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kishimoto-did-us-dirty · 4 years

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Naruto Arts School AU

Reposting bc I love this post and bc I can lol

Character

- major

description

Naruto

-Drums

okie nobody can deny that our main boy over here is a loud soul, however, he can also carry a damn good beat that compliments his band mates’ music really well. Tbh, he sucked at music to begin with and had trouble matching rhythms and listening to his band mates when they played, however he eventually became a really good rhythm maker.

Sasuke

-Guitar (lead)

He’d be assigned to the same band as Naruto, and that’s how they met. This boy is a damn good guitarist y’all, but has attitude problems™, and used to not be able to deal with Naruto’s haphazard beat making, thus perpetuating a rivalry between the two. He constantly feels overshadowed by his elder brother Itachi, a piano major.

Sakura

- Dance

Ya girl fucking demolishes every single dance routine. Initially starting out with a focus on ballet (pre-shippuden in canon), our pink headed queen soon realized that she wasn’t getting the full experience of what it meant to dance. Her point shoes were her loves, however they hurt and nipped in places not just physical. She realized that she didn’t want to be pigeonholed into a genre of which she would be inhibited by standard, and rather to dance so as to forget technical perfection. Thus, what would partner with post-shippuden Sakura in canon, Art School AU Sakura got into hip-hop. And bitch, she goes hard. A lot of the other girls who she used to dance ballet with admire her for her absolutely BODYING her dance routines, but also for never sacrificing her femininity to dance and not taking BS for being a girl who goes so hard in a male-dominated genre. (Some people believe that hip-hop is heavy hitting and a little metaphorically “dark” so to speak, which Sakura is not. So obviously I expect a little disagreement regarding this, however if you look at people like Delaney Glazer or Kaycee Rice, that is how Sakura would dance).

Hinata

- Creative Writing

Shy and bookworm-like, Hinata can write the best poetry, romance and adventure pieces out of all the creative-writing majors. She’s especially good at writing character relationships and development, and has such a subtle sense of intelligent wit in her writing, that if you blinked you would miss it. However should you catch it, you’re sure to chuckle. Her only struggle is that she tends to drag on in important scenes, stretching them against the regular flow of the rest of her writing. Needs validation for her writing through an IV drip.

Kiba

- Drums OR Photography

Drums for obvious reasons (loud and obnoxious), although ruff boi looks good with a camera, too. Great at landscapes and street photography.

Shino

- Creative Writing OR Photography

I could definitely see Shino having fucking beautiful handwriting, and being a beast at writing anything within the sci-fi realm. I could also see him doing some journalism, and writing for the school paper. He’s very good at the logic of his sci-fi books and coming up with logical but enrapturing stories, that intermingle knowledge and mystery. He’s a very specific type of read, however, and may not appeal to all, however if you enjoy anything similar to Star Wars or Hitchhikers guide to the galaxy, then Shino is your author. If this doesn’t float your boat, though, try photography-major Shino. He can get the best angles of bugs he sees, and has an extensive portfolio with entomology-related snapshots.

Ino

- Dance

Like Sakura, she, too, began with a focus on ballet, however began to branch out into contemporary ballet a little later than Sakura. This is another reason why Sakura switched her focuses, as she and Ino had always had a fierce rivalry for dieting (ballet dancers are pressured to be as thin as possible) as well as battling for technical perfection when they were ballet focused. As the two grew, Ino focused more so on contemporary, but can certainly do some hip-hop with Sakura every now and then, just as Sakura occasionally takes a contemporary class with her. The two still have a rivalry, however, just not to the previous extent as when they were actively competing against each other. They’re more like sisters.

Shikamaru

- Guitar (bass) OR Creative Writing OR Architecture

Smart boy’s a tricky one. He would either be a bassist, a mystery and historical fiction writer, or, of his school offers it, be great at architecture. Idrk.

Choji

- ermmmmm….. maybe graphic design? Tech theatre (props)? Vocal???

Choji is hARD dwnccnpc (that’s what she said). I could see him behind a computer screen, animating and designing games/covers/posters or whatever. He could also do something in theatre, but I don’t think he would do anything up on stage. Something like props would suit him. He might do something in music, tho???? Can he sing???? Help???

UPDATE: Choji is a band kid. He plays tuba or some shit. Big boy got big lungs.

Tenten

- Dance

Always has been, and always will be a hip-hop dancer. She wanted to be like Tsunade, a legendary dancer and followed in her footsteps, taking up hip-hop. (that’s why Sakura focused on hip-hop, too, because Tsunade mentored her and taught a few of her classes, too). Tenten is fast and can keep up with any beat. Not only is she a great dancer, but she’s also athletic, and does track and field (cross country), football, and softball at another school too, since the arts schools doesn’t offer it. Overall great dancer with styl. She’s really looked up to by some of her underclassmen for her cheery, but badass style and skill.

Lee

- DANCE (hip-hop, too)

It’s sweat. It’s burn. It’s energy. It’s Lee.

Neji

- Violin

First chair violinist in his freshman year for the school’s philharmonic orchestra. He be extra like that.

Gaara

- Guitar (bass)

He had a lonely childhood with neglectful/abusive parents, and rock music really helped him with that. Emo music is emo and often made fun of, but the songs have messages and Gaara related, so self-taught himself the bass guitar to help cope, and bring him closer to the music that salvaged him.

Kankuro

-Art

Specifically sculpting. For obvious reasons.

Temari

- Acting

Girl can make you cry with some of her monologues. Total lead. Has a seriousness in her acting that makes her believable, however can falter on the less-serious roles. She may also double-major in whatever Shikamaru does. And she’s better at it than him.

Itachi

-Piano

Boy could play any etude at age 7. Performed at Carnegie Hall when he was 10. And no, he didn’t pay to play there. The hall invited him. Began composing at 9. Has perfect pitch. Owns international awards. If he’s not at school it’s because he’s traveling to play for crowds. He excels at classical and baroque, however has an ear for romantic, and enjoys playing/composing pieces either written or inspired by romantic pieces. Enjoys Schumann, Debussy, and Tchaikovsky. Hates modern classical music, though. Can only take cinematic pieces composed by people like Williams, however can’t stand Prokofiev at all. He does like modern music, though, so long as it’s outside of the orchestral/classical music realm. He likes R&B. He would have liked to do film with Shisui, particularly producing, however his parents pressure him with piano, so he helps Shisui with student films and projects outside of school (will probably pursue film after graduating, tho).

Shisui

- FILM / VIDEO PRODUCTION

Fight me on this!!! THIS BOY IS SO GOOD AT CINEMATOGRAPHY MY FILMMAKING ASS CAN’T EVEN. AS SOMEONE WHO IS IN LOVE WITH FILMOGRAPHY, TRUST ME, SHISUI HAS IT™. THE IT™. HE’S GOOD AT EVERYTHING. CINEMATOGRAPHY. DIRECTING. SCREENWRITING. GRIP-WORK. EDITING. PRODUCING. HE’S SUCH A FILM NERD TOO, AND WATCHES OLD FILMS ALL THE TIME. HE’S JUST TOO GOOD AT IT. DOES STREET PHOTOGRAPHY TOO. HE’S OVERALL A GENIUS WITH CAMERAS. Does film with Itachi outside of school and teaches him, and the two are overall geniuses at filmography. They want to start their own studio together (they do, and it becomes huge). He becomes a leading director, while Itachi becomes a producer and directs sometimes too.

Sasori, Deidara, and Sai

Guess.

Kakashi

- Saxophone

It’s the only thing that suits him and it suits him so well. Has suave.

Obito (omfg his arms y'all)

- Not to say drums or anything, but…. drums.

Narutard 2.0. But he also dabbles in other areas of music. Like, he can also play guitar and sing. He’s also pretty good at music production. Makes R&B sometimes. He wasn’t always the best musician but proved to be a late bloomer, and really harnessed his potential. Tries to be as suave as Kakashi and his saxophone. He isn’t.

Hashirama

- Vocal

OkaYYYYYY. VOCAL GOD. CAN DO RIFFS AND RUNS AND HAS PERFECT PITCH. ALSO THE SWEETEST GUY??? WAS A CHAMBER SINGER AS A FRESHMAN. EVERYONE LOVES HIM, GOOD BOY ENERGY.

Likes to belt.

Madara

- Piano

Total prodigy, but hates classical music. Once was accompanist to Hashirama for a solo vocal performance and hasn’t been left alone since.

Tobirama

- Viola or Cello

Some sort of string instrument and takes it very seriously. Probably plays cello because violas are violas and that’s lame (if you know, you know). Has almost as many awards as Itachi and Madara, but hates his usual piano accompanist, Izuna.

Izuna

- Piano

Also a piano god. The uchihas breed them. Hates being accompanist for Tobirama. They’re secretly best friends though, don’t tell anyone.

Karin

- Tech Theatre.

Idk why. Probably started out with props and made her way up to TD (technical director) in senior year.

Suigetsu

- Tech Theatre

Fucking hates theatre kids. Assistant TD. Karin hates him.

Jugo

- Visual Art

Paints landscapes and nature. Really good with oils and gouache respectively.

Yamato

- lmao Trumpet.

Met Kakashi since they both play brass, but boy he ain’t got that suave. That’s why he plays trumpet. Lmao he plays the fucking trumpet anjdwcnojdnn.

Rin

- Vocal

Sweetest voice and could also play the acoustic guitar when she sang. Died in a car accident junior year. Kakashi was at the wheel when they got hit by a drunk driver. Obito saw the whole thing.

Kurenai

- Visual Art

Can create dream like paintings that almost seem like illusions.

Asuma

- Cello / guitar

Used to play cello because of his parents, but loves to play guitar. Can sing but his voice is raspy from smoking.

Gai

Who the fuck do you think teaches dance?

Jiraiya

- Guitar (lead)

Used to major in lead guitar. Sucked at first. Probably has a couple, casual Grammy Awards (they’re actually not that hard to be awarded with, The Recording Academy award many people outside of mainstream media. My school has a few). Now teachers as head of the Band department at this school.

Tsunade

-Dance

Legendary dancer. Probably toured with a few famous people. Now teaches. Mentored Sakura, and mentored Ino but for a shorter time.

Orochimaru

- Idk, didgeridoo, or some shit

Definitely a wood wind. Flute maybe??? Teaches now but no one knows what he does. Pedophile. Has a thing for Sasuke.

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plutohimself · 3 years

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So I saw these two posts a couple of days ago about Alex’s anxiety and they’ve been sitting with me, so I’m gonna write something about it. I won’t tag the OPs or reblog with comments or whatever because it’s not a call-out or something I want to start an argument over. But, I feel weird about how the posts characterize Alex, Willie, and the boys in these headcanons.

Post 1:

...canonically Luke and Reggie aren’t very good at dealing with Alex’s anxiety [and his] experiences with being anxious around his friends and how he started just leaving when it got bad because Luke and Reggie didn’t know how to help him and he could tell it made them uncomfortable and he got used to just leaving and dealing with it on his own cause that was better than risking them making it worse.

...[Willie doesn’t] belittle or downplay his anxiety at all and Alex realizes how harmful Luke and Reggie’s reactions have actually been for him.

Post 2:

We’ve been talking today a lot about how the boys handle or don’t handle Alex’s anxiety vs how Willie handles it ... it would be nice to see Alex call them out for it next season and for there to be growth for them and for them to learn to be better ... I don’t know how anxiety disorders and such were handled/thought of in the 90s, but I doubt it’s great. So… what if Alex doesn’t even know what it is. Doesn’t know why he feels the way he does.

That would make a lot of sense as to the boys lack of tact and sensitivity vs Willie who ... is more up to date on mental health things. This would also explain why Alex hasn’t already called them out on it because ... he seemingly has no real qualms about calling them out on shit when he feels the need to. I think Alex has a good sense of self worth and isn’t willing to put up with shit from people ... So I think if he actually knew what was going on with him, he wouldn’t let the boys behavior slide.

I want to be clear that I think “Reggie and Luke could learn to support Alex better” is something I unambiguously think is true of their dynamic. It’s the language about their reactions being harmful, or of them belittling/downplaying his anxiety, and of Alex “call[ing] them out” or not “lett[ing their] behavior slide”. This feels... uncharitable?

Things we know: Alex is pretty aware of his anxiety - as anxiety, not just “I’m a generally high-strung person” or whatever. In the 90s, there was still a lot of stigma around talking about mental health - I’m going to point to The Breakfast Club and Degrassi Junior/High as particularly notable example of this, even though they’re from the late 80s. Allison in TBC is literally called “the basket case”, and several of Degrassi’s characters took pains to avoid being looked at for their mental illnesses or other personal issues. Attitudes toward mental health treatment changed significantly through the 90s (nevermind how it was always viewed in LA & the entertainment industry, which is its own discussion of public image), but not so much by 1995 that we can assume it was significantly different. So for Alex to state outright that he has anxiety is both self-aware and something he’s clearly shared with the other boys.

Speaking of which, in the 90s, there weren’t quite the kinds of public awareness about healthy coping methods and treatments the way we do now, both on and off-line. I’m sure there were self-help books at the library, but I can speak with some confidence on self-censoring behaviors in library environments when seeking socially taboo topics. Namely, that people don’t if they think they can get by without that knowledge or if the cost of obtaining it (being seen) is greater than the cost of having it. In that, I think that Alex probably did not generally actively seek out information about anxiety treatment, although given the sheer force of his personality he probably would if he thought he needed to. But... neither would the other boys.

Finally, another thing we know is that Alex’s relationship with his parents was Not Good, for whatever reason. The boys are the only support he has, although he doesn’t ever express that he feels quite as deeply about it as Reggie or Luke does (not to say he doesn’t, but they’re the ones being openly dramatic about it). So in that, I think we can safely say that Alex is taking what he can get from them.

All this to say: it feels extremely odd to me to judge Luke and Reggie for not being better at supporting Alex in managing his anxiety. For one, they’re doing the best they know how, and as the one post points out, Alex would absolutely tell them something isn’t helpful. But two, this is the only support Alex is likely getting. I think that’s crucial. Alex isn’t letting anything slide or not discussing it with them, he’s taking the support he can get from people he trusts to take care of him.

I also think it’s unfair to contrast them too strongly with Willie. As much as I like the ship, I think it’s important to note that part of the reason they click is that Willie’s approach happens to match Alex’s speed. Sure, we can say that perhaps Willie knows more, but that’s never demonstrated. As far as we know, Willie is just that chill of a person. Does that work better for Alex in moments of anxiety? Sure, we see that demonstrated. Does that inherently shadow his bond with the other two boys? I’m... not sure that it does.

There was a third post (that I can’t find) (found it) that talked about how in “Edge of Great”, Reggie tries to joke when Alex talks about Willie, and Luke brings the topic back to music, and that shows how Luke is very bad at this. But that didn’t feel like Alex’s anxiety manifesting? That seemed to me like two guys who saw their bro down about love, and were trying to cheer him up. Reggie told a joke - as he does - to lighten the mood (the novelization has Reggie in a POV chapter mention he does this deliberately). And Luke tries to remind Alex that he’s got lots of things that make him great. These are... perfectly normal, if not especially useful, things that people say after a breakup? There are probably other readings of that scene, but “Luke and Reggie aren’t as helpful as they could be, in a scenario where anxiety is probably also a factor” doesn’t feel like “letting it slide”.

If or when they learn better support skills, it won’t be a matter of Willie teaching them or Julie laughing. It will probably be because Alex - as a friend - will tell them “x will help more than when you do Y” and Luke and Reggie, as friends, will listen and want to do better. We, as people in this world, can always do better, but we can’t predict what will help. We can only do our best to listen and respond when we are asked to do so.

To see Luke and Reggie as acting deliberately against Alex’s best interest or against his wishes/needs, and then imagining Alex’s reaction as isolation or anger, makes me kind of wonder: is this how people imagine how friendships are, or should be?

That feels strange and uncomfortable to me.

#jamieandthephantoms #fandom meta

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angvs · 4 years

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❛ ✶ ( LUKE HEMMINGS , CISMALE , HE/HIM ) — did you see ANGUS DONNELLEY walking around campus earlier ? i hear a lot of people talking about the TWENTY TWO year old JUNIOR . from what i know , they are studying NEUROSCIENCE and are a part of DELTA PSI BETA . they come across as + EMPATHETIC but also - PERNICIOUS , which makes sense because on their instagram ( @gusdonny ) it says they are a TAURUS . when i see them , i think of dropping your coffee on the pavement , tattered crewnecks & denim , sitting in some hole in the wall restaurant at 2am , omw texts while still laying in bed , & chipped bitten nails . the most interesting thing i’ve heard about them though , is the fact that [ REDACTED ] , but don’t tell anyone i told you that .

wow y’all really went hard in your intros i am not worThy !!! hi everyone !! i’m cj and i’m from the true north , strong and free .. aka canada bby . i’m out in mountain time , which is why i am SO LATE , i was at work today :~( i’m super excited to write with you guys though !! i brought one of my favourite boys .. this is my big dummy angus , but pls if u love the boy at all call him gus .

tw : drug mention below

╰ ˚･ﾟ & some 𝒃𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒔

full name: angus elijah donnelley nicknames: gus age: twenty two date of birth: april 27th hometown: malibu , california preferred pronouns: he/him orientation: pansexual occupation: n/a , currently studying at beaumont language(s) spoken: english , swedish ( very rusty ) pets: bulldog-terrier mix named cleo ( aka … luke hemmings irl puppy , i couldn’t help myself ok ) , but ... it’s a family dog , so ... she’s back at home and he misses her EVERY DAY .

