#it's weird yeah. i think it's a cool composition but not quite my taste

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

He Was a Sk8r Boi

Happiest of Birthdays and best wishes to one of my most beloved and darling friends on this earth, the fantastical @hailhailsatan ! May your sass never cease.

modern au - college student Jaskier - the Kaer Morons are all skater punks

tw: mild injury (scraped arm)

---

Jaskier took a seat on what remained of a crumbling stone bench and pulled his black-and-white composition notebook onto his lap, opening it to the closest blank page. He tugged his favorite pen out from its place of honor behind his ear and waited for inspiration to strike.

And waited.

And waited.

After half an hour of staring into space and getting absolutely nothing written, the frustrated college student stood from his seat and jammed his headphones into his ears. If nature wasn’t going to help finish this stupid poetry assignment then maybe he could find a person or two to observe for inspiration instead. Glancing around the otherwise empty benches and pathways of the public park, Jaskier sighed and shook his head. “Fuck this, I’ll try the other side.”

He pulled his MP3 player out from the pocket of his light autumn jacket and painstakingly scrolled through every song available until finally giving up and pressing the “Shuffle” button. As a heavy, angry guitar riff began to filter through his headphones and lighten the load of the world from his shoulders, Jaskier found himself approaching a half-hearted attempt at a skatepark.

There was one cement half-pipe to his left and a few rails and quarter-pipes scattered around the vicinity, bolted into the ground in a seemingly random pattern. Several oddly shaped cement bowls were sunk into the earth, obviously made to work like ramps but with a larger and less predictable surface area.

There were only three skaters enjoying the park on this particularly grey afternoon, zipping back and forth from one piece of equipment to the next like emo hummingbirds. Jaskier took out his headphones again as he made his way to a nearby bench - wood this time - and casually sat himself down. The skater dudes were yelling back and forth to each other as they swanned over and around the equipment on their boards, mostly insults from what the student could hear.

The loudest of the three had springy orange hair that he wore pulled back into a small, messy half-bun at the top of his head. The rest fell down against the back of his neck in an equally messy sheet, reaching nearly all the way to his shoulders but not quite touching them. He was wearing a bright red t-shirt with a catchphrase that Jaskier couldn’t read and plain denim jeans.

“What the fuck are you doing, Eskel?” he laughed, pointing to the tallest of the group and pulling a face.

“Shut up, Bert,” the brunette shouted back at the redhead, doing a quick kick-flip over the far end of a metal railing. “You can’t skate for shit.”

“I’m better than you!”

The third member of their little gang was the quietest so far and, in Jaskier’s personal opinion, also the prettiest. He had a mass of long white hair that fell all the way to the bottom of his shoulder blades, pointed and stiff in a way that meant it had been straightened and sprayed into submission. The silvery strands were being held out of the stranger’s eyes by a baggy black beanie and Jaskier desperately wanted to know whether or not that hair color was natural (though he heavily suspected that it was not).

The white-haired guy was also the most talented of the three gathered skaters, flying from one end of the half-pipe to the other and landing a few flips in between as if risking his life was as simple as breathing. He wore no knee pads over his ripped black skinny jeans and no elbow pads either; Jaskier noted with a little zing through his nervous system that the skater’s arms were muscled like a Greek statue’s and equally pale.

He was fucking hot.

“Geralt, do a three-sixty!” the redhead jeered, chucking something at the pretty one.

“I can’t land one yet and you know it,” the white-haired guy, Geralt apparently, replied. His voice was low and sonorous and Jaskier nearly fell off his bench in surprise. The student hadn’t realized how far forward he had been leaning in order to listen to their conversation and he scooted back again with a self-conscious little blush. In the distance, Geralt continued. “Why don’t you get up here and try it yourself, asshole?”

“I just fucking might, White Wolf,” Lambert huffed, turning his board back toward the half-pipe and picking up speed. The dark-haired one, Eskel, caught Jaskier’s eye from across the park; the student blushed an even darker shade of red and looked down at his lap to avoid any sort of confrontation. If any of these guys wanted to start a fight with him, Jaskier would surely lose.

By the time the anxious student worked up the nerve to look at them again, Lambert had already climbed to the top of the half-pipe and taken a defensive stance. His eyebrows were furrowed and his arms were crossed over his chest in a projection of almost childish anger. As Geralt came up the cement incline, Lambert lashed out with his foot and kicked the other man’s board out from beneath his feet.

Eskel gave a wordless cry of alarm.

Geralt wavered in the air for a moment - cartoonishly, Jaskier thought, almost like Wile E. Coyote - before plunging to the pavement and rolling limply down the inside of the half-pipe. Eskel chucked a rock at the redhead and started screaming, “Fuck off, dude! You could have cracked his fucking skull! You could have killed Geralt, you absolute cock-toboggan!”

“Fuck! Shit, I didn't-,” Lambert fell on his butt and slid down the ramp to Geralt’s side, kneeling over him with concern written all over his face. “Are you alright, man!?”

Jaskier couldn’t hear if Geralt replied or not, but he suddenly remembered the first-aid kit sitting right there in his bag. Jaskier was a total klutz and tried to keep a handful of bandages and a tube of disinfectant on him at all times just in case he ever needed them. Thank goodness they would be able to come in handy, and for a far nobler purpose than patching up yet another one of his table-smacked knees.

Without thinking any further ahead, Jaskier grabbed the strap of his bag and took off running towards the site of the accident.

“Hey!” he shouted, coming to a stop a few feet away. “I have - uh, I have a first-aid kit if you want to use it.”

“Cool, thanks,” Eskel said, glancing over his shoulder with a curt nod. “Come on over, we don’t bite. Well, I don’t.”

“Dude, I’m so sorry,” Lambert apologized to Geralt once again. When Jaskier glanced over at him, the redhead looked legitimately upset and guilty. Geralt looked up at the newcomer from the pavement, his silver hair spread out around him in mimicry of a halo - the black beanie was lying a few feet away, forgotten or ignored.

Up close like this, the stranger stole the breath out of Jaskier’s very lungs. The man's eyes… His fucking eyes were a gorgeous molten gold in the late afternoon sun, sparking and shining like gemstones. Holding Geralt’s gaze made Jaskier feel as if his very soul was catching fire.

“Do you need a band-aid?” Jaskier asked rather stupidly, holding out the little cardboard box. Geralt nodded stoically.

“I think I scraped my arm.”

“Let me help,” Jaskier said. The student knelt beside Geralt and set the box of band-aids down. He flung open the kit and retrieved some ‘pain-free’ disinfectant, then returned to the box of bandages in search of one without a Disney princess on it. “Do you guys always do this without wearing any protective gear?”

“I’ve got a helmet,” Geralt said. He pointed towards three mismatched backpacks piled near the edge of the pavement; a bright red helmet with several semi-familiar logos stuck to it sat atop one of them.

“It’s very useful over there, keeping your backpack from cracking its skull open,” Jaskier chastised lightly, trying to keep his nerves in check. He was feeling oddly protective of a guy he’d never even met before and it was very fucking weird.

“Sorry,” Geralt shrugged. He was still laying on his back, his topaz eyes flickering between Jaskier’s hands and face. The student applied a thin layer of medical cream to the shallow scrape with shaking fingers and then wiped the remaining goo on his shirt, uncaring of the damage it may have done. He bandaged the minor wound quickly and leaned back, glancing between Lambert and Eskel as if just noticing their presence on either side of Geralt's head.

“Thanks,” Eskel grinned, holding out his hand. “I’m Eskel.”

“Jaskier,” Jaskier replied shyly. “And the loud one is Lambert, right?”

Geralt chuckled from his place on the ground and Jaskier’s heart seized painfully in his chest. What a laugh, ye gods. “Yeah, that’s Lambert. I’m Geralt.”

“Nice to meet you, Geralt,” Jaskier could practically taste the name as it melted across his tongue. “Well, not the nicest way to meet you, but I’m glad I met you all the same. Anyway.”

He stood up with a little grimace and took a step back.

“Where are you going?” Eskel asked. “You came to Geralt’s rescue so I think that means he owes you like, at least an ice cream, or something.”

“Yeah,” Lambert piped up. He smirked at the man on the ground and then turned back to Jaskier, mischief clear in his expression, “Let him take you to get an ice cream.”

“I’m lactose intolerant,” Jaskier squeaked. Then he realized he’d sounded rude and held up his hands as if offering surrender (surrender for what, he wasn't exactly sure), “Not that I wouldn’t like to hang out with you more but I’ve got an assignment due and I’m sure you’re very busy doing skater things and I-”

“Am I not good enough for you?” Geralt asked, finally sitting up. He straightened his arms out behind him and rested there, reclined comfortable, a god in his temple.

Jaskier shot the older man a half-annoyed look, beating back his anxiety with a stick. “I listen to Avril Lavigne. I know not to underestimate pretty skater punks.”

“Pretty?” Geralt raised his eyebrows. Jaskier hid his face behind his hands and turned on his heel.

“Anyway, nice meeting you!” Jaskier shouted, hoping they could hear even if he was facing the opposite direction. He took off toward the edge of the park at a brisk walk, verging on a jog. He needed to go hide behind a tree and cry. What the fuck!? He was terrible at flirting and now he’d gone and ruined his chances with the guy he’d… literally just met. Chill out, he told himself - just before a strong hand clamped down over his shoulder and stopped him in his tracks.

“So not ice cream,” Geralt said. Jaskier slowly turned back to face the mostly-stranger. His lip was caught fast between his teeth and Geralt lifted one large hand to gently thumb it free again. “Maybe a boarding lesson, instead? It would give me an excuse to put my hands around your waist and you could put yours on my shoulders.”

“Are you asking me on a date?” Jaskier asked. He fluttered his eyelashes and took half a step into Geralt's space.

The broad-shouldered punk smiled down at the Little Mermaid band-aid on his arm and then turned that smile to Jaskier. “Yeah.”

#he was a sk8r boi #anyway happy birthday hailie #geraskier #geraskier ficlet #geraskier fluff #bouncey's endless getting together fics #modern au #skater punk geralt #skateboarder geralt #student jaskier #JUST KISS

[moonlit-han]

part i: he came in through the bathroom window

genre: college au, neighbor au, fluff, humor pairing: femme reader x 3racha in poly relationship part word count: 5k part warnings: suggestive, alcohol consumption, explicit language request: yes and no~ a/n: this is in no way represents stray kids or bang chan, seo changbin, and han jisung, as it is a work of fiction. and to my readers: this is the first part in a series that’s rather dear to my heart, and while i’m not sure how long it’ll end up being at the moment, i hope you enjoy it!

