#Some of the jams lasting 45 minutes or longer

[supermassivehellhole]

I’ll throw on Phish or Goose jams in the car, much to the chagrin of whoever's with me.

Stop! Releasing 2 minute songs!! Idc about TikTok!!! If it's a banger it needs to be at least 3:30.

[princessfbi]

For the touching prompts thing

22. Falling asleep on the other ones shoulder

And 45. Feeling their temperature

Thank you

22. Falling asleep on the other ones shoulder and 45. Feeling their temperature

Buck deteriorated fast. As their shift stretched longer and longer into the endless calls that barely gave them time to eat, let alone rest, Buck’s overcompensated perkiness grew thinner and thinner. His over bright smiles dimmed. His jumps into action resembled more and more like scraping himself off the floor. The color in his cheeks disappeared into a grey in his complexion that mingled with the soft flush that went all the way up to his hairline. Eddie was pretty sure whatever fever reducer he’d taken was probably long gone from his system, giving by the shine in Buck’s eyes. The same fever reducer he didn’t think they all knew he’d taken before his shift. And none of it was helped by the traffic. No one in the fire truck said anything. Silence had been their only form of survival when their banter had started to turn sharp and their stomachs grumbled. Hangry wasn’t there yet but it would be if they didn’t get a move on. It was kind of ironic that for the first time in their shift that they weren’t running from back to back calls, it was when they were stuck in a traffic jam. Most drivers were silently fuming, inching their cars up before their breaks squealed as they stopped. No one had started blowing their horns but it was only a matter of time before the very thin patience LA commuters had, broke. The soft weight next to him was steadily getting heavier and heavier with each passing minute until soft curls loosened by sweat and wearing his helmet, tickled Eddie’s nose. Buck seatbelt harness kept most of him upright but his head had found a spot on Eddie’s shoulder in the slow drift into sleep. Eddie’s skin lit up in a sea of goosebumps at Buck’s soft exhale, the heat of his breath fanning Eddie’s collarbone. Buck had taken his headset off twenty minutes earlier with a barely audible complaint of a headache and no one had told him otherwise. Buck’s hand slipped in between Eddie’s legs, slack and limp, and Eddie was careful to scoop it up so he could hold his hand across his thigh. Hen and Chim stared back at them with Bobby peering over his shoulder from the captain’s seat with a frown pulling at the corner of his lips. “Asleep?” He asked and Eddie nodded at the even low rhythm Buck’s chest was rising and falling as he slept. “How’s his fever?” Hen asked. Eddie reached up to curl his palm over Buck’s cheek, shifting his fingers to press in the soft skin under his jaw. Buck didn’t even stir. “Not great,” Eddie tried to say quietly. “But not in the danger zone yet.” He didn’t mention the fact that Buck’s fingers were cold. Bobby’s eyes were already fixed with concern. “When’s the last time he hydrated?” Hen again with her own worry pulling her lips into a frown. “I had him drink a Gatorade at that call at the gas station which was about,” Chimney trailed off to check his watch. “Two hours ago.” “Alright,” Bobby said with a nod as Eddie skirted around the rules a little and pressed a kiss against the crown of Buck’s head. “Let’s try and get back to the station before another call comes in and get him some more fluids. After that I’ll call in for a swing.” “Buck’s going to hate that,” Chimney said but Eddie could see Bobby’s decision was already made. He had to agree with him. But for now they were stuck and Buck was comfortable. Eddie draped his own arm across Buck’s thigh and held him as much as he could while they waited.

[epersonae]

The cooking project - Crêpes

If yesterday's post was probably one of my most-made recipe cards, this might be my most-made recipe in my binder, which is sort of a Binder of Theseus. My sister made me a binder full of typed-out recipes as a gift when I was a sophomore in college, and I still have the section separators, which were collages of images cut from magazines, and I have some (most? all?) of those typed recipes, though the binder itself has been replaced. And of course I've added many more recipes, printed from the internet or sent to me by email or clipped from magazines. (I had a subscription to Sunset for a while in the late 00s!)

This recipe, though, was copied from a webpage into probably a Word document and then printed out, and dates from March 15 2003. The URL in the image no longer works, but the contents can be found in the Wayback Machine (ctrl+f, "crepes"). It was posted as part of the author's "French Week" as sort of an oblique protest of the impending Iraq War. In any case, I have been making it since then.

Because this can be found in the Wayback Machine, and because the instructions are hilariously long, I am not going to retype the whole thing here.

My only personal notations are combining "whole wheat flour" and "white flour" into a single line (I've literally never made these as savory crepes in 20 years), and a note that 1 egg approximately equals 3 crepes.

Making the batter

One of the things I love about this recipe is that it scales really well: one egg to 1/4 cup flour. The sugar ratio is weird and I usually have to do a rough approximation, because 1/4 cup sugar is 4 tablespoons, but also it's a very forgiving recipe that way.

I have learned over the years to beat the eggs first and THEN add the flour/sugar/salt, much less lumps that way. (ironically, 20 years and I just noticed he never says when to add the salt, altho clearly it's with the flour)

I have literally no idea how much milk I use. I mix in a bit at a time until it looks like the right texture/color. It's all vibes, baby.

I don't think I've ever let it sit two whole hours but it definitely does change texture a bit, for the better, if left to sit at least a half an hour. (I have also never drunk a glass of red wine while waiting for the batter.)

Below is: just after mixing in the flour/sugar/salt, then after some milk, all the milk, and after sitting for idk half an hour? 45 minutes?

Jam! Eating while making!

As I said, I've literally never made them savory, altho the last time I had them with a little bit of local whipped goat cheese and strawberry jam, and that was FUCKING TIGHT.

My usual is to take out whatever jams I have (today: strawberry and raspberry freezer jam that I made in 2020 and 2021 respectively, quince jam that a friend made, and marmalade) and just alternate flavors as I make them. I usually end up eating some while I'm making them. (As the guy says, bachelor mode™️.)

Two eggs' worth did in fact make about six crepes, I think, which is kind of a lot for dessert but I guess I had dessert for dinner, it's fine.

(Oh, and I think I've tried flipping them without a spatula exactly once, I am just not that bold.)

In any case, this continues to be one of my favorite recipes of all time, I will make it for anyone at any time for any reason. (The longest stretch I ever went without making it was after Ryn died, and I finally had eggs and milk and enough energy...and found BUGS IN MY FLOUR and about lost my damn mind. But I have made them a couple of times since then.)

Fanfiction bonus content!

So if you are reading my fic for the benefit of all the broken hearts, and you have already read chapter 16, then you know why I posted this today. If you are reading it and have not yet read the new chapter, consider this a teaser.

If you are not reading it: for the benefit of all the broken hearts is a fix-it fic for Water Flowing Underground, a very strange beautiful fic that blurs the line between Actor AU and RPF, that plays with questions of identity and choice and intention and also what we are even doing with fanfiction. My fic picks up from the end of that fic, from the point of view of a character who is dismissed by the narrative of the original, and who finds a way out of the wreckage. (it's the weirdest goddamn thing I've ever written, and yes, I think that includes the Bigfoot fic, and also I think my best writing ever. Certainly the most work I've ever put into any writing in any medium.)

And also there are crepes.

[theghostpinesmusic]

For some reason, the official Phish channel posted two videos apiece for the 8/4 and 8/5 shows. Initially, for my own sanity, I was only going to cover one video for each night. But, then I got stuck in writer's-block-hell while trying and failing to work on my sabbatical project and thought that writing about jams for a bit a) is still technically writing of a sort, and b) is probably the best way to round out my Friday afternoon at this point.

So, "46 Days." I don't actually remember this very well from my original watch of the full show (a few weeks ago at this point), but I did describe it in my initial notes as having an "Amazing, unique jam." Let's return to it and see if that judgment holds up to scrutiny, or if it was the drugs talking!

