it to look even.

A knock on your door made you jump, "Hurry up in there ya broad! You're up in two," A gruff voice said, must've been a stage hand or something of the other.

Grabbing your sheen gloves from your bag, you slipped them on, adjusting your fingers into the silky material, clinking the tip of your heel onto the floor.

You glanced in the mirror, placing a few strands of hair into the rest of the bunch before straightening back out, trotting to the door and opening it, only to get met with a blast of cigar smoke and cheap liquor.  You think you would've grown a tolerance after six decades, but you still had to try your best to suppress a cough festering in the back of your throat.  Your careful gloved fingers traced the rusted railing as you walked up the stairs, hesitant in an effort to not trip on your dress.  Deciding to then swiftly scan the back of the stage and red curtains, which shielded you from the harsh lights and stares practically oozing from the rest of the bar, even behind the thick fabric.

You stepped into the middle of the stage, taking in a nervous breath while smoothing down your dress, brushing off the stares of seedy demons that prepared the show in the back.

A shaky voice crept into the speakers, "Now, I'm happy to announce what you all have been waiting for," he cleared his throat, "y/n, l/n!" He finished, the curtains getting slowly pulled back as you walked forward, revealing your elegant form.

A few demons cheered, while others whistled, some even booed, but nonetheless, you forced a smile onto your velvety black lips, small hands grabbing the microphone, "how're y'all doin' tonight?" you opened, using the same line you had used countless times before, some how never getting old.

They cheered a bit louder, especially when you fluttered your eyelashes, making sure to blow them a kiss and a wink.

Your silky gloves gripped the metal in your hands as you began to sing.

"When marimba rhythm starts to play," you began, blinking against the harsh stage lights as you sauntered around the edge of stage.

"Dance with me, make me sway," you moved your hips to the background music, "Like the lazy ocean hugs the shore,"

Demons jeered, "Hold me close, sway me more,"

"like a flower bending in the breeze, bend with me, sway with ease," you continued, dipping down to a particular demon who, unfortunately, sandwiched a bill in between your breasts.

You faked a smile at him, taking it out of your cleavage, "When we dance, you have a way with me," another soul tried to grab your foot, "Stay with me, sway with me,"

"other dances may be on the floor," you walked back to the center of the stage, "Dear, but my eyes will see only you,"

You placed the microphone back into its place in the holder, "Only you have that magic technique, when we sway, I grow weak," you bent into the end, fluttering your eyelashes.

"I can hear the sounds of violins," you strained, attempting to sing over many demons whistling at your last move, "Long before it begins, make me thrill as only you know how,"

They calmed, "Sway me smooth, sway me now," you moved your hips and shoulders to your own singing, "Other dancers may be on the floor, dear, but my eyes will see only you,"

You pointed to the mosh pit of demons, "Only you have that magic technique, when we sway, I grow weak,"

"I can hear the sound of violins, long before it begins," you popped your hip out, arm stretching to the chandelier, exposing most of your leg, "Make me thrill as only you know how, sway me smooth, sway me now."

A bustle of the sinners jeered, whistled, and threw drinks or money to the stage, the only thing you responded with was a shaky smile, and your next song.

---

You grasp the microphone, hands shaking a bit, "Thank you all so much for coming out tonight," you pressed your gloved hands to your lips, quickly extending your hand to blow a kiss.

"Bye, bye, now," you finished, sauntering off the stage, your smile breaking right when the curtains fell, your shaking hands running through you hair.

"fuck," you murmured, sitting at the bottom of the filthy steps, head held in your hands.  You hated your performances now, they used to be nice, used to be more lighthearted.  Now they made you want to gag, want to rip your hair out for standing it, for doing it for the money.  The demons watching your little shows always tried to grab you, tried to rip you off the stage, always jabbing disgusting remarks to you about your body, about what they wanted to do to you.

You almost broke that night.

You almost broke down on stage, you couldn't do another one of those damn performances, or sing one of those awful, cheesy songs that the bar always recommended you to sing.

You thought this would be temporary, that all of the erotic performances would jump start your career, that they would push you into what you really wanted to be, your own person.  You never thought you'd be doing this for six decades.

You pushed on your knees, propelling you upwards.  You sighed as you walked to your dressing room, eyeing the bugs that crawled over the concrete floors, and the cracks in its surface.  You pushed on the door, swinging it open, before plopping yourself down on the stool in front of the vanity.  You mumbled a curse under your breath as you grabbed makeup wipes, making sure to remove the caked on foundation from your skin.

You slouched into the seat as you finished removing the makeup, taking all your hair into a loose, messy bun before standing to rummage through your bag.  You grabbed a small, black spaghetti strapped tank top and pair of grey baggy sweatpants.  You weakly smiled at the comfortable outfit before slipping it onto your tall form.

You sighed in satisfaction, quickly pulling all of your possessions into the bag before leaving the old, grimy dressing room.  Other demons eyed your painfully casually form, giving you the once over before sneering at your more than exhausted features.  