✧ masterlist & tag list info in bio ✧

↠↞

Just before your final year of college, you moved into a new apartment—well, your part of a shared house that had been made into several apartments. There was another one on the ground floor with yours, and then two upstairs. It was clean, with lovely light and a surprisingly nice kitchen. Your bedroom was nicely proportioned, too, with amazing closet space. The bathroom adjoined your neighbor’s, and there was even a little door that connected the two, for some reason. You quickly found that you had to leave the window open, even just a crack, to air out the room—an old house meant no ventilation fan. Occasionally, the proximity to your neighbor made it a little weird when you ended up taking a shower at the same time because he sang in the shower. On more than one occasion, you had to stop yourself from joining in.

You later found out that said neighbor was a music student at the same university as you, and you were sure you would have never met him if he hadn’t been your neighbor. He didn’t hang out with the same people as you, didn’t have any of the same classes, seemed to spend all his time shut up in his apartment occasionally strumming on a guitar, and was just generally an introvert. He did seem to have two best friends whose laughter you heard through the walls on a regular basis.

On the second day you lived there, a Friday, he knocked on your door, a mango in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. 

“Hi, I’m Jisung,” he chirped. “I live next door. I brought you a house-warming gift—sorry it isn’t fancier. Hope you like it!” Jisung thrust the wine and mango into your surprised hands and then darted away to the other side of the house before you could even invite him in. You just stood there for a solid two minutes, staring into nothing with the mango and bottle of wine.

Wow, he was hot. Shit.

For the rest of the day, you went about your business, unpacking and arranging your things. The bottle of wine drew your eye but you resisted temptation, knowing that you wouldn’t get anything done if you opened it in the mid-afternoon. Occasionally, you heard music or slightly worrying thumps from Jisung’s apartment. But, you’d only just moved in and didn’t know him well enough to feel comfortable going to check on him. Surely he was fine, right?

Around 6 pm, you gave in and got the bottle of wine. Rummaging in one of the boxes still lounging on the kitchen floor, you found a wine glass, and miraculously, the bottle opener, too. As you poured out the liquid, it smelled fruity and a little sweeter than you normally liked wine, but it was a gift and you’d been working all day. You couldn’t pass up free alcohol. And perhaps because you’d been moving in all day, the wine tasted delicious and you soon poured yourself another glass. Thinking there had to be a reason for Jisung including a mango, of all things, with the wine, you sliced it and ate a few pieces in between sips of wine. The combination was perfect, and you wondered how Jisung had discovered such a lovely pairing.

As you settled in for evening, your thoughts strayed to your new neighbor. He seemed nice enough, albeit a bit shy, and was thoughtful enough to bring a housewarming present. That had to count for something. But what you couldn’t get out of your head was just him—the way his eyes sparkled with mischief, the way his hair swooped around his face. And with the hoodie that practically swallowed him whole, Jisung was absolutely the cutest, most handsome guy you’d ever seen. 

Pausing the show you were watching on your computer, you had to take a few deep breaths to calm your racing heart. You’d only just met the man, and you hadn’t even said anything! How could you be falling for him already? Heck! Giving up completely, you decided to go to bed . . . on the sofa you were currently occupying because you hadn’t set up your bed yet.

 ↠↞

Three months later, you were successfully moved in and your classes were in full-swing. You’d seen Jisung a few times as you came and went from your apartment, but you hadn’t really talked much. You were okay with that, though—classes were busy and it wasn’t as if there was some mystical Book of Rules for New Neighbors that you had to read and follow directions from. When you did talk, though, he was perfectly nice, making sure to ask how you were doing and actually listening to what you had to say—a rare quality, you’d found. He always gave you a toothy grin that seemed to light up his whole body, too.

Your door knocker barely ever got used, which was why when very loud knocking echoed through your apartment on Saturday, you were sure the apocalypse was coming. Cautiously, thinking of all the bad things that could happen if the person on the other side of the door meant you harm, you opened your front door. Revealed on the threshold was Jisung, along with two other young men who could only be the best friends you heard so often. 

“Hey, Y/N,” Jisung said, moving slightly to the side so you could see his companions. “So, I figured I’d introduce you to my friends, since they’re around a lot. Also, I usually ask one or both of them watch the apartment when I’m gone sometimes.”

“Oh. Okay,” was all you could manage while being stared at by three highly attractive young men.

“Can we . . . come in?” Jisung asked hesitantly.

“Um, yeah sure,” you said, blinking, and moved out of the way.

So that was how you ended up with Jisung and his two best friends lounging on the couch in your apartment. They seemed perfectly at home, not noticing or simply not caring about the mess of books and mugs on your coffee table, nor the—

Oh shit, the laundry. 

Your laundry—underpants, bras, and all—was hanging on a drying rack in the corner of your living room under the window. You scurried over to the rack and quickly threw a towel, which had been catching any rain that happened to fall on your windowsill, over the clothes. Turning round, you found the guys looking at you. You smiled nervously, knowing you were blushing.

Jisung put his head in his hands. You felt like doing the same thing just then.

“So, let me guess,” said the one sitting on Jisung’s left, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re name’s Reina, right? Since you’re lovely as a queen?”

You burst out laughing. You couldn’t believe someone had actually just used such a ridiculous pick-up line on you. “Sorry to disappoint,” you said, still giggling. “My name’s Y/N.”

“Oh well,” Chan said in mock-sadness, “that’s a pretty name, too. Just about as pretty as you!”

“Chan, fucking hell, man,” Jisung groaned. “Can you not flirt with every single person I introduce you to?”

“Sorry, ’Sung.” He still winked at you, though.

“Yeah. Okay.” Jisung addressed you again. “So this,” he pointed at the one he’d called ‘Chan,’ “is Chan. And the other dork who insists on being friends with me is Changbin. They’re also studying music composition and production.”

“Nice to meet you. And honestly,” you added conspiratorially, “I don’t understand why you’d want to be around Jisung either. Did you know he sings in the shower?”

Now it was Chan and Changbin’s turn to burst out laughing, falling onto the sofa’s arms.

“Jisung, your neighbor’s cool!” Changbin chuckled once he got himself under control. “Why didn’t you introduce us sooner?"

Jisung blushed faintly and grumbled something about not getting the chance. He’s really cute when he blushes, you thought.

“But yeah, we’re the bane of the Music Department’s existence,” Changbin said cheerfully. His voice was slightly husky, but somehow melodious, too.

“Just call us 3racha��because we’re spicy like Sriracha sauce!”

“Chan!” Jisung hissed, shoving his friend but he couldn’t wipe the grin off Chan’s face. Even though he seemed determined to be the cheesiest person ever, you noticed that Chan had extremely cute dimples and kind eyes.

“Wow, you three really are something,” you observed, with only a hint of sarcasm tinging your voice. “Jisung, did you really just come over and insist on coming into my apartment just to introduce your friends? Or, did you need something?” It came out slightly harsher than you’d meant it, but still. He’d practically barged in!

“Um, yeah, pretty much,” Jisung said. “Like I said, I wanted you to at least know who the people coming and going were.”

“And if you ever need anything,” Changbin added, “we’ve got you.”

“Thanks?” you said, not quite sure how they’d be able to help you, since you’d a) only just met them, and b) didn’t have any way to contact them. Although, Changbin did have a quiet confidence about him that was actually quite reassuring.

Jisung sighed, a little fidgety. “Well, I think we’ve trespassed on your time long enough. Let me know if the music’s too loud, okay?”

All four of you stood at the same time, Changbin leading the way to the door. “See you later, Y/N,” he said. “It was lovely to finally meet the person we’ve been hearing so much about.” And then he winked, too. 

What was with these guys and winking? you groused to yourself, trying to keep ahold of your expression. Wait, he didn’t mean… oh fucking hell. Judging by Changbin’s smirk that’s exactly what he’d meant. Why did the walls have to be so thin? Why!

Clearly exercising all the self-control he had, Chan just waved and said “Bye” on the way out. Jisung stopped as he was halfway out your door.

“Sorry this was unexpected, Y/N. I just thought you’d like to get to know them.” Jisung smiled a little sadly, and with that, carefully shut your door after himself.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding just as a small scuffle broke out on your front step. You could almost hear Jisung berating his friends for something. Running a hand through your hair and massaging a temple in the process, you walked back over to sit on the couch. As you continued massaging your head, your eyes were caught by a folded piece of paper on the coffee table. 

Strange, you thought, I don’t remember ever having that pattern of note paper. You picked it up and opened it to see. . . 

Wow, the audacity.

One of the guys had left all three of their numbers for you on that slip of paper. Chan’s even had a heart next to his. They really had some nerve. Then again, you weren’t exactly complaining that three hot guys had just left you their numbers. You never knew when that could come in handy.

↠↞

You were finally snuggled in bed when you heard a crash. You went stiff for a moment, thinking through the various things that could have made that sound in your apartment. The sound seemed to have come from the bathroom. Okay. So, it might have been the mirror or a glass you forgot to move off the edge of the sink. It didn’t have to be the window. Besides, there hadn’t been any other noises after the first.

Reluctantly, you got out of bed and trudged to the bathroom to see what had happened. The shelf you’d put up two days ago lay on the floor surrounded by the shards of a vase you’d placed on said shelf just earlier that evening. 

“Damn it,” you muttered, bending to pick up the shelf and the larger pieces of glass. The weight of the vase must have been too much for the shelf, even though you’d properly attached it to the wall. You methodically cleaned up the glass and reattached the shelf to the wall, not putting anything on it this time in hopes that it wouldn’t fall again.

When you woke up, the shelf was still up and you felt rather smug for putting it back up properly. And when you got home, the shelf was still up, too.

That night, you took a lovely bath—taking care to crack the window to let out the steam—twisted your hair up into a comfortable top-knot, and then laid down on your bed with just yourself for company. You sighed gratefully. It had been a long week and you desperately needed some rest.

But, before you could even settle into the softness of your mattress, you heard the distinctive sound of shattering glass. From inside your apartment.

Fuck, not again.