Unlike my previous write-up, this one starts "normally," with the song itself: "46 Days" in all it's bluesy, chunky, Round Room-era glory.

That said, it lasts about two minutes, and then we're immediately moving into a rumbling, drums-and-bass-heavy jam. Trey and Page are adding to the proceedings here, too, but at least initially they are playing in lower registers. I love how this section of the jam just sort of rumbles along as a result, the musical conversation between Trey and Page becoming more intense as it goes.

We change direction at 3:55 or so, modulating to a different (major?) key, and immediately Trey and Page both take more melodic control of the jam. I love what Trey starts playing at 4:45, and how Mike immediately moves to play off of his contribution. Before long, Page joins in and all three of them are doing this crazy melodic mind-meld which is just wonderful to hear.

The mind-meld uncouples a bit by 6:30, and this is a little bit more of an opportunity for Trey to take a solo and push the jam toward a peak, though it's not as if everyone else necessarily fades to the background here. In fact, Trey hits and holds a single note starting at 6:53 for about a minute, and though this might seem initially to be a sort of "show-off" move, I've often felt he uses this "trick" to let the rest of the band play while he essentially lays down a "backdrop" of that single note. It ends up feeling like an act of egoless-ness rather than the opposite. But maybe that's just me.

Regardless of the intent, Trey comes back from the held note at 7:50 to begin piling guitar loops on top of each other as the band builds energy toward a peak. Like most Phish jam peaks these days, this doesn't rely on one particular, fist-pumping high note, but instead is a rolling, major key blast of bliss before the band changes directions again at 9:05 and drops back into a darker jam in the key of "46 Days."

This sets up some pointed bluesy noodling from Trey before he leads the band back into "46 Days" proper to round things out.

While this is the second post in a row I've done on something that is not a huge, 20+ (or 30+) minute jam, one of the things I've really appreciated about post-COVID Phish so far is their willingness to regularly explore a number of interesting musical ideas in a jam without necessarily having to stretch it to enormous lengths. Sometimes that long exploration is warranted, and sometimes you're able to play a twelve-minute version of "46 Days" that might not catch anyone's attention "on paper" because of its "short" runtime, but that nonetheless has a lot of interesting things to say.

As a fan going on twenty-five years now, I'd definitely rather hear something like this "46 Days" over one of the many, many, many, jams from the 2010s that were 20+ minutes long, but took ten of those minutes to get anywhere actually interesting musically.

So, yeah. I'm glad I gave this a second listen. And next time I'm totally going to write about a much longer, much crazier jam. So there.

[chloemarievaughan]

May 27th-Amsterdam

I forgot to report yesterday that I left my sun hat on a train, RIP sun hat that I just bought for the trip! I never liked the hat anyway, good excuse to buy a new one! 

This morning we enjoyed some espressos and then had a quick tram to a longer tram to a ferry to visit a medieval castle about 40 minutes from Amsterdam, the Muiderslot. This castle was started as a fortress on that location in the 1200s and was built due to the defensive position on the mouth of the river and the sea. There were two sections of the audio tour, and this audio tour was not easy to follow. It was never clear which way you were supposed to go for the next segment of the tour and instead of scanning for the audio clip at the entrance of a new room you had to cross the entire room to scan it which was a bit annoying. We also did stops 1-6 on the first tour and wound up back at the beginning somehow so went on to the second tour. Once we finished that one, we could see step 11 from the first tour which we had missed entirely, so did 7-11 of the first tour again. Turns out that was the best part of the tour, 1-6 and the second tour were all showing the defensive features of the fort (places to shoot people with arrows or throw boiling water on invaders, etc. step 7-11 were laid out with a recreation of how the castle actually looked in Medieval times, and then some exhibits on the founder of the castle, count Floris V, who was murdered nearby the castle which was then essentially destroyed by his enemies, and then a famous poet PC Hooft who lived in the Muiderslot in the 1600s (long after it had been rebuilt)

This castle has a working moat and drawbridge, and the weather was again beautiful today so a great day for a ferry ride! after the castle tour, we still had about an hour until our ferry came back for us. We ate some lunch at the castle courtyard restaurant (a caprese panini and a delicious plum tart, as the Muiderslot has famous plum trees surrounding the outside of the Moat) and then tried to do a self guided audio tour of the castle gardens, but it was only in Dutch. then we walked around the gardens and moat for a while soaking in the sunshine. There were a bunch of signs with helpful information that really seemed like should have been part of the tour- like a visual of what parts of the castle were built when and descriptions of how the Muiderslot defense system worked to flood the fields and prevent invaders from getting access to the castle, along with an exhibit about how the water retention/ and dam technology has been built up over the last 800 years.

We got on the ferry back and enjoyed some beers while slowly making our way back to Amsterdam. We had a fun time at the castle, and on the ferry, but I wouldn’t necessarily recommend it just because it is annoying to get there and really takes up basically a whole day. Because the tram/tram/ferry/castle/tram/tram situation took up so much of our time, I picked us two small museums for after. This first I wanted to go to Was the Willet Holthuysen house, and we had a reservation at 3:45. I actually heard about this museum while on the canal tour boat! This is a fancy canal house owned by a wealthy couple in the late 1800s which was turned into a museum. The ferry was supposed to get back at 3 but we didn’t get off the boat until 3:30, and of course we needed to still take two trams to get where we were going. We (barely) missed the next tram, (story of our lives) but then once we caught the next one, seamlessly made the connection to the second tram. And we (eventually) made it to the museum at about 4:15, but turns out they didn’t really care about the reservation we got in just fine. I was expecting to be more wowed by this tour, but it was okay. It was Jam packed with a tour bus of older French speaking people. we hurried through the audio tour (skipping a couple steps) and ended up finishing in only 30 minutes, had plenty of time to spare before the museum closed at 5😂

The second museum I had picked basically just for the reason that it closed at 6 and we’d be able to squeeze it in. We took a meandering walk past the canals to get there. Amsterdam is SO much busier on Friday/Saturday night than when we first got there Thursday. This museum was called the Our Lord in the Attic Museum and was actually awesome! In the 1600s, the Dutch Reformed Church became the official national religion of the Netherlands. While there was “religious tolerance” for other religious beliefs, It became illegal for gatherings of people worshipping- so you could personally be Catholic in your own home but couldn’t gather together. So, a rich catholic merchant bought 3 adjoining canal houses and had the top floors of all three merged together to form a hidden church! This museum was a very cool slice of Amsterdam history, and now it makes sense why the other two churches we visited were no longer maintained or used as churches- they weren’t allowed to continue being Catholic Churches.

we walked around a bit more, finally getting some Stroopwafel! It is a sort of waffle cookie with syrup, absolutely Delicious, and I’d been looking forward to it all trip! last thing on my trip list to check off :) 

We finished off the night enjoying beer and fries (and not enjoying our burger) at a cute place outdoors overlooking the canal. perfect end to a perfect trip!!! and could not have asked for a better traveling companion than Lori Holycross Vaughan! Love you <3

PS: we have landed in Philadelphia and are killing time on a 6 hour layover! Uneventful train to the airport to the flight, with the exception of my king skirt getting STUCK in the escalator and me having to rip the skirt to get unstuck. 

PPS: now I have the travel bug! Who wants to plan a trip with me next???

[all1e23]

Between the Stars [Pt.16]

Pairings:  Bucky x  Reader

Series warnings: CHARACTER DEATH. Grief. Overall sadness. Depression. We aren’t really here anymore at this point in the series but for new readers I’m leaving it up. TW: Military/Spouse death.

A/N:  FINALLY. Thank you for all of you that have hung on patiently for the last year as I took my sweet ass time to finish this series. As always  my beautiful beta @moonbeambucky​​ made sure I don’t sound dumb. If you like it write me a book report, sing me a song or come scream at me.