You turned the knob of the back door exit, taking in a deep breath of fresh air as you looked up into the starless, hellish night sky.  You smiled faintly, hand readjusting its grip on your bag, before starting your walk back to the hotel.  No matter how many times you had tried to convince yourself, you still loved hells night sky, even if it looked positively maroon, instead of a brilliant blue, it stood out in its own way.

Your tennis shoes hit the sidewalk softly, a small breeze running through your hair, doing little to calm your aching nerves, and if even the sky wouldn't help you right now, maybe it was finally the time to pay the hotels bar a visit.

---

You pushed on the hotels front door lightly, head poking into the gap as you looked around, it had taken longer than you thought it would take to walk back, and by the looks of it, everyone had already gone to sleep, so much for a drink.  You felt a bit defeated until you fully walked into the establishment, now able to fully see that the cat demon was still manning the bar.  

You took a sharp intake of air, swiftly walking over to the bar, a drink idea already popping into your head as you slapped your bag onto the floor, alerting the half asleep bar tender.

"Jesus!" he sharply looked up to you, his brows tightly knit, "Fuck, don't fucking do that so late," he held his head in his clawed hands, a few beer bottles emptied beside him.

You muttered an even tireder, "sorry."

He looked up to you, brows still knit, "what do ya want anyhow?"

"a bourbon," you quickly replied, "oh yeah, can I smoke here?" you added, already fishing a pack of cigarettes and lighter out of your bag.

He slowly nods, hands sluggishly reaching over to the bottle you requested, eyes trained on you out of pure confusion as he let out a small laugh that was in his throat, "I had no idea you'd be the type to drink er anything," you looked up to him, lighting your cigarette, "ya just seem so," he hesitated, thinking of the right word, "Not tha type."

you smiled weakly, taking a few puffs of the tobacco, "I get that a lot."

He finishes your drink silently, sliding it over to you as he cracked open his own beer.

You quickly grab the glass, taking a mighty swig of the alcohol, a warm sensation lining your throat, giving you a minute buzz.

He winces at your harsh eyebags, and worn out expression.

You notice his staring, "so, your names Husk, right?"

He nods, albeit a bit gruffly, "my name is y/n, I don't do the whole nickname thing," you gesture your hand, taking another puff from your cigarette.

He stares at your shaken up form, noting your messied hair, remnants of glittery makeup, and catches a peak of the sequenced dress in your bag, "So uh, what the hell were ya doin'?"

You look up to him, a bit surprised he was interested, "Did a gig at a bar, jus singing n shit," he nods, already having an idea you had done something to do with entertainment, "It's fuckin terrible," you finish, rubbing you eyes in your hands, a sad smile on your lips.

He nods, understanding your discomfort, "how long have you been working?" you quickly reply, "sixty-four years."

He takes a sharp intake of breath, not expecting the sheer length of your career, "sheesh, now that's a long time," you nod, taking another long swig of your drink.

Husk takes a few sips of his beer, eyes now trained on the tv lightly playing in the bar, your eyes also occasionally darting to the melodramatic drama playing on the screen.

You go to take another drink out of your glass, quickly noting nothing was left, "I'll uh," you scratch your neck, a bit embarrassed, "see you around?" he nods as you put out your cigarette.

"see ya," he murmurs, eyes quickly training back onto the tv, his beer never leaving his tired lips.

You sigh, standing up off the bar stool, grabbing your bag and heading for the lobby staircase, the elevator flush next to the stairwell.

You lazily tap your desired button, feeling the uncomfortable jolt and flicker of the elevator, before ascending to your floor.  You slouch in your place, a yawn leaving your lips when the elevator dings to signal you've reached the wanted spot.

You quickly walk out of the confined space, being overtly mindful of the quickness of the doors closing.  The doors close with a snap, only minimally catching you off guard, you thread a finger through your hair, trotting off to your room.

Your tired fingers fish through your mess of a purse in a try to fin your key, thankfully finding it fast, you unlock your room, gliding in and give the light switch a click.

You sigh at the sweetly colored room, a few empty suitcases lay in the corner, and your bed lay a tad messed up, but none of it mattered, you instantly felt better by just looking at the comfort your new room brought.  Walking over to your vanity, you set your bag onto the small table, padding over your cream colored carpet to your white bed, flopping face first into its covers, giving a small spring back from the force.

You faintly smiled into the sheets, letting out a deep breath you didn't know you were holding in.  Slowly sitting up, your hand fumbled up to your bra straps clinging to your back, fumbling with the clasps until you got the underwear off, your baggy sweatpants following closely along onto the floor just next to your bed.

You re-positioned yourself, snuggling your face into the pillows of your bed, hand tugging on your lamps string, turning off your rooms lights.

Fluttering your eyes open, you looked up to see the black mass of night, glancing over to your open window, what must have been a thousand sparkling lights staring back at you from the city, honks from cars speeding down freeways complimenting the bustle of the city.