You slipped out of bed, throwing on your sleep shorts and a loose tank top before padding out of your bedroom. Walking as silently as you could, by putting your the balls of your feet on the ground before your heels, you made your way to the bathroom.

You heard a thump just as you put your hand on the doorknob. If that shelf had fallen again…

It was not the shelf.

None other than Han Jisung was sprawled on your bathroom floor, arms and legs going everywhere, and a look of distinct puzzlement on his face. He shook his head, clearly having banged it on the floor. There were bits of broken glass scattered all around him, and you could see a light dusting of it in his hair.

“What the fuck?” you shrieked, backing up to just outside the door.

Jisung looked up at you and grimaced. “Hi?”

“What the hell are you doing in my bathroom? How are you in my bathroom? You had better have a damn good explanation, Han Jisung.” You couldn’t believe it. You’d thought Jisung was nice, that he was normal. But this? Sneaking into your bathroom at 12:30 am? That was just too much. Only a creep would do that.

Jisung scrambled onto his knees, his back to the wall. Under the window. The window that had just been broken. “I can explain!” he said, hands going up in front of him as his shoulders shrugged, as if expecting a blow. 

“You’d better talk fast,” you said, your voice dangerously low. 

“So, like a dumbass, I forgot my key.” He gulped, then took a breath. “And the guy who lived here before you used to let me come through here when I forgot my key because there’s the connecting door.”

You glanced at said door, which you’d assumed was sealed permanently. Apparently not. You glared at Jisung, who continued.

“Um, I thought I’d just climb in and go through the door. I didn’t mean to break the glass, I promise! My foot just got stuck and so I kind of tripped through the window, if that makes sense? I’m so sorry, Y/N! I thought I’d told you about the whole window thing!” Jisung’s face was screwed up like he might cry, his whole body tense as he made himself as small as he could.

You almost felt sorry for him. Almost. But, you didn’t say anything, waiting for Jisung to provide more of an explanation.

“I— My front windows don’t open and the back and side ones open onto the hill, so there’s nowhere I can use to climb into my own apartment. That’s the only reason this has happened. Really, I’m sorry!”

“So,” you said, hands on your hips, “you’re telling me that you used to climb through this window whenever you forgot your keys.” Jisung nodded. “Did you ever think of making of copy of the key and hiding it under a rock or something?” You were in utter disbelief—how hadn’t he done that? Or given Chan and Changbin keys? You mentally rolled your eyes.

“Shit,” Jisung lamented. “No, I hadn’t thought of that. Like I said, he just let me come in this way and it seemed to work fine. Plus, I don’t think the landlord would like us making copies of the keys, right?”

“Jisung, right now that’s the least of your worries. Please remember that you’re sitting on my bathroom floor. At 12:45 am. I was in bed!” You sighed loudly. Jisung just looked so dejected, you couldn’t stay angry at him for long. “For fucks sake, come here,” you said, reaching out a hand.

He took it, careful not to step on any broken glass from the window, and let you pull him up. His hands were calloused from playing the guitar. And suddenly, Jisung was very close to you. Very close. You could see how long his eyelashes were and the place where he must bite his lip when he’s nervous—you could smell his shampoo. You were also all too aware of just how thin your tank top was, and, it would seem, so was Jisung. You crossed your arms, hoping he’d just think you were cold from the breeze coming in the open window.

“I’ll contact the landlord tomorrow and say I was playing baseball or something and accidentally hit a ball through the window,” he said quickly, stepping back and trying not to look any lower than your face.

“Okay,” you replied, heartbeat faster than you’d care to admit. “Thanks. Now please get out of my bathroom, Jisung. I really do want to go to bed.”

“Yeah, sorry. Really, Y/N. I’m so sorry about this. I’ll— I’ll go get some cardboard and tape to cover the window. I’m sorry!” Jisung seemed like he would start rambling wildly any moment now.

“Just go back to your apartment. I’ll take care of the window, okay?” you tried to be as firm as you could, but Jisung could do sad puppy eyes better than anyone you’d ever met. Dear god, this boy… You gave in. After all, it would be one less thing for you to do. “Fine, Jisung. You can patch the window. Do it quickly, since I want to go to bed.”

With a soft, apologetic smile, Jisung went to the half-door next to your bathroom cabinet. After a moment of him fiddling with the latch, the door swung inward to reveal a small space through which he could crawl. Sighing, Jisung bent down and looked up at you. It did not escape your notice that this was the second time that night that you’d seen Jisung on his knees. 

“Again, I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I’ll be right back to fix the window—just go back to bed.”

Before you could respond, Jisung was crawling forward into the slightly dingy area between your apartments.

↠↞

Jisung did, indeed, take care of the window getting fixed. When you went out to check how it looked, you noticed a conveniently placed log that would make it much easier to, say, climb through the window above. You estimated the height from the ground to the windowsill, and realized that Jisung would have had to jump and then pull himself up just with the strength in his arms in order to get through the window. Yes, the wood shingle siding provided fairly good footholds, but not that much. Damn, you thought appreciatively, he’s strong. You were suddenly glad for the chill in the air to cool your now too-warm face.

You found yourself thinking about Jisung at the most inconvenient times, such as in your lecture classes, and quickly realized that, even though you didn’t know him as well as you’d like, you had a crush on your neighbor. Strangely, you still hadn’t run into each other on campus, but you’d seen Chan and Changbin—in the distance and too far away to talk to. You weren’t sure what to make of the fact that you were into Jisung, but your daydreams had certainly become much more vivid.

That one night was just the first time of many that Han Jisung crawled through your window in the middle of the night. By the sixth time it happened, you decided to talk to Jisung.

You heard the familiar rattle of the window and immediately raced into the bathroom in time to help Jisung down. It was a bit sad to see him on the floor after he accidentally caught a piece of clothing, his backpack, or, one memorable time, an earring, on the window. You held out a hand to him, and he took it, hopping into the room like a lady exiting a carriage.

Holding Jisung’s hand was surprisingly nice. His grip was firm and comforting, as if he were transferring his warmth and affection—

Wait, affection? Huh . . .

You quickly dropped Jisung’s hand, but not after checking that his feet were planted on the ground.

“Jisung, why don’t you come into the living room, okay?” you said, hoping you didn’t sound nervous.

“Oh. Sure!” Jisung was clearly baffled, since you’d never done anything like this. Remembering to shut the window behind himself, he followed you into your apartment. By now, he should have been almost used to seeing you in your pajamas, but he wasn’t. Your tank tops left nothing to the imagination, which was maddening for him.

You pointed Jisung to the couch, and he took a seat, sitting with his back ramrod straight and an expectant look in his eyes. You couldn’t help but smile a little as you curled up on the other end of the couch. Jisung, who took this as encouragement, smiled back. 

“Jisung, I’ve noticed that you’ve come through this way once a week for over a month,” you said. “There’s no way you’ve actually lost your key every single fucking week. So, why have you been coming through into my apartment every week?”

You knew it sounded a little silly, but he had been appearing between 9:30 pm and 1:30 am every Friday. 

“Um, yeah. I may or may not be really bad at keeping my keys on me. Also . . .” Jisung’s voice trailed off so quietly that you couldn’t hear him properly.

“What did you say?” you asked.

“I’m really bad at keeping my keys on me?”

“No, the other part,” you said slowly.

“Damn, I was hoping you wouldn’t hear that,” Jisung grumbled.

“Jisung, what the hell?”

“I wanted to see you,” Jisung said and ran a hand through his hair, embarrassed.

You were stunned. It almost made sense—Jisung was clearly an introvert and seemed to be one of those people who would rather do something outrageous than actually have to talk to someone, much less someone they had a crush on. Neither of you had exactly made many other attempts to see or talk to each other, besides random meetings at the mailbox and leaving your apartments at the same time. Although, he had asked you to bring him soup when he got a cold in September, and you’d happily taken him some. Amazingly, the fact that he’d been all but sneaking into your apartment for the last six weeks didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would. That, you realized upon later reflection, probably had something to do with your crush on him.

“You . . . wanted to see me?” you asked, voice soft. You barely noticed as you uncurled your legs and shifted closer to Jisung. Your hands rested on the upholstery beside you. 

“Yeah.” Jisung had moved closer, too, and now you were sitting side-by-side, facing each other.

“But why?”

“Because,” Jisung said as he reached out and linked his pinky finger with yours. You nearly jumped, the contact seeming like a spark leaping from him to you. “Well, you’re beautiful and kind, and I’d like to get to know you better. And whenever I hear you laugh at whatever silly thing you’re reading or watching, I end up giggling because it’s the best sound I’ve ever heard. Did I mention you’re beautiful?”

You were silent for a minute, staring into space level with Jisung’s elbow; he shifted nervously but you didn’t let go of his hand. Your mind raced nearly as fast as your heartbeat.

“Kiss me, then,” you said, and Jisung’s eyes went wide. “Kiss me, Jisung.”

Jisung hesitantly placed his hand on your waist as you gently cupped his cheek—you could feel his pulse jumping in his neck. His touch was light as a feather and you could feel his hand shaking, even as he drew you closer. He leaned forward at the same time as you did, too, and a dull ache spread through your forehead where it had hit Jisung’s.

You crinkled your nose, leaning your head against the couch, and rubbed your brow.

“Oh my god, Y/N, are you okay?” Jisung said, not even thinking as he ran his hand over what was now a slightly red spot of your forehead.

You giggled and said, “I’m fine. Are you okay, though?”

“I’ve had worse,” Jisung chuckled. He also leaned against the couch, resting his arm on its back as, throwing all caution to the winds, he traced the arch of your cheekbone with a fingertip. “Here,” he said as he leaned toward you again and placed a kiss on your forehead. 

“Aw, you’re too sweet,” you said. Jisung was directly in front of you and you thought, Well, since he’s already this close. So, you leaned in and placed kiss after kiss down his jaw. Still hesitant, Jisung turned his head slightly and brushed his lips against yours. It was only for a second, but you immediately caught his lips with yours, wanting more. As you took the lead, Jisung relaxed into the kiss. His lips were warm as you renewed the kiss over and over. 

You took a breath, smiling and moving your free hand to Jisung’s hair—It really was as soft as you’d always expected. He hummed contentedly, leaning his head back slightly into your hand.

“I’ve been waiting to do that for so long,” Jisung breathed, letting out what might have been a laugh or a sigh. 