PINTEREST BOARD !!

born and raised in malibu , angus grew up with strict , ambitious parents . his father a neurosurgeon , and mother an architect . it was very early on that they instilled their high expectations for the boy , teaching him the importance of discipline and responsibility . their intentions were good of course , as every parent wants to raise their child right , though angus wasn’t truly equipped . in actuality the couple came off as overbearing and their high expectations deemed unreachable in the male’s eyes . as he grew older , the feeling grew stronger that he would never quite live up to their standards – 97% on his mathematics test ?? well , why wasn’t it 100% ??

family time was scarce in the donnelley household . with both parents working full time and lots of time spent working extra hours , angus became independent quickly . his mother was flying to dubai for work quite frequently , gone weeks at a time . some weeks if felt like his father LIVED in the hospital . but he was saving lives , and how could angus be so SELFISH to want him at home . it meant he grew extremely close to his two younger sisters , often opting to spending the weekends entertaining them rather then out at parties . the family had a nanny to help , so he didn’t HAVE to , but his sisters always came first to him and being the eldest he has a serious case of protective older brother syndrome .

after graduating high school , he somehow managed to convince his parents to allow him to head abroad for the year . with promises of coming back home and hunkering down into his pre med degree . the couple really wanted angus to head straight into uni , but with tons of begging , they sent him off , bank account full . the year was spent travelling and honestly , just having FUN – a few months over in paris , london , italy , greece … some places he’d been before with his family , but not in the way he got to experience them now . angus continued his travels to japan , korea , new zealand , australia … never staying in one place for too long . but the fun had to come to an end .

as promised , angus attended beaumont upon returning back to the states studying neurosciences , getting his pre med classes under his belt . he is a legacy kid -- his father having been apart of delta psi beta when he attended the university . becoming a doctor has never quite been his dream , so much as it was his parents . while the male continues his undergraduate degree , he wonders if he should change his path , though that’s not a conversation he can have with his parents . angus has always wanted to leave an impact on others , in what way , well he’s never been sure .

╰ ˚･ﾟ & 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚

a big dumb softy !!

what if i left it at that …. !! no but , honestly … he’s definitely chaotic neutral . he’s a big empath , and will usually feel for you to his core .

i have some tiktoks to link , because our beautiful admins inspired me !!! and if you do anything ... please watch these : ONE , TWO , THREE , FOUR , FIVE ( tag urself , angus is the idiot that makes the entire thing go down )

it could be sometimes annoying , because angus can’t really ‘ pick sides ’ , this boy can see the validity in all sides ( in most cases ) . he’s definitely loyal to you , but he’ll be that friend that brings up the defence just to make you really think . because of this he can be either really good with advice … or really bad , there’s no in between . he’ll hit you with a million different solutions , confident that every one is good … “ it just depends what vibe you wanna go for ”

he … gets distracted easily . he dabbles in a bit of adderall , with his course load ... it’s just kinda how he copes . definitely known to pop some pills during night study sesh’s , essays & finals week .

he doesn’t LIKE to party a ton , like … he’s just not into big crowds really ? but if he tells you he doesn’t want to go out , it’s VERY EASY to change his mind , because he has Big FOMO . but he’s 22 yanno and he’s in a big party frat so , catch him getting drunk and probably high every weekend , off to the side with a few less people , or in the smoking pit at the clubs fawning over ur outfit or smth . after he’ll drag your ass to some hole in the wall restaurant and order way too much shit .

he’s lowkey v self destructive . it’s something he doesn’t even realize he’s doing most of the time , but he’s genuinely surprised when a friend sticks around . the ones that do stick , have definitely had to deal with him fucking about and being overdramatic in an attempt to protect himself . idk why this is so important to me , but he FOR SURE made a few tik toks w that whole …. “ if i was a worm … would you still love me ? ” AND if you told him no , would be pissed for days .

very affectionate !!!! with !!!! everyone !!!!

╰ ˚･ﾟ & 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

attended a semester abroad in sweden . is very rusty now , but can hold a basic conversation in swedish .

cleo , his pup , is his absolute pride and joy . he talks about her as if she’s his daughter ok . misses her sm while away at school .

he’s so messy , but will defend himself by saying they always had a maid , and then realizes how DUMB he sounds .

sk8er boi ~~ nah , but he actually does skateboard , and is trying to perfect his kickflip rn .

loves pizza pls

is always attending live shows , he loves the music scene and frequently supports locals

will “ thrift ” the dumbest shit for hundreds of dollars …

plays guitar , but doesn’t think he’s very good

╰ ˚･ﾟ & 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒏𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔

i made up a page HERE , but PLS i LOVE brainstorming , so don’t hesitate to come to me for some brainstorming !!

#bu.intro #☠ ! ─── 𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓼 𝓭𝓸𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓮𝔂 // intro.

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chippyskylark · 4 years

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get to know: chippington ‘chip’ skylark the third.

chip skylark finds himself the third of his name. his grandmother lifts the small child into her arms, cooing that she loves her little chippy to the moon and back. she’s the first in the family to call him chip, and the name sticks better than junior or chippington does. he knows his grandfather and father wish he’d just ride out chippington like they did, but honestly it gets too confusing and chip has always felt way more like him. only his grandma and mom can call him chippy though, and he blushes every time.

he comes from a line of musically inclined men. his grandfather, the first chippington skylark, found himself the frontman of a joropo band back in his home of venezuela. chippington skylark and the noah’s arkestra found themselves playing any bar or party that would allow them, and soon they rose to popularity in caracas, and even went on to play shows in the second home of joropa (colombia) and other countries and cities in the region. chippington the second would expand on his father’s budding fame, finding himself popular on the latin charts for adopting the sounds of salsa as that became popular. chip falls in love with the music of his grandfather, finds comfort in the strum of the guitar and the folk tales he weaves with his lyrics. chip is even more amazed by his father, the master performer. he’s inspired by the way a band of horns and percussion can fill the room with such lively music, as his father sings songs of love and lust all while looking charming as ever in the process. it’s decided before chip can even properly learn how to form his own sentences that he would be a man of the music as well.

chip doesn’t mind that his life was laid out for him already, not really. he loves music, finds himself beating the timbale and shaking a pandeiro anytime he accompanies his dad to work. chip’s only real concern is what path would he follow? his grandfather and father had already accomplished so much, who could he possibly be if not stuck in their shadow? in his younger years, he had no real answer for this question. just knows that he loves the stage.

chip primarily stayed with his mother in new jersey. she thought it best to keep him from the hectic lifestyle his father lead, urging that he should be allowed a normal life and childhood. chip, however, had other plans. he was only eight years old when he first hit the stage. it was a local talent show and he’d begged and pleaded with his mother to let him sing; she finally gave in and he performed ahora te puedes marchar. along with singing the upbeat luis miguel song, chip had also done his best to choreograph a little dance to go along with his performance. the audience loved him, eating up his floppy hair and bright smile almost as much as they were awed by his talent.

chip’s life became nonstop performing since that moment. entering any talent showcase he could find, hoping to continue to impress crowds and make everyone dance and fall in love with him and the music he sang. his father couldn’t be more pleased with how well every audience received his son’s gifts. if you dig on the internet enough you can find a few videos of a little chip joining his father onstage to sing and dance his father’s famed music with him. don’t play it in front of him though, he’ll look away and blush the second you start going ‘awwwww’.

chip begins to incorporate more american pop songs in his showcase entries. it makes sense, it’s the music everyone around him listens to and as much as audiences love watching him dance bachata and salsa they seem to connect with his performances better when it’s in a language they can understand. he has no negative feelings about it, even to this day. he has no negative feelings about most things, his words and thoughts drowning in positivity and optimism because he prefers to look at the brighter side of all things.

he’s thirteen when he gets discovered by a label executive. the initial meeting for the board of executives of his future label was the most nerve wracking experience of chip’s life at that point. chip knows he can wow an audience, it’s the one thing he knows for sure he’s good at. but something about this initial meeting deciding his fate makes his stomach turn. he’s sure he’s going to be sick before it, afraid that he’s going to puke the entire time he rides up to the top floor in the elevator. chip gets through it though, showing off every skill in his arsenal: he’s singing, he’s dancing, he’s playing guitar, he’s interacting with faces in the room, he’s switching between languages easily, and he’s working that smile.

it goes without saying that the label is impressed and chip gets signed almost immediately. everything else from then on moves pretty quickly for him. he focuses almost all his energy on recording an album as quickly as he can. songs are presented to him daily, and he’s given a team focused with constructing an image for him. he never strays from what’s put before him, even if he’d want to sing a different song than the one he learned the day before, or if he’s not sure he wants to do this particular piece of choreography. chip is honestly just so happy for the opportunity he hardly bats an eye.

his rise to fame is just as fast and hard to wrap his head around. he would never call himself an overnight sensation, too many years of long hard work went into it, but that’s what the news anchors call him. his first single debuts on the bubbling under of the hot 100, but after significant radio push and some televised appearances it skyrockets to the top ten of the billboard charts. seemingly out of nowhere he’s music’s newest obsession and he couldn’t be more excited. he goes from singing at neighbor’s birthday parties to mall tours and sold out venues. his parents pull him out of school and set him up with a tutor, and well, the rest of his childhood dies right along with that decision.

he’s a pop phenomenon and he, at first, couldn’t be happier. his first album goes multi platinum and he performs at almost every award show you could think of. hell, there’s even people walking around wearing the same stupid red hat and hoodie combo his team made his signature look. but the being followed by paparazzi and chased by fans starts to become a little too much to handle a little too soon. he won’t complain though, he’s doing what he loves.

chip still loves performing and singing, but his label has complete control of every aspect of his image and sound. and while that was cool when he was a teen, he’s desperate for some more control and creative (and financial) freedom.

he’s not mad at the teeny bopper image he’s cultivated. where most people would try to distance themselves from the type of music he made early in his career he never openly rips on it, even in his adulthood. while it’s not the music he’d want to make now, he knows that music is important to his fans. just because something isn’t his favorite doesn’t mean he’s going to ruin it for someone else, he’d never disappoint someone like that.

chronic people pleaser!!!! he literally can not function or cope with the knowledge that something he did could be upsetting someone else. even if the task you give him comes at great personal sacrifice to him, he’ll do it with a smile. He just wants everyone to be happy, even if right now, he’s not the happiest.

Now that he’s a grown man he’s struggling with what’s his next move musically. He’s already done something no one else with the skylark name has been able to do: break american radio, and his grandfather and father couldn’t be more proud of his success. but he finds himself yearning for the freedom and maturity their music possesses. he’s certain he still wants to make pop music at this point, he’s just struggling with how to make it more adult and what new things he can experiment with.

Re-released his first and second album with some of the more popular songs stripped down and sung in spanish. it’s his labels idea of compromising on the fact that he wanted to make music that represented all parts of who he is as a person. also has like one or two latin pop songs that crushed the charts worldwide, the success of those songs made his label discuss the validity of him doing a full latin album like he’d been requesting for years. that album never came.

practically scandal-less. He’s dated his fair share of pop stars and models, but those break ups always end amicably and none of his former partners have ever had anything negative to say about him. the media wanted so badly to run a “bad boy” thing with him but they just can’t, he’s such a good boy.

when he was fourteen he did a campaign for those stupid singing tooth brushes. my shiny teeth and me follows him everywhere now, and you know what, he’s not even mad about it, he sometimes jokes that song is more popular than a lot of his actual serious music. go king! teach the youth proper dental hygiene!

his concerts are always so much fun. Again, so inspired by his dad as a performer so he always goes all out. He gives 110% every time no matter what. Is he tired? Of course. Does he need a nap? Definitely. Has he gone on stage ten minutes after puking his guts out because of a flu? Yeah….it was still a good show though, you couldn’t even really tell he was sick!

struggling HARD with anxiety. large crowds of people around him start to freak him out, and even though most would think he should be used to it, he’s been mobbed by too many groups of fans to ever be used to it. he’s no stranger to hiding out in the back of an empty store for a second to get away. he’s always embarrassed when his management has to kick everyone else out the store and lock the doors for his sake, but if it helps...it helps.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

help him w his anxiety? so mayhaps a friend, a confidante? also an actual therapist yep.

chip’s big struggle is how to move forward without disappointing his fans so maybe a fan that he becomes friendly with that can yanno remind him that most of them will love him no matter what. or at least serve as a reminder of why he does this.

if y’all got characters that wanna roast the shiny teeth guy i won’t be opposed. he’s also so nice he probably wouldn’t be too bothered so that’s frustrating and fun

fellow musicians always

friends who either have no clue who he is or don’t care would be real nice

anything at all. also always down for angst as always.

#🎤 i don't need nobody tellin me just what i'm gonna do about my destiny. (about.)

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blschaos3000-blog · 4 years

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Its 3:52 pm

Welcome to “8 Questions with…..”

In doing this series and especially of late,I have been really blessed to be able to talk to a lot artists that I have on a “wish list”. These are people whom I really want to talk with but I don’t think I’ll get a chance to. Ashley Kate Adams was on the list. I first was introduced to Ashley Kate and her talent when the cheetah and I watched a excellent film called “1 Message“. Its a story about a young woman who gets breast cancer amd who is slowly falling into a deep depression. When the young woman meets a man online while tracking down her family tree,the connection changes her life on so many levels. This is a movie that I loved quite a bit and I thought Ashley Kate Adams did a great job in what I found later was her feature film debut and she was only 21 when she filmed it. Since then I have been following her career and chatting once in a while on Twitter. Last week I decided to take a chance and ask Ashley Kate for a interview and to my surprise answered “Yes,I do” within 5 minutes. While we were talking,I asked about her new big project,”Boy Hero” which is set during the 1954 Senate Comic Book Hearings and where publisher Williams Gaines and his legendary EC Comics were grilled because of the content. It was also during the height of McCarthyism and the Hollywood blacklisting,a dark and despairing time (as well as a forgotten period). As soon as we as a society are allowed ,Ashley Kate is kicking “Boy Hero” into high gear and we’ll be posting updates on how the film is progressing. * As you can see,Ashley Kate is a woman on the go,go,go!! I am so happy that we got a chance to catch her in mid-stride so she could slow down enough to answer her 8 Questions…….

Please introduce yourself and tell us about your latest project?

Hello! My name is Ashley Kate Adams & I am an actress, producer & writer living in NYC! Right now we are so excited to be introducing Frankie! The Musical Cast Concept Album to the world. It releases this Friday, May 29th, on Broadway Records and will be available everywhere music can be streamed. Frankie! The Musical (@frankiemusical) is written by 16-year old Composer and light, Elise Marra. The album is produced by AKA Studio Productions & Mitchell Walker! Our other main project is “Boy Hero”, a feature film inspired by the Comic Book Trials of 1954. I wrote the 1950’s period film which was inspired by a panel I saw called “When the American Librarian Saved Comics” by Carol Tilley. The film is rounding out development and will be Produced by AKA Studio Productions, Pigasus Pictures & AR Productions and will film in Cincinnati! Please follow us (@boyheromovie) for more exciting updates on fundraising development and production of the film.

(Michael Kushner Photography)

How have you been coping with Covid-19 pandemic? How are you staying creative and focused?

I have been thinking a lot about this recently. I’ve been coping with Covid-19 productively. I think many things prepared me for this, the main being thing being the sudden loss of my father in 2016 to cancer. During that time I had to learn to balance many things in conjunction with being completely gutted out with grief. During that time I turned to creating to heal myself and process my emotions so during this pandemic I have followed suit. I’ve actually been working at home with my production company since 2011 so that routine feels like a continuation. We were very lucky, we had just gotten many incredible projects like Frankie! in the can before it felt as if the world froze. Now these projects are able to bring joy to others during this time. On Friday’s I’ve been going LIVE with #BYOP to lead conversations on Grief & Productivity for the Creative @ashleykateadams on Instagram. It’s been important for me to try to help folks navigate this time!

When did you first catch the acting bug and what was the reaction like with your family and friends?

I don’t know if I ever caught the acting bug I was kind of just born into the industry. It is what our family does as our family business. You know some families might have a restaurant or a heating & cooling company, we are performers. My parents, who also majored in musical theatre in college (that’s how they met) were VERY honest with me about how hard my future was going to be to move to NYC and pursue this full-time but they knew it was what I was called to do. And I got to make space here for my sister 10 years my junior, Audrey Belle Adams, who recently began her adult career also based out of New York City.