You hated to admit it, but sometimes hell didn't seem half bad, when you weren't doing god awful performances, that is.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #husk x reader #x reader #reader insert #fem!reader #husk #alastor #vaggie #charlie magne #longfic #ongoing

[iwillmoonyou]

Normal.

When marimba rhythms starts to play dance with me, make me sway. Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore hold me close, sway me more.

I was normal once, a doctor — well, psychologist but hey still a doctor.

Dr. Selene Davenport-Mikaelson.

I spent my days treating crazies like me… Laughs hard, crossing a leg over the other. I didn’t call them crazies back then, they were patients. Little projects that needed solved. But really, I’m not that crazy… I’m not crazy at all.

Just a girl that fell in love with the wrong boy. But that’s for another day.

You can call me Quinn, that’s what everyone calls me now. No more playing doctor for me.

Flashing lights of devotion circling in slow motion. I kissed the lips of a potion, and now I'm out in the open. So follow me into the dark, break up a piece of your heart. Sell it for, sell it for, sell it for money and cars. Come out wherever you are my motivations are, all my temptations are. My heart is racing with sensation with sensation now. I whip my diamonds out my time is timeless now...I get so high.

“You wanna buy me a drink, fella?” Red painted lips twitch into a playful smirk, patting the stool next to me with a dainty palm.

I wasn’t normally into guys that looked prettier than me, but hey — I had a job to do and he’d do the job.

“Well, yeah..” He sat down with ease, giving me a once over. I could tell I wasn’t what he was used to either, but with a wink of my blue shadowed eye he changed his mind.

I knew I was stunning, the short sequined dress showed my curves, the dark lipstick pronounced my full lips. Why are we wasting our time with a drink, let’s just take him…

“Why can’t I have any fun?”

Mr green eyes gave me an odd look, a brow popped curiously. “Are you okay there, sweetheart?”

I couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that left pouty lips, twirling the ends of pink locks. Blue and pink had always been my favorite colors, but when it came to deciding what color to choose for the ends of my blonde hair I couldn’t — so I picked both.

“Oh nothin’ puddin’, just talking to her.”

My grin grew wider as he stood up, Yay! Let’s have some fun!

“You’re going to make this exciting aren’t you?” A dainty palm wrapped around his wrist, tugging him back down onto the stool — bottom lip jutting out into a pout.

“Oh puddin’ don’t leave yet, the game’s just begun.”

The feeling, feeling so supersonic. I try to stop but I just can't stop it. Dancing in flames, dancing in flames. Sway with me, sway, sway, sway.

One year ago.

“Niklaus! Where’s Rhett’s binki????”

Pulling blonde locks into a messy bun, heels kissing the wood floor making my way into the kitchen to make Rhett his bottle. For six-months-old he was already a handful — part vampire, werewolf, witch and human. Unique in every way, even the way he asked for a bottle — moving objects away from me with his little powers until I realize he wants something.

“I think you left it in the car, love. Did you want me to fetch it?”

Pouty lips twitched up into a grin, even after years being together I still smiled at the sound of him calling me /love/. “Yes please, I have to get to the office!”

I never thought I’d be married, nor to a hybrid that caused so much havoc we had to move my practice to New Orleans to get away from the mess he made back home in Mystic Falls.

Getting used to the fact that all of the fairytales I’d been told growing up was easier than I would have ever thought it would be. It came natural, almost as natural as becoming a wife and mother.

Making my way back upstairs, bottle in hand I had a strange feeling that something was wrong. Rhett was quiet, but he was always quiet… Then I could smell the smoke.

“Niklaus!”

I felt him blur by me up the stairs as I rushed up, tripping over my stilettos. I scrambled to get up, dropping Rhett’s bottle on the floor and kicking the heels off.

But I was too late…

When marimba rhythms starts to play, dance with me… Make me sway. Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore, hold me close… Sway with me.

“Oh, puddin’, puddin’, puddin’... You’ve been a bad, bad boy haven’t you?”

Pressing a kiss to his duct taped lips, a print of my pouty red lips remaining on the tape. I couldn’t help but giggle at that.

“You look so cute with lipstick!” In an instant I was straddling his hips, slipping delicate fingers into his blonde hair — tugging his head back forcefully.

“I was paid big money to get rid of you, now what in the world did you do, puddin’?” Canting my head to the side, I don’t think he wants to talk…

Pouting out my bottom lip, tugging his hair back harder. “Now that’s just rude, puddin’. You don’t want to talk to me? Well fine then... “

With a flick of my index finger and thumb his jeans were unbuttoned, “We could have been something…” Unzipping his fly while my lips ghosted against his ear.

“It won’t hurt… For long… I promise, puddin’.” Whispering the words as a palm wrapped around his length, pulling his flaccid cock out of their confines. “Or maybe it will…”

Oopsie… She giggled in my head, making me laugh with her. The grin touching my features touched piercing blue eyes as I pulled the knife out of the thigh high holster it lived in.