“Me, too,” you said, still carding your fingers through his hair.

“And now you’re too far away,” Jisung pouted, and slanted his lips to yours again. Continuing to twine your fingers around his hair, you let your other hand run over Jisung’s arms and chest, then down to wrap around his waist. As you did, Jisung held your hip and pulled you closer so you were nearly sitting in his lap. Not that you minded. You transferred a hand to his shoulder so you wouldn’t topple over. Jisung swiped his tongue along your bottom lip and you gladly opened to him. He tasted of the vanilla chapstick he clearly used, and as you explored each other’s mouths, you slipped your hand under the hem of his shirt. 

The feeling of your hand on his skin nearly made Jisung faint from surprise and he gasped against your lips before kissing you even more enthusiastically. After long moments of wonton kissing, your arm ached a little from resting on the back of the couch and, reluctantly, you broke the kiss. Jisung’s lips were very red and swollen.

“Are you okay?” Jisung asked, worried as he pulled back, just in case. You didn’t let go of him, though.

“Can we change positions a little, Ji?” The nickname had just slipped out and you didn’t realize you’d call him that until you saw his expression.

“Of course.” Jisung paused, not exactly sure what to do next. “Um, what do you want to do?”

“Well,” you pretended to think for a moment, “we could lay down a bit?”

Jisung blushed a little at the implication that hung in those words. “That’s,” he began and cleared his throat. “That’s just fine with me.” 

Taking a deep breath, Jisung slouched back onto the arm of the couch, bringing you with him. You had to do some scooting yourself, and soon found yourself straddling his legs. Jisung reached up and pulled you down to him, running his hands up and down your back as he did so. You rested your forearms on the couch behind Jisung and brought your lips back to his, leaving little kisses around his lips before fully kissing him again. Kissing him was like finding a lucky penny: unexpectedly sweet and such a simple yet exciting thing that you couldn’t help but want to leap with joy. All of a sudden, a giggle burbled up out of you and you hid your face in the crook of Jisung’s neck. 

“What?” Jisung asked.

“Nothing,” you mumbled.

“No, really. What is it?” Jisung was quite curious now.

You lifted your head, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “I kind of want to see you shirtless now,” you admitted and immediately burrowed your head in his shoulder again.

Jisung laughed, really laughed, as he said, “Yeah? Well, I can’t take my shirt off with you on top of me.”

Still quite embarrassed that he’d even considered what you’d said, you sat up and Jisung lifted the hem of his t-shirt. You couldn’t help yourself once his shirt was off: you whistled, murmuring, “Holy shit.” While you’d guessed that Jisung had nice muscles, you weren’t expecting him to have abs for days and killer arms, not to mention perfectly proportioned pecs.

Jisung smiled, a little embarrassed. “Um, like what you see?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you said, and trailed a finger down his chest. Jisung let out a shaky breath and you felt a hard pressure underneath your bum. Your pajama pants felt quite thin at the moment. Swooping down, you captured his lips again and continued to run your hands over every inch of him you could reach. Jisung moaned every time your hands returned to his chest, and he slipped a hand down to your bum to hold your hips to his. Your kisses were soon so heated they were almost desperate, your hands ranging over each other’s bodies as the warmth inside grew.

“Jisung,” you said, breathing hard. You sat up, realizing, belatedly, that your top was dangerously low now. “If we don’t stop now—”

“I don’t want to stop,” he whispered. “But if you do, we will. It’s okay, I promise.”

Jisung was so gentle and careful, you could almost cry. “Oh, Ji,” you murmured, and kissed him again, lingering at his bottom lip before pulling back. “I don’t want to stop either.”

Jisung craned his neck to kiss just below your ear. “Then we won’t.” As you continued kissing, any hopes of going back to sleep disappeared like mist in early morning sun. But you didn't want to go to bed, not when Jisung’s hands were slipping under your tank top.

#inkidz #ultkpop #0325net #stayhavennet #stray kids #3racha #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #stray kids college au #stray kids angst #bang chan #seo changbin #han jisung #bang chan imagines #seo changbin imagines #han jisung imagines #skz #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz fanfic #bang chan fanfic #seo changbin fanfic #han jisung fanfic #3racha imagines #moonlit-han #.moonlight

[lovemesomesurveys]

[yourheaventonight]

Where have you been all my life? I’ve always been right here.

Can you recite the Greek alphabet backwards? Nope. Or at all.

What social networks are you a part of? Like every main one.

Which of your fields of interest are you a total expert on? I’m not a total expert on anything.

What is one thing you will never understand? Why I’m like this.

Do you blog? This is it.

What was the last movie you watched? Godzilla vs Kong.

^Would you recommend it? Yeah, I enjoyed it. Admittedly, I was mainly interesting for Alexander Skarsgard, but I did think the movie was good.

With whom did you share your last awkward moment? My life is an awkward moment.

When was the last time you got all dolled up? It’s been yearsss.

Gimme yer best shot and insult me. Go ahead. Uh, no.

What do you think makes a person attractive? Physical attributes, certainly, but personality traits and who they are as a person makes a person attractive to me as well. Even more so.

Out of everyone you know, who has the worst taste in music? I don’t think anyone I know has bad taste in music, I share a lot of the same music taste.

^How about the best? ^^^

Can guys REALLY pull off skinny jeans? They can wear whatever they want.

What is one thing you missed out on that you wish you hadn't? I missed out on a lot of my 20s I feel like, it feels like a complete blur. I don’t know what happened to them. And now I’m in my 30s and I feel like I’m missing out on those, too. Just life, in general for the past several years. Everyone around is me is doing things and living life and I’m just wasting away.

What was the last thing/place you decorated? My room for Christmas.

Have you just recently started listening to any new bands? No. It’s been a long time since I’ve discovered any new bands.

How many windows/tabs are open on your computer right now? Two windows, 7 tabs.

Would you rather date someone really skinny or really overweight? I want to date someone based on other things. 

Let me in on a little secret of yours. Nah.

What is one habit you had as a child? Nail biting/picking. 

^Do you still have that habit today? Sigh, yes.

Is there someone you wish you were closer with? Yes.

^What's stopping you from being closer with them? I’ve been so distant and withdrawn from everyone.

Besides air, what was the last thing you inhaled? The scent of my ramen earlier.

Which point in life do you think is hardest? (i.e. childhood, adulthood...) For me it’s been the past few years.

How was life going for you, say, six months ago? Not well.

^Is that the same as today, or have things changed? Things have changed, but not in a good way.

Who was the last person to make you frown? It’s been things I’m struggling with doing that, not a person.

^Was anyone able to turn that frown upside-down? No.

What was the last non-papery substance you drew on? I have no idea.

What is one thing you wish you had the courage to do? Get certain things checked out and taken care of that I’ve put off for too long.

Which is bigger: Your iTunes library or your CD collection? My iTunes collection was definitely better. I haven’t used iTunes since like 2012, though, and I don’t have any CDs anymore.

What is your one true weakness? I’m just weak.

When is the last time you had hot chocolate? It’s been a couple years.

Composition notebooks or spiral notebooks? Why? Spiral. I just like them better.

What is the most bizarre compliment you've ever received? That I looked pretty for someone with polio. I don’t have polio, but they assumed I did just because I’m in a wheelchair. Also, what does that even mean? “For someone with polio.” Wtf?

Do you identify more with guys or girls? I think I relate more to girls.

When someone you know is sad, how do you go about cheering them up? I kinda suck at that and don’t know what to do or say.

Has someone ever accused you of not being creative enough? I say that about myself. I lack creativity or any artistic ability. 

Starbucks coffee or Dunkin Donuts coffee? I’ve only had Dunkin’s coffee a few times, but I’ve had Starbucks countless times and I do like it, so I’ll go with that. I do wish I had a Dunkin where I live cause apart from the donuts, I’ve heard they do have good brewed coffee.

Do you crack under peer pressure? Yepppp. And it doesn’t take much.

What do you think deserves more attention than it already gets? Hmm.

What song never fails to get stuck in your head? Songs I hear in commercials.

Who is your favorite vocalist? Why? Chester Bennington is one. His voice was incredible.

What is your most overused emoticon? This one: 😬 Do you ever name objects? (i.e. mp3 players, guitars, cars, etc.) Nah.

When was the last time you had a bagel? Hm. It’s been awhile, actually. I don’t even remember. Can you lick your own elbow? No.

What time during the day/night is your mind most active? At night when I’m up alone.

What color ink does your favorite pen have? I have a nice set of colorful pens that I really like.

What was the last thing you licked? My lips.

Who was the last person in your bed besides yourself? Just me. Can you touch your tongue to your nose? No.

What flavor mouthwash do you use? I don’t. Mouthwash irritates my mouth.

What tends to distract you most? I just find myself zoning out a lot. Like, someone will be talking to me and I feel myself getting overwhelmed quite easily and drift out and it doesn’t mean they’re boring or talking about heavy things (sometimes they are). I get like sensory overload. Or I’ll just be sitting in bed and zone out.

Is the perfect man or woman a myth? Yes. No one is perfect.

How do you feel about Bob Marley? I like a couple songs.

What's your favorite fairy tale? I liked reading or listening to all of them when I was growing up. <<<

Do you know who Tom Jones is? Yes.

Tell me one fact you know about horses (without using Google). They have manes.

When was the last time you had to walk up or down stairs? Well, never since I’m in a wheelchair.

Tell me one unique quality about your own handwriting. My handwriting is shit.

What daily chore do you secretly enjoy? I don’t enjoy any type of cleaning.

Has a child ever asked you a question you found difficult to answer? Definitely. Kids ask a lot of questions about everything and anything.

Name five books you've read in the past year. I’ve read a ton more than that, but I’ll give you the latest 5: Cold Highway, Cold Threat, Cold Hunt, Cold Truth, and To Die For.  You can probably tell the first 4 are by the same author, Mary Stone. The last one is by Willow Rose.

^Are any of those books your favorite? I’ve enjoyed ‘em all. I’ve read a lot of books from both authors.

Are you a person that enjoys re-reading books? I don’t re-read books, actually. 

Which hobby is the lamest: stamp collecting or spoon collecting? I wouldn’t call either of them lame just cause it might not be something I’m personally interested in. Those bring some people joy.