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam, though!**

Sarah was practically rushing herself out the door once you told her you needed to find Bucky. Having her approval meant more than you could ever tell her. It wasn’t Steve’s approval but it was as close as you could get in this life. You hoped Bucky would find some comfort in it, too. He didn’t have a minute to mention his feelings on what Peggy said, but you imagined after everything between the three of you, he had some of the same fears and worries you did. It was hard to imagine anyone in your position wouldn’t worry about tarnishing your marriage, or harming your loved ones by moving on. Before you left, you burned Steve’s last letter. Bucky didn’t need to know all that. He didn’t need to know that Steve knew and loved you anyway. It would only hurt Bucky and you’ve done enough of that lately. You weren’t sure where Bucky had gone and calling Winnie wasn’t an option. What would you even say? 

I’ve been sleeping with your son and I said some terrible things in the heat of the moment. Did he happen to come home last night dragging the heart I broke?

That would be your very last call. You’d call her if you had to, but you didn’t want to. You had a feeling he went to Sam’s and it only took one text to confirm your suspicions. 

You

[6:45 PM]: Is he there? 

Sam

[6:46 PM]: Yeah, been here all night. Hasn’t said much.

You

[6:46 PM] I’m on my way. Please don’t tell him. 

Sam

[6:48 PM]: Okay. Be sure, Y/n. If you’re coming here be sure this is what you want. 

Sam’s words were still playing on repeat in your head. Did everyone but you know? This was all such a mess. You should have called. This was going to be a disaster. What if he didn’t want to see you yet? You said some awful things and Bucky was hurt badly enough he needed to get away. That’s only happened once before; the night at the bar. Both times you said something stupid and Bucky took the brunt of your anger. Sam would have told you not to come wouldn’t he? When you texted him and asked if he was there, Sam would have told you to stay away if Bucky didn’t want you there because if there was anyone else Bucky would confide in it would be Sam. Your heart wasn’t going to give your head the chance to back out or second-guess this any longer. You were jumping out of Steve’s truck and walking with furious intent towards Sam’s building. Your feet skidded to a halt when Bucky stepped out of the corridor that led to Sam’s condo with his phone in his hand.

“Hey,” you greeted him with a small little wave and you suddenly wished you hadn’t. Why did you have to be so incredibly awkward at the worst possible time? 

Bucky stared at you, his eyes unable to look away from you. It felt like he was waiting for you to disappear. Maybe he was hoping you would. You shook the jitters out of your hand and wrung them together a few times. Bucky’s eyes dropped to your hands. He knew every little nervous tic and you were starting to hate that. 

“Y/n?” Bucky glanced at his phone, his confusion clear as he shoved in his phone back into his pocket and took a carefully measured step towards you. “I was just calling you– What are you doing here?”

“I needed to see you.” You started to rush over to him, but stopped yourself. It was likely Bucky needed space from you and you should respect that. Until he made the first move you would keep a small bit of distance between you. It wasn’t all for him. Some of your hesitation was for selfish reasons. You couldn't handle him pushing you away, rejecting you, telling you he didn’t want your touch when he spent so many years seeking it out. It would break your heart and maybe you deserved to have your heart broken after what you did, but if that was going to be the outcome you weren’t ready to face that yet. Not until you told him the whole truth.

“I’m so sorry about last night. I said stupid things. Terrible, mean, awful things because I was upset. I’m sorry I let someone else’s opinion on what we– on our relationship, twist up my feelings. I don’t think we are just sleeping around. Nothing could ever be meaningless with you.” 

Bucky’s entire presence softened at your confession. You weren’t sure if that was a good or bad thing yet. He didn’t look overjoyed to have you standing there before him and while your words clearly eased some of his hurt, there was an ache in his heart you could read very clearly on his face and when he cleared his throat to keep himself from crying you nearly fell apart right then. 

“We shouldn’t keep doing this,” Bucky whispered, clearing his throat again and your heart clenched. “Falling in bed with each other and not talking. You’re mourning and… I’m taking advantage–” 

“Bucky,” You admonished. You shouldn't interrupt him, but what he was saying no longer held the same truth it once did. “You know you’re not and I’m not mourning.” Bucky raised a brow and you rolled your eyes making him crack a smile. That was nice to see again. You weren’t sure you would see it again so soon.

“Fine,” you conceded and took a few tentative steps towards him. “Maybe still a little bit, but I don't think that’s ever going to go away and I’m not sure it’s supposed to y’know? I don’t think I’m supposed to fully heal from a loss like that. This isn’t because I wish you were Steve, or that I’m using us to replace what I had. Long before I fell in love with Steve, it was you and I. You were my safe place. You’re home, Buck. You always have been.”

Bucky hung his head in an effort to hide his smile, but you saw it. You weren’t going to let this chance slip away. You hastily took a few more steps towards him, enough that you could reach out and grab a hold of him. You didn’t, but you were close enough to feel the heat from his body and that was enough for the moment. “I was scared before. Nothing is forever. We both know that and I was scared that if I said how I truly felt out loud all this would be harder to lose when you left.” 

“Trouble,” Bucky admonished with a weary shake of his head. “I’m not leaving you. I told you that. No matter what we are, best friends or… something else entirely, I’ll be by your side for as long as I can.”  

You wanted to scoff and tell him he was being ridiculous. You both knew he couldn’t promise you something like that. You’ve both learned how little control you truly have and how idealistic promises like that are. 

“We aren’t promised tomorrow, Buck. You can’t promise me that,” you told him with a shake of your head. 

“You’re right,” Bucky agreed with a nod. “I’m not promising you that I’ll be here tomorrow or next week, hell, I don’t know if I’ll be here next year but I promise I’ll be by your side every day I’ve got left.” 

“Why?” You asked, brows drawn together in confusion and Bucky sighed through a small laugh he was trying to hide. 

“Why what?”

“Why do you always put me first like that? I’m not- That’s not something you do with your friend. You don’t do it for anyone else. Just me.” 

The amusement dancing in Bucky’s eyes faded and he gave you a small, sad smile. There was a look in his eyes that said he didn’t understand how you were still asking him that after all this time. A nagging voice in the back of your head said you already knew why, but your heart was too scared to make assumptions. Bucky lifted his hand from his side and brushed his knuckles over your cheek, smiling when you instinctively leaned into his touch. 

“I love you, Trouble,” he told you easily. “I thought that was pretty obvious. You come first because I love you. I’ve loved you my whole life.” 

There wasn’t an ounce of uncertainty in his voice. No hesitation or second guessing. He didn’t have to think about it or wonder if his feelings were true. He was sure. He spoke as if was simply telling a truth everyone has known since the beginning of time. The sun rises in the east, pizza is a major food group and Bucky Barnes loves you. As much as you loved hearing that certainty from him. All of this was off. It wasn’t going how you thought it would and Bucky huffed a laugh at the pout you were giving him. 

“Good lord,” Bucky sighed and threw his hands up, amusement back making his eyes sparkle in a way that made your stomach flip a hundred times over. “What now, Trouble?”  

“You’re stealing my thunder,” you told him matter of factly. If you weren’t standing in front of him he would have assumed you stomped your foot by the poutiness in your voice. “I had a speech planned. I was supposed to come in at the very end and win you over. The whole grand romantic gesture thing and you come in here with one great line and steal it right out from under me. It’s not fair, Bucky.” 

“Go on then,” Bucky told you with a chuckle and an exasperated sigh. “Sweep me off my feet.” 

You rolled your shoulders as if you were preparing for a fight and Bucky couldn’t help but grin. You quietly repeated the things you already said to him and nodded. “Okay,” you said mostly to yourself, straightening your back and raising your chin, finding Bucky watching you with adoration and a tiny bit of humor judging by the slight scrunch of his nose and the crinkles by his eyes.