“You should have answered me…”

His scream was muffled against the duct tape as I cut off his cock, laughing hysterically as the blood sprayed my features. Watching the way his face twisted up in pain, fear, and anguish all at the same time. I think he wants more…

“I think so too.” Slicing his neck open next, laughing as the blood pooled onto my thighs — dropping the knife on the floor before I climbed off of him. Dainty palms smeared the blood from my features down to my neck, giving myself a nice little blood bath.

“They say this stuff is fabulous for your skin, puddin’.”

I be on the list, always in the midst I’ll blow a bag quick. Bad boy want this, bad boy don’t miss… Run up on me I bet he get the gist. Harley, Harley catch a quick body.. Vroom, vroom, vroom, like I’m ridin’ a Harley. But I’m in a ‘Rari. Sorry, not sorry… Didn’t say a peep but I know them birds saw me.

Tell your people to call me, if it’s ‘bout that chicken. The most wanted in Gotham, all yo9ur diamonds is missin’. Oh, you thought I was kiddin’. This a suicide mission. You need to make a decision.

On what side is you pickin’?

[pedroscurls]

Title: Sway With Me

Character(s): Ike Evans and Sisi (original female character) Summary: Ike, a business professor and hotel owner of the Miramar Playa, meets an unexpected woman that catches his interest.  Word Count: 1,853 Warning: Just tons of tension!!! Author's Note: Created the gifs of the two people dancing, so I hope it gives some visual during the dance scene! ;-) Also, huge, huge, huge thank you to @negantrashlucille23 for this wonderful request/idea! It was originally going to be a one-shot, but I have been yearning to write for Ike for quite some time now. I’m mixing her request (Ike as a business professor) into the main storyline of the actual series. So, I hope you enjoy! I’m currently watching Magic City, so if anything seems too out of character or incorrect, please forgive me! 

Taglist: @jeffreydeanneganstrash || @inthedepthsofdespair || @mwesterfeld1985 || @jamjarportraits || @fiftypercentmoreintoyou || @hawtdiggitynegan || @myheart4ever47 || @binegan || @female-x || @magikat409

(GIF Source: @heartfulloffandoms)

Song: Sway by Rosemary Clooney and Perez Prado

Sisi was a showgirl for one of the nightclubs called The Havana in Miami. It was famously known for the entertainment that she and the other girls provided. She was the youngest in the group and the only one who also was currently attending college. Though, she didn’t mind. The other women treated her like she was their little sister so the relationship was tight knit.

Sisi was a student by day and at night, she transformed into an entertaining performer. The outfits that she had grown accustomed to wearing showcased her curves and overall fit physique. Many men that were in the crowd took a liking to her simply because she looked innocently naughty.

Though, when she wasn’t going to school or entertaining, Sisi spent her spare time at nightclubs and dancing for fun. The nightclubs in Miami were always excitingly enjoyable and upbeat, so any night she decided to go out was never one she regretted.  

Usually she wouldn’t go alone, but tonight she felt the need to. So, Sisi dressed in a spaghetti strapped, sleeveless, sparkly black dress that reached her ankles with an elongated slit from her upper thigh downwards. Her hair was curled impeccably to one side, though her curled bangs helped frame her beautiful face.

After applying a lighter shade of pink lipstick on her lips, Sisi grabbed her clutch and left her small apartment. Her heels clicked against the hallway, exiting her building and hitching a cab on the way to one of the most popular nightclubs in Miami.  

Miami was beautiful at night. It seemed as if the city had come alive once the sun set. The warm breeze brushed past her since her window was lowered halfway. She looked up at the illuminated lights, joy hitting her eyes.

Miami was always going to be a special place for her. It was as if she belonged here and after moving here a couple of years ago, she never wanted to leave.

Climbing out of the taxi, Sisi paid the man and walked confidently towards the entrance. The security guard looked at her from top to bottom and moved aside to allow her inside. Sisi smiled sweetly, stepping into the boisterous nightclub.

She quickly walked to the bar, watching as various men and women were dancing on the dance floor dressed in gowns and suits. Sisi grinned, hoping that she would find herself a dance partner for tonight.

Sitting on the stool, she draped her leg delicately over the other and ordered a scotch, waiting for the bartender to finish making her drink.

Suddenly, she noticed someone stand beside her. He was close, but enough to keep in mind of her personal space.

Then, Sisi heard his voice and she felt as if she melted into a puddle.

“Get whatever the lady wants and a scotch for me,” he said, pulling out a bill that would cover more than enough of their drinks.

The man was taken by surprise when the bartender set down the same drink in front of the both of them. Sisi hesitantly took her glass, lifting her lips to the rim and taking a sip of the hard alcohol.

“You drink scotch,” he said.