What do you daydream about most often? My mind wanders off to random stuff, stuff I’m dealing with, stuff I’m anxious and stressed out about, etc.

Why is your favorite band your favorite band? I’ve listened to them since middle school, so we have a lot of history. I really just connect and relate to their lyrics and I love their music.

Do you have a favorite talk show host? Nah.

What do you wish you could afford at the moment? A beach home with my own private beach area. 

What is the most unusual color you've ever painted your nails? I can’t think of any “unusual” colors that I’ve painted them. 

Which sounds the most refreshing: a hot shower or a cold one? I always take hot showers.

Have you ever made your own soap? No.

What's your favorite popsicle flavor? Not a popsicle fan.

Can you sleep with socks on? Yeah, I always have socks on.

When was the last time you were pissed beyond belief and why? I’ve been frustrated and pissed with some things I’ve been dealing with lately. 

Name a band with the word 'red' in their title. Red Hot Chili Peppers.

Do you have a favorite candle brand? I’m not a candle person. I just go for the room sprays.

How many years until you turn 38? 6. D:

What is your opinion on taxidermy? I find it super creepy and weird.

Would you ever want to own a body part in a jar? Uh, no.

What is the worst thing you have ever done to your own hair? Let it get really knotted up. :/

What do you think makes you a good girlfriend or boyfriend? Nothing.

What qualities of yours do you think could potentially harm a relationship? I’m a total mess, I wouldn’t make a good girlfriend. 

How often do you indulge in a favorite food from your childhood? I eat ramen regularly.

Have any of your childhood habits carried over into adolescence/adulthood? My damn nail picking habit. 

What is the nicest thing you've done for someone else in the past 24 hours? Nothing.

What sort of conditions do you require in order for you to fall asleep? It needs to be cool and I have to have the TV on.

What is the first band that comes to mind when I say 'dark'? Uhhh.

Do you have a favorite punk band? Green Day.

As far as relationships go, what are your biggest deal-breakers? Abuse and cheating. <<<

Be honest: do looks really matter to you? They’re like a bonus to me. <<<

Congratulations! Someone sent you flowers! What kind do you hope they are? I’m not picky, just a pretty assortment perhaps would be nice.

What type of underwear do you personally prefer to wear? Hipsters.

What is the grossest chore you've ever been assigned? Nothing gross.

What band (BESIDES IRON MAIDEN) comes to mind when I say 'iron'? I got nothin. 

Have you ever done something simply because you were of age? I had to go out and buy alcohol the day I turned 21.

Do you think it's worth it to tell someone you had feelings for them when you don't have them anymore? Wait, tell them I used to have feelings for them but don’t anymore? If I don’t anymore then why tell them about when I used to? Unless of course we were in a relationship and I no longer felt that way.

What color shirts do you tend to buy most often? Black.

Have you ever done something you once thought you'd be too chicken to do? Yeah.

Where would you rather go: Portland, Oregon or Portland, Maine? Portland, Oregon.

Name a band that begins with the letter Y. Yeah Yeah Yeahs.

Tell me about someone who has made a huge impact in your life. My mom most definitely has.

What can I usually find you doing at 4pm on a weekday? At that time any day I’m likely still sleeping.

What's a food you love but don't get to eat very often? I only eat the same few foods, so I eat them quite often. Like, I eat Wingstop 3-4 times a week...

Do you dot your lowercase i's? Yes.

What's the first song on your iPod/mp3 player that comes up under P? I use Spotify on my phone for music, but anyway nah I don’t feel like doing that. 

Do the words 'Amon' and 'Amarth' mean anything to you? No.

What's your favorite mythical being? I don’t really have a favorite.

Don't you hate surveys that end abruptly? As long as the question itself isn’t cut off, which I’ve seen, or it’s a numbered one and a question is completely missing then I don’t care.

Let's end this survey with a smile; tell me something funny. I’m not in a good mood to think of something funny right now.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

[winterune]

Pet - Thoughts and Musings

I am back with my seasonal anime musings/analysis/reviews/whatever. Because of various reasons, I have not written any of these posts since...I don’t know...last spring anime season? LOL I still have soooo many on my list from last year to watch gahhh. But I did caught up with Beastars and Araburu Kisetsu no Otome-domo yo - both of which were awesome, by the way. I wanted to write some things for them (especially Araburu, because I felt like there’s a lot of things I wanted to say), but...I don’t know. Life caught up?

Anyway, here’s Pet, with an average score of 6.57/10 on MAL. Quite a low one for my taste, as I rarely watch anything with a score below 7. However, this is one of those anime I decided to see not because of the MAL score or anyone else’s influence, but because I wanted to. Heck, when it was first announced, I was immediately excited, because 1) it’s directed by Omori Takahiro, who directed some of my all-time favorite anime, such as Natsume Yuujinchou, Durarara, Baccano, and Hotarubi no Mori e; 2) the screenplay is done by Sadayuki Murai, another favorite who has also worked alongside Omori-kantoku-san and was also the one behind Sidonia no Kishi’s series composition; and 3) the entire synopsis just sounds...soo good?? Not to mention that short PV-like thing they released way back when

OK, yes, I’m not fluent in Japanese, but the music and Hiroki’s voice acting really caught me.

However, time passed, and there was no word on the anime at all until it was announced that the anime was pushed back until the winter season of 2020. Now, I still had my initial hype, but I also had my doubts. It probably had production issues and so on. Things like that often don’t bring their best to the table and ends up becoming a disappointment. It showed on the first episode.

That episode was weird. I read what people thought about it on some forums and none gave me a positive image of the anime. But I thought, what the heck? There’s no harm on checking it. Though it wasn’t entirely bad, it was weird, and I had no idea what was happening. There was so much going on and the art felt a bit weird and the story seemed all over the place and I thought, ah, it shows.

My impression of it was: this show seems like it will have a good story, but not until some time later, so maybe I should wait for several more weeks and binge-watch it then. However, I came to learn that episode 2 was much better than its predecessor. It cleared up any kind of confusion and erased some doubts. It piqued my interest again. And now that I have finally caught up with the show, I am glad that I did not drop it. 

Because so far, Pet is amazing.

Since it’s been two weeks since I saw the first episode, it took a while to grasp the meaning of the terms and so on, but once I’ve got it, it was quite easy to get absorbed inside the show. There were a few time jumps and technical terms were thrown all over the place, and I needed to remind myself that is the director who made Baccano and Durarara. Durarara had a relatively continuous timeline, but the way it jumped POVs in those first few episodes were quite baffling and you only understood what was what much later on. Baccano was crazier imo, as I read that, unlike the light novels, Omori-san took the liberty to rearrange the story in the anime to make it so that there are several stories set in different timelines in one episode, and there are those terms and whatnot and though it makes a good mystery, it doesn’t make much sense, until that one episode where everything finally clicks into place.

I have a similar problem with Pet. I can see that the story so far is intriguing. We have these “crushers” and then “pets” and then loci in the minds containing memories, divided into “peaks” and “valleys”. And then there are “images”, which I think is some kind of protection armor? A form they take to get inside other people without letting themselves be consumed by the other’s memories and feelings. Aside from that, we have a “Company” with people who have the ability to get inside other people’s minds and alter memories. What’s worse is that we’re immediately dumped in the middle of the action with not much introduction, so all we can do is just sit tight and hang on, hoping for the best that everything will make sense in the end.

And then of course, we have our enigmatic characters.

First up, Hiroki, your shounen character in a serious drama. The longer I listen to him, the more annoyed I am haha. I don’t know. His voice kind of irritates me. Maybe because he’s this naive kid with a strong ability that doesn’t really understand what’s happening around him. And then there is that dependence toward Tsukasa, whom I will get to after this. Episode 3 makes me like him though. His heart is clearly in the right place, just that he’s in a bad environment, so he doesn’t know what to do. He is the character who will question the righteousness of their actions. I believe he hates his abilities, but using it has been ingrained into his body that sometimes, he’s unconsciously using it. Like when he almost got inside Katsuragi’s head, or when he showed the girl in episode 3 what her boyfriend was like (though it was partly his imagery of him, and he knew that and that’s why he was so conflicted when she came back). I can imagine what his childhood must have been like. Probably shunned. Probably lonely. Much like how Satoru had been before Hayashi “saved” him. And then Tsukasa came, who showed him how to protect himself and to utilize his powers. Tsukasa was his savior. That’s why in episode 2, though he was reluctant to kill, he also wanted to show Tsukasa that he could do it. They didn’t have to kill. He could save this man using his powers. he wanted to prove himself to Tsukasa. I am amazed that his heart has not been tainted, and I have high hopes for his character.

Next, we have Tsukasa. Even from the posters, this guy already looked fishy. In the first episode, there’s something off about him. He’s just too good. Too accommodating toward Hiroki. Hiroki wants something, then he’s going to give it. Hiroki says not to go with Satoru. All right, I won’t go with Satoru. Hiroki wants a shop. Here, this is for you, but I used the Company’s money, so I’m going to have to pay them back by doing jobs for them. Yeah I know you told me you don’t want to do any more of them, but I’ll be the one doing them, not you. You just need to sit tight and work on your little shop. You know that’s not what Hiroki meant. Still, I like him. So far, he’s a cool character, and I like him even more on his solo job in episode 3. But what I love the most is:

That smirk! Because yes, all this time, all we’ve seen are his facades. His facade when he is with Hiroki. His facade with Katsuragi. His facade when he does a job. And then we have this moment, this small moment, and much like how that small moment with the girl who buys guppies and her boyfriend builds up Hiroki’s character, this small moment between Katsuragi and Tsukasa, when Katsuragi tells him that his next job will be Hayashi and Tsukasa pauses for a moment before asking if Hayashi has been found, it speaks volume. Because then finally Tsukasa shows us his true self (or, at least, part of his true self). His tone changes. He scolds Katsuragi for being happy or pleased.

You seem strangely happy for someone who was outwitted for two whole years.

Tsukasa is clearly talking down to him. Katsuragi, who we thought was the boss. Katsuragi, who was the jerk who would kill people to get the job done quickly. He is surprised at the sudden change and becomes visibly nervous. He stiffens and keeps his eyes on the road. Tsukasa goes on to give orders to Katsuragi. Then Katsuragi nervously puts out his cigarette and says, somewhat formally, “Understood.” (though he’s just saying “hai” in Japanese, but it’s vastly different from the Katsuragi we know in the last two episodes). He obeys Tsukasa. 