“I came here to tell you that I don’t want to forget the past and I know you don’t either, but I know I don’t want to go backwards. I don’t know where we are going to end up or what tomorrow is going to bring but I want to find out. With you. The only future I want is ours. Not whatever future I thought I had to have and I don’t want you to leave me ever again because, well, b-because I love you, Buck. I’m so crazy, stupidly in love with you it’s all I can think about some days and I’m sorry it took me so long to finally say it.”   

Bucky slowly reached out his hand, encircling your wrist within his hand and pulling you flush against him. "Our future,” Bucky muttered under his breath, staring into your eyes. “You’re stupidly in love with me?”

“Yeah, Buck,” you swore with a confident nod. You hoped you sounded half as confident as he did. “Stupid enough to fall for you despite the weird thing you’ve been doing with your hair this last year-” His lips pressed against you, swallowing whatever sassy comment you had prepared for this moment. The moment your lips met every thought you had disappeared, it was like that every time Bucky kissed you. All you could think about was how soft his lips were, the way he took his time gently coaxing your lips apart and how it took a little piece of your heart every time.

“Pain in my ass,” Bucky muttered against your lips, smiling when your grin forced you to part. He added a few quick, sweet kisses to your lips as if he couldn’t help himself and that only made your cheek ache from the size of your grin. 

“That was a pretty good speech, Trouble.” 

“Thank you. I rehearsed it on the way over,” you beamed. “So. Are you swept? Did I make you fall for me?” 

Bucky smiled and cupped your face in his hand, sighing heavily. He didn’t have to say what he was thinking, you could see it there in his eyes. When is she going to learn? He didn't care how many times you asked. He’d tell you every day for the rest of his life if it made you happy. Starting with right then. 

“Yeah, Trouble. A long ass time ago.” 

Previous // Masterlist

[lost-kiwi-dev]

Can I get 45.You took a bullet for me &/or 46.Argument leading to kissing/sex For Y? Thank you

mc x y tarasovich. wc: 1k. 45. "you took a bullet for me". tw for blood and major character death.

The bullet wasn’t meant for Y.

It should have been an easy fight. Half a dozen footmen at most, armed only with second-grade pistols that the gang couldn’t even use efficiently. Y had scoffed when they faced their opponent, because there was no way a last-minute group of scoundrels like these guys could take Y down.

If only the thought that this situation was a classic example of an ambush weeks in the making had crossed Y’s mind approximately thirty seconds earlier, then they probably would have been walking out of this fight alive.

Their men were pushed backwards down the alleyway, the surprise attack catching their group unaware and forcing Y to create space between them as they prepared for a counter attack under heavy fire. Y managed to unholster their own gun and take down a few of their enemies, but no one was prepared for the men they would face at the other end of the alley.

Y tried their very best to shelter you from the oncoming fire with their own body, but there was only so much they could do to protect you while also dodging bullets themself. A bullet whistled between you two so quickly that Y didn’t even realise what it was until it had well and truly lodged itself into the building behind you, spraying you with brown flecks of hard brick.

Y pushed you further down the alleyway in an attempt to lead you from harm, the loud echoing of heavy footsteps following closely behind. They were unsure whether the footsteps belonged to their men or their opponents, but at this moment Y didn’t care. All they could think about was your safety.

It was in their haste that Y sprinted past you, their hand still firmly grasping on your own, and they felt a tug on their arm as you fell to the ground. As they turned in an attempt not to be dragged down with you, Y noticed you sprawled on the damp concrete, a pile of trash bags that blended in so well with the black mold that stained the street laying at your feet.

You let out a terrified scream and desperately tried to crawl backward, and when Y looked up they noticed the cause of your terror. A young woman clad in dark navy stopped a few paces away from you both and had her gun pointed straight at your head, and for the first time in Y’s life, they froze.

A feeling of dread spread from their chest down to their feet, so heavy that it rooted Y to the spot. They could lose anyone but you. That was the last thought that passed through their mind when the girl pulled the trigger.

Y clamped their eyelids shut as tight as possible, knowing that it was impossible to reverse this situation but only wishing that if your death was inevitable, they wouldn’t be forced to see it. Y had had to bear witness to many deaths of friends, colleagues, and strangers — but yours would most certainly be the one that breaks them.

The bullet never came.

Now, Y followed no religion, but by some God-given miracle the woman’s gun jammed up and did not fire. Her reflexes were quick as lightning, though, as by the time Y had realised you were still alive and opened their eyes the woman had almost fixed the problem. A second later, the gun was aimed at your head again and the bone chilling realisation hit Y — you wouldn’t be so lucky this time.

And Y did the only logical thing they could think of at that moment.

They had spent nearly eleven years dodging bullets, so one would find it slightly surprising that they were now jumping straight into the line of fire. The bullet passed through Y’s ribs and became lodged somewhere in their left lung, and the perpetrator of this crime scampered off as quickly as she had arrived.

Y heard your pained scream moments before they felt your hands on their chest, your fingers futilely pressing against the open wound in a vain attempt to stop the copious amount of blood staining through their shirt. Y had watched enough friends die to know it wouldn’t just be the blood loss that killed them — their breathing had already become strained as they struggled to hold air in their damaged lungs.

“You took a bullet for me!” You cried, leaning over Y’s crumpled body, your eyes already blurry as your tears dripped onto their cheek.

“There’s no one else I’d rather die for.” Y attempted to chuckle, but their injury meant they only managed to cough up rich dark blood instead. Their blood was steadily trickling out the side of their mouth, down to the crinkles in their neck so they quipped, “who knew crimson was my colour?”

They instantly regretted saying this when your sobs grew even louder and your shoulders racked so hard even Y could feel it, but they couldn't think about this for much longer because their mind was becoming foggy and it was hard to focus on anything other than the searing pain in their chest.

“You can’t die, you can’t,” you repeated, scooping Y into your arms and dragging them even closer before you yelled, as loud as you possibly could, “PLEASE, SOMEONE HELP US!”

By the time you glanced back down, Y had shut their eyes. It was much more peaceful this way; trying to see beyond the blurriness of their vision was giving Y a headache, and they didn’t want their last memory of you to be one where your eyes were so red because you were crying for them.

Y tried their best to focus on your face in a happier moment, and their mind was filled with the way your eyes shone when they first told you they loved you, and you both realised that this was what you wanted your forever to look like. They started to drift, their thoughts far from the present moment and filled only with the memory of the two of you together, happy.

The bullet was never meant for Y, but they would take a thousand more if it meant they knew you were safe.

[dinosaurtsukki]

[ traffic jams ] 

pairing: suna rintarou x gn!reader

word count: 1.8k words

contains: ‘timestamps’ in a way, some shenanigans to pass the time, slightly awkward!suna, a bit too many ratatouille references, friendship with mutual crushing

a/n: i lowkey miss the traffic jams going home and one thing that struck me when reading suna’s bio on the wiki was that he doesn’t actually live near inarizaki so i thought it would be cute to have like a suna x reader commute fic

>> 5:45 pm: 

you sigh for what was probably the fifth time that hour as you stare at the road map on your phone. the highway you were currently on was marked with red, indicating a traffic jam that stretched for kilometers. ‘estimated travel time: 4 hours’ the top of your phone screen read.

‘great, and it’s a friday night on top of that.’ you rub the side of your temple and stare out the window of the bus. you already knew what going to inarizaki, a high school all the way out in hyogo, while you were currently living in tokyo meant when it came to travel time. you often had to wake up early and get home late with the long travel time to school and back. most days, it was manageable and a one hour commute meant a good day. however, there were days when a storm was raging outside, delaying the train and bus schedules, and road accidents that led to the kind of situation you were currently in.

after leaving at five pm, you spent the past hour doing some homework in the bus and now you were fresh out of things to do. you’re also avoiding using your phone too much and draining your battery. right before you’re about to put on your earphones, your bus seatmate stirs awake. 

aside from you, there is one other student who also commutes all the way to school from aichi, the prefecture where you live: suna rintarou. you know him as one of the regulars in the volleyball team and that he’s in the same year as you. neither of you ever really interacted much but took the same bus to and from school. sometimes you’d greet each other good morning and recently had this silent agreement to sit next to each other.

you watch as suna blinks sleepily before glancing out the window beside you. “where are we?” he mumbles.