How did you land the lead role in your first feature film “1 Message”? What three things did you take with you from the experience? How important is faith to you?

I actually landed my role in “1 Message” thanks to my father. He pitched me at a dinner meeting where the director happened to be. I then auditioned and got the role. That film taught me a lot. The first was that leading a film and being on camera 14 hours a day, 6 days a week is an extremely challenging job. Which leads me to the second thing, I learned how to treat actors on set. The “1 Message” experience is one that seeded in me the need to become an independent film producer to make sure I was always taking care of my actors in an extremely supportive way. Environment, transparency & discernment are everything on a project. The third thing I learned was how strong and aware I was even at a younger age on set. Faith is important to me. It is important to me to believe in something much bigger than yourself.

(Michael Kushner Photography)

Which do you like more? Doing TV/film work or live theater and why?

I love both equally but for different reasons. Right now I am very much falling deeper in love with film. I love learning and because I was raised literally at a theatre, in film there is still so much to learn for me. I love each new project on any side. It’s a blast to me navigating each nuance!

(Michael Kushner Photography)

What have been the three pieces of advice given to you in regards to being a performer?

Wow! Great question. “Your best secret weapon is yourself”. That was taught to me by the head of my musical theatre program at CCM, Aubrey Berg. He was correct. I would say the next is to “Be a kind person who people enjoy working with” from Sandra Rivera of Dancensation Studios and the most recent from this past winter break to “Keep saying yes to the right things and keep expanding” from one of my high school mentors, the great Gail Benedict.

(Michael Kushner Photography)

What roles challenge you most as an actress and how do you adapt to make the role yours?

Wheeew. For me the biggest challenge of my actor life was doing “A Christmas Carol(e)”, a one- woman show, directed & written by Alex Freeman. It was terrifying because it was only me on stage for 70 minutes. All I could do to survive it was to walk through it and continue to adapt. Every. Single. Second. I had to be truly present without a fourth wall. There was no protection, no sheen. I love hiding behind characters. I revel in it. It allows me space for courage to be more vulnerable. I’m a weirdo, my prep is usually reading, researching and then I adapt my breath and body. Everything else just kinda happens. The magic of acting!

How did the idea for #BYOP come about? What makes a good producer in your opinion?

#BYOP (Be Your Own Producer) came from seeing the need for it. As a producer, actor and creative I can only take on so many projects full time at once but #BYOP allows me to be available to you and your project on an hourly basis. It also teaches content creators how to producer so they can become sustainable and independent! During the pandemic it expanded to teaching these intentions in a group digital setting. The brand is continuing to grow and diversify. In development are many exciting new pieces, perhaps something you could listen to and something you can hold. Stay tuned and be sure to follow @ashleykateadams for updates! ! ; )

(Michael Kushner Photography)

You created a one woman show called “A Christmas Carole” for the theater, where did you come up with the idea and how hard is doing a one person production on a nightly basis?

I helped to create the show but I cannot take credit for the idea or writing on that one, that was my creative partner in crime, Alex Freeman. We put it up in 6 days with the help of our two amazing stage managers. It’s exhausting and exhilarating doing a one person production. I lived like a nun during the day to stay calm and preserve all of my energy for the performances. I still can’t believe I did it!

How important are awards to you as a performer?

Awards are not important to me as a performer, but the respect and nod that comes because of them is appreciated. I got my first best actress award in 2018 for Alex Freeman’s two-hander “Love” at the New York Theatre Festival. It’s hard being a woman in the business on every side. Especially as a Producer. So when a group of people decide not only that you “did well” but that you should be “acknowledged”, that is nice.

You love to sing,what makes a good song and which three Broadway scores would you love to sing if given a chance? Who is your favorite singer/band at this moment?

I do love to sing! It’s a part of my identity even though I’ve been more internal as of late with my creativity. I would say three Broadway scores I would love to sing through would be “Waitress”, “Sunday in the Park with George” and “The Sound of Music”. My favorite singer is my sister, Audrey Belle Adams @abelleadams, always and forever because she has the most flexible vocal instrument I have ever heard and my favorite band right now is M.N.O.P. @MNOP_music. They have rockin’ folk punk music, a kick butt lead female singer & a really cute drummer : )

How important is self-promotion to you and your career?

Self-Promotion is a large part of a creative career. In the age of social media & “influencers”, it has to be. I have not always been good at it. I had to learn to produce others to get comfortable producing & promoting myself.

What do you like to do on your down time?

In my downtime I like doing yoga, going on walks, listening to true crime podcasts, reading, taking class and spending time with my loved ones.

The cheetah and I are flying over to watch to you in “A Christmas Carol(e)” but we are a day early and now you are stuck playing tour guide,what are we doing?

If A Christmas Carol(e) played NYC and there was a day off I would say to spend the morning in Central Park, afternoon around Bryant Park popping into the Strand Book Store & the Bean coffee shop and to spend the evening in the theatre district enjoying an OPEN Broadway. Late evening in the village hopping venues and listening to live music!

(Michael Kushner Photography)

I want to not only thank Ashley Kate for chatting with us but also for being inspired to make “Boy Hero”. I cut my fanboy teeth reading EC Comics growing up. When I read William Gaines bio and found out just how close that comic books were to being banned,it was shocking. Without Gaines and a slew of others,including many librarians fighting this censorship,there would no “Star Wars”,Marvel or DC or many cultural icons we take for granted today. Like I wrote before,this is a forgotten piece of American history and much respect to Ashley Kate and her production team on making this film to hopefully remind us of what we almost lost.

Ashley Kate has several different ways that you can keep track of her and her various projects.

You can follow Ashley Kate on her InstaGram page. You can check out Ashley Kate’s next project via her IMDb page. You can also follow “Boy Hero” on InstaGram as well. You can also visit Ashley Kate’s personal website by going here.

Thank you for reading and supporting (and sharing) Ashley Kate’s interview. Feel free to drop a question below and stay tuned for updates about “Boy Hero”. You can also read past “8 Questions” interviews by going here.

8 Questions with………..actress/producer Ashley Kate Adams Its 3:52 pm Welcome to "8 Questions with....." In doing this series and especially of late,I have been really blessed to be able to talk to a lot artists that I have on a "wish list".

#8 Questions With #actor&039;s life #Alex Freeman #Ashley Kate Adams #Boy Hero film #Broadway #Frankie the Musical #live theater #multi-talented #Music #New York City #Producer #singing

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theklancecollection · 7 years

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Klance May Reads (May 1st, 2017 - May 31st, 2017)

Below the cut are 113 fics that I have read this month.

I was planning on doing monthly updates but clearly this is too long. So I will be sticking with weekly updates instead.

I will put up a separate recommendations page tomorrow.

three minutes to closing - Yuisaki

“So you don’t know his name,” Pidge says slowly. “And he says meme-y things. And he always comes in three minutes before closing, and—”

“Always leaves on the dot,” Keith adds. “And uh, he never orders the same thing twice in a row.”

Pidge’s face is blank. “A customer who leaves at nine on the dot and never orders the same thing twice in a row,” she repeats. She opens her mouth, closes it, and taps at the screen of her tablet, hopping off the counter. “I’ll just tell everyone I didn’t get the answer out of you.”

“Pidge,” Keith protests. “I mean it.”

“And I think you have a cryptid customer,” Pidge says.

(or: eccentricities in a small coffee shop where a cuban boy with cute dimples only exists three minutes to closing.)

you had me at merlot - ryomakun

“Oh my God,” Lance says as he covers his face. Keith’s tinny voice blares from his laptop speakers: “What do you call a fake noodle? An impasta.” See, this joke might have been funny if someone charismatic and charming had said it, but Keith’s flat voice and even flatter expression effectively kidnaps, tortures, and then decapitates any chance of it being remotely humorous.

Keith accidentally starts a YouTube channel. Lance, of course, refuses to be left out. It goes about as well as you'd expect. (Ft. copious amounts of wine and a truly shameless number of references to MyDrunkKitchen, DailyGrace, and general pop culture)

Ascension - Gigapoodle

Four times where Lance feels insecure, and one time where Keith has had enough.

My Play Toy - Mackenzie_Kogane_McClain

Lotor is in his brain. The binds are too strong and everyone's watching him strain. Secrets are out. His heart is gone.

The Desert is a Thirsty Motherfucker - Graceless_Grace

The paladins get stuck on a desert planet and Lance, being the self-sacrificing idiot he is, gives away his water, sip by sip. Consequences suck, don't they? Even with the best intentions, the desert still suck the life out of Lance.

McDonald's Anyone? - AnimeROL

It started as most things seem to with us: a challenge and a scheme. I mean, who hasn’t ever dreamed of motorizing a shopping cart to take through McDonald’s drive thru at 2am?

Lance Gets Hot And Horny And Boy Does Keith Notice - TasteTheRainbow_BeTheRainbow

The team is put into a situation as if they were being attacked by the Galra. And honestly, they flunked it. So Allura calls a meeting but Lance is otherwise distracted by a certain Omega bodily process. He tries to leave undetected but Keith is a little more observant than others.

supermassive black hole - epiproctan

Keith has always known that he wasn’t going to get what he truly wants out of the arrangement, but he also hadn’t ever imagined that it would just…end.

aka that classic fic where lance wants to stop hooking up but keith wants something else entirely

i forgive you - willobean

"i forgive you"

Such happy memories tied to those three words before the fateful day where everything came crashing down around Keith like a tsunami.

the potential of you and me - Katranga

“And then other times,” Lance said. “I’m just, like, dying to know what a mouth would feel like around my dick.” Keith choked on air and said, with absolutely no go-ahead from his brain, “I have a mouth.” Half-laughing, Lance said, “Is that an offer?” He pushed his wet hair out of his eyes. His throat was dry. “Is that an acceptance?” -- The summer after freshman year of college, Lance drags Keith back to their hometown to hang out. But the two of them rarely spend time together without Hunk and Pidge around, because things had a way of getting out of hand real quick. This summer is... no different.

spin and twist - checkmateslash

“I think Keith is into you. He started blushing when Pidge and I brought up you giving him a lap dance.”

Lance flushed then, because they had been talking about Lance while he wasn’t there and it was about something he hardly remembered.

“I don’t even remember that, Hunk,” he grumbled, though his face was hot and he knew it was no use.

“You could see his boner through his jeans.”

“Can you stop?”

Lance thought about that conversation a lot. He thought about it every time he ran into Keith at the gym, remembers the conversation being too casual as he fiddled with his messy hair and pretended not to be flustered when Keith mentioned that they needed to hang out more. Remembered wishing he were brave enough to ask Keith out so he could either get rejected and get over it or start something. Remembered trying desperately not to blush when Keith came down to the lower level of the gym and asked Lance to hold his feet while he did sit-ups. Tried hard not to remember the lap dance while he was doing so, but even consciously trying not to think about it was still thinking about it.

Isn't this what you wanted? - Cutekittenlady

After a failed rescue attempt, Keith and Lance are subjucated to the will of their captor.

Love Bites and Banter - inkbadger

They just can't help but banter during sex- it's who they are.

Of course, some days Lance definitely regrets teaching Keith the subtle arts of sarcasm.

wrong in the dark - fickleauthor

All his life, Lance has been groomed to be one half of a bridge between two alien races — a merging of families that will bring about an end to a bitter centuries-old feud. He’s carried this weight upon his shoulders with a grace he feels he can and should be proud of, considering he never asked for such a heavy responsibility. He never asked for his life to be mapped out in such bold, rigid lines that stretch into a future he can see all too clearly: when he reaches maturity, he’ll be bound to the Crown Prince of the Galra empire for the rest of their lives.

And so he lets himself be swept away by the tides of fate — save for for one night, the night before the bonding ceremony, when he sneaks out and has an encounter with a stranger that threatens to upend him from the path he was meant to walk.

blame it on patron - pastelshan

One smack of his lips, and Keith felt his mouth fill with cotton. Tongues weren’t supposed to feel like that, were they? All heavy and gross. He scowled, sending a sideways, drunk glance Lance’s way. Did his feel like this?

Was there really only one way to find out?

Stupid Hair, Stupid Coffee - shaqfu

The only way to cope with midterms was coffee and maybe being mean to your beautiful barista.

That One Time You Saw Me Dancing In My Underwear - Quiznak

Lance's mysterious neighbor plays his music too loud so he tries to get revenge.

Then Who's Flying the Lion? - senpai_desu_desu

Shiro suggests Keith gives Lance a few pointers when piloting his lion, and he obliges, much to Lance's dismay... or delight? Not even Lance knows.

Kiss Me If You Want Me - Barkour

Lance has an epiphany and Keith makes a confession. Also, they fuck.

hypothetically - starsupernova

Keith wonders how he fell in love with someone like this. He’d never really been into anyone in his life until he met Lance in freshman year. Sure, it had started off as a rivalry, mostly through the baseball team, but Keith had slowly grown to appreciate Lance, in both the looks and personality departments.

And it’s not like the attraction is decreasing now that their junior years have just ended. In fact, it’s even stronger than before.

The first time Keith ever falls in love, it's with someone practically unobtainable. Typical.

The Jacket - shark_meat

Lance find's Keith after a long training session and shows a touch of kindness towards his "rival." It seems to backfire once the teasing starts, but maybe Keith will reciprocate the kindness after-all.

Somewhere On A Beach - smilemylove

Lance comes to Keith expressing feelings of missing Team Voltron, so Keith offers to take him out on a ride to help get his mind off things. Along the way, the two come to realize that maybe Lance wasn't being entirely honest with his feelings.

Bonding - Quiznak

Lance and Keith bond.

I got my ship stolen, my dignity taken, and what do I have to show for it? - noumenon

“Looks like you hit on the wrong person, huh, Lance?” Keith chuckled.

“Could you stop being a jerk for I dunno, five seconds and just help me out here?" Lance snapped. "This isn’t nearly as much fun without a hot girl with me. I mean seriously! I’m chained up, Blue got stolen, and worst of all I didn’t even kiss out of all this!”

bench press me - eggboi

“The hell are you doing?” Keith grumbles out, body mid-push up. There’s a snicker behind him, too close to his ears, though Keith can’t really understand what would be so amusing about this. Then again, he’s not really sure why Lance is lying on him while he’s doing push ups either. Other than to be, of course, annoying.

“Nothing.” Lance finally says. Keith hears the grin in his voice, which only proves to irritate him a little more. ‘Nothing’ his ass. “Continue with what you’re doing, Mr. ‘I’m-Too-Good-For-Socialization’.”

(Lance, as always, tries to annoy Keith by making his exercise harder. It doesn’t work. At all.)

Miscommunication and failures - Lance by mikuridaigo

tumblr prompt: does the “i slept with you the other day and i didnt know we had a mutual friend and now we’re sitting across each other for brunch and it’s awkward because i ran out when you were asleep” au exist bc i need that fic

When Hunk called the Sunday before the spring quarter began, asking if he wanted to grab brunch with him, Lance said yes; and when Hunk called again, saying that his friend was joining at the last second, Lance didn’t think anything of it.

Until said friend was the best sex he’s ever had.

Basically Lance is a screw up and fixing this mess was probably going to kill him

Disatrophe (I like it rough) by mikuridaigo

“Is this how you usually pick up guys?”

“No, I start with a great opener. Like,” Lance pointed his fingers like a gun, “‘hey, you a magician? Because when I look at you, everyone else disappears’.”

A companion piece to Miscommunication and failures by Lance with Keith's perspective to how he and Lance slept together that night.

Translation, Please by mochimistress

Keith had no idea what Lance was saying, but he was going to find out.

a change of space by Crawlingthroughashes

"I don't want to kiss you," Lance announces quickly, color rising high on his cheeks. "Ok." "I don't." Keith holds his hands up. "Ok." Stupid Keith.

Change of Pace by needchocolatenow

It was supposed to be an easy mission: a Galra base that was, for all intents and purposes, abandoned on a primitive planet. Get in, download the base's info logs, get out. Simple.

Of course, when Lance realized he was going to be put together with Keith on this mission, simple went out the window.

thread our way through a string of stars - steelthighsvoideyes

Lance is a humble astrophysics student trying to conduct research, which turns out to be a bit difficult to do when he finds a strange guy sitting in his customary research spot. A strange guy looking for aliens, no less.

Lance isn't going to stand for this.

One Cup Of Jealousy, Please - UnheardCries

Lance and Keith are two best friend dorks, but when Lance decides to go get coffee at a new cafe that opened, with his best friend, he may realize two emotions he never thought he would feel towards his best friend, love and jealousy.

Blue - princevince

He'd always taken the presence of the color blue for granted. He wished he hadn't. God, he wished he hadn't.