Sisi looked up at him. If she thought his voice would make her go weak, she was wrong. The sight of his brown eyes, slight stubble, and dimples were enough for her to lose all capability of speaking. It was as if this stranger captivated her and left her speechless.

Ike arched a brow. He wasn’t sure why she wasn’t replying. Maybe that was a sign for him to leave. So, Ike nodded his head once and said, “Well, I’ll let you enjoy your night. I apologize for bothering.”

Before he could fully turn on his heel to walk away, Ike heard her sweet, innocent voice.

“Yes, I drink scotch…”

He turned around to face her and smiled, flashing his dimples in her direction. “Not many women like scotch.”

Sisi cleared her throat. She needed to flirt with him or at least have playful banter. “I’m not most women.”

Ike chuckled, “It seems that way, doesn’t it?”

Sisi couldn’t put a finger on it, but the way he spoke and the way he presented himself exuded confidence, charisma, and sex appeal. Everything about this mystery man was intriguing and she wanted to find out more.

Sisi looked over her shoulder casually, biting her lower lip as she felt this man’s eyes take in her features. Not only was he stunning, but he was a gentleman. He didn’t dare let his gaze run over her body.

“Do you mind if I sit next to you?” he asked.

Sisi smiled, “I think that should be okay.”

Ike took a seat at the stool next to her, remaining calm as usual. Though, deep down, he wanted nothing more than to find out who she was and show her a good time. She was younger than his late wife, but no one had captivated his attention until he laid eyes on Sisi.

“I’m Isaac, but I go by Ike.”

“Well, Ike, I’m Sisi. It’s nice to meet you,” she smiled.

“Sisi, huh? I like it.”

She blushed, thankful that the darkness surrounding them was enough to hide the pink hue that tainted her cheeks. Sisi sipped at her drink as the tension thickened the air. Suddenly, one of her favorite songs began playing and it gave her the boost of confidence she needed to eliminate the awkward silence.

“Do you want to dance?” Sisi asked.

Ike arched a brow. “Dance?” He watched her stand from the stool. He did his best to keep his eyes focused on her, but the sparkle on her dress caught his eye. Ike noticed how the dress clung to her curves and the slit that revealed her leg was begging to be touched.

Sisi noticed where his eyes drifted, so she decided to act and gently take his hand. She led him to the dance floor, enjoying the way he towered over her small frame. Ike felt slightly uncomfortable, but when he realized that she wanted this just as much, he soon relaxed.

Sisi took his large hand and placed it at the middle of her back while one of her own rested on his shoulder. She bit her lower lip, staring up at him as their free hands were held against one another. As the song began playing, Sisi instantly started to dance perfectly with the beat.

          When marimba rhythms start to play           Dance with me           Make me sway           Like the lazy ocean hugs the shore           Hold me close           Sway me more

Ike cleared his throat, following her movements. He was captivated by her. Every movement she did, he tried to follow, but she seemed like an expert. Ike stared into her eyes as their bodies began to move in sync with one another. His hips followed her motions, slowly twirling her away from his body and back against him.

Sisi widened her eyes when she was twirled, instantly resting her hand on his chest when she collided against him. Their bodies pressed against one another and as the music continued to play and the sounds of laughter echoed throughout the nightclub, Sisi couldn’t help but succumb to the trance that Ike was luring her into.

          Like a flower bending in the breeze           Bend with me           Sway with ease           When we dance you have a way with me           Stay with me           Sway with me

Slowly, her mind made the crowd disappear and enhanced the music, but the intense gaze that she was sharing with Ike was prominent. Sisi had just met him and now, she was hooked.

Sisi took control and slowly released him, bringing her fingertips to graze his shoulders as she walked around his tall frame slowly. Ike followed her closely with his eyes, watching her every move as her touch sent shivers through his body.

When she stood next to him, Ike grasped her hips tightly and twirled her against his chest until her back was pressing against him. His hands rested on her abdomen and her hands were lifted above the air as their bodies moved against one another.

          I can hear the sound of violins           Long before           It begins           Make me thrill as only you know how           Sway me smooth                      Sway me now

Ike twirled her away from him once more, quickly following her in one long stride. One hand rested on her lower back while the other rested just above it. Sisi’s hand immediately grasped his bicep as her other hand moved to cup the back of his neck.

Their lips were mere inches from one another as their bodies continued to move. It was as if they were stuck in a trance with one another, unable to ignore the tension that surrounded them. Ike breathed heavily against her, his lips grazing her own as they swayed to the song.

As the song ended, Ike and Sisi held onto one another and maintained the close proximity. The blush creeped along her cheeks once more and Ike took notice this time, allowing a genuine smile to line his lips.

Sisi smiled to herself. She didn’t expect to come out tonight and have an intense dance with a handsome gentleman. Ike slowly stepped back, but his hand dropped to take her own, leading her away from the growing crowd on the dance floor and back to the bar.

“You’re a great dancer, Sisi,” he said.

“Only when I have a good partner.”