“still in hyogo. it’s been an hour,” you answer. 

“damn, really?” suna groans when he realizes just how terrible the traffic is outside. “and it’s a friday too.”

“tell me about it,” you chuckle mirthlessly. “also, estimated travel time is four hours so there go my exciting friday plans,” you add sarcastically.

“sorry you have to spend them with me,” suna smirks at you. your stomach flutters and you smile nervously. despite not knowing him too well, you couldn’t help but find him quite attractive. in fact, the reason why you got up early in the morning and tried to leave school at the same time as him was because you enjoyed your daily commutes with suna so much. even more so when you two started sitting next to each other.

“well, i don’t think that would be too bad,” you clear your throat. “we could play ‘i spy’ for four more hours.”

“or,” suna grins, leaning down and opening his backpack before pulling out his laptop. you chuckle and pull out your earphones. “we could watch ratatouille.”

“of all the things to pirate. you really chose ratatouille?”

“fuck disney, am i right?” suna smirks.

“fuck disney.”

>> 7:46 pm

“good on you for making sure that your laptop was fully charged before leaving school,” you say, stretching your arms a bit as soon as the credits roll.

“hmm, yeah,” suna sighs and leans his head back. “though, i think i made the wrong decision.”

“how come?”

suna crosses his arms over his stomach and squeezes his eyes shut. “because we watched ratatouille, i’m hungry now.”

“oh...” you nod your head, just as you feel a rumble in your stomach. “oh,” you repeat. 

“yeah,” suna groans. “do you have any food on you?”

“i have...” you rustled through your backpack before procuring “a bag of peanuts.” 

“hmm, that’ll have to do,” suna said, plucking the packet out of your hand. “say, one nut each per two minutes? just to ration it out?”

you sigh. “it’s going to be a long night.”

>> 8:10 pm

“there it is, the last two nuts,” suna says gazing at the two peanuts in the palm of his hand before offering one of them to you.

“i really, really thought they would last longer,” you sigh.

“they would have if you kept them for yourself,” suna raises his eyebrows. 

“i’m too nice for that,” you giggle. “besides, i’d feel too guilty seeing you all hungry.”

“and i might guilt-trip you just a little bit,” suna says. “like, toss you mournful looks and everything.”

“no! not the mournful looks,” you cry and the two of you burst out laughing. you lift your peanut towards him. “toast?” 

“toast,” suna snickers. you toast your peanuts before popping them into your mouth. you’re both still far from home.

>> 8:30 pm

“i spy with my little eye... something red and blinking.”

“oh my god, it’s another car taillight isn’t it?”

“... it is,” suna admits, blinking lazily out the window. “i mean, it’s all taillights out there. anyway, your turn.” he nudges your arm with his elbow.

“i spy with my little eye... “ you blink and yawn. “some really tired passengers.” 

“i’m looking at one right now,” suna snickers at you.

you two share a glance before simultaneously sighing. 

“i want to be home,” you say. you don’t even have to look at suna to know he’s nodding in agreement. 

>> 9:00 pm

“chicken nuggets.” 

“suna, please stop,” you groan.

“it’s all i can think of,” suna shakes his head. the two of you are staring up at the ceiling of bus, trying and failing to forget your hunger. “when we get out of here, i’m going to the first fast-food restaurant i see and ordering chicken nuggets. also ice cream from the convenience store. you know, the soft-serve one in the cone.”

“yeah, you only mentioned that five times for the past hour,” you roll your eyes.

“how bout you? what’s the first thing you’re getting when we finally get to the stop?” suna nudges your ribs. you close your eyes, knowing that nothing good will come out of talking about food. but then again, not thinking about it wasn’t going to make you any less hungrier either.

“strawberry yogurt drink,” you answer. “i want that strawberry yogurt drink that they always have in convenience stores?”

“oh that one,” suna hums. “you’re literally the only person i know who likes that.”

“which is great because the vending machines never run out of them,” you add. “you what else i want?” you ask after a beat of silence.

“what?”

“that mushroom remy cooked in the beginning of the movie,” you giggle. suna shakes his head as a smile blooms on his face. now that you think about it, you’ve never really seen that kind of goofy smile on him before.

>> 9:30 pm

suna wakes up for the second time during that bus ride after a short nap. it doesn’t surprise at all that he’s still in the bus. what does, though, is seeing you fast asleep with your head on his shoulder. you must have accidentally leaned on him while you two drifted off to sleep but suna was far from annoyed. 

he was never really one to approach random people to strike up a conversation, but he always enjoyed seeing you, wearing the same uniform as him, waiting at the same bus stop he took every morning. unlike suna, you were way more productive during your daily commutes by doing your homework in the bus. once or twice, he’d glance at your pretty handwriting or pick up your pencil after you accidentally dropped it.

suna noticed that sometimes, you’d pack cereal in ziploc bags to eat for breakfast. that it would take you less than five minutes to fall asleep in the bus when there are exams. that you rotated between the same five hairclips throughout the week.

the sound of the bus engine coming to a stop and passengers abruptly standing up brings suna out of his thoughts. with a start, he realizes that you’re both finally at the bus stop in your hometown.

“y/n. wake up,” suna nudges you softly. he only gets to appreciate your sleepy face for a few seconds before breaking the good news. “we’re home.”

“we are?” you wake up instantly at that and look out the window. “oh my god, we are!” you squeal. suna grins as the two of you quickly pick up your bags and leave the bus. 

“okay so the nearest fast-food place is the one a few blocks away from here,” suna says as the two of you leave the bus. god, he’s starving. he can already taste the chicken nuggets. 

“eat a whole bunch of them for me,” you laugh. suna stops and looks at you.

“i...” suna realizes with a hint of embarrassment that he was under the assumption you two would be going together. “if... if you’re hungry too you can come, if you want.”

“oh.” there’s genuine surprise in your voice and suna feels a bit of relief. “i... i thought.”

“of course you don’t have to if you really need to head home.” 

“it’s not that i just, rarely ever get invited to things,” you chuckle and hook your thumbs into the straps of your backpack. “so... shall we go?”

suna feels the corner of his lip turn up in a smile. “chicken nuggets are on me.”

>> monday, 6:00 am:

you sprint to the bus stop as fast as your legs could carry you. rarely were you ever late for your bus, especially with how quickly you went through your morning routine. but this time, your sibling hogged the bathroom for five minutes too long, thus leading you to your current predicament. 

the bus is thankfully still there when you reach the stop and you don’t hesitate before flinging yourself inside, only to be greeted with the seats full of passengers. ‘damn,’ you mentally curse. the next bus doesn’t arrive until twenty minutes later and you were surely going to come in to class late and--

“y/n.” 

you hear suna’s voice call out to your right. he lifts his bacpack off the seat beside him and gestures for you to sit. 

he had saved a seat for you.

“thank you so much,” you smile gratefully and slide into the seat while catching your breath. 

“sure thing, busmate,” suna smirks at you. “i, ah, also got you this.” he reaches into his backpack before handing you something. it’s a carton of your favorite strawberry-yogurt drink.

you have to press your lips together to keep the giddy smile off your face as you accept it from suna. “thanks... busmate.”

“so,” suna clears his throat. “i was thinking of what movies to pirate next in the event of another friday traffic jam. you got any ideas?”

“hmm, let me think...” 

maybe traffic jams weren’t going to be so bad after all. 