Like Ice Over Fire - CuriousRebel

Lance gets himself into a spot of trouble (against orders) and Keith comes to save him (against orders).

you mark everything i do - steelthighsvoideyes

Some people do ridiculous things when they're in love, like trip over nothing and faceplant into the pie they're holding, or get tattoos of each other's names in tacky hearts on their arms.

Lance and Keith get each other's paladin symbols tattooed over their hearts.

bouncing off exit signs - steelthighsvoideyes

This is the story of two absolute idiots who keep searching for what they've already found.

Cheeky - rideahorse

Keith pinches his eyes shut, slamming the book down again and swiveling to face Lance. “Oh my god,” he groans, standing up and crossing the two feet between them before Lance can get out a word. He grabs Lance’s face between his hands (perhaps a bit rougher than needed, but hey, he’s always wanted to slap Lance’s stupid face) and the last thing he sees is an expression of pure surprise before he leans down and presses his lips against Lance's.

It’s a peck, and it lasts a second, and then it’s over. Keith leans back, releasing Lance’s face, and hisses, “There.”

All The Stars In The Universe - jamwrites

After being rescued from capture by the Galra Empire, Lance isn't the same. He's silent. Reserved. Broken. But Keith won't accept this; every night, he comes to talk to Lance. Every night, he attempts to fix what is broken, and tonight may be his last chance.

(based off (with permission) an idea by legendarydragondefender and khlance on tumblr.)

An A+ For Trying - sailingskies

Keith and Lance stumble around with their almost painfully obvious feelings, and Pidge and Hunk are forced to watch the impending spectacle that unfolds.

and i'll keep you a daydream away - maradyer (ashtxns)

“He’s killing me,” Lance groans, head in his hands.

And Then It Hit Him - princevince

Team Voltron is back together after being separated in the wormhole. They all learned a lot about themselves. About each other. Some...more than others. It's hard to take it all in, even after time has passed. But you don't always have to take it all alone.

breathless - zxrysky

"You shouldn't go out to the sea at night," their grandmother says. She's in a rocking chair, old and creaky, her withered body settled with a shawl around her shoulders, wrinkled fingers gripping the edges of the arm rest. "Don't risk it."

"Risk what?" Shiro asks, eyes wide. He's fourteen, just a young boy, on the cusp of maturity, arms wrapped around his younger brother as they sit before their grandmother.

His grandmother pauses for a while. "There is danger in the sea."

Dorks - GriffinRose

Inspired by a post on Tumblr!

Lance is the only one listening to the current presentation, and oh boy is it something to listen to. The kid has been rambling on about aliens for ten minutes and he is trying so hard not to laugh. So hard. Turns out the kid didn't even think Lance was paying attention, so when he finds out Lance was he books it. Like, as fast it takes Lance to turn his head, that kid was gone.

Keith wants to die. The Hot Guy in his bio class was actually listening to him talk about aliens. That's it. He's done. Kill him now.

Poor Shiro is just trying to keep his little brother sane.

don't wanna be free - VickyVicarious

In which Lance gives compliments (but not really), and Keith has lots of feelings but zero impulse control.

Eyes Over Here, Mister - amillionsmiles

Despite what his track record might look like, Lance understands girls, okay? Keith has Bad Boy written all over him—the dude sleeps with a knife, for Pete’s sake, and seems partial to black T-shirts when he isn’t in the Garrison uniform. Throw in a guardedness that could pass off as “mysterious” and a pair of dark eyes that could turn soulful in the right lighting and also if you could, like, get the guy to even look at you in the first place—

“Do you think I could work a mullet?” Lance asks Hunk.

“Absolutely not.”

OR: four times Keith completely ignored Lance, and one time he didn't.

Fading - Graceless_Grace

College!AU Klance; Keith doesn’t love the idea of asking for help when he’s sick. So, when he starts to feel a fever coming on, he does what he always does, while fading in and out.

Flames of Ice - linkami1379

"Finding out he was bisexual wasn’t a friendly experience. Solution? Be as girl-oriented as possible, use spare time to make clever comebacks and rely on sarcasm to save the day. At least that was what Lance figured would work at age eleven."

Boys finding their way in the big, wide universe.

Hank-y Pank-y - Methoxyethane

“You act,” Lance scoffed dramatically, “like I wanna make out with him or something.”

head to head, neck and neck, side by side - kushling

Lance and Keith both like sparring, Avatar, and each other. They have a hard time admitting it. Pidge makes fun of them. Space swords!!!

hey, keith? - furrykeith

Lance vents his feelings to a sleeping Keith.

Or so he thinks.

if it takes two - velvetcrowbars

After the Sendak attack, Keith and Lance deal with unresolved things. Whatever those might be.

“Keith?”

“What?” He finally says, safely slipping the piece over Lance’s head with minimal knocking against his temple. He sets the discarded parts on the floor next to the bed.

“I have a confession.”

it's quite bizarre, and will remain this way - mayerwien

FROM THE DESK OF ALLURA ALTEA Director The Rex Alfor Memorial Space Museum

Dear Mr. Coran,

I am writing to entrust to you the care and supervision of the young man who will be working with our custodial team starting this coming Tuesday. The young man’s name, as I’m sure you already know, is Keith.

As you also have been made aware, the incident that occurred two weeks ago was his first criminal offense, and thus I have elected not to press charges against him, in the hope that a little community service and a few kind words will go a long way.

Please see to it that our new volunteer gets a basic but thorough introduction as to what it is we do here at RAMSM. Unless any more untoward situations arise, there is no need to report to me further. I trust your good judgment, as I always have.

(Additionally, I would like to commend you for successfully managing to keep this story out of the press. Your service to the museum over the years has gone above and beyond your job description. We will have to talk about this very soon. When are you free for coffee?)

never been kissed - kairiolette

“You give off the obnoxious popular vibe. The mullet, and the rap sheet, and—the fingerless gloves,” Lance replies, and barrels on before Keith can take it the wrong way. “I’m so handsome, my name’s Keith and I’m a pilot.”

“That sounds more like a compliment than an insult,” Keith says slowly, a disdainful quirk to his eyebrows that only spurs Lance on. He tilts his head a bit, his bangs shadowing his face, like he’s assessing a particularly impossible physics problem. “And I don’t like that voice you’re using.”

No Room For Secrets - Crawlingthroughashes

Keith thought he and Lance had reached a bit of an understanding the night Lance was injured. He should have realized that Lance had a monopoly on being the most obnoxious, petty brat in the galaxy.

Or, Shiro forces the two to engage in more team bonding exercises as a means to put an end to their bickering, but a lot more than bonding occurs.

Nightmares - Trashness

Lance's nightmares are getting out of control. It's effecting his and the team's performance, but he's at a loss for how to fix this.

Apparently sleeping next to a warm body helps.

Put Your Hands On Me - crystallineflowers

Lance and Keith get back from a diplomatic mission, and Lance just can't keep his hands to himself. I mean, can anyone blame him? His boyfriend is super hot, after all.

pepsicola - corydalis

It starts like this: Lance looking up at the scoreboard only a few days into his Garrison training and muttering to himself, “What the hell kind of a name is Keith?”

-- Or, Keith and Lance fall in love. Eventually. DAY 2: love // hate

scattered stars - Crawlingthroughashes

Lance wore his heart on his threadbare sleeve, visible for the perusal of wandering eyes.

Keith, on the other hand, kept his heart carefully concealed beneath skin that was stretched too tight and bones that felt too heavy for his body.

Show Me - saffronskies

Show me that you're human, show me that you won't break

Lance tries to be selfless for Keith, and sometimes it gets a little too hard for them both.

TW: Depression/Dealing with depression. Mention of suicide attempt.

Since We Might Die - Velazyraptor

Lance and Keith are on a mission on a forest planet and they run into a horrible monster. Lance thinks this is his last chance to confess.

It's rated T because of cursing.

sleep - orphan_account

“You’re annoying,” he kindly informed Lance. The other paladin just let out a loud snore in response. “I guess you’re also a little cute too,” Keith felt his cheeks warm up a little as he admitted it out loud, reaching over to turn out the lights.

In which Keith and Lance get cuddly and cheesy.

somewhere i have never travelled - songs

In an oddly tepid motion, Lance brushes the tip of his finger along Keith’s pulse-line. He says, “I can feel your heartbeat, here.” He takes Keith’s thumb, then, and presses it to his own wrist. “And you can feel mine. We’re the same, you dumbass. Me and you. You and everyone here. You’re fine. Wherever you want to go— it’s fine.”

steal the air from my lungs - zxrysky

“Read the news,” his grandma told him with something sad in her eyes, and passed him the newspapers lying on the table. She lifted him on her lap and turned the page, flipped through the black and white words until it landed on a picture of the ocean, wide and blue, stretching out far into the horizon.

“Missing people at sea,” Lance read out dutifully, and his eyes grew big. “They don’t come back?” He asked in a small voice. He couldn’t imagine- he couldn’t imagine just leaving. He couldn’t imagine going missing. He thought of James, barely two, holding on to Lance’s hands as he toddled along the ground, and shuddered.

“They don't, baby. These missing people at sea, they don’t ever come back.” His grandma looked old and tired, and Lance abruptly thought of his granddad, lost at sea long before Lance came into the world, and all that was left was this huge house.

sweet like honeysuckle late at night - starspecters

“Hey,” Lance says indignantly, poking his finger into the hard Velcro of Pidge’s binder. “Jesus loves me.”

“I don’t know why he would.”

Lance would like to blame the heat, but really, he knows where responsibility and blame should be placed -- namely, in the entire food group of alien peaches.

Things Held Sacred - yarrie

So maybe, just maybe, Pidge was right. Maybe, just maybe, Keith had shot himself in the foot with his first attempt at resolving the blanket-hogging situation, because now Lance seemed to think it was a game and the rules were: steal the blankets, get sex.

To be fair, Keith hadn't exactly been...dissuading him very well.

three words, and i'm yours - Dreamicide

To help things along with finding ones soulmate, the first words spoken to one another are written on their wrists.

So when Lance sees 'You're under arrest' on his skin, he decides to try and find his soulmate as fast as he can.

He gets arrested.

A lot.

Through Time and Space - Hidden_Pineapple

Prompt: -We all know Lance is homesick. But what happens when Pidge figures out how to make an accurate calendar of earth? Lance realizes just how much he’s missed. And even then, its only the tip of the iceberg. (...)

What happens when you write too long past midnight.

We'll Be Counting Stars - southspinner

Keith's just trying to navigate the collegiate mine-field of tests, social circles, and sleep-deprivation while still maintaining a fragile grip on his sanity. The last thing he needs is some snapback-clad fraternity president making him re-evaluate his entire existence, but of course, because the universe hates him, that's exactly what he gets.

Weight of the World - Zurela

Lance hasn't been sleeping very well. He does a good job of handling that, really.

Keith disagrees.

with quiet words I'll lead you in - strikinglight

“You were screaming,” Keith tells him. “I heard you through the wall.”

That wall, Lance wants to point out, is supposed to be soundproof. It shouldn’t let you hear anything, no matter how hard you listen. What he says instead is “I can’t breathe.”

“Take it slow.” Keith’s voice is steady, but as Lance’s eyes struggle to focus his face is a blur. The image goes shaky and then comes clear, shaky then clear, like looking into water. “Pretend it’s low tide. Tell me about the ocean again.”

heard a noise - scriveyner (trismegistus)

“So,” Hunk said, standing in the threshold of the doorway to the bridge. “Not for nothing, because I thought someone should know about it before they break something else, but I’m pretty sure that Lance and Keith broke the training room. Again.”

cradle you - TheMintPen

“So…bad day?”

Keith let out a snort as he mumbled into Lance’s chest, “That’s an understatement.”

Dialing... - AnnSmith

prompt: i call the wrong number and declare my love to you, and hang up before you can explain.

His voice sounded a bit more deep that how it normally was, but he supposed it was the sleep. After all, it was pretty late for a call. But he had to let him know. it was the most important thing at the moment.

Lance calls the wrong guy, and he fucks up.

one sky, one destiny - theatrythms

Lance misses home. Keith's home has been lost to the darkness for ten years. Kingdom Hearts Au.

crushing - orphan_account

“Thanks,” Lance awkwardly cleared his throat, all too aware of Keith’s unwavering gaze on him, “for staying, I mean.”

“Yeah,” a smile slowly spread on Keith’s face. “We’re a team, after all.”

(In which Lance gets homesick and Keith is apparently nocturnal.)

A Curiosity - BlueRoboKitty

"There’s only one way Lance can salvage his reputation, and that is to turn his intentions into something else entirely."

Cookies - Quiznak

Lance gives Keith cookies.

Don't Hate Me - wolfgun

“This is… your fault,” Keith groaned, banging his head against the old building. “You were the one who insisted we go in, guns blazing, without our lions! This is what happens when--”

“It is not! You were totally and completely on board with the idea--” A few gunshots cut Lance off, ricocheting off the walls. Keith risked poking his head around the corner, seeing a total of 10 Galra foot soldiers running up. A hand gripped his upper arm, and he quickly withdrew to look at Lance.

“We need to either get out of here and hide, find a way to get to our lions, or fight them.”

MCR - Autistictobio

keith is a emo

Deez nutz - Autistictobio

Keith is dating a moron

It started off just as a simple kiss, an accident really. - Autistictobio

It started off just as a simple kiss, an accident really. And it felt oh so good. (The rating might go up)

Me Enamora - Leonid42

After training for the day Keith walks back to his room, but on the way is distracted by some strange music.

te aviso te anuncio - Leonid42

Music could really affect you, huh? For some people, it brought a tear to your eye, others would be encouraged for the day. And Keith? Well Keith could feel his heart slowly melt for the stupid Paladin who sang.

My Wrist to Keep - InsominiacArrest

Good old-fashioned hand-cuff fic as Lance and Keith are instructed to bond by being around each other (a lot)

Fuck Me Up - Azure_Wavelet

Based off of this post on tumblr: velazyraptor:

Okay but consider:  Keith pretending to be lance’s boyfriend to ruin lance’s attempts to flirt with aliens

Heaven Above You (Blood Off Your Hands) - Mytay

“You have to promise — we have to swear that no matter how much we argue or disagree, we are never going to abandon each other.”

“I’m sort of insulted that you need a solemn oath from me over something that I figured was obvious,” Lance murmured lightly, but his eyes were dark and staid. “I couldn’t leave you behind even if you begged me to — you’re stuck with me, Keith.”

Keith’s hand finally bridged that infinitesimal gap. The Blue Paladin intertwined their fingers, squeezing just this side of painfully tight. Keith returned the favour, his heart beating a steady yearning throughout his body.

“Good,” Keith whispered, his face so close to Lance’s that he could easily count each of those long eyelashes. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Two weeks into their marooning on this too-damn-dangerous-planet, Lance shoots someone in cold blood. Keith sees that they are both losing pieces of themselves, with nothing but darkness to fill in the broken gaps.

moments of silence - attemptsonwords

Quiet moments between two boys who spend most of their time yelling at the other.

Winner, Winner - squidmemesinc

“I don’t want to have sex with you!”

“You don’t?! Are you sure you don’t? Because it sure does sound like you want to experience my ‘sex thing’”—air quotes—“for yourself, sexually, in a sexual way, because that’s what you totally just implied.” I experience a brief break in hysteria and straighten up, giving a winning smile to not-Keith, who doesn't deserve its glory. “Although I wouldn’t blame you, I am stunningly handsome and very good at giving he—”

“Lance, stop talking, now! I was just talking about kissing, but if you’re going to be weird or make a big deal out of it, then forget it.”

Captivate - IcyStarlight

Lance is called the king of contests and Keith does not believe it till he sees it.

A Fish And A Bird - Methoxyethane

Lance has a boyfriend. Lance does not realize he has a boyfriend. Keith, understandably, does not react well.

Two Fuckboys Fuck - 5PUSSIES

Against all odds, Lance manages to get laid.

Wear Your Cactus on Your Sleeve - shaqfu

All Lance wanted to do was buy a new cactus for his shop.

An Equitable Compromise - Barkour

It was all Keith's fault that Lance kissed him.

Secret's Out - BlueRoboKitty

Keith and Pidge come to an understanding as they wait anxiously for Lance to heal after the Galra's surprise infiltration of the castle. Pidge learns Keith has a secret of his own.

Apology in a Bottle - BlueRoboKitty

In a rare display of maturity, Lance tries to apologize to Keith for humiliating him. But a bottle of alien wine has found the Red Paladin first.

I Think We're Alone Now - BlueRoboKitty

Surprise, surprise, Keith drinking himself to a mortified stupor actually solved nothing, so once again, it's up to Lance to fix this trainwreck of an attraction he started or the team may never be able to form Voltron again.

Sweet Quiznak - CheckeredCloth

"You're really into him," Hunk mutters, and wow, Lance's face is on fire. Hunk is killing him.