Ike grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he ordered another glass of scotch. When the bartender handed him his glass, he lifted it to his lips and took a sip, maintaining the eye contact with the woman that captured his attention.

Sisi stared into his eyes. She didn’t need to say anything to realize what was going through his mind. She usually never offered men to come back and join her at her apartment, but Ike was different. Though, before she could offer, he interrupted.

“Let me get a taxi for you,” Ike said.

“Oh, okay…” Sisi watched as he downed the rest of his drink. Within moments, he led her out of the nightclub and to the main streets of Miami. He raised a hand and smiled to himself when the taxi pulled to the curb.

He turned to her and tilted his head. Ike didn’t want to ruin this by rushing it despite how badly he wanted to come with her. Instead, Ike leaned down to kiss her cheek hesitantly. He only relaxed when he pulled back to see Sisi smiling to herself.

“Good night, Sisi…”

“Good night, Ike.”

“I’ll see you around.”

“Are you sure about that?” she asked, climbing into the back of the taxi.

Ike shut the door and watched as she lowered the window. He smiled and looked at her, leaning forward just a bit.

“I’m sure. Good night.”  

They had barely spoken a word to one another aside from casual conversation, but the dance they shared seemed they had known each forever.

#jeffrey dean morgan #jdm #jdm fanfiction #ike evans #ike evans fanfiction #ike x ofc #magic city #story: sway with me

[adoredykelano]

Where She Went

[PART TWO]

pairing: daveed diggs x reader

summary: daveed and reader were high school sweethearts who had a bad breakup before they both left oakland. four years have passed and fate (and a well-timed cello concert) bring them face-to-face.

warnings: swearing. that’s really it.

word count: 2,504

a/n: day three of @hamwriters write-a-thon is lit day :-) based on the novel “where she went” by gayle forman which is actually a sequel to “if i stay” but i do what i want. this is in Daveed’s POV because the original book is in the guy’s POV, and i’m planning on posting a second part on POV day so be on the lookout for that. okay love u happy reading

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for flying with us today and enjoy your time in the Big Apple.”

Daveed unclips his seatbelt as the other passengers begin to file off the plane, standing to grab his carry-on from the overhead compartment. It’s the only bag he packed, because he’s only in the city for 24 hours. Tour starts in two days, and his manager had all but physically forced him onto the plane to NYC.

Interview magazine had offered the cover and a centerspread to him, citing his Hamilton fame and upcoming tour as the main topics of interest. Though Daveed isn’t thrilled about missing last minute tour rehearsals, he has to admit that the offer was too good to pass up.

“Alright,” Daveed’s manager Jerry says from beside him once they exit the plane. “The car is waiting to take us straight to the photoshoot. Remember that this is for-”

“Interview magazine, they want to talk about Hamilton and the tour, with a big focus on clipping’s artistic process,” Daveed recites dully. “You’ve told me about fifty times. I get it.”

Jerry gives him a sideways glance, “I’m just doing my job, Daveed. I know you’ve been stressed lately, but I’m just trying to help you.”

“Right,” Daveed sighs, hopping into the car idling by the curb. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. The photoshoot will probably be on the artsy side of things, not like the shoot last week.”

Daveed nods, scrolling through his text messages.

“Did you tell Emmy you landed?”

“Nah,” Daveed locks his phone and looks out the window at the passing cityscape.

Jerry raises an eyebrow, “Why not?”

“You know why not,” Daveed shoots a Jerry a harsh glance. “She’s not my real girlfriend anyway, it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t give a fuck if I landed and I don’t give a fuck if she knows.”

Jerry grumbles something under his breath and Daveed pretends not to hear him, sinking deeper into the leather seat.

From the moment Daveed sets foot on set, the interviewer, Devin, won’t stop gushing about Hamilton. Lin is Daveed’s friend, and certainly one of his most revered artistic inspirations. Daveed is proud of the work he did on Hamilton, and deeply appreciates the time he spent in the production.

But damn if he isn’t tired of it being the only topic people ask him about.

“Wait, you want me to what?” Daveed’s eyebrows shoot up as he stares at the photographer.

“I’d like you to change into this speedo, take your shirt off, and get in this milk bath,” He repeats himself. “It’s a pretty common shot for women, the whole in-the-bath-with-flowers thing. I want it to be a commentary on masculinity.”

Daveed looks over at Jerry before nodding slightly. “Yeah. Alright.”

He hooks one finger into the side of the speedo, lifting it up in front of him and examining it.

“This thing is tiny.”

“It stretches,” the stylist says from the corner.

“Of course it does,” Daveed smiles, a bitter edge to his tone. He moves behind a screen, changing as quickly as possible.

“Alright,” he huffs, walking toward the bathtub and hurdling in hastily.

The photographer, Jack as he’s introduced himself, begins giving Daveed direction.

“Right, now arch your back so your abdomen is just peeking through the water...yes, great, hold that. Trisha? Bring those flowers around closer to his head, please.”