I did wonder if Katsuragi was under Tsukasa’s control, but it didn’t seem like it. Heck, Tsukasa might actually be one of the Company’s higher-ups (or he might even be the Head of the Company, if I want to stretch it). And then we have that split-second smirk, that shows he is in complete control of the situation. It makes sense with how he refers to Hiroki as his “pet” in such an off-handed manner. It also makes sense with how he makes cold, calculating judgment. Of course he’s using the Company’s money to buy the shop. Of course he’s still doing odd jobs for the Company. He’s not the good guy he shows Hiroki he is.

Right now, I can actually see Tsukasa being the “big bad boss” of the series, if this series has any kind of villain. Or, well, I think he’d make a pretty good anti-hero. Just imagine a showdown between Tsukasa and Hiroki... So far, I am most intrigued with Tsukasa and I hope he will have a great arc.

#pet 2020 #pet anime #pet #anime #musings #anime musings #pet musings #pet analysis #lol i wrote a lot for something that only has 3 episodes

[beckzorz]

A Private Tour (one-shot)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Words: 2020 Summary: Captain America and his brooding friend get a private tour of an art museum. As an intern, your only job is to keep a low profile. Oops? A/N: Happy Fluff Friday! Wrote this in a flash and wanted to share :3 For anyone curious, the museum is the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum. All the descriptions of the art are sourced from the museum website. Thanks (as always) to my amazing beta reader @kentuckybarnes, who is more patient than any saint <3

“And here we have the 1888 portrait of Isabella Stewart Gardner by John Singer Sargent. After its initial showing, her husband asked it to not be publicly shown again until after his death.”

“Fascinating,” Captain America said. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and tilted his head as he peered up at the milky face of the museum’s mastermind. The curator studied him with blatant interest.

You rolled your eyes.

“What?”

You flinched. You’d been invited to accompany the curator on Captain America’s private tour, to shadow her and learn—a high honor for a lowly intern such as yourself. You were just supposed to keep a low profile and pay attention to how the curator conducted the tour.

Of course, you’d blown it now. Captain America’s friend, the dark, brooding fellow trailing at an uneasy distance, was staring at you with raised eyebrows.

“What?” he repeated.

“I didn’t say anything,” you whispered.

“You rolled your eyes,” he whispered back.

“Er…” Your face burned.

He cracked a grin. “I won’t tell.” He winked conspiratorially at you and strolled up beside Captain America, who started to point out some brushwork to the strange man.

Martha, the curator, joined you by the far wall as the two men chatted.

“So, what do you think?” she asked.

“I’m curious why you picked the pieces you did,” you said. “But I guess I have weird taste.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I get why you’d point out the Sargent—it’s a classic. Plus, the whole idea of locking something splendid away for ages does kinda resonate. But a few of the others you picked were pretty obscure.”

“Well, I like to highlight some of the things that speak to me.” Martha tapped her chin. “And you do get some extra autonomy on these private tours. No need to follow a strict script like with the regular tours.”

“Mm.”

You eyed the two guests speculatively. Captain America was still staring up at the Sargent while talking to his friend. His friend, on the other hand, had his head turned towards you and Martha. You raised your eyebrows when he glanced back at you, but he looked away so fast you weren’t sure if he’d even noticed. He was dressed like Captain America in a button-down shirt and jeans, though he had his sleeves rolled down and gloves on as well. His shirt wasn’t quite straining over the muscles of his back, but it was a close call. The black jeans across his butt, on the other hand…

“What’s the other one’s name again?” you asked Martha in a whisper.

“Don’t you recognize him? That’s Bucky Barnes!”

Bucky Barnes definitely looked back at you this time. You ignored his badly disguised smirk.

“I guess I’m not up-to-date on the real world,” you said lightly. “Not that I’m so up-to-date in the art world, either…”

“Ah yes, your penchant for impressionist landscapes.” Martha’s lips twitched with amusement. Captain America turned back to her with a smile, and Martha hurried forward to lead on.

You kept to a reasonable distance. Bucky Barnes stood by the Sargent until you pass by.

“So,” he drawled. “Impressionist landscapes?”

“I’d say they’re classic, but that’s a couple millenia off-base,” you told him.

Bucky grinned. He hooked his fingers in the loops of his snug jeans and kept pace with you as you followed Martha and Steve.

“What about art of people?”

“Eh,” you said with a shrug. “ I see people every day. We’re all works of art, in my opinion. You just have to look at people the right way to see it.”

“So how should I pose?” Bucky stopped short and twisted his legs and torso, raising his arms in a fair facsimile of the composite pose of ancient Egypt. His muscles strained against his shirt, and you stepped back to try and take in the whole picture and not just the stark outline of his abs. His long hair brushed his cheekbones, and his cheeky grin was nothing like the serene profiles depicted in tomb chapels or on palace walls.

He looked… ridiculous.

“A good effort,” you said, trying not to laugh. “But I prefer contrapposto.”

Bucky chuckled, and Steve glanced back at you both with a smile. You blushed and hurried after your boss.

Martha was already telling Steve about the seventeenth century Japanese fold screens by the time you were back in earshot. It was the standard fare, a speech you’d already mostly memorized. You studied the illustrations, wondering vaguely if you’d ever get around to reading more than a synopsis of the source novel.

“Wanna catch me up?” Bucky asked.

You glanced at him, trying to ignore your racing pulse at the sight of his bright blue eyes. “Illustrations from the Tale of Genji,” you said quickly—Martha was almost done with her speech. “Kano Tsunenobu, 1677.”

“Isn’t that the first novel ever written?” Bucky leaned forward and peered at the bottom left corner. His arm brushed your sleeve, and you bit your tongue to keep cool as a whiff of his spicy scent flooded your senses. “What’s it about?”

“It’s about a man named Genji, who was the ideal man. A really talented artist, super attractive, and—” you flushed— “a great lover.”

“Oh yeah?” Bucky stood up, still dangerously close. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips as he gazed at you. You were frozen in place, barely able to breathe. There were sweet crinkles around his eyes, and gosh, his lips were pink as anything. He was barely a foot away. You swallowed.

“And so as we move on…”

Martha and Steve were wandering off. You took the opportunity to step back, breaking the spell, and follow your boss. A deep breath took the edge off your sudden hyper-awareness of the man behind you. Then you remembered Bucky had asked a question.

“The book spends a lot of time on his relationships. I guess things haven’t changed much,” you shot back over your shoulder. Your voice sounded normal. You hoped.

“Well, I don’t think that’s true,” Bucky murmured. “But I hope you never change.”

You didn’t know what to say to that.

Martha made quick work of the chapel and the long gallery, and now you were all clustered in the Titian room. Martha and Steve made their way to the far wall, but Bucky grabbed your elbow and steered you to a table by a window. You recognized the painting propped in a dark wooden frame.

Giovanni Bellini, Christ Carrying the Cross, about 1505-1510.

“He looks like he’s wearing a backwards baseball hat,” Bucky whispered.

You clapped a hand to your mouth before you laughed out loud. “Shh!” you scolded.

“What?” he said, blinking innocently. Gosh, what eyes! “I’m just sayin’.”

“Well, you’re not wrong, but I’m supposed to be paying attention,” you said. You extricated your arm from his hold and hurried over to where Martha was going over Titian’s Rape of Europa with Steve.

“Crazy to think how much European art developed in a hundred and fifty years,” Steve mused. “This is so different from the Proto-Renaissance stuff. The motion, the colors…”

“It’s fascinating,” Martha agreed.

You blinked. Did Martha realize she was echoing what Steve had said not ten minutes ago?

Maybe. Martha was good at reading a room.

Hopefully she wouldn’t scold you for not paying attention to her tour.

Your eyes slid back to Bucky, who mimed spinning a cap around his head, and you pressed your lips together to keep from smiling. What a goof.

By the time you all headed back downstairs, Bucky had attached himself to your side again.

“So,” he said as you made your way down the stairs, “what’s your deal?”

“I’m interning,” you said. “Summertime gig and all that.”

“Do they pay you?” he asked.

“Uh, no, this is an art museum,” you said, startled.

“So how do you live?”

“Grants, and other paid jobs. I’m a grad student in my spare time.”

“Oh yeah? Art history?”

“Whoa, how did you guess?” you joked.

Bucky leaned in to whisper, “It’s hard to tell, but I’m secretly brilliant.”

You giggled. “You know,” you said, “I believe it.” Your eyes lingered on his smile before you looked away as you reached the bottom of the stairs.

This all had been fun, and Bucky Barnes was definitely the most beautiful person you’d ever seen, but it wasn’t real. Captain America’s private tour was over, and now that it was, you and Martha and the rest of the skeleton crew still left behind could go home.

Except Steve was still talking to Martha.

Well, you weren’t going home yet. You turned back to Bucky with a smile.

“Art is more Steve’s thing, but I had fun,” he said, knocking his shoulder against yours.

“Good!” You smiled brightly at him.

Bucky blinked, a hint of pink coming to his cheeks as he looked at you. The silence held a few seconds too long, and your smile faded slightly. He cleared his throat and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“So what’s your end goal, then?” he asked.

“Make something magical out of other people’s work,” you said promptly. “And…” You glanced hesitantly up at him. Why not tell him your secret dream? You’d never see him again, and his eyes and face were so guileless that you couldn’t imagine any harm would come from telling. “And it’s never gonna happen, but I want to be the one to find the paintings that got stolen from here.”

His eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Yes,” you confessed. “I always love heist stories, and when I found out someone had done it in a museum, I was so excited. I’ve wanted to figure it out since I was a kid. I minored in criminal justice, even.”

“So… bring the thieves to justice and restore the paintings to their rightful place?”

“Exactly.”

“Sounds fun.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “When do we start?”

“Oh, please.” You laughed.

“No, seriously, when do we start?”

Your mouth dropped open. “You’re not serious,” you said, but he ignored you.

“I suppose we could start with dinner, but we can stick with a good old-fashion briefing room if you prefer,” he said with a wink. Your heart skipped a beat.

“I like dinner,” you said weakly. “Briefing rooms sound boring.”

“God, you have no idea,” he said fervently. He rolled his eyes, but when he was done, all he smiled. “So do you have plans tonight?”