"Look, read into how you like, Freud, just make sure that if I die Keith knows I totally would've mowed his ass like grass. That way, I can laugh hysterically at his emotionally-constipated expression from the afterlife."

Or: Lance is badly injured and has a few skeletons in his closet. Or maybe just the one.

Just a Sip - gaysquared

Keith can't hold his liquor. ______

For the prompt: "Is there a reason you're naked in my bed?"

Body Heat - littlemissmelody

Lance and Keith are on a mission to a very cold planet to do some recon on the Galra. However, due to a storm, they are stuck in one place for the night.

Or, Lance is freezing, and Keith is basically a furnace.

It's okay too cry - Autistictobio

*SPOILERS* this is the after math of the end of season 1 okay??? Lance and keith are stuck together alone

Nightmares aren't always that bad - Els_writes

Keith has nightmares, Lance helps him sleep.

Casual Contact - quartetship

It started off casually enough.

Ice in your veins - IcyStarlight

You may never be able to return to your first home, but you’ll freeze hell over before you let the world take your second one.

Elemental AU from tumblr user rhymentai

All The Small Things - Priestlyislove

Keith is tiny. Lance is annoying.

no i'll never forget (i just wanted to be near you) - glitterfreezing

"He rests his chin atop Keith’s head and listens to him breathe. The stars are brilliant overhead, and Keith’s mouth is warm against the thin cotton of Lance’s shirt, and Lance wonders if this is what people mean when they say "second home.""

lance and keith, on starting over, missing home, and love.

title from eugene by sufjan stevens.

Coffee - Quiznak

Coffee shop au.

Roommate Wanted - slendermanhood

There is absolutely no way Keith and I will ever become friends, Lance thought angrily to himself. He attended Lance’s dream school, the school that harshly rejected him because he wasn’t good enough. And Keith goes there on a scholarship?!

Lance can’t reject him as a roommate, because his rent was due next week. But, he promised to himself, that stuffy douchebag and I will never be friends, I swear it.

Pidge told him before not to make a stupid rivalry out of this, but Lance can’t help it. He was going to make Keith regret he ever crossed paths with Lance Sanchez.

(In which Lance and Keith are roommates, then enemies, then friends, then enemies again, then lovers)

In Motion - thatonegreenpencil

Late night training session somehow turns into more of a bonding exercise. Or the beginning of one, anyway.

(Set after ep 2)

watch yourself - shizuoh

Keith has a lot of trouble trying to deal with his obnoxious boyfriend.

Nosedive by quartetship

"You still wanna keep going, Keith?"

"You know it."

we'll make it, you and me - asexualrey

"Keith, if we make it out of this alive, I'm going to kiss you."

7 minutes in heaven (heaven looks a lot like a closet) - sun_stricken

lance + keith+ small spaces = gay shit

Meet-Cute, more like Meet-Ugly - mysterem

They say that meeting your soulmate is the best moment of your life. People are always talking about how the second that your counter hits zero it’s like the whole world seems to slow down, and all that matters is the two of you. But no one said anything about getting punched in the face.

Gay Chicken - InsominiacArrest

Someone else drops out of the pilot program and both Keith and Lance are in, and this time wrangled into a pilot’s beginning of year ‘get-together.’ It’s basically a frat party.

They play a very competitive party game neither backs down from.

#voltron #klance #klance fic recs

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tigresjumeaux · 7 years

Text

As per the request of @my-insanity-is-irrelevant, here goes nothing. Not even gonna reblog the ask meme post bc I’m literally answering every question rip

1. What is you middle name? Marie. #basic 2. How old are you? 19. 3. When is your birthday? May 31. 4. What is your zodiac sign? Gemini. I’m actually two people and they’re both snakes. 5. What is your favorite color? I honestly don’t have one, they all have their perks. I do tend to favor cooler and darker colors tho 6. What’s your lucky number? 7 and 9, but odd numbers tend to treat me nicely in general. 7. Do you have any pets? Three! A Boxer named Buster, and two 14 y/o cats named Asheley and Nadia. Here’s hoping for many more in the future. :’) 8. Where are you from? Born in Seattle, raised in the greater St. Louis area, and going to school in Muncie, IN. 9. How tall are you? 5′6″ 10. What shoe size are you? 8 in American women’s size. 11. How many pairs of shoes do you own? Oh lord. Probably like 15 because I refuse to get rid of any, but I only wear like 4. 12. What was your last dream about? Roller coasters and an ex being nasty. DJ Khaled was there. 13. What talents do you have? I’m fairly good at reading people, and also drawing. I’m also a quick learner, if that counts as a talent? 14. Are you psychic in any way? I wish. I have a weird force of karma that seems to follow the people who have hurt me around, but that could be coincidence. I’ve helped check other people’s energies (as well as my own) before, but my knowledge is limited and I don’t think I have the sense of self to pursue that right now. 15. Favorite song? At no point in my life have I had just one, but “Fury” by Muse and “Love is Mystical” by the Cold War Kids are up there right now. 16. Favorite movie? Wonder Woman was so, so good, y’all. I also like 17. Who would be your ideal partner? daisy ridley right now, my standards are both really low and really high. Just...someone I get along with and who gives a rat’s ass? 18. Do you want children? I think I might, yeah. Depends on who I end up with, but I like the idea of making small humans and showing them how the world works. Teaching others has always helped me figure shit out, anyway. 19. Do you want a church wedding? nooooo thank you 20. Are you religious? Not in the sense that I participate in organized religion, but I do believe in aspects of many different religions. I’m particularly fond of reincarnation. 21. Have you ever been to the hospital? I had to have my chin stitched up when I was like, 3. And also I had my tonsils out at 10. 22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law? Nope, and I’d prefer to keep it that way. 23. Have you ever met any celebrities? I met Paramore the summer before my junior year, and I met Jensen, Jared, and Misha from SPN my senior year! 24. Baths or showers? Showers. 25. What color socks are you wearing? au naturale i’m barefoot bitches 26. Have you ever been famous? one time i did a drawing and it got 100 notes 27. Would you like to be a big celebrity? noooooo maybe C-list at most 28. What type of music do you like? I’ll listen to just about anything, but I lean towards alt rock, metal, punk, some indie if it isn’t too hippie-ish. 29. Have you ever been skinny dipping? nah 30. How many pillows do you sleep with? Like...7? 31. What position do you usually sleep in? On my stomach with my top half wrapped around a pillow or a blanket. 32. How big is your house? Two-story, four bedrooms. Parents raised three wild kiddos here 33. What do you typically have for breakfast? A smoothie or a sandwich when I’m actually up in time. 34. Have you ever fired a gun? No, but I’d like to at least try. 35. Have you ever tried archery? yes and i ain’t no katniss 36. Favorite clean word? Maverick (that’s one of many) 37. Favorite swear word? Fuck. it’s just so versatile 38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep? 60 hours or so 39. Do you have any scars? On my heels, chin, thighs, hips, and over my wristbones. I’m clumsy, have pets, and have self-harmed. 40. Have you ever had a secret admirer? An anon flirted w me on Tumblr but it was someone in my French class, lel. Wasn’t a secret for too long. 41. Are you a good liar? White lies, yes. Big lies, noooo. 42. Are you a good judge of character? Generally? 43. Can you do any other accents other than your own? Not a whole lot on my own, but I’ll pick up anything I hear regularly. 44. Do you have a strong accent? Not really? I just kinda talk and drop bits of different accents here and there. I don’t think I have that much of a St. Louis accent. 45. What is your favorite accent? I have a soft spot for slight Southern accents. Eastern European and Australian are also awesome. 46. What is your personality type? sad 47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing? A $120 jacket from Zumiez. It’s HUF brand but I bought it for the wolves on it tbh 48. Can you curl your tongue? Yes and it comes in handy w girlfriends 49. Are you an innie or an outie? Innie 50. Left or right handed? Right 51. Are you scared of spiders? I used to, but I’m getting better. They startle me but I’ve carried a wolf spider outside so 52. Favorite food? changes by the hour tbh tho chicken is always good 53. Favorite foreign food? Shepherd’s Pie. 54. Are you a clean or messy person? Clean, but disorganized. My room is cluttered but not like, dirty. 55. Most used phrase? "Oh my god.” 56. Most used word? like 57. How long does it take for you to get ready? depends. not usually over 45 minutes unless I’m getting Fancy. 58. Do you have much of an ego? Not really. 59. Do you suck or bite lollipops? Yes. 60. Do you talk to yourself? More than anyone else. 61. Do you sing to yourself? Yes, especially when I can’t hear my own voice. 62. Are you a good singer? N o 63. Biggest Fear? Forgetting and being forgotten. 64. Are you a gossip? drama that don’t involve me is the best drama 65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen? Goodwill Hunting aaaaaa 66. Do you like long or short hair? On myself, defs long. I love pulling it back too much for short. 67. Can you name all 50 states of America? Yep! I 68. Favorite school subject? English. Also psychology. 69. Extrovert or Introvert? Extrovert with trust issues, abandonment issues, and that shuts down a lot. and also clinical depression 70. Have you ever been scuba diving? No, but I’ve been snorkeling! 71. What makes you nervous? Anything has the potential to make me nervous, tbh. But not knowing things is The Worst 72. Are you scared of the dark? Oh god yes 73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes? I do when it’s something small. Big mistakes are things you gotta figure out for yourself. 74. Are you ticklish? Less and less over time, tbh. 75. Have you ever started a rumor? Never on purpose. I’ve heard a few things I’ve said get distorted and spread but I try to Cut That Shit Out Quick 76. Have you ever been in a position of authority? I was a President of a few clubs in high school, captain of the swim team, and a manager for the track and cross country teams. 77. Have you ever drank underage? Whenever I can, tbh. Not even to get drunk, necessarily, it just tastes good 78. Have you ever done drugs? Only weed with a close friendo of mine. I also may have saved a few narcotics from my wisdom tooth removal for a rainy day 79. Who was your first real crush? My best friend in middle school. That was a doozy. 80. How many piercings do you have? I have doubles in my ears, so 4. I’d like triples and possibly a septum piercing. 81. Can you roll your Rs? Yep! Sometimes I do it by accident when speaking 82. How fast can you type? Not very tbh 83. How fast can you run? That depends on why I’m running. 84. What color is your hair? Dirty blonde. 85. What color are your eyes? Blue-gray. 86. What are you allergic to? Certain kinds of deodorant and also tumblr 87. Do you keep a journal? I mean I scribble down stream of consciousness shit when trying to Cope w things, but I don’t keep one regularly. 88. What do your parents do? Dad’s an engineer, mom’s the HR person for a whackass ad company w fun people 89. Do you like your age? I mean I’d rather be able to legally drink, but I’m a legal adult but it doesn’t feel Real yet so I guess it ain’t all bad 90. What makes you angry? When people are mean for literally no good reason. 91. Do you like your own name? it’s aiight. people trying to pronounce my last name is amusing 92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they? I like the name Oliver a lot for a guy? But really I guess it’d depend on my what my wife likes 93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child? dog 94. What are your strengths? I know people and can communicate pretty well, and I’m generally good at being pretty friendly. Also I can swim so if someone throws me in the water the joke is on them 95. What are your weaknesses? Can’t be left alone for long periods of time, relying on one person for everything, and ignoring myself and other friends, compulsive tendencies, and an overall obsessive personality. 96. How did you get your name? Named after my dad’s grandma, iirc. Except Claire instead of Clara. 97. Were your ancestors royalty? I’m sure someone was idk 98. Do you have any scars? didn’t I answer this already 99. Color of your bedspread? Black and white at home, orange and purple in my dorm. 100. Color of your room? Very dark forest green. I like it lots.

#tigres talks to people #shoosh claire #ask meme #my-insanity-is-irrelevant #long post

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kishimoto-did-us-dirty · 5 years

Text

Naruto Arts School AU

Character

- major

description

Naruto

-Drums

Sasuke

-Guitar (lead)

Sakura

- Dance

Hinata

- Creative Writing

Kiba

- Drums OR Photography

Drums for obvious reasons (loud and obnoxious), although ruff boi looks good with a camera, too. Great at landscapes and street photography.

Shino

- Creative Writing OR Photography

Ino

- Dance

Shikamaru

- Guitar (bass) OR Creative Writing OR Architecture

Smart boy’s a tricky one. He would either be a bassist, a mystery and historical fiction writer, or, of his school offers it, be great at architecture. Idrk.

Choji

- ermmmmm….. maybe graphic design? Tech theatre (props)? Vocal???

Tenten

- Dance

Lee

- DANCE (hip-hop, too)

It’s sweat. It’s burn. It’s energy. It’s Lee.

Neji

- Violin

First chair violinist in his freshman year for the school’s philharmonic orchestra. He be extra like that.

Gaara

- Guitar (bass)

Kankuro

-Art

Specifically sculpting. For obvious reasons.

Temari

- Acting

Itachi

-Piano

Shisui

- FILM / VIDEO PRODUCTION

Sasori, Deidara, and Sai

Guess.

Kakashi

- Saxophone

It’s the only thing that suits him and it suits him so well. Has suave.

Obito (omfg his arms y'all)

- Not to say drums or anything, but…. drums.

Hashirama

- Vocal

OkaYYYYYY. VOCAL GOD. CAN DO RIFFS AND RUNS AND HAS PERFECT PITCH. ALSO THE SWEETEST GUY??? WAS A CHAMBER SINGER AS A FRESHMAN. EVERYONE LOVES HIM, GOOD BOY ENERGY.

Likes to belt.

Madara

- Piano

Total prodigy, but hates classical music. Once was accompanist to Hashirama for a solo vocal performance and hasn’t been left alone since.

Tobirama

- Viola or Cello

Izuna

- Piano

Also a piano god. The uchihas breed them. Hates being accompanist for Tobirama. They’re secretly best friends though, don’t tell anyone.

Karin

- Tech Theatre.

Idk why. Probably started out with props and made her way up to TD (technical director) in senior year.

Suigetsu

- Tech Theatre

Fucking hates theatre kids (I feel that (I used to be one so don’t come at me)). Assistant TD. Karin hates him.

Jugo

- Visual Art

Paints landscapes and nature. Really good with oils and gouache respectively.

Yamato

- lmao Trumpet.

Met Kakashi since they both play brass, but boy he ain’t got that suave. That’s why he plays trumpet. Lmao he plays the fucking trumpet anjdwcnojdnn.

Rin

- Vocal

Sweetest voice and could also play the acoustic guitar when she sang. Died in a car accident junior year. Kakashi was at the wheel when they got hit by a drunk driver. Obito saw the whole thing.

Kurenai

- Visual Art

Can create dream like paintings that almost seem like illusions.

Asuma

- Cello / guitar

Used to play cello because of his parents, but loves to play guitar. Can sing but his voice is raspy from smoking.

Gai

Who the fuck do you think teaches dance?

Jiraiya

- Guitar (lead)

Tsunade

-Dance

Legendary dancer. Probably toured with a few famous people. Now teachers. Mentored Sakura, and mentored Ino but for a shorter time.

Orochimaru

- Idk, didgeridoo, or some shit

Definitely a wood wind. Flute maybe??? Teaches now but no one knows what he does. Pedophile. Has a thing for Sasuke.

And that’s that!! Feel free to send in more requests!! Tell me what you think~

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iamkindling · 7 years

Text

I picked the worst year to stop taking my meds (part two): a family matter

I was a a pretty angsty kid, and an even angstier teen. I’d feel bad for my parents for having to deal with my me, but I don’t, because boy howdy, I could have been a lot worse. All things considered, I was a damn good kid to raise.

I participated in extracurricular activities, sang in the church choir, preferred books to TV, all those good things. I was reasonably obedient, tried to do my chores when I was told, and usually felt genuine guilt when I did something wrong.

My first distinct memories of depression are from when I was about ten years old. That’s when I-

- Started seeking solitude because I couldn’t understand or identify with the unrelenting optimism of some of my peers

- First realized the gravity of death

- Began to doubt that God had anyone’s best interest at heart

Depression began with those things, and anxiety followed quickly on its footsteps. I developed a phobia of the sound of the phone ringing. That was how news was delivered. And most news was bad news those days.

My family is deeply religious. I don’t blame them. Christianity has been good to them, for the most part. There is value in shared community and common beliefs and goals. I don’t think anyone doubts that. But I began to find religion deeply troubling at a young age. I couldn’t understand a god who could speak of vengeance and forgiveness, who could promise peace and rain down destruction, who could tout acceptance but encourage judgement and death at every turn.

I couldn’t understand how God could answer my fervent prayers for a little brother, only to snatch him away, and almost take my mom, too.