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taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist):

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[chicago-geniza]

well i intended to go for a nice evening walk, ended up having a panic attack, ordering a couple of cocktails at the bougie bar, joining a jam session with a bunch of old hippies on the logan green (one of them gave me a handpainted wooden medallion which seems to be carved out of tree bark, strung on a length of yarn???), met a crustpunk train-hopping dude in town for the month (& his dog, in a leather-studded harness) who's lived in 45/50 states & a 44 yr old guy everyone called "the wizard" wearing a tattered, patch-covered robe who shares most of my parents' conspiracy theories & considers himself a latter-day prophet, he bought us sorbet & ice cream, wound up hanging out with them & staying up all night at their indescribably eclectic, cluttered, blood-spattered (!!!) apartment, belonging to 44 yr old guy's art curator father & decorated accordingly, smoking m*th & listening to music & talking (or rather listening to them rant/rave/recount stories from their incredibly wild lives), i gave them advice on applying for unemployment & medicaid & how to appear compliant enough w/ carceral psychiatric intervention so they won't section you without actually submitting to forced medication or institutionalization, especially if they assign you a case worker & do regular "wellness checks." also how to pass off certain aspects of behavioral dysregulation as executive dysfunction, get them to pay for an adhd evaluation, get an adderall IR scrip, sell the 30 mg pills (cite body weight, high doses of other psych meds as reason for higher dose; look sincere; play to systemic biases toward cis white men, unfortunately), & use the cash to buy m*th, if they'd prefer to keep doing that. you can also pass positive psychotic symptoms--agitation etc.--off as severe anxiety, especially if you have a history of trauma, & they will give you benzodiazepines. it is in their best interest to keep you docile, i.e. tranquilized, particularly if your past convictions & involuntary institutionalizations revolve around a pattern of aggressive behavior, & that's On The Record/there's a paper trail. (e.g. one dude got arrested trying to keep cars away from an injured bird on the road, some genre of raptor i think (???) by threatening them with a shopping cart, not hitting them, but like, running at them as if to collide then feinting at the last minute so they'd swerve out of the way. not the safest or most effective maneuver, lotta reckless endangerment, but the motivation was admirable. probably put the fear of god into some drivers, though. he doesn't seem to have, like, impulse control.) it's a lot easier & you have fewer run-ins with the cops if you game the system & appear cooperative. they gave me this coat, which "just showed up in their apartment one day," like i did. 44 yr old guy walked me back to apartment, stole a street sign & tore down a real estate sign en route, lori lightfoot did indeed take down the pride flag in front of her house on july 1st & replace it with an appropriately patriotic american flag, i walked past the idling plainclothes cop car & another marked police vehicle with their Mayoral Guarding Detail inside at like 4.30 am smoking a menthol cigarette (not inhaling), high on m*th, draped in a neon anime jacket, in the company of a visibly insane, unshaven & unshorn middle-aged man in a technicolor patchwork trenchcoat, holding a lit cigarette in one hand & an upside-down traffic cone in the other, which he was using as an ad hoc amplifier for a noise track playing on my phone. he was also carrying the stolen real estate banner &, inexplicably, a stack of mail. i gave him my old backup phone (no SIM card & doesn't hold a charge long, ancient, but still works), since neither he nor the other dude have phones (cops took them), also one hybrid edible for each of them, as a thanks for the m*th & the kindness. their hearts are in the right place but they have some fucked-up beliefs about "reverse racism" being real, while also saying in the same breath that you can tell our country is irredeemable by the way it continues to

treat black people. we were discussing medical weed for seizures on medicaid & 44 yr old guy mentioned one of his close friends, a black epileptic woman, whose seizures were frequent & severe enough they prevented her from working. then he added, in apparent bemusement, they she hadn't spoken to him in some time, & he wondered why. a little while later he relayed their last conversation & i was like "my dude, i can say with 100% certainty she is not talking to you because you said some *appallingly*, jaw-droppingly racist shit & did not even realize it was racist." then i, comma, a white person, explained to this man that he literally thought of their exchange as, like, an abstract argument over insignificant ideas, a theoretical exercise, & therefore considered it simply a smug gotcha to "counter" hotep theories about egyptian origin by claiming that "if that's true, american slavery & the oppression of black people in america are divine retribution for the enslavement of the jews in ancient egypt, an eye for an eye & a deserved punishment." like, first of all, what the actual fuck, if i were that woman i would also never speak to you again, second of all there's the collapse of historical time & mythical time, history & exegesis, an assumption that rests on spurious claims of biblical literalism (zionist colonization logic, btw! him: what's exegesis? what's zionism? me: never mind, not the point. exegesis is the interpretation of religious texts in a religious CONtext, in this case what you would likely call the hebrew bible.)--but most importantly it is 100% irrelevant to this discussion whether or not black americans are Actually Factually descendended from ancient egypt! you just told this woman to her face that the ancestry she claims, of which she's proud, is the reason & justification for SLAVERY & BLACK SUFFERING--not only that, but that if it WERE true, than black people would DESRVE to suffer, by DIVINE DECREE. you are trying to force her to abdicate her claim on this heritage by putting her in a position where she'd be forced to concede complicity in her people's historical & present-day persecution, oppression, & essentially the existence of structural racism. & using The Figural Jew as a rhetorical cudgel to bludgeon her into this corner. what a despicable thing to say. like, he hadn't considered it from her perspective at all, & once he groked why the comment itself was, like, unforgivable (idk, maybe she's more forgiving; she has a virtue-name), i started socratic-method-ing him through why it was particularly unforgivable for *him* to say to *her*--the individual is not responsible for the systems from they benefit, but they are imbricated in them, they are implicated when they actively perpetuate & uphold them, even with speech acts. & finally gave the same "there is no such thing as reverse racism because racism is not an individual act, it is an institutional, systemic phenomenon, & it is an ideology, one which individual acts can bear out or be in accordance with, & to which individuals can subscribe (this bearing it out in their behavior, in their institutional roles, in their interpersonal interactions--here i gave & solicited examples of each) or be subject (also gave & solicited examples). m*th makes me very good at Explaining clearly & he was surprisingly receptive--like, it was astonishing that it had not occurred to him??? but it hadn't, the same way it hadn't occurred to my mother, & she interpreted it as "reverse racist" when their next-door neighbor called her the "white devil" for disputing their property line, & i had to be like "ok but if you called in a random third party to mediate in lily-white [city], oregon, where white supremacists openly drive down the street in pickup trucks with swastika armbands, whose side do you think they would take, statistically speaking, in your property dispute. that's why racism is systemic & institutional, & your rude neighbor calling you a name over a disagreement does not constitute 'reverse racism,' because 'reverse racism' by definition cannot