There are flowers clinging in his hair when he’s finally allowed to climb out of the tub, dripping tendrils hanging in front of his face. Trisha, thankfully, offers Daveed a robe and a towel as soon as his feet hit the floor, and he accepts them gratefully.

“You can go ahead and get changed, if you want, and then we can move on to the interview,”

Once he’s back in his jeans and his Oaklandish sweatshirt, Daveed settles into the chair across from Devin, ready to field more questions about Hamilton.

“You’re dating Emmy Raver-Lampman, correct?” Devin crosses her legs and flips open her notepad.

“I am,” Daveed nods. This isn’t the line of questioning he was expecting, but he can handle this.

“How’s that going?”

“Uh, it’s going well. Emmy is great. Very…” Daveed glances over Devin’s shoulder, where Jerry is giving him a stern look. “Talented. She’s talented.”

“Talented?” Devin raises an eyebrow, jotting something down in her notebook. “Alright. And how does she feel about your history with [Y/N]? Things were pretty serious before you both left Oakland, weren’t they?”

Daveed feels like he’s plunged through thin ice. Bitter cold seeps into his chest, making it hard to breathe. His gaze shifts from Devin’s eyes to her boots.

“I’m sorry,” Jerry interjects. Daveed is too stunned to say anything, and Jerry knows that. “Where did you find that name?”

Devin glimpses back at him with a shrug. “I do my research before interviews.” She twists to face Daveed again, who is still staring with a numb blankness at Devin’s feet. “We want the real inside look, your real life story. Before Hamilton, your life is kind of one giant question mark and we want to demystify you. The two of you were high school sweethearts before you left for Los Angeles and she left for Juilliard, right? What happened there?”

“That’s none of your business,” Daveed snaps. At some point, he isn’t sure when, he had pushed himself to a standing position. “Why can’t you reporters ever stick to the fucking work? I was told this interview was about Hamilton and clipping, not the intimate details of my personal life!”

“Daveed,” Jerry warns, a harsh edge in his voice.

It’s Devin’s turn to be dumbfounded as she listens to Daveed.

“No, Jerry,” Daveed shoots him a glare before looking back to Devin. “You’re not used to people standing up to you, right? Because you’re the one writing a piece in the magazine and we’re not supposed to challenge you, not supposed to refuse to answer whatever prying question you see fit to ask. Well, fuck that.”

Daveed marches forward, hand making contact with Devin’s notepad.

“What are you doing?” She shrieks, trying to wrestle the paper away from him. His fingers scrunch the top sheet into a ball before yanking it from the binding.

“This interview is fucking over. Find someone else’s personal life to analyze.”

Jerry rushes after Daveed as he storms out of the studio.

“Daveed, wait,” he shouts from behind him.

Daveed turns on his heel to face him. “I know you’re about to tell me to go back in there and apologize, Jerry, but I can’t-”

“Oh hell no,” Jerry interrupts. “I had no idea she was going to ask about [Y/N], if I had known that I would’ve never agreed to book this interview. I know that’s a sore subject for you.”

“Yeah,” Daveed sighs, shoving his hands deep into his jean pockets.

“So, here,” Jerry hands Daveed a slightly crumpled slip of paper. There’s an address scrawled in Jerry’s messy script.

“That’s the address of the hotel I booked. I’m going to go back in there and try to salvage what I can, see if they’ll print the photos even without the interview,” he shakes his head. “You take the rest of the day off. I know how much pressure you’ve been under lately,” Jerry attempts to make eye contact but Daveed flicks his eyes at the blinking crosswalk sign. “See the sights, eat, do whatever you want. Our flight back to LA for the last rehearsal before tour is at noon tomorrow, you have until then to do whatever you want.”

“Thanks,” Daveed replies quietly.

“See you tomorrow,” Jerry pats Daveed’s shoulder before turning to walk back into the building.

Daveed gets in a cab and goes to the hotel, where his suitcase is waiting for him when he gets to his room. He lifts it from the floor and sets it on the edge of the bed, beginning to dig through it.

He hasn’t had this much time alone in the city in a long time. There was always somewhere he had to be, someone he had to meet up with. Whether it was Hamilton or Emmy or the band.

Daveed’s time hasn’t been his own in so long. He decides he’s going to make the most of it.

He pulls a short sleeved white button down out of his bag and slips it on.

The sounds of the default marimba ringtone fill the room and Daveed pulls his phone from his back pocket. He groans when he sees Emmy’s name flash across the screen. There’s a momentary debate before he hits the lock button, sending her call to voicemail. When he unlocks his phone again, he sees the 5 missed texts from Emmy that had prompted the call.

On his way out the door, Daveed turns around, looking down at the phone still clutched in his hand. He walks back to his suitcase, turns his phone off, and tucks it under his clothes. He strides out of the hotel without another moment’s hesitation.