Less than a year after a turbulent miscarriage, my mother became pregnant again. Due to tense family situations I still don’t fully understand (and probably never will), my parents decided it would be best if we kept my mom’s pregnancy a secret. We didn’t tell anyone. Not relatives, not friends, nobody. It was a strange thing to ask of a ten year old still grappling with grief. Not only did I feel silenced by my parents’ request, I felt silenced by my lack of friends (I couldn’t have anyone come over to visit, and I felt intensely socially awkward), and by my family’s situation (complaints felt unwarranted and trivial; my brother was dead, what did I have to complain about?). I began to feel reluctant to form attachments, even to the thing growing in my mother’s belly. Impermanence was a brand new concept. I could think of little else.

Through it all my family relied on faith. Even after my youngest sister was born (healthy baby and mom, no further complications) and we’d told all the relevant parties (I remember my mom’s first conversation with her mother about the new grandchild quite clearly), the memories of that bizarre year followed me. It still does, well over a decade later. Lots of my family’s “church friends” discussed the miscarriage in terms of a “trial” to “prepare the way” for my family and my youngest sister.

I’ve never thought of my brother in that way. I refuse to. If causing suffering and confusion was part of god’s “plan,” I wanted no part in it.

I began to doubt early, and doubted for a good ten years before I realized I wasn’t religious any longer. If anything has given me lasting peace about my brother’s death and the turmoil my family went through in those days, it’s been my realization that it wasn’t part of a plan. I think my family fiends peace in their belief that it was.

I did my best to stick to the program in my teen years. I attended church, participated in clubs, plays, Bible studies, retreats, and church camps. I served in the youth ministry at church as a leader, wrote plays based on Bible stories, and invited my “unsaved” friends at school to go to wednesday night youth group activities. But I did plenty of things in the “secular” world, too.

Marching band, show choir, and school plays teach more than just performance and artistry. Most of what I learned about sex, dating, swearing, and popular culture came from those activities. They were the few places I could be my “non-church” self at without fear of repercussions. I made friends my parents wouldn’t approve of, which was a fantastic thing. I learned the value of earned camaraderie, sarcasm, and confidence from my secular peers. I began to value my time away from home more than I valued time at home. I began to fear going home because I didn’t feel myself there. I began to dislike home because it meant I had to stay quiet while I listened to my father rail against things I began to identify with.

Once while driving me to school, my dad passed one of my friends who was walking on the sidewalk. She was listening to music and singing aloud. My dad scowled, then laughed and shook his head. It was clear he thought she was stupid or crazy. “Don’t wind up like that,” he told me. My junior year of high school I got permission to host the school play cast party at my house. My parents mentioned they wouldn’t be pleased if a certain cast member showed up because he was homosexual, and didn’t want that kind of “influence” around their home. I didn’t tell that particular friend (because he was, truly, a good friend of mine) what they’d said, but I think he knew.

My family was in a constant state of stress. Something was always happening. Usually “bad” things. Small things to stress over, argue over, pick fights over. And if something wasn’t happening, they’d find something to pick on until something happened. I think we all thrived on conflict. There were four kids in all, so my mom was constantly busy either shuttling my older sister and I to jobs or activities, or mothering my two much younger siblings. My father traveled frequently for work. There wasn’t much time for peace, so peace didn’t exist. Everyone was busy. Everyone was afraid to slow down.

At the close of my freshman year of high school, I realized I wouldn’t have school as a buffer for a few months over summer break. I’d be losing not only my friends who were seniors, but also my oldest sister to college, and soon. When I tried to express my grief to my parents about it, my mother insisted on taking me to a nutritionist, certain that if I changed the way I ate, I’d be more level, rational, less emotionally “volatile.”

So for a year I ate nothing but beans, vegetables, and meat. My moods still swung. Diets can only do so much, but I went along with it at the time, desperately hopeful that something could help me. I felt that something was wrong with me, that I was somehow going crazy, that I was “different” from my peers and had to find the switch to flip that would make everything better. I started to have frequent panic attacks. I started to have thoughts that transfigured into vivid daydreams and then brief hallucinations that scared the shit out of me. I saw tragedies strike too close to home far too frequently, to the point where I believed that if I wasn’t next, I was at least in line. That attitude continued until I finished college. It probably still continues a bit, but I’ve found myself being able to imagine my future self in more realistic terms. Does that sound normal? I hope so.

In an effort to cope with my teen “angst,” “moodiness,” “dramatics,” and other such terms I’ve now been able to classify as simply depression, my parents found ways to control and punish. I loved to read so they took away my books. I loved music so they took away my CDs. They’d often forbid me to see friends, participate in activities (even at church), and a few times, they confiscated my journals, diaries, notebooks I’d write stories in, having “family meetings” to discuss what they found. They sent me to church camps over the summer because they “couldn’t handle me and needed a week off.” They had friends at the high school I attended (support staff) and threatened to have them watch me and report back to them. While I’m not against certain parenting strategies and monitoring a child’s behavior, what my parents did made me feel beyond paranoid.

So I found things I could control.

I developed an eating disorder (my views on food and what it could or couldn’t do were already skewed).

I learned how to hurt myself in ways that wouldn’t leave scars (it didn’t work every time. I still have some). One day at school my best friend revealed to me that she’d started self-harming recently, trying to escape the stress of her home life. I stared at her in shock, grabbed her hand, and said “me, too.” Our bond strengthened.

I learned how to lie.

I developed friendships with a lot of people my parents would never “approve” of in a million years. They assumed it was to grind their gears. It was more because I desperately needed a change, any change, anything that would remind me that what I had wasn’t all there was.

My parents didn’t know about the cutting, or that I was starving myself, that my friends knew more about me than they did, that I was hiding things from them that were pivotal, that I didn’t believe they could or would ever help me with.

One afternoon in late 2013, a week after my second conversation with the campus counselor, I called my mother to tell her I wanted to go on medication. My parents frequently said that I was always in the midst of a “spiritual battle.” I was terrified they’d use my new desire to medicate as more ammunition against me. I don’t remember the specifics of the conversation. I do remember that I shook almost uncontrollably through the whole thing. I could barely hold the phone against my ear; my hand went numb from fear. But by the end of the conversation, my mother had promised a visit to the family physician when I went home for Christmas break, on the condition that I visit a nutritionist of her choice, too.

I told my mom I loved her and ended the call. My boyfriend squeezed my hand, and I cried.

It was still tentative. But it was the biggest concrete step towards healing I’d ever made.

I picked the worst year to stop taking my meds (part three): the first day

#my story #depression #anxiety #medication #angsty #angst #teen drama #healing

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robertemeryofficial · 5 years

Text

How to choose a musical instrument

Most of you know me as a conductor. Someone who waves my arms around in unusual patterns and in return, I usually get paid in pounds; unless I'm working in the desert where they offer me a couple of camels instead. Conducting however has been a minor part of my life compared to what I always wanted to be; a pianist. But how did I choose a musical instrument?

Tinkling the ivories was supposed to be my career, so what happened? To get to that, I need to take you on a journey to 1990, when I was seven. This was when Top of the Pops was still on the box. My favourite hobby was to listen to the song that reached number one and then dash to the family heirloom that was an out of tune, ivory keyed piano, and figure out how to play the piece. This all happened long before I had lessons, and in fact, this was the catalyst for my Mother to contact the local teacher down the road.

Every Wednesday for a year I walked 5 minutes to the teacher's house. Every Wednesday I manipulated the teacher to play the piece for me that she wanted me to learn, and every Wednesday I'd then memorise what she performed and could pretty much play it straight away. People thought I was a wunderkind; I wasn't - it's just that I could copy and mimic well. As a child, I wasn't doing this deliberately to fool everyone into thinking I could read music - I just found copying a quicker and more direct way to learn the piano. It wasn't until my Mother placed some sheet music in front of me that I openly admitted I couldn't understand what all the squashed flies on the page were.

From that moment on I was sent to Margaret Toon, a teacher who was a 15 minutes drive away and was the equivalent of a hard-working, reliable, sturdy Volvo compared to the previous Lada. In two and a half years, Mrs Toon taught me to read music and took me from grade one to seven (out of eight). In the blink of an eye, I could play the piano. But did you know I was also playing the cello and clarinet?

No. Of course you didn't. Imagine a bat who has lost its voice and can't produce the sonar echolocation sound it needs to. Now imagine the result when heading towards that rather large brick wall; a cartoon-like 'SPLAT' and a speech bubble 'OUCH'. That is my cello playing. The clarinet was far worse. And here lies the most significant misconception amongst parents when it comes to music tuition. If little Jonny is so atrocious at the violin you banish his Psycho screeching to the attic, not only will he feel unenthused that his parents want him as far away as possible, but he will feel like the mouse in the trap; cheesed-off. Did it ever occur to Mr and Mrs Big Jonny that perhaps the violin was not the right instrument for him?

If your child doesn't like learning the instrument they are playing, there are only three possible reasons why:

1. They have a lousy, tedious, insipid teacher

2. They have an excellent teacher, but the instrument isn't right for them

3. See number one or two

That's it. No other options are available; so stop trying to complicate matters.

I genuinely believe that every child has the capacity to love playing an instrument. I suspect if you put that child in a room with all the instruments ever invented, and the most fantastic teacher for each instrument, they would pick one that they want to play, and they would lap it up like a cat drinking its lactose-free milk.

For four years I played my instrument every evening. I had one lesson a week. I played in the school assemblies. I played for the school concerts and theatrical productions (knowing what I know now, I'm not sure if you could call them 'theatrical' - but I'll let fond memories take precedence). I had a weekly general music lesson at school where I could bang a tambourine and call it music. I played for the school choir. I played background music for the school open days. If you didn't realise by now, I played all the time. And aside from my private music lessons, my music teacher at St Michael's primary school, Mrs June Davenhill, was the gift that keeps giving. She gave me an all-around musical education and the opportunity to play at all those events listed above, and more. I had the support and slight pushiness from my parents, from my private piano teacher, and the school. I had a twenty-four hour, fifteen tog duvet of music wrapped around me; to which there was no escape. Looking back, I would have had to try really hard not to become a musician.

All of this was due to my interest in the piano which the adults responded in kind. Almost everyone I've ever met thinks I was born to play music. But if I chose the clarinet as my first instrument, I think my blog would be called 'Robert Emery proves that Search Engine Optimisation can be fun' and I would have coding as a hobby. The fifteen tog duvet would be a summer four point five, and I would have had to try really hard to become a musician.

After my generous primary school experience, I moved to secondary school and at the same time was sent to the newly opened Birmingham Conservatoire Junior School (I was literally the first pupil to be signed up) and for six out of those eight years, I upgraded from the excellent Volvo to the inspiring Rolls-Royce that was Heather Slade-Lipkin. The BCJS operated every Saturday, and the inspirations of Mrs Toon and Mrs Davenhill combined to make the power-house that was Mrs Slade-Lipkin.

Believe it or not, for the first few months I continued to study cello and clarinet alongside the piano. Perhaps my most significant luck in life so far was figuring out I could enjoy and play the piano BEFORE I even thought about trying other instruments. So when my failure on the two C's was more prominent than the mess that is Brexit, it didn't matter. I just dropped them with no repercussions.

Under the leadership of Heather, the BCJS gave me lessons in aural, theory, general musicianship, piano, organ, composition, improvisation, choir, orchestra - and the method of teaching meant I never felt like I was learning. At this age, I was doing the most important thing; having fun with my friends and being a grotty teenager. But crucially, I was enveloped with music. It was everywhere, so much so it formed part of my DNA. This didn't happen by accident. My parents and teachers carefully curated it. By this time I had stopped experimenting with other instruments and settled on the piano. Yes, I played the organ, but I was told from a young age that one could earn a fast buck or two playing down the local church, so I figured it would be a sensible back-stop if my piano career didn't take off. The massive shortage of organists in the UK meant I had more work than I could cope with, and at thirteen, I was earning on average £30 a week - which for a teenager growing up on the outskirts of Birmingham in a little village meant I felt like 'Del-Boy'; this time next year...

After Heather thrust me into competitions such as the BBC Young Musician of the Year, she steered my playing so that I would become one of two pianists accepted from the UK at the Royal College of Music. It was finally time to flee the nest and move to London. And for me, this was where I became an adult. It was now my responsibility to wrap myself in that duvet of music, and for a couple of years, I failed dismally. I was interested in making money, and that came at the expense of my playing. Becoming 'a concert pianist' was harder work than I thought. I needed to use my skills as an organist to tie me over. The job notice board at the RCM clearly said 'DO NOT REMOVE THESE NOTICES', so when I found an organist ad for the perfect church in the perfect location, I immediately ripped it from its pin and put it in my pocket. I persuaded St Paul's in Chiswick to give me a job, and the duvet of music was slowly coming back to me. I had chosen the organ as an instrument when I was eleven, but it wasn't until eighteen that I started conducting. I thought it looked a lot of fun, but due to my studies at the RCM I was trying to become a serious pianist for serious people; this meant pausing anything that had the word 'fun' associated with it and replacing it with 'practice'.

You can imagine my reaction when after a Sunday morning service, a professional conductor offered me some work as his assistant. This meant I had to conduct, which to me was breaking the rules and having fun again, and so like a duck to water, I quacked. Waving my arms was exciting, and as the number of camels for payment seemed to be higher than playing the piano, I thought I'd stick with it; pardon the pun. The rest, as they say, is history.

If there is one thing to learn from this miniaturised path of my life, it should be that like everything else; music is a journey. It doesn't start or stop with the first pluck of that string. Inspire your child by getting them to practice in the room you are in, and if squawking on a saxophone doesn't empower them as Pelé with that ball, change the sport, and see if hitting a drum will make them feel like Björn Borg with a bat. So finally you ask 'How do you choose a musical instrument?' The answer: You don't; it'll choose you.

Book recommendations discussing Music Lessons

Music Lessons: The Collège de France Lectures - Boulez book publishing his extraordinary Collège de France lectures

THE Music Lesson - From Grammy-winning musical icon and legendary bassist Victor L. Wooten comes The Music Lesson, the story of a struggling young musician who wanted music to be his life, and who wanted his life to be great.

How to Play the Piano despite Years of Lessons: What Music is and How to Make it at Home - an adults guide to learning music

I Wish I Didn't Quit: Music Lessons - A great little book helping you to inspire your child with tips from world-class musicians

Help Your Kids With Music: A unique step-by-step visual guide - Are your children struggling with music theory? This book by Carol Vorderman might be just what the need. Newly released in 2019.

A Child's Introduction to the Orchestra (Revised): Listen While You Learn About the Instruments, the Music and the Composers Who Wrote the Music! - an interactive, bestselling introduction to the world of classical music.

Related & Recommended Posts

#Backstage #Music Lessons #music lessons

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jackfollmanwriter-blog · 6 years

Text

The Ghost Next Door

The music studio was the last place that still smelled like my dad. That, and the fact that it housed my dad’s vintage record player, collection of prime late-60s/early-70s classic rock and folk vinyl and an acoustic guitar collection resulted in me passing much of my final high school summer break in the little one-room studio tucked into the back corner of my parents’ suburban backyard.

We were in between the third and fourth lesson of my dad trying to teach me how to play guitar when he passed away. To be honest, we hadn’t made much progress on my lessons because I would usually get frustrated with my dad trying to teach me dull chords which strained my fingers and we would switch to just listening to his Rumours or Sweet Baby James LPs about 10 minutes in.

A fatal heart attack at 49 would prevent my dad from ever teaching his only daughter guitar. I’m still deep in the hard clutches of painful sadness from his passing, but trying to teach myself guitar and listening to my dad’s sad old vinyls in the studio during the summer after he died was my first semi-successful coping mechanism.

The studio was the perfect place to get high because of the silent “recording alarm” my dad setup in there. To ensure no one would barge in during him recording a song, he set up a system that silently flashed a red light on the wall whenever someone got within 10 feet of the studio door that auto locked to the outside until he turned it off. With the system on, I could always tell when my mom was coming.

My daily routine got started the day after my junior year of high school wrapped and about a month after my dad died. I woke up late in the morning, about two hours after my mom had already left for work. Ate an unhealthy breakfast. Headed out to the studio. Smoked. Tried to teach myself guitar. Smoked again. Listened to records. Smoked. Then went back to the house just after my mom got home. Picked at dinner. Retreated to my room and browsed around on the Internet until I fell asleep around 2 or 3 a.m.

I felt the daily regimen helped me cope.

The night where everything changed started out just like any other that summer. I around 3 a.m. and heard music coming from the studio on my walk back to my bedroom from the hallway bathroom.

I knew the song. It was my dad’s favorite track from Rumours - “Never Going Back Again.” I could spot the fingerpicked slinky guitar melody my dad could never get just right with his own fingers.

I headed over to a window and looked out into the backyard and the studio. It was hard to tell if the light I saw came from inside the lone window of the studio or from the outside light on the side of the building. Either way, the song played on.

Maybe my mom was out there listening to Lindsey Buckingham at 3 a.m? No. I could hear her snoring from her bedroom down the hall.

I threw on a sweater and headed out the back door.