exist." now this dude wants to like, read books, so i gotta get him some entry-level Intro To Racism primers??? how did i end up here, but better me than his black epileptic (ex-)friend, i guess??? jesus christ. both of these guys have the most chaotic, reactionary politics in a potpourri with these deep commitments to abolition & mutual aid & a kind of proto-anarchist consciousness, none of which would be called by those names, but all of which is borne out in practice & in the politics of everyday life. they remind me a LOT of my parents. i'm loath to imagine how they'd internalize my stepdad's rambling, street-preacher-style libertarian lectures. probably go out & buy guns & invest in gold on the stock market & double down on the conviction that free speech is being curtailed & individual rights are in jeopardy because you can no longer unleash a barrage of harassment against some guy on the street because you think he looked at you funny. these claustrophobic convictions, like the space to express oneself is getting smaller & smaller every day, *other people* are taking it away from you, suffocating you on all sides with their offense demanding your silence, they are *making* the walls close in--when in fact it's more like a holodeck. you're a member of the Hegemonic Group, afforded the privilege of the default, so you don't question the vast verdant expanse that is your domain--ah, Free Speech, the sun never sets on the empire of ~uncensored expression, you can say whatever you want whenever you want without facing consequences because you control all the organs that mete out consequences & you have also determined that those groups who might be adversely affected by your words--emotionally OR materially--are not, well...of consequence. but of course the vast verdant domain is an illusion, photons & forcefields, held together by the all-encompassing TOTALITY of the dominant group's hegemony, power, etc. once that power begins to redistribute throughout the system--however unevenly, however incrementally, however slowly--as even the smallest pieces are appropriated by those deemed inconsequential, who have endured years of systemic, material, institutional violence that allowed the dominant group to become dominant & retain its dominant position--once those 'inconsequential' groups speak up & say "actually, these words bear an indelible imprint of the violence enacted upon us, these words are the legacy of that violence, these words are a tacit endorsement of the ideology behind that violence, which classifies us as subhuman, & even if *you* can't hear those echoes, the words broadcast on two historical frequencies, so now that we're able to broadcast on a frequency *you* can hear, we request you find other language, & consider the implications of the words you've been using for years." well--once The Subaltern Speaks, the dominant group loses its 'innocence,' & becomes aware the vast verdant expanse of language is an illusion of infinite space, aware of the four holodeck walls pressing in behind the simulacrum of the horizon, & suddenly "what one can say without negative consequences"--largely social, sometimes, rarely, if social media goes viral, professional--feels much more claustrophobic. so they get angry. & some of them are just bigots, obviously, but some of them--like my parents, &, even, this weirdly well-intentioned m*thhead who said one of the most shockingly racist things i've heard in my life & *honestly didn't understand why it was racist*, is really riled up about free speech & individual rights, hates the government, hates "FANG" (facebook amazon netflix google) & has a bunch of dystopian conspiracy theories about data harvesting & personal information that only miss the mark in that they get too nefariously biopolitical (billionaires want to put microchips in everybody for surveillance to monitor our movements & sell us more stuff; they don't need to, they already use our phone location & browsing habits to generate the algorithm & sell the information to ad companies lol, it's digital& cast a

single illuminati figure in the role of comic book villain, controlling the operation behind the scenes like an evil puppetmaster (classic conspiracy fare; again, we gotta take that energy, that suspicion, the understanding that they are being taken advantage of & tricked, the idea that power & capital & resources are concentrated among a very small number of people, however it's not an individual wealthy villain with a desire for world domination who wants to turn Free Americans into microchipped drones, it's a *class* of people--or rather several classes, but *who those people are as individuals does not matter*. if you guillotined bill gates, another billionaire would take his place. bill gates qua bill gates is not the problem. it is classes of people who control the means of production & own property & profit enormously from exploiting the labor of a desperate, rapidly increasing underclass, i.e. from the system as it is. therefore it is in their interest to maintain the status quo, because it serves them. 'the rich get richer, the poor get poorer.' the middle class gradually ceases to exist. if you want to compound it by race, consider the GI bill as an example - you learn about it as the leg up that enabled thousands of WWII vets to buy houses, enabling them to enter the middle class. hundreds of thousands of third-gen middle class white americans still reap the structural, socioeconomic benefits of their grandparents' initial upward mobility, including,, very tangibly, those selfsame houses, which can be inherited & then rented out as a second property if the children or grandchildren accrue enough money to buy their own properties. but only about 100 black vets got approved for homeownership loans, despite the staggering numbers of black soldiers who enlisted & applied through the GI bill. anyway! the impulses are there, & they're only being funneled into conspiracy thinking because that makes intuitive sense on a narrative level. these guys have a high school education; so does my stepdad. their reading habits are...eclectic, sporadic, pretty much dictated by occasional recommendations & like, little free libraries around the neighborhood. it's both interesting & frustrating to see like - hey, here are these people, we agree on a lot of things, they're earnest & open & want to learn & would give their neighbor the shirt off their backs as a matter of principle. they'd give a *stranger* the shirt off their backs; they'd share whatever they had. even what chores there are in their collective--they live with two other guys--(dumpster diving, walking the dog, tidying up the apartment) are allocated by ability & inclination. they made advance plans to look after the dog & their roommate with War PTSD on the 4th of july if the fireworks upset them, jokingly called the dog an emotional support animal. you give them the tools, the reading, talk to them like normal people with a stake in society--like, imagine a society that would have a stake in people like you instead of criminalizing you & consigning you to the margins! that's already *political imagination* because anyone who occupies a marginalized position will have their existence politicized, whether they want this or not, so better to become a self-aware, self-reflexive political subject, no?--talk *with* them because tbh i am them, i'm just better at situational masking & also i am very very afraid of cops so i only damage property in groups during planned political actions (not spontaneously, because i feel a flash of rage at my neighborhood gentrifying, & simply do not have a superego, so i tear down the real estate sign for the fancy new apartment complex in a fit of pique, because in this house we believe that spontaneity can & should be developed into class consciousness, again, the seeds of which are there in the initial trigger for the spontaneous reaction, i.e. anger at gentrification. not opposed to a little direct action, but they're just gonna put up a new sign tomorrow, it doesn't advance your agenda or hinder the gentrifiers' progress. now, if

you sabotaged the construction site for the new apartment buildings & painted a few potent symbols + graffiti'd a pithy, written statement expressing your opposition to gentrification generally & these apartments specifically? in a prominent place, large font, eye level, visible & legible from oh, a block away? maybe as a member of a collective, your neighbors, perhaps? & you could sign it "[neighborhood] or [block] residents" to pack more of a punch, the power of a crowd speaking in unison to say "not OUR home, you predatory developers"? that's no longer spontaneous, impulsive, affective violence, & it's also no longer an individual--acting alone leaves you vulnerable. again--i didn't just *intuit* that he tore the sign down because he was mad about gentrification, i asked, in a genuinely curious tone, not at all accusatory, no hint of reprimand or censure, just...interested, "why did you do that?" & he was like "it made me fucking mad." & i was like "what about it made you mad? the apartments? how come?" & he thought about it for a minute & explained. i'm not sure *he* necessarily made the conscious connection until prompted. idk, i know people talk a lot about the fact that breitbart & drudge report are free while NYT & "all the news fit to print" is paywalled, & q-pilled covid hoax sites are free while "reputable" pandemic coverage & public health guidelines & explanations of mRNA vaccines for a lay audience are paywalled & that's true but also We Live In A Society & if you talk to the wingnuts who AREN'T that way because of any far-right ideology, a lot of them are just...autodidacts without much formal education but a lot of raw intelligence that leads to analyzing The Big Picture & trying to deduce a pattern, find a framework that explains why the world is the way it is, profoundly frustrated, deeply aware of American society's, universalized & figured as the world's, exceptional unfairness & cruelty, & *that can be redirected* with reading, discussion, prompting critical thought, introducing community connections, & perhaps most importantly for this genre of person, getting them to see patterns at work in terms of systems & structures rather than individuals, letting go of American individualism's explanatory power & belief in its liberatory potential (see: the sort of ad hoc libertarianism that goes hand-in-glove with much conspiracy thinking, both stemming from 1) mistrusting the government, & 2) ultimate freedom of the individual as the most sacred value, therefore it is what all enemies want to take away), outlining positive, actionable goals rather than just ambient suspicion & anger at authority, & figuring out how those goals can be accomplished more effectively by an organized collective (but this will ultimately benefit the individual). If the world isn't run by a shadowy cabal, if you begin to understand the structures responsible & how they manifest even on the scale of your block (e.g.!!! predatory developers buying up properties during a pandemic, tearing down affordable housing to build expensive condos on the lot, or giving old buildings a "spit and polish" so they can double the rent, pricing all the current residents out, not to mention all the little local businesses, almost all mexican & run by the mexican families who live here, that give our block its culture & will get pushed out by boutique coffee shops & the like, catering to a more affluent & almost certainly whiter clientele)--you can, in fact, change the world, something both of them repeatedly referred to as their purpose on earth. it may not be as a maverick figure, one against an army, but strength in numbers is an aphorism for a reason.