“Well, I was going to just hang out at home, but I guess I need to solve a decades-old mystery with a stranger first,” you teased.

“Having been a decades-old mystery, I think I can offer a unique perspective,” Bucky declared, still smiling. He reached out and squeezed your hand briefly. “I’m glad Steve dragged me along. Never woulda come on my own.”

“Is it too soon to say I’m glad too?”

Bucky’s grin was infectious. “Nope. Besides, I think your boss will be impressed if you can get the paintings home safe.”

“You do know they’ve been missing for almost thirty years, right?” you said.

“After a century, that doesn’t sound so bad.” Bucky glanced behind you at Martha and Steve, but before you could check what they were up to, he grabbed your hand and pulled you around a corner.

“Excuse you!” But your protest was half-hearted. Bucky’s right hand was still linked in yours, his eyes bright and happy, and you couldn’t help but catch your breath at the wonderful sight of him so close. “You know,” you murmured, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw, “you’re a work of art just as you are.”

Bucky’s eyes smoldered as he tugged you closer until your chest brushed his.

“Well,” he said, dropping a kiss on your nose, “maybe for my next pose I’ll try a reclining nude.”

He stifled your laugh with a searing kiss. Warmth burst in your chest, and you hummed happily into his mouth. When he finally pulled back, his lips were swollen but his eyes were gleaming.

“So,” he said, “dinner?”

“Dinner,” you agreed.

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier x reader #bucky barnes fic #becca writes

[imdoingthismspaintadventure]

In which we close a narrative loop and dave is a tsun

Dave: Get the damn beta and save your friend's life!

Let’s get a move on!!

Finally the betas are easily accesible when we want them to be, instead of spending 40 pages finding them by doing things like throwing cakes out the window

This notion strikes you as nonsensical. You can't imagine how a video game could save someone's life, and in any case, you're quite sure no one you know is in any danger.

.... fucking what

Is this before the other things? Have we gone slightly back in time in terms of the general story? Is this while John was fucking around in his room?

....Does this mean that we will lose these betas somehow in the inmediate future because nothing can ever be easy? Oh no

Anyway, these are your copies of the beta you received in the mail recently. You've labeled them with your name in BOLD RED PRINT to distinguish them from your BRO's copies, who labeled his in kind. Neither of you really gives a shit about this game or has any intention of playing it, but you'll be damned if you'll let that get in the way of your campaign of one-upmanship.

What is it with these kids and weird family relationships?

I predict we will lose our copies and we will have to get Bro’s copies, based on that each kid so far has had their parent/authority figure as an antagonistic force.

Dave: Bleat like a goat and piss on your turntable.

Oh god this is indeed a pattern we are going to be following!

We had the “wrong name” bit, the “find your arms” bit, the “idiotic command” bit....Are we going to do them again for GG when they are introduced? I wonder what this command will be then.

You would never consider allowing any fluid even remotely resembling urine to touch your beloved TURNTABLES. That would risk breaking them, and a world without the gift of your godly science just doesn't sound like a place you want any part of. While you're at it, you might as well wipe out human civilization with a meteor or something ridiculous like that which will probably never happen.

I like that the “on your turntable” part is the outrageous part of “bleat like a goat and piss on your turntable” for Dave. Kid values his raps more than his life. Although it’s probably true that the world would be lesser without those wonderful, wonderful things.

And yeah, nothing to worry about with meteors and such, Dave. I’m sure nothing bad will happen, ever. Just like how those game copies you have are going to be safe and accesible forever.

That sort of thing only happens in stupid idiot movies for stupid idiots.

Oh come on, I’m sure you can find a bit of value in them, even if it’s in a “so bad it’s good” kind of way.

==>

...wait, are you really considering it?

You will however contemplate bleating like a goat for IRONICALLY HUMOROUS purposes at a later date.

...I will keep that in mind in case it comes up later.

If PS has taught me anything is that these comics are Chekhov’s armories

Dave: Examine closet.

So inside the closet there is yet another package (probably a gift from John, judging by the pattern we seem to be having. Seriously, do all these kids send each other presents in the same manner? ) and some sort of drink?

This is your closet. This is where you keep a lot of your crap.

Most accurate description of a closet ever

Like that BOX. And that bottle of... what is that? Is that...?

.....

Is that seriously a jar of piss? I would say “wtf” loudly, but your room is such a weird combination of things (including those weird fetus/ dissecated animals/ weeeeird shit) that I wouldn’t even be suprised

Dave: Check the blue box.

.....WHAT?

W-Why is there the BLACK OILY SUBSTANCE THAT STAINED THE KITCHEN WHERE JOHN IS STRANDED IN THE VOID HERE, ON THE PACKAGE??

Does the oil have multiversal properties? If it stains one’s house it also retroactively stains his possesions?? Or is this package from after those events?? Has it gone back in time??

WHAT??

But first let’s stop for a moment to appreciate the fact that Dave has a signed Stiller poster

This is the package that your friend John Egbert sent you for your 13th birthday a little while ago. It now contains nothing except a NOTE and a CERTIFICATE OF AUTHENTICITY vouching for the genuine Hollywood memorabilia which the box originally contained, and which you are now wearing to be IRONIC but also to be INCREDIBLY COOL IN A WAY SOMEHOW INTANGIBLY RELATED TO THE IRONIC NATURE OF THE ACCESSORY. You find it sort of exasperating to explain these subtleties to people.

John gave him the shades!! And they are apparently the real shades Ben Stiller wore in the movie!! That means that they are not *the* universal shades of PS, unless the shades in the Stiller bust were these ones and they somehow ended up there. But isn’t PS a videogame in this universe? But these shades had the universal glow?

Let’s not think too hard about that. It’s probably just an easter egg.

Also Dave please write a thesis on irony, the world needs it please.

The BOX also included a signed photo of BEN STILLER which now proudly hangs above your closet. Proudly and IRONICALLY.

I really like this totally (un)cool hipster kid.

Dave: Take box.

ohwahtthefuck

WHY ARE THE SYLLADEXES GETTING WORSE???

So it classifies things based on the balance of consonants and vocals in the name of the object and assigning an index value like in a hash map.

Oh boy this is a completely useless one in terms of getting shit done quickly, unless you have a godly grasp on words and their composition.

You captchalogue the BOX through your HASH MAP FETCH MODUS. Your modus's current HASH FUNCTION resolves the index by valuing each consonant at 2, and each vowel at 1. The total is divided by your number of cards, and the remainder is the index. BOX = 2 + 1 + 2 = 5 5 % 10 = 5 The BOX is captchalogued in card 5.

Just...LOOK at this

Look at this madness.

Dave: Examine jar of unknown yellow substance in the closet.

I don’t know why, but the combination of the quick turnaround, the fanfare and the fucking apple’s face makes this way more funny than it should be.

So it WAS apple juice after all.

Oh hell yes. It is an unopened container of APPLE JUICE. You thought you were all out. It is like fucking christmas up in here. This is so great. You've got to tell John about this immediately. He'll be so excited.

Oh wait, is this before the first conversation, when Dave and John talked about Little Monsters and Apple Juices? Is this why that conversation was as out of left field as it was?

I see how it all fits together now

Dave: Take juice.

You captchalogue the JUICE into card 7. 2+1+1+2+1 %10 = 7.

Dear god is this system nightmarish

Dave: Access Pesterchum and pester John.

Oh I can see the loop closing!

In addition to letting your buddy know about this outstanding juice windfall, you figure you'll wish him a happy birthday while you're at it. In your own cool, sort of roundabout way of course. Good thing you looked at that box he sent you, or you might have forgotten. You also might as well ask him about that beta. The kid's been harping about it for weeks. It would be cool if it came on his birthday. He'd be one happy camper.

Dave is such a tsundere in his friendships holy shit. You care about your friends a lot you dork

That background is rad

Wtf is “Complete Bullshit” as an app. (Probably some complete bullshit)

Ill beats because the laws of this universe demand it

Hephaestus, isn’t that the god of the blacksmiths and craftsmen? Cool icon. Reminds me of those flash games where the icons all fought each other.

Of course his emote in Pesterchum is  S m o o t h

-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 18:13 -- TG: hey so what sort of insane loot did you rake in today EB: i got a little monsters poster, it's so awesome. i'm going to watch it again today, the applejuice scene was so funny. TG: oh hell that is such a coincidence i just found an unopened container of apple juice in my closet it is like fucking christmas up in here EB: ok thats fine, but i just have one question and then a word of caution. have you ever seen a movie called little monsters starring howie mandel and fred savage? TG: but TG: the seal on the bottle is unbroken TG: are you suggesting someone put piss in my apple juice at the factory EB: all im saying is don't you think monster howie mandel has the power to do something as simple as reseal a bottle? EB: try using your brain numbnuts. TG: why did the fat kid or whoever drank it know what piss tasted like TG: i mean his reaction was nigh instantaneous EB: it was the 15th day in a row howie mandel peed in his juice. TG: ok i can accept that TG: monster B-list celebrity douchebags are cunning and persistent pranksters TG: also fred savage has a really punchable face TG: but who cares about this lets stop talking about it TG: did you get the beta yet EB: no. EB: did you? TG: man i got two copies already TG: but i dont care im not going to play it or anything the game sounds boring TG: did you see how it got slammed in game bro???? EB: game bro is a joke and we both know it. TG: yeah TG: why dont you go check your mail maybe its there now EB: alright.

And they DID indeed have the exact same conversation!!!

We are indeed back in time!!

We are sooooo gonna lose those Betas!!!! : D

#Homestuck #Homestuck liveblog #mspaintadventures #mspaintadventures liveblog #act 2 #Dave Strider #john egbert

[yamasbatcave]

Rodea the Sky Soldier Original Soundtrack · Wind Warrior

#i have some weird feelings about this track. at the same time i like it and don't like it #it's weird yeah. i think it's a cool composition but not quite my taste? #rodea the sky soldier #tenkuu no kishi rodea #music #audio #ost #soundtrack

[writingguide003-blog]

Music for Writers: Nadia Sirota At An 'Incredible Point'

New Post has been published on https://writingguideto.com/must-see/music-for-writers-nadia-sirota-at-an-incredible-point/

Music for Writers: Nadia Sirota At An 'Incredible Point'

“It’s kind of incredible to be at a point in your life where people let you do what you want to do.”Say to anyone following contemporary classical composition and performance. They’llknow Nadia Sirota.

