My rings from AmeliaStardustNYC came today!!!!! They are so cute and fantastic. And I will have to take a pic of the necklaces and sweet note she wrote. Stop what you’re doing and go buy stuff from her store. It’s amazing!
No one would have ever imagined that hardcore badass Jeon Jungkook, the most well-known tattoo artist in the town, the guy who dropped out to follow his passion, was best friends with beautiful, sweet, top-scoring university student, Y/N.
Physically, they seemed to be polar opposites. He had dragons inked onto his skin, three piercings on his left ear and two on his right, and always wore black; whilst you were a bright, clean slate – but you knew that was what he loved about you.
Magpie had taken her to meet the other stage monkeys (“Clever hands, really bad senses of humor,” or so Rufus had explained), and they’d made room for Sussudio as seamlessly as sinking into a warm bath.
The first meeting with the stage monkeys had been weird, but then the first couple of meetings with anyone were going to be weird, so she just shrugged and dealt with it. Mother had begged Father, in her timid offhanded way, to get counseling for that very “awkwardness.” Father had, of course, denied that his perfect daughter could need any such admission of weakness.
Magpie had turned out to be a blessing in disguise, because even when things turned out to be strange or awkward, it was never an uncomfortable awkward.
“I thought you said you had grubbies.”
“I do. I’m wearing them.”
“You’re wearing ironed jeans.”
So Sussudio had ended up changing again, into a pair of paint-spattered holey jeans and a t-shirt saying “Everyone is bigger on the inside” that Magpie had rummaged out of her duffle, and half-running half-being-dragged laughing to a huge old building.
The stage was the only lit area. Six or eight or maybe a dozen people were sprawled, wandering in only to leave again, and in one case seemed to be stretching on the stage. They were sharing four or five pizza boxes half full of greasy enticing slices of random pizza.
“Hey, here comes trouble!” yelled a huge young blond man. There was a smear of green paint on his face, streaks of it in his hair, and all over his clothes. The others called greetings as well, and Magpie flopped with her head into an androgynous person’s lap with every sign of comfort and familiarity.
Sussudio, standing on the edge of the stage and holding her left wrist tightly with her right hand, fought the urge to flee. They were so comfortable, they had to be complete, her presence would only make things be uncomfortable, she should go. She half turned and started to head to the stairs when Magpie made a long arm and grabbed her ankle.
“Everyone, this is Sussudio. She’s my new roomie. I’m giving her Ten Days. Suss, this is Rufus and Lou and Scarlet and Blueberry and Tembo and Emrys and I’m probably forgetting– oh yeah, this beloved person here is X.”
Then Magpie yanked, and Sussudio fell into Rufus’ lap and he caught her and offered her a bite of pizza and somehow awkward and scary turned into unremarkable. She was new: so what? There was laughter and pizza in plenty, and she was welcome to it.
Tembo looked at her and wrinkled… his? her? nose. "No offense, but does your name fit?“
Sussudio chewed fast, swallowed hard, dodged the next bite Rufus offered. "Uh, I don’t know? I mean, I read the material, is it wrong?”
“There are no wrong names here. I mean, maybe if everyone wanted to be named Helga, maybe that’d be confusing, but that still wouldn’t be wrong. It’s just that while that’s a cool song, it seems kind of limiting.”
Magpie, accepting small bits of pizza crust (and the occasional kiss on forehead or nose or cheek), piped up, “Her dath lig mi.” She swallowed, then repeated, “Her dad’s like mine.”
Lots of understanding nods. Tembo wrinkled nose, ran a hand through a mop of straight fine hair, cocked head and looked at Sussudio.
“What are you here for?”
“Music. My parents wan-”
“Rewind. What are YOU here for?”
“I… I want to teach. I want to teach music. For rehab, you know? Music is supposed to improve neuroplasticity in people with traumatic brain injuries, and help people who have trouble with organizing their thoughts. Those things you read about Mozart helping babies to learn? There isn’t enough proof yet for it to be a standard practice, but there are some very good indications that music helps teach crack babies to self-soothe. It’s just there’s so MUCH good it can do, that I can do with it.”
Tembo blinked, long and slow. "Hey Ruf, what’d you say when these two showed up?“
“Here comes trouble. Same as I always do when Magpie shows up.”
Tembo smiled. "You had it mostly right, my friend.“ The smile grew into a toothy grin of pure delight.
"Guys and gals and nonbinary pals, I would like to introduce you to our new friend, Treble.”
And that name, too, fit as seamlessly as sinking into a warm bath. Treble smiled back, did the best seated curtsey she could, and laughed as the others clapped their hands. Someone kissed the top of her head, then leaned down and stole a slice of pizza.
Treble. There was lots of room to grow in a name like that.
“So, Treb, we’re thinking of doing Cats. How are you at stage make-up?”