There’s a café down the street that Daveed remembers from Tony season, when Phillipa, Renée, Lin, and Leslie had invited him out to brunch to celebrate their nominations. His stomach rumbles at the thought of food; he hasn’t eaten since the light lunch at the Dunkin Donuts in LAX, and that was hours ago. When he pushes the door open, notes plucked from the strings of an acoustic guitar float to his ears.

“Can I just have a medium coffee?” Daveed says, eyes scanning over the pastries in the display case. “And I’ll have a blueberry scone, too, please.”

He fishes his wallet out of his back pocket and pays for his coffee and scone, stuffing a five dollar bill into the tip jar. The barista smiles warmly as he thanks her, turning to find a seat somewhere.

The only open table is tucked into a back corner near the bathrooms, and Daveed sits munching on his pastry and sipping his beverage. An orange flyer tacked to a bulletin board catches his eye and he glances around it, realizing there are a lot of advertisements hanging on the wall. He steps up, leaving his half eaten scone and empty coffee cup on the table, and wanders over to read them.

There are festival announcements, store promotions, and even church pamphlets hung up. At the bottom, the sliver of light blue peeks out from under the edge of an ad for “puppies, free to a good home.”

He lifts the paper up and reveals a poster for an event at Carnegie Hall.

“Cellist [Y/N] [Y/L/N], one night only, Carnegie Hall,” Daveed murmurs in awe. “Damn.”

He shouldn’t go. He absolutely shouldn’t go. The entire reason he has the day off is because he had a breakdown over you. He shouldn’t want to see you, even from the back of a crowded concert hall.

But something in him drives him to Carnegie Hall, an urge to be there for what will be the biggest night of your career so far. A need to see you up on that stage, to watch you get lost in your music like he had on so many occasions back in Oakland. Back when things were simpler.

By the time Daveed gets to the box office, it’s nearly showtime. There aren’t many tickets left, and there’s a line of people ahead of him waiting to get in.

“You’re in luck,” the short bespectacled man behind the glass chirps. “I’ve got one ticket left, and it’s in the third row.”

Daveed hesitates before sliding his credit card resolutely to the worker. He can do this. He can handle seeing you up that close, and you won’t even know - you’ll be too concerned with your music. You always had been before.

The usher points to a seat near the end of the aisle and Daveed settles in.

Lights flicker and dim, a hush falling over the crowd. Suddenly the stage lights flash on, illuminating the stage. You walk out and your dress flows easily behind you, a high slit baring most of your left leg.

To the sound of applause, you move to your seat, quickly arranging yourself and picking up your cello. You bring it into position and pause for a moment.

Daveed knows your routine. He knows that once you get on stage, you sing “You Are My Sunshine” in your head to calm your nerves and make you smile.

You take a deep breath, an assured look settling over your features, and you begin playing.

Daveed watches as the music whisks you away; it takes over your body from the first note to the last, a little over an hour later. When you’re finished, the audience rises to their feet to applaud you. Daveed can’t blame them- he’d be more surprised if they hadn’t.

You step forward to the edge of the stage to take a bow, and when you come up, your eyes meet Daveed’s.

He stops breathing, all the air sucked from his lungs by your gaze. It feels like you’re looking right through him at first, like you’re not sure if he’s really there.

I’m here, he wants to shout above the clapping and the cheering. I’m here, I’m here.

Your eyes lock more fully onto his, and he gives you a sheepish smile. You walk off stage and he’s left in the crowd, staring after you, just like the last time you left. It’s a very unwelcome sense of déjà vu.

Daveed sighs and turns to leave, but he’s stopped by a scrawny, very out-of-breath man.

“Mr. Diggs?” He pants.

Daveed nods hesitantly.

“I’m Dale, [Y/N]’s manager,” he sticks out his hand.

Daveed shakes his hand, trying not to make a face at the dampness of Dale’s palm.

“Would you mind following me? [Y/N] asked me to invite you backstage.”

For a moment, Daveed considers saying no. He considers telling Dale to give you his best wishes, and turning and walking out of the theater like you had walked out of his life four years ago.

“Sure,” his voice surprises him. “I’ll follow you back.”

Dale leads Daveed through the crowd and through the backstage area. His knuckles rap on the wood of your dressing room door and they stand waiting for a response.

“Come in,” you call from the other side.

Daveed’s heart is hammering against his ribs while Dale twists the doorknob. The dressing room is revealed, and you’re sitting at the vanity in just your robe.

You’re peering down at your phone, not paying much attention to who walked into the room. “Thank God you’re here, Faye,” you cry. “I was starving and I can’t get- oh.”

Daveed can understand your shock. If someone had told him this morning that he was going to come face-to-face with the woman who had shattered his heart, he would’ve laughed in their face. But here he was, in your dressing room, staring directly into your eyes.

“Hi, [Y/N].”

#daveed x reader #daveed diggs imagine #daveed diggs x reader #daveed diggs #hamilcast #hamilcast x reader #hamilcast imagine