And we couldn’t have a more fitting opening to the 2016 season of #MusicForWriters than this globe-trotting violist’s arrival as curatorand lead performer inSymphony Space’s week-long Fuse Project residency, opening tonight (1 February) and running through Friday. Details of the residency’s extensive programming are below.

And all of this is being produced in partnership with Q2 Music, New York Public Radio’s pivotal contemporary-classical free 24-hour Internet stream of live and recorded music of living composers, led by the tireless Alex Ambrose.

It’s there, in fact, that you’ll hear Sirota’s much-applauded Meet the Composer series of in-depth looks at some of the biggest names in all of today’s music: John Luther Adams, Andrew Norman, Donnacha Dennehy, Caroline Shaw, Marcus Balter, Meredith Monk, Kaija Saariaho, Ingram Marshall, Anna Thorvaldsdottir, and Nico Muhly. (More #MusicForWriters pieces relative to this group: Adams, Saariaho, Thorvaldsdottir.)

And it’s on Q2 Music’s global feed that many of us first heard Sirota. In my case, it was in the darkening autumn of a career assignment to Denmark. Asthe twilight of 2009 closed in on Copenhagen, I heard Sirota from New York City, daily discussing and presenting highlighted recordings of contemporary classical musicas I wrote. From the majestic foundations laid by Philip Glass, John Adams, and Steve Reich to the reachy experimentation of Caleb Burhans and Paola Prestini, Sirota was talking us in, explaining, connecting, pointing up how one artist was affecting another, and howa“new music army” was “rising” to seize the imagination of a world increasingly open to greater modern range than pop.

Sirota, then already known as one of the most adventurous figures in several of the lead ensembles, was beginning to define with Q2 Music how the contemporary classical scene works, how respectful of its roots these artists are, and how much promise lies in a new golden age of composition that speaks with such resonance to authors, in particulara world of musical colorists and textural genius that can stop a sensitive writer in her or his tracks. Welcome to really good, new music.

In addition to her residency this week, Sirota is working on a new album for release from Bedroom Community and the Detroit Symphony Orchestra’s new recording initiative. She and Muhly are in the fundraising stage for the CD, which will feature the American premiere at Detroit of Muhly’s , written for Sirota, and two so-far unreleased Muhly works: his which Sirota tells me is “the next installment in a decades-long collaborative project between the two of us”and Muhly’s heart-wrenching (their first work together), which is to be recorded in a new arrangement by Christ Thompson of Alarm Will Sound.

Is she busy?

Well, that’s another hallmark of Sirota’s way of living and working. As Delta Air Lines’ new slogan might have it, “there’s no stop in her,” just go.

I recommend that you hit on this video of Sirota’s performance with the DSO of Muhly’s new and listen as you read some of her comments from our conversation. The concerto isan essential new statement of both Muhly and Sirota’s maturing artistry, soaring with the wonderment that Muhly’s intelligence brings to the stage and jagged with the muscular, incisive attack that hallmark’s Sirota’s viola mastery. Muhly’sconcerto,conducted by music director Leonard Slatkin, sets off the DSO’s forces with profound grace and is replete with Muhly motifs the composer’s fans will love spotting. Sirota has never sounded better.

‘What I Was Actually Doing Was Writing’

We start our conversation with an assessment of how far Sirota has come in her career as performing artist, journalist-commentator, and curator. And she gets quickly to something journalists understand: the mixed blessing and curse of being someone who interprets (or reports) other people’s work for a living. And authors will understand the kind of discovery moment she mentions: “What I was actually doing was writing.”

Thought Catalog: How do you see the way things are going now in your career, Nadia, with your new residency starting, the Detroit premiere such a success, and another album in the offing?

Nadia Sirota:I’ve felt a string of grateful feelings about all this. Intermingled with incredible terror at what I’ve wrought upon myself. It’s all very, very cool.

As a musician, you spend so much time working on other people’s projects. And I love working on other people’s projects. I love figuring out how to realize what other people have going on in their brains. That’s why I love working with composers, and it’s something I’m very good at.

But all of a sudden, right now, I’m working on a whole bunch of personal projects in a row, and I’m grateful I can do that.

There’s something to be said for both types of things. On some level, I can throw myself into somebody else’s brilliancethat’s a role I feel very comfortable with. All of these projects have come up because of this, and it’s really very gratifying.

TC: Gratifying, sure, but this is a lot of work, this residency in which you’re putting together all these artist who work with and around youfour evenings of music in a single week.

Sirota: It is a lot of work, but what’s interesting is that this residency is the kind of work I’ve actually trained for on some level. It’s something I know how to do.

By contrast, the funny thing about the radio show [on Q2 Music] is that it took me a really long time to realize that what I was actually doing was writing. I’d been in complete denial aboutthe writing element of that.

In fact, even the way I draft the show: I’ll just make a little note on my phone and I’ll read it off of my notes app. It’s only later when I’m redoing all the voice-overs that I’ll realize that I’ve written about 16 pages. Which is a complete funny thing for me. There’s always a moment in my head when I’m, like, “This is not what I do,” even though it’s something that I do.

So what’s cool about this residency is that it what I do, it’s the kernel of what I’m passionate about. Obviously, it’s tiring and complicated with a lot of moving parts. But I like those parts.

TC: And when I look at the residency, what I see is you programming a festival. That takes the mind of an impresario.

Sirota: I think that’s probably true. The way I went at it is, “What is the music I’d like to see? And who are the people I’d like to have in the room?” There’s a community aspect here.

One of the coolest things about being a traveling musician is that you have this sort of nomadic tribe of people you keepencountering in the strangest places. It’s all these different festival environments, and you’re like, “Oh, yeah, you!” We’re friends but not like friends who are connected to a specific city or place.

And one of the loveliest things about this residency is I’m bringing people from Iceland, from England, from Canada. People I really love and can rely on and am inspired by. I’m bringing them here to New York, to my home turf.

TC: What’s the funding behind the residency at Symphony Space? I know that the residency falls under the aegis of the Composers Now Festival, and there’s support for the Dennehy evening from the Isaiah Sheffer Fund for New Initiatives, right?

Sirota: Right, and Symphony Space has this fantastic artistic director, Andrew Byrne. He has an interesting and exciting vision for how that space can serve the community. The fact that he let me do this speaks very highly to his taste. [She laughs.]

It’s interesting that in the United States of America, this is how it works [in terms of private fundraising with comparatively little public subsidy]. But it also points to how there’s an incredible amount that you can do if you can find someone to believe in it.

TC: And did you use your usual approach to commissioning to get Donnacha Dennehy to write for you?

Sirota: Donnacha I met when he was doing a residency with Alarm Will Sound three or four summers ago. I heard him for the first time, and thought, “Well, this is my favorite music ever.” And I promptly did my thing, which is later at the bar, I commission people when they’re at their most vulnerable and then follow up. [Laughs.] He was immediately excited about this idea of doing something with the viols da gamba. [Bass viols with a similar range to that of the cello.]

So now that piece, is the centerpiece of the whole residency, And we recorded it before we had any idea how to play it, which is an interesting process. It ended up being scored for 11 bass viols and four violas. So we recorded that all with multi-tracking between me and Liam Byrne. The bass viol is a good bit lower than the viola, but the quality of sound on it, on the viol da gamba is so bright. It’s got thisincredible bright weirdness of texture and color. So the lowest instruments in the piece are so bright. And the highest pieces, the violas, are so dark and mellow. I’ve just never hear color like that before.

The other thing he has in this piece, which is very typical of Donnacha is slipping back and forth between just intonation and equal temperament. You get the idea you’re looking through this kaleidoscope and all of a sudden everything seems clear and then it twists. It makes sense and it’s logical, but it’s not quite the same thing.

TC: And yet he never loses you. That’s what I love about Dennehy’s music. Like Nico [Muhly], he remembers the listener and brings us along. They leave us enough for us to hang onto.

Sirota:And you know that it’s hard to play but it’s worth it, and you know why you really have to make it work.

TC: And speaking of what you have to do to make it work, I have to remind you before I let you go of my favorite tweet. It’s from 2010, the Fourth of July, and you were playing an outdoor concert. The , no doubt. Here’s your tweet:

Enjoying Deep Woods Off as hair product.

nadia sirota (@nadiasirota) July 5, 2010

//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js

Events In The Sirota Residency At Symphony Space

Tonight, Monday, 7:30 p.m. Eastern

Sirota is joined by Liam Byrne on viol and a four-viol consortDoug Balliett, Gabriel Cabezas, Loren Ludwig, and Zoe Wiesswith Alarm Will Sound’s Chris Thompson on percussion and a vocal trio: Jamie Jordan, Kirsten Sollek, and the inimitable Mellissa Hughes. The program will delve into the Renaissance music that has influenced both Sirota and her close friend, the composer Nico Muhly, featuring music of Alexander Agricola, William Byrd, Orlando Gibbons, and more:

by Muhly

by David Lang (a world premiere commissioned by Symphony Space)

for three singers, viola, cello, and percussion by Lang (the US premiere)

Tuesday (2 February), 7:30 p.m. Eastern

Sirota welcomes her collaborators yMusic, one of the New York scene’s best-known contemporary ensembles, in a program to be announced from the stage and includingworks specially written for this eclectic sextet by:

Son Lux

Sufjan Stevens

Marcos Balter

Judd Greenstein

Andrew Norman (our #MusicForWriters interview with Norman)

Thursday (3 February), 7:30 p.m. Eastern

Arcade Fire’s Richard Reed Parry joins Sirota onstage for some of his and Bryce Dessner’s (#MusicForWriters interview) most compelling work, including:

Parry’s for viola (a New York premeire)

and other selections from Parry’s

Dessner’s for viola

Friday (4 February), 8 p.m. Eastern

A world premiere of Irish composer Donnacha Dennehy’s is the centerpiece of this special evening that also features Muhly, Byrne, Balliett, Byrne, Ludwig, Weiss, and others onstage with Sirota for:

A selection of music from the Icelandic collective Bedroom Community (the recording seat of Sirota, Muhly, and many more of the most acclaimed artists working today in contemporary classical)

Dennehy’s (world premiere, the work is co-commissioned by Symphony Space and the Irish Arts Center; #MusicForWriters on Dennehy)

Read more: http://thoughtcatalog.com/