The song was still playing when I followed the stone trail in the grass which led to the studio, but I noticed a distinct sound in the music. It did not sound like the music was coming from a record player. It sounded like a live acoustic guitar playing the song perfectly - avoiding all the little missteps which plagued my dad’s renditions.

The music stopped when I was halfway through the yard. The only light I could see was the little bulb which rested on the outside of the studio.

I went into the studio to investigate. The room was quiet and empty.

I couldn’t get to sleep the next night. It was still more than 80 degrees at 2 am and the intense heat seemed to be working its way through the glass of my bedroom windows. I sweated under my blanket as I f kept my ears on high alert for any unusual sounds from the backyard.

The music started again at 3:30 a.m. It was the sound of a guitar again, but a different song. I couldn’t recognize it at first, but I eventually decided that it was a Rolling Stones song. One of their ballads. Angie, I think.

I followed the sound of music out into the sweltering backyard. The sounds of the cicadas and the choking humidity made it feel like I was in a jungle and not in a backyard in Ohio.

I could definitely see the light on inside the studio this time. I actually thought I could see the red glow of the recording security system light as I made my way through the backyard and approached.

The music stopped once I got closer. I was left alone with the song of cicadas and the mysterious disappearing guitar picker was nowhere in sight.

I checked the studio again, but there wasn’t a single sign of life other than the vape pen I accidently left in there.

I started to form a plan. I believed whoever, or whatever was playing guitar in the middle of the night was utilizing the recording alarm the same way I did. They vanished as soon as they saw the red light come on. I decided the next day that I would unplug the recording security system before I left the studio for the night.

Over the course of those two nights, my brain had turned into a stew of curiosity, hope, fear and anxiety. While I did truly want to know what was going on, there was a still a dark fear of the unknown and the unexplained. How was the person who was playing guitar escaping in the night without using the only door to the studio and without leaving any trace of evidence?

Worst of all was the darkest, yet most hopeful fear of all which simmered within my troubled brain. Could the musician be the ghost of my father?

I pushed that thought back. It was too hard to even think about. If that was the case, I was okay with being surprised.

The heat subsided the next night, but my sweating did’nt. I laid in my bed tortured by nerves. I tried to sleep, but found myself rolling over to check the time on my phone about every 20 minutes.

It was nearly 4 a.m. and I had yet to hear any music come from the backyard. Maybe I got too close last night and spooked the spook? My heart sank just a little bit with each passing check of the clock and each passing chunk of minutes. I eventually could take no more and slipped away into sleep.

I had no idea how much time had passed when I woke. Was it light outside? I checked my bedroom window. Still pitch black.

I heard the sound of a guitar ringing out heavy chords from behind the house. I sprang out of bed and ran for the back door.

I ran through the backyard as fast as I had since I was a little kid, my eyes stuck on the lights of the studio, excited that I didn’t see the red lighting of the security system and could still hear the rumbling power chords and what I thought was the sound of singing.

I dove at the door handle when I reached the studio. My body was still in a bit of shock when I took in the scene in front of me.

Seated in my dad’s playing stool was a long-haired kid clutching my dad’s vintage 67 Taylor acoustic guitar. He looked at me in panic with his straight brown hair covering half his face and tickling his lips.

“Oh shit. I’m sorry,” the kid shot out.

The kid dropped my dad’s pristine guitar and scrambled, almost falling off the stool. He stepped away from me and held his hands out in surrender.

“What are you doing in here?” I screamed at him.

He looked me up and down with light eyes and started to collect himself. He wiped his face nervously and slunk into a relaxed posture. I noticed a vape pen dangled in his left hand.

“I just moved next door and I was in the backyard and saw this studio back here and fell in love,” the kid answered.

He started to play with the shaggy dirty blonde hair around his ear. His eyes remained locked on mine. He maintained a slight, nervous smile. To me, he looked like Chris Pratt if he had become a rock star instead of a movie star and adopted the slender physique of a heroin-gorged guitar hero.

“I figured if I came back here in the middle of the night I could play guitar and listen to some records. There is about the best vinyl collection I have ever seen in here,” he finished by giving a wave at the stacks of vinyl which took up almost an entire wall of the studio.

The kid seemed genuinely sincere and harmless. I was still completely on edge, but his soft voice and features wore me down with each second we held our stand off in the soft light of the studio.

“Okay…

“Look. Here’s what I can do,” the kid started in and cleared his throat while taking a wallet out of his pants. “I can give you my driver’s license which shows that I do live next door and my ASB card which shows that we will go to the same high school next year.”

The boy produced two cards from his wallet and handed them over to me. The Ohio state driver’s license confirmed he did live next door and his name was Adam Long and the ASB card confirmed he would be going to Kirkland High School with me next year.

“I’m Adam by the way. Nice to meet you.”

I handed the IDs back.

“Nice to meet you,” I mumbled.

“You can call the cops if you still like. I understand. But, if you aren’t too totally freaked out, I would love to come back here, play some guitar, smoke out and listen to these great records if you are ever interested. I can even bring some of my own and my own guitar. Just head next door and knock.”

Adam walked right by me before I could get another word out and slipped out the door. Leaving me alone in the studio with the sound of the guitar still ringing in my ear.

The idea of knocking on Adam’s door and inviting him to teach me guitar or listen to records gnawed at me for three days before I finally made the trek down the street and found myself ringing his doorbell. I chewed on my lip as I waited for an answer.

Adam quickly answered with tired eyes and messy hair as if he had just woke up even though it was 1 in the afternoon.

“Uh, hi,” I mumbled.

“Let me get my guitar,” Adam blurted out.

Adam ran off before I could even get my question out.

Adam came back with a beat up old vintage guitar which looked like the one Willie Nelson plays. I think he calls it “Dolly” or “Darla” or something quaint that starts with a D.

Within minutes, Adam was picking out the opening to “Under the Bridge” on that ratty guitar and explaining to me that it was a 1964 Fender and possibly worth more than the two-bedroom fixer-upper he moved into with his parents about a month before.

I couldn’t help but laugh at Adam just about every minute. He had the demeanor of a puppy golden retriever, excited about everything and clumsy beyond belief. He actually fell off the stool before he launched into the verses of Under the Bridge.

Before he could even get up off the floor and before I could even stop laughing. Adam was insisting he wanted to teach me how to play guitar.

Adam seemed to have a knack for showing me the ropes of guitar my dad didn’t possess. He showed me the chords and how to hold the guitar, how to hold the pick, how to ring out notes properly the same way my dad did, but what he showed me seemed to actually stick in my brain. It was like he somehow could plant the directions in my brain before he actually showed them to me.

Adam’s guitar lessons became a daily routine. He would show up around 1 or 2 in the afternoon and meet me in the studio where I was already hanging out. He would teach me guitar for about an hour and then we would spend the rest of the afternoon listening to records with interruptions of him playing and singing my favorite classic rock songs.

It felt as if Adam’s lessons and companionship pushed along the healing process of getting over my dad’s death. Each day that passed with my new friend seemed to thread a piece of fabric over the giant, gaping hole in my heart.

I have to admit that Adam did more than just patch that heart though. He found a place for himself in it. Within about a week, our teacher-student-friend relationship crossed professional boundaries.

It was tragically cliche. We hinted at what we both felt through enough flirtations and lathered ourselves up with weed and some sips of vodka and lemonade I had stolen from my mom until we melted into each other halfway through Joni Mitchell’s Blue on the hottest afternoon of the summer.

We seemed to be the only other people either of us hung out with so it basically just felt like Adam and I were boyfriend and girlfriend from that very moment. Even though we had not been out together in public, neither of us had even seen the other’s parents and I had never been over to his house, it felt official.

It simply felt perfect and that was all I needed.

However, the problem with starting with perfection is you have nowhere to go but down, and we would go down a long, long ways.

The first chink in the armor of love took place on a night not long after that day of sealing the deal in the studio.

I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of music coming from the studio again. I checked the clock. It was 3:30 a.m. Right at the time when I first heard Adam playing in the studio.

I rushed out to the studio with visions of a romantic gesture by Adam waiting for me in the studio. Maybe him playing Blackbird in candlelight with some red wine pilfered from his mom in glasses or fresh picked flowers.

What waited for me in the studio was not the scene out of Nicholas Sparks novel I imagined. It was more like something out of a Chuck Palahniuk novel.

The unnerving Beatles track Revolution #9 blared through the door of the studio before I opened it. I didn’t even think the speakers of my dad’s record player could get that loud, but apparently they could damn near blow the doors off the building.

I opened the door to the studio to reveal pure darkness. Black was all I could see in the room. I could still hear the horrific song playing at full blast, but I couldn’t see anything in the room.

“Adam?” I tried to yell over the volume of the music.

The music cut out and the lights of the room came on, brighter than I ever thought they could. I can barely even summarize what I saw because of how much it still hurts...but, laying on the floor was my father, lying on his back, his arms limp and out to his sides, his face a sickening shade of purple, white foam coming out of his mouth, his hair wet and slicked back. I assumed it was the vision my mom came upon in their bathroom while I was at a friend’s house that day.

I wanted to run, but was frozen in my stance in the open doorway of the studio. The only thing I managed to do was pinch myself on my forearm to confirm that this was not a nightmare.

A quick shot of pain reminded me that I was very much awake in the moment I was in and a new song began to spin.

I recognized the song from the first note, “Starry, Starry Night,” it was my dad and my unofficial song that we loved to listen to together.

I was finally able to run. I ran away from the studio as fast as I could and made it to the pavement outside the backdoor to my house. I collapsed there. Fell on my side and curled up into a ball. I started to convulse. Sob uncontrollably. Right there, I was back in my friend’s car, on our way home from a movie, getting the news over the phone that my dad died and I couldn’t take it.

I laid there on the ground sobbing for what had to be nearly 20 minutes before I was able to pick myself back up and trudge to my bedroom and my bed. I shut the door and didn’t come out for more than 24 hours.

I wouldn’t interact with a single thing until the middle of the night, the next night. I had finally managed to get to sleep around 2 a.m., but it didn’t last. I flashed awake around 3 and looked around my room that was completely dark except for a periodic flashing of blue light and almost completely silent except for a period rumbling on the floor.

My disorientation held my brain from realizing the flashing and buzzing was coming from my phone on my nightstand. I looked over to the phone and saw it flash one last time before going back to sleep.

The end of the buzzing let the room go back into silence, but only for a moment. I heard a shuffling sound come from over by my bedroom door before I could even unlock my phone.

I panicked. I dropped the phone and looked up to the door. Standing there in the same sheepish stance he had when I first caught him in the studio was Adam.

He pushed his hair out of his face.

“You weren’t answering your texts so I just came in. The backdoor was unlocked,” Adam explained.

I sat up in my bed and tried to catch my breath.

“What the fuck? My mom hasn’t even met you. She might have stabbed you if she ran into you in the kitchen in the dark.”

Adam found a seat at the foot of my bed and looked at the floor. His usual clumsy and jovial demeanor was nowhere to be found. He seemed now like a child who had just been told his puppy had died.

“I was just feeling really sad and wanted to say that I’m sorry for what happened to your dad,” Adam said so quietly I could barely hear it.

I recoiled a little bit from Adam in the bed.

“I didn’t think I told you about my dad.”

I had no memory of mentioning anything about my dad to Adam other than saying that the albums and the guitars in the studio were his. I’m sure it was a little strange to Adam that he had yet to see any living presence of my dad, but I had never mentioned anything about him being dead.

Adam froze. He looked up from the floor and out the dark window of my bedroom. I changed my posture and leaned towards him.

“How do you know about my dad?”

Adam didn’t answer.

“It’s okay if you just Googled him or something. I get that it’s weird that I didn’t say anything about him. I just want to know.”

Adam mumbled something I couldn’t make out. I leaned further forward and focused in on him just a little bit, it looked like there were tears in his eyes.

“You can tell me,” I insisted.

“No, it’s okay. I just wanted to check in on you because you weren’t answering your phone,” Adam spoke up, clearly, before he got up off the bed and walked out of the room.

I got up and followed Adam to the door which he left open.

“Wait,” I called out the open door and down the hallway, but received no answer.

The heart of the house was silent other than for the rumbling hum of the air conditioning.

I went back into my room and tucked myself into bed. I grabbed my phone up from off the floor and unlocked it.

There weren’t any notifications on my home screen. I checked my texts. I didn’t have any new ones. Checked my phone log. No missed or new calls.

Adam went dark for days. He wouldn’t return texts, phone calls, voice mails...nothing. I knocked on his door each afternoon, but never got an answer.

I passed the days practicing the chords Adam taught me in the studio and listening to music alone and it just didn’t feel right. The studio no longer had the warmth and coziness he had brought back to it. It went back to being a dim mourning room for my dad filled with sad old records and lonely guitars.

The days drug on like your worst days at a horrible job. The routine which had once given me a sliver of peace of mind had now turned into a mundane test of mental stability. I felt like I was on the verge of breaking down at any moment of the day.

I figured it was time to set up another trap for my friend next door.

I ordered a pizza to be delivered to Adam’s house on a Wednesday night at 8 and waited in the bushes next to his house to see him answer the door.

I sweated and itched in the bush as I watched the delivery driver stroll up to the front door of Adam’s house and ring the doorbell. I chewed on a nail during the wait for the answer.

An answer never came. The delivery driver eventually cursed under his breath and took his big heated bag of pizza and retreated back to his car.

I guess I had never actually confirmed that Adam and his family were even home. Maybe they had left on a vacation or something?

No matter the case, I needed to do my own investigation.

I ran up to the front door of Adam’s house and tried the handle. It was unlocked. I opened the door, stepped in and closed the door behind me.

The smell was the first thing which I noticed. The house reeked of the scent of abandon. Like when you go into a vacation rental home no one has been in since the previous summer, or the guest room at a grandparent’s house where people rarely go.

The fact that the house was completely empty was the second thing I noticed. A quick stroll around the main floor showed that there wasn’t a single thing in the home other than my presence. Every wall was blank and white, the carpet still stiff and new with nary a piece of furniture on it, the kitchen spotless. Maybe it was possible that Adam’s family simply moved out of the house a few days ago when he went MIA and they had already spotlessly cleaned the place out, but there was no way. There would still be a hint of life and I hadn’t noticed any cleaning trucks or heard any sounds of work coming from next door.

The sound of footsteps coming down a staircase at the end of the dark hallway I stood in interrupted my thought. I froze in my tracks on the immaculately clean white carpet.

“Adam?” I whispered down the hallway.

I saw a pair of feet wearing the navy Converse sneakers Adam always sported come into view. I watched as skinny legs in torn blue jeans made their way down the stairs until I saw a faded grey t-shirt I had seen Adam wear come into view splashed with blood. I held my breath and finally took in the full site when he stopped at the bottom of the stairs and stared at me from the other end of the hallway.

Blood snaked out from Adam’s wrists, dripped down his forearms and all over his jeans and t-shirt. He looked to me with pained eyes for a few seconds.

I ran.

I stopped at the bottom of Adam’s sloped driveway and looked up at the front door. I tried to catch my breath, but couldn’t. I stared at the small windows built into the front door, wondering if I would eventually see him, but I didn’t in the minute I took before retreating home.

I locked my parents’ front door and turned on the alarm system before running up to my room.I grabbed my cell phone off of my desk. The only question was whether to call my mom or 911 first.

“Ruby,” Adam’s voice shot out from the corner of my room over by the bedroom window.

I shrieked in a way I don’t think I ever had before and clutched my chest. Truly wondered for a second if I had a heart attack.

Adam stood in the corner of my room without a drop of visible blood on him.

“What in the actual fuck?” I yelled across the room.

Adam started to move toward me.

“Are you fucking dead?”

I put it out there as clearly as I could. The blocks had all added up to that question in the past five minutes.

Adam stopped in his tracks. Looked away.

“Yes,” Adam confirmed. “But it’s not as bad as you think.”

“I don’t even know what that means. I’m not dead, am I?” I asked.

“You’re not, but things aren’t exactly what they seem. You’re going to need a lot of help, very soon and I’m probably the only one who can help you. Are you open to that?” Adam asked.

“I don’t even know how to answer that,” I whispered, realizing all the yelling might attract my mom to open the door and see what I imagined looked like me having an argument with myself.

Adam moved towards me again and put a soft hand on my shoulder.

“I don’t even know what to say,” I shivered the words out, salty tears falling into my open mouth. “This is the most freaked out I have ever been in my fuckin life.”

Both of us found a seat on the side of the bed. Adam put an arm around me. Nothing about his presence or touch felt dead. I questioned if Adam was telling me the truth about me being alive or not. I hadn’t left my house area in months, my friends seemed to be ignoring me and I barely saw my mom. This was all on my own accord, but I still wouldn’t have been shocked if there was a living, breathing barrier between me and the living world which was helping me stay away from it.

“You know that statistic you hear sometime that there has never been a recorded instance of a ghost causing the death of a person? I think they have mentioned it in a couple of horror movie trailers,” Adam said.

“I think so.”

“It’s not true. It’s not a lie. It’s just that people don’t understand how everything thing works. Ghosts kill people all the time. They just do it in a way that doesn’t make it seem like the case. Real ghosts don’t hide in the closet and then jump out with a knife or try to scare someone to death. If they want someone to die, they are much more covert. They’ll make it look like a natural cause or an accident. That guy cleaning the gun. Let’s make it ‘accidentally’ go off. The depressed woman soaking in her bathtub. Let’s slit her wrists. The overweight middle-aged man running on his treadmill. Let’s shoot him full of adrenaline and spark a heart attack. Make sense?”

“As much as it can make sense,” I said. “I’m going to go ahead and assume with your last example that something like this happened with my dad?”

Adam nodded.

“Why?” I asked.

Adam let out a deep breath. I watched him bite down on his lip.

“It’s a shitty world,” Adam said with an exhale. “You can’t always explain things. These dark spirits, some of them just wander the universe looking for someone to latch onto. I think this one lived in your house years ago and had some kind of unfounded grudge with your dad, and your family since you moved into their old place.”

“So it’s not just after him?”

Adam shook his head.

“That’s why I’m here. To try and protect you.”

“I don’t like that you used the word ‘try.’”

My statement seemed to set off a sharp pain in my stomach and I folded over on the bed, clutched my gut and struggled to breathe.

“So what’s this? This thing trying to kill me slowly and painfully?” I seethed through gnashed teeth.

“Unfortunately, yes,” Adam announced.

“What the hell can I even do?” I asked as the simmering pain finally starting to cool down in my stomach.

“That’s why I’m here,” Adam said and made eye contact with me for the first time in our interaction that night. “I can tr...I can protect you.”

I almost was able to force a smile when Adam stopped himself from saying the word “try,” but I didn’t really get what he could do. I felt like this thing was turning my insides into to rotting mush and I didn’t really see how a 17-year-old with a puberty mustache and acoustic guitar skills was really going to help. This wasn’t “The Greatest Song in the World.” You can’t beat a demon with an acoustic guitar solo.

“So you’re going to take the disease and pain this thing is sticking in my stomach and take it away?”

“I’m doing my best to just keep it there. You don’t want it to grow into anything more. That’s what it will do if I have to go away again. It will grow and grow until you are looking at that deep dark pain that you saw in the studio and you saw in my house again. That’s when it can really hurt you. The restrained pain, the one that gets in your insides you have now, that can take down an older man with some heart issues, but all it can really do to someone like you is make you sick. I’m going to do everything I can to make sure even that pain which has been reduced down to just a tickle in your stomach goes away.”

“And how are you going to do that?”

Adam leaned across the bed and kissed me softly on the lips. He reached around and gently placed his hand on the back of my head, he stroked my hair as we kissed on until I was tired, ready to go to bed and the burning in my stomach was a suddenly a distant memory.

I woke just before daybreak. Adam was gone, but I was perfectly tucked underneath my covers. I felt as if I could still sense him in the room with me, even though he was nowhere to be seen.

I went out to the studio at sunrise to smoke and make some progress on learning the chords to the first song Adam taught me - the simple chord progression of Wonderwall. I hoped hearing me play my choppy melody would coax him out of the empty house next door.

I broke out into a smile when the alarm system of the studio lit up and I anticipated Adam stepping in to join me in just a few seconds.

The jiggling of the studio door stirred my heart, I looked over to the entrance with the guitar in my hands, mid-strum.

“Welcome back,” I said, my throat still grumbling with morning grog. “Sorry...I.”

I stopped my tongue. Instead of Adam standing in the doorway, it was my mom. She was vomiting uncontrollably all over the floor and screaming at the highest pitch I have ever heard a human being emit.

“Mom!” I screamed out and threw the guitar off of my lap.

I ran over to my mom as she dropped to one knee and started to collect herself. I didn’t even think about the burning joint which fell to the floor behind me when I got up and ran over.

“Let’s go inside.”

I helped my mom to her feet and led her out of the studio. We walked through the backyard and back into the house.

I calmed my mom down in the kitchen with a tall, cold glass of water and a cold towel to the forehead.

“I don’t know what happened. I just woke up burning up at the crack of dawn. I couldn’t move at first and when I could I started throwing up everywhere. I tried to find you, but you weren’t inside. I didn’t know where you were.”

My mom started to break down and cry. I caught her tears with the moist towel and wrapped her in a hug. It was the first time we had physically touched since my dad’s funeral months before.

“I think I’m getting really sick,” my mom said in the midst of sobs into the fabric of my shirt where her face was buried.

I had pretty much forgotten about my mom in everything that had happened. I had been thinking she must have been worried about my withdrawal from the world and isolation, but I never thought about her doing the same. I joined her in tears as we embraced at the kitchen bar area.

My tears started to stop when I felt a wet mass wash down my back. I pulled away from my mom and looked her in the face.

The face I saw was not that of my mom at all. I was instead face-to-face with a bare skull dripping with melted skin, hair and viscera. It looked like the pool or wax that collects at the bottom of a red candle on a saucer. I vomited into my mouth and caught it with my hand. I staggered backwards in the kitchen and watched that face keep melting like a cherry popsicle in the sun.

The scent of what I thought was burning flesh stung my nose as I stood in the living room and watched the woman who I thought was my mother melt down into a puddle before my very eyes. I held my breath until I could watch no more and turned towards the door which led out to the backyard.

A quick look out the window informed me the smell overtaking my nose was not that of burning flesh, it was of burning wood and machinery. I could see the studio going up in flames at the back of the yard.

I screamed and ran out the back door, ignoring the final moments of the melting person who was reducing into a puddle in the kitchen.

A closer look from the backyard showed that the studio was already completely engulfed in flames. I ran to get closer, but couldn’t even get too close without feeling the power of the flames burn my face. There was nothing I could do. My sanctuary and memorial for my dad was gone.

I retreated to the house where there wasn’t a single sign of melting flesh anywhere in the kitchen and where my mom was waiting, screaming into a cell phone about the fire, looking fine and dandy. I confirmed with my mom that I was okay and ran out the front door, on a mission to get back into Adam’s house.

I wasted no time with knocks. I just ran right into the heart of the dark house and screamed out…

“Adam. Adam. Adam.”

I got no response. Just the faint echo of my voice bouncing off the lonely walls. I let out a pure and simple scream, hoping my raw emotion could draw out Adam, but no luck.

I swept the house on my own, but found nothing but empty rooms and the smell of dust and paint fumes. Adam was nowhere to be found.

The fire department was already at my house when I left Adam’s. I could hear the commotion of men screaming out directions and the distant spray of a powerful hose as I walked up to my front door with a hollow feeling carving out my insides. I had nothing left to even care about. My last safe place in the world was gone. Who I thought was my love turned out to be a flaky ghost who failed to deliver on promises and my mom was just as big of a mess as I was.

I retreated up to my room and tried to shut out the sounds of the sirens and the men trying to douse the fire which ravaged the studio. I dreaded knowing I would soon receive a knock on my door and have to be ushered out of the house by the dad of some guy I went to school with so I could be “safe.”

It felt like it only took two minutes for that dreaded knock to come.

“What?” I yelled at the door with attitude as if the person on the other side of the wooden door was trying to hurt me and not help me.

No answer was given. I looked up from the pillow I had buried my face in and saw what I thought was Adam standing just inside my bedroom door. I recoiled and climbed backwards on the bed, towards the wall.

I would have been scared to see Adam just appear like that in general, but my fear and recoil was inflamed by his appearance. Adam looked very much like the melted woman who showed up to the studio earlier in the morning. His scalp was burnt bald, just an oily slick of his hair left sticking straight up, his skin was scaly white and burnt away, like a shed snake skin you might find in your yard, his body was charred and his clothes were hanging off of him, scalded and stiff.

Adam made a couple steps toward me, but stopped.

“You were supposed to help me. Where were you?” I pleaded from my bed.

“I was there. I was the one who warned you. What you saw was your mom and your ghosts. You saw yourself melt in the kitchen and your mom barfing and burning in the studio from the smoke. I sent them for you to wake you up because you fell asleep in the studio and it was about to burn down and your mom was about to get burnt trying to wake you up and drag you out of there. That big ass fire wasn’t started by your little ass blunt. There was an electrical short in the studio right before you got out. The thing burned down in two minutes once it started. I saved you, and your mom. I saved you from the that fire by sending your ghosts to scare you out,” Adam explained.

Don’t worry. I didn’t 100 percent get it at the time either.

“And now I died again for you,” Adam said, but much more quietly than his previous statement.

“What?”

Adam let out a flurry of grotesque coughs. He fell hard to the floor and curled up on his side.

I got off the bed and ran to Adam. The gore on his body was much harder to take in up close.

“The ghost that was after your family is gone now. I trapped it in the studio as it burned down.

“I may have said something cliche in the moment like “no, you can’t go,” or “wait, please stay,” to Adam, but I can’t exactly remember. I only remember what he said.

“You already knew me,” Adam said then gasped for air.

“What?”

“Adam Rocket Central two-six-one. No spaces. Find it and you’ll find out. Just know overall that you and your mom are safe now,” Adam finished with another deep gasp.

That gasp would be Adam’s last. I watched Adam fade from vision shortly after those final parting words. Where Adam had laid on the carpet suddenly went back to just being a beige piece of fabric dotted with Diet Coke stains.

I took some time to (try and) absorb everything that happened before I took to Google to investigate Adam’s parting words. I’m glad I did because what I found warranted some calm and preparation.

AdamRocketCentral216 was a Twitter handle. Smiling back in the profile picture was a face which was instantly recognizable - Adam.

The profile’s tweets were protected, but there was a Tumblr link at the top I was able to follow.

The first post on the Tumblr couldn’t have been more clear. It simply read: Ruby, please start from the beginning.

The earliest post was from 2011, back when I was only 11. Fittingly, it was titled simply 11.

The post started with a picture of me in front of a glistening lake, smiling and flanked by a shaggy-haired boy I recognized as Zach Harris, my first boyfriend. I had never seen the photo before.

The copy of the post told the start of Adam’s story. He was a shy 11-year-old boy who developed a crush on your’s truly at the summer camp we both apparently went to, but he never got the guts to talk to me and watched horrified as I fell in pre-pubescent love with Zach Harris.

The posts went on for three more ages, each about the summers we attend summer camp together and how I accumulated boyfriends and failed to acknowledge he existed. Each featured a photo of me with a boyfriend.

The second-to-last post, age 14, told the story of the progress Adam was finally able to make. He found out I had a crushing break-up with my boyfriend and he tracked me down on the dock and comforted me for an hour.

Adam detailed a lengthy conversation of bonding over quoting The Simpsons, shit talking love and the awful summer camp our parents made us go to. He said we ended the conversation by him writing his phone number in my camp yearbook with a promise by me to call him when we got back to our respective home towns.

Memories of that afternoon on the dock started to come back to me. I vaguely remember a boy comforting me about breaking up with my boyfriend, but I mostly just remember crying my eyes out about said boyfriend and not a good samaritan. I understand situations like that where you view the interaction with someone as a deep, memorable event, but the other person simply sees it as a fleeting conversation with a stranger.

I rushed to the final post - 15. It started by confirming I never called Adam that summer and he talked his parents out of making him go to camp that year.

The post closed with a simple instruction: Find your summer camp yearbook from 2014. The name Adam Long is written on the last page with a phone number. Call the number and ask for Adam...the rest will take care of itself.

I dialed up the Cincinnati area code number and waited with my ear sweating against my phone.

“Hello,” a cautious female voice answered.

“Uh hi,” I had not idea how to start in. “I was told by Adam to call this number. Adam Long?”

The line went silent for a good five seconds. A deep exhale on the other side broke it.

“Is this Ruby?” The voice on the other end wavered with emotion.

“Yes.”

“Adam gave very specific instructions on what to do if this day ever came. I can’t tell you any more, but I am going to put a package in the mail for you this afternoon which will give you all the answers I can give. What’s your address honey?”

I gave the woman my address. We exchanged pleasantries. She hung up.

I don’t know if I thought of a single thing other than that package in the week and a half I had to wait for it to show up at the door.

I tore into the thing before even walking back to the house. The package was about the size of a shoe box, but contained nothing but a single flash drive. I smiled, knowing the mailing format was either a symptom of Adam being his over-dramatic self or him making fun of his over-dramatic self.

I opened up the drive on my laptop and saw it contained just one video file.

The video opened up on a shot of Adam sitting at a desk, looking around the age of 13 or 14 based on what I remember from the old summer camp photos on his Tumblr. He ignored the camera at first, but then looked straight at it with his soft blue eyes and smiled.

“Hey, it’s Adam. Welcome to my video blog. I started the Tumblr, but I thought this would be a better way to tell my story from start to finish.”

The first 30 minutes or so of the video explained the summer camp saga pretty well detailed on the Tumblr, but with a little more emotion and the painful image of Adam telling it himself just inches from the camera with me knowing I would never see his face again. I had to stop the playback at least a few times to collect myself and wipe tears from my cheeks, jaw and neck as they rolled down.

The last time I had to stop it didn’t have anything to do with Adam’s story. It was simply when the video stopped and then started again with him this time aged to 17. The age I knew him best. The little flecks of pathetic stubble on his chin. His hair a little longer and curled at the ends. His jaw a little stronger. He was as close to a man as he would ever get and had the same blue eyes I first connected with in the studio in the middle of the night.

I was able to get myself to eventually hit play again.

“This is it. The last message,” Adam said on the camera with a smile. “This is the hardest one.”

The tears started to come again.

“You might be watching this months later, even years later and be begging me not to do it, but just understand that I had to. It was the only way. I know this is crazy, but I think this is the only way I can get close to you. I’ve been reading a lot about love and the afterlife and how it all works on Reddit and I think I know how I can make this work,” Adam went on, tears falling down his cheeks.

Adam took out a long knife and flashed it on the screen. Long and thin, it was the kind you use for precise cutting.

“I’m ready to just do it. I’m bored of this existence. I Googled you and saw what happened to your dad and I think I can help this way. It’s not fair. That’s why I’m doing it. For you. Not for me,” Adam said with the knife flailing around in his right hand.

Adam took in a deep breath. His hands dropped below the view of the camera.

“You don’t have to see this. I love you. See you soon,” Adam whispered.

Adam let out a scream. He let out another and the screen went black.

I did my own search on Reddit and discovered the subReddit about the afterlife I believe Adam talked about in the video. It had all of the details about the good and the dark spirits Adam explained to me in that bedroom that night when he admitted he was dead.

Adam had been obsessed with me for years even when I didn’t know he even existed and even though we lived hundreds of miles away from each other. He thought he was in love, but it was just infatuation. He discovered through that Reddit afterlife forum that if he died, he could track me down and slip into my life. He also believed that a dark spirit had caused my father’s heart attack and was going to go after my mom and me. As a good spirit, Adam thought he could stop it, and, hopefully meet me and make me fall in love with him.

Now here’s where things get a little more tricky…

Things keep stacking up against Adam’s case. So much that I wanted to write it all down to explain why I am no longer so sure that what he told me was the truth and that he had my complete best interest in mind and not just his.

The Case Against Adam

The date stamp on Adam’s final broadcast where he killed himself was three days before my dad died, yet, he referenced my dad dying in the video.

I connected with the admin of the Reddit afterlife forum and discuss what happened to me and he mentioned that anyone who killed themselves does not enter the afterlife as a good spirit. They enter as neutral at best, and many times, come in as bad spirits due to the darkness of their passing. The spirits also may not know what kind of spirits they are. A dark spirit may assume it is a good spirit because of their own personal belief in themselves, but not actually be one.

I started talking to my mom again and she divulged a secret about my dad I never knew. When I was 15, my dad intercepted a package addressed from me, opened it and discovered a collection of love letters and racy self portraits. He also intercepted a call on my parents’ landline from the boy who asked for me, but my dad did not pass it on. Lastly, my dad discovered the boy hiding outside of the house one night and took him to the police station. My dad told my mom that he scared the living daylights out of the kid and got him to promise to leave me alone. My mom and dad didn’t want to scare me, so they kept all of this from me. My mom said she was pretty sure the boy’s name was Adam and my dad said he lived in Cincinnati.

To me, this suggest Adam may have taken the information from the Reddit forum, realized killing himself and using the spirit powers he knew existed to take out my dad from the afterlife so he could finally approach me without him in the way. Adam then died in the afterlife in the fire in the studio and fully passed on to the other side.

But, I’m not 100 percent sold yet, because…

The Case for Adam

I felt it. I truly felt Adam was genuine. I felt that he was telling the truth and we were in a strange kind of love. It lived in my gut, bones and heart.

And you know what they say...you should always trust your gut.

Originally published by Thought Catalog on www.ThoughtCatalog.com.

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