anyway! thse guys were also really weird about jews, in the philosemitic way conspiracy theorists of a certain stripe often are. the itinerant vagabond guy gave me one of his drawings; it's really lovely. i'm going to give them "are prisons obsolete?" & "the wretched of the earth" & some david graeber. 44 yr old guy has this idea that society is atomized & people aren't connected to each other & have lost the willingness or the ability to communicate with each other, also that the overreach of authority has driven some people to violence, & that makes the world feel unsafe to everyone else. he feels guilty because he is acutely aware that language, when wielded adroitly & intentionally, always has the capacity to manipulate; he is afraid of succumbing to the temptation, because he senses the coercive power of language within himself. the other guy was mostly quiet but said 44 yr old guy is one of the best friends he's ever had. he thinks animals are able to sense emotions and to heal, & he thinks they can mediate between people who have become too isolated, who have forgotten humans' innate ability to forge connections, approach others as social creatures seeking to bond instead of mistrustful, apprehensive, rejecting overtures of friendship because they expect subterfuge, or propriety has evolved to deem such overtures inappropriate outside of strictly delineated, artificially orchestrated contexts. deviation from the norm is not permitted. & back again to policing. they have an idea called "the omega family," omega for the end, a group of like-minded people who come together, who encounter each other serendipitously (predicted through auspicious auguries & recognized on sight through a constellation of signs & wonders, because of course we are all psychotic here, it was nice to just be psychotic & discuss these things like they were normal lol), & serve as catalysts to each other's "personal truth." anyway this is why i don't go out when i'm crazy, i always end up in situations like this, see also: the last time i did m*th, in a pizza hut bathroom in tallinn with an art student from glascow named muhammad ali (he went by ali), the son of white muslim converts--we thought it was c*ke but it got lost in translation & that's how i figured out i had adhd. later i got [redacted] by a filmmaker from kazan & he gave me his business card afterward for some reason, which was extremely funny. thankfully these dudes were better behaved. one of them even gave a speech about how men shouldn't rape people??? & also how our society shouldn't construct women as universal victims because in doing so it makes victimhood almost compulsory & shoehorns women into a victim role as part & parcel of womanhood? i was like yes my dude you are almost there, read the essay "abject feminism." (i did not tell them i was trans bc i wasn't sure how that would shake down, to be honest; couldn't get a read on it. did tell them i was gay & they respected it, though one did say he dated a lesbian once, & i explained that many men feel compelled to interject with an anecdote relating an exception to the rule or insist that they will he the exception to the rule, & it's really just bad manners, not even getting into the bad politics. he took it on the chin & talked about how the girl in question came home to find her partner dead of an overdose & his wife had just died of MS, so their relationship was more about grief & comfort than sexual attraction. i was like that's really, really sad, & it's wonderful that you were able to be there for each other at a time of such staggering loss, & i am a person who totally understands what you mean to communicate, but if a lesbian tells you they're a lesbian & you reply that you once dated a lesbian & they get offended & instead of responding with contrition or correction you elaborate on the tragic backstory of the relationship as though that explains the circumstances in which a self-proclaimed lesbian would date a cis man, other lesbians *will* deck you, or at the very least not take you, an unwashed white guy in

his 40s who isn't neurotypical & sits way too close for social convention in a way that could easily be construed as a come-on, in good faith.) tl;dr made some new friends, did some good drügs (i much prefer smoking m*th to snorting it, basically like purer, more potent adderall, & as such will not be doing it again for a LONG time, because i enjoy it FAR too much; slices through the brain fog & the chronic fatigue & the joint/bone pain, makes me able to pay attention, follow the thread of a conversation, actually be *interested* & want to ask *questions* & expand, build, encourage my interlocutor to elaborate, place more kal-toh pieces until the conversation shimmers into a three-dimensional shape, instead of being listless & exhausted & disengaged & *bored* all the time, so obviously i would get addicted immediately if given the opportunity, & i've known this forever lol)--now going to hydrate, refill pill case, write some emails, & meet C at the beach! not how i expected to reboot my brain, but it works! also putting them on limited facebook view because i try to keep some groups of people in my life quarantined from each other & that includes 1) my relatives & my academic ~colleagues (ne'er the twain shall meet), 2) my exes & my family, 3) my relatives, colleagues, & uh. a couple of lovely, but extremely psychotic dudes with very long criminal records i met while doing hard drugs

[god-save-the-keen]

Luke Danes, the most perfect man, propmt list!

1. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm great. It's big, fat, happy sunshine day for me."

2. "Name, are you a gigolo?"

3. "Ever worry that if a bird flies into your head it might never get out?"

4. "My life meant nothing until you used my toothbrush."

5. "Will you just stand still?" *Kiss her/him*

6. "Name, this thing we're doing here, me, you, I'm in. I am all in."

7. "And it's so good to have someone to share this hate with."

8. "Are trying to kill me?" *Losing his/her patience.*

9. "I just like to see you happy."

10. "When you make plans, then you have expectations, and when you have expectations, they… you will get disappointed."

11. "You know my father always told me that whatever does not kill you makes you stronger." "You're gonna be really strong."

12. "Have you seen Name1 or Name2?" "No, but have you tried the insane asylum, where everyone in this room is supposed to be."

13. "On the verge of blubbering here." "Not doing too well myself." "Not you, too." "I'm blubbering. You're freaks!"

14. "Name, what is it exactly that you want me to do? I'm not mad, I'm not holding a grudge, I heard your apology, I feel I'm being polite, I listened to your donut bit, I got you your coffee. What would make you happy?"

15. "Go to hell!" "Right back at ya!"

16. "You ate that?" "No, I didn't eat it!" "Oh, of course." "I'm upset not suicidal!"

17. "He's systematically buying up the town. He's gonna turn it into Nameville, where everyone will have to wear cardigans and have the same grass height!"

18. *About a messy room* "I'm having nightmares where I'm being chased by boxes with arms and they tackle me and throw clothes on top of me and secure it with masking tape and while I'm lying there, you're standing in the corner laughing putting gel in your hair!"

19. "You know what?" "What?" "This is nice."

20. "We should have eaten before we came." "Shh! And, yeah."

21. "Name1, this is Name2. She/He owns the Independence Inn." "Oh." "That's "hello, nice to meet you" in slacker."

22. "So are you going to act?" "Yes, I am. I'm going to act like you never came in here."

23. "That's it, gets upstairs and change." "Whatever you say, Uncle/Aunt Name." "It's Name. Just Name. Mister Name. In fact, don't address me at all!"

24. "You're really just gonna stand there and watch me eat a Danish?" "Cable's out. I'm starved for entertainment."

25. "Me? Raising a kid? I don't even like kids. They're always sticky like they've got jam on their hands. Even if there's no jam in the house, somehow, they've always got jam on their hands! I'm not the right guy to deal with that. I have no patience for jam hands!"

26. "That's what you want?" "Yes." "That's really what you want?" "Yes!" "You got it." "Thank you!" "You're welcome!" *As they cross over a bridge, Person1 pushes Person 2 into the water.*

27. "Can I ask you stupid questions?" "There's no such thing." *Frustrated* "How does the ink come out of pens?!" "Okay, there is such a thing."

28. "I think you can hack anything."

29. "I guess if you can find that one person, you know, who's willing to put up with all your crap and doesn't want to change you or dress you, or you know, make you eat French food, then marriage can be all right...but that's only if you find that person."

30. "Crazy people. The whole town should be medicated and put in a rec room with ping-pong tables and hand puppets."

31. "Doesn't matter what time it is. I'll always be around."

32. "I warned him/her. I warned him/her when I first met him/her, if he hurt her/him...Ah. Maybe I could key his/her car." "Better yet. Key Name1's car and tell him/her Name2 did it."

33. "Get away from me you mental patient!"

34. "Is this bothering you?" "This conversation? Yes."

35. "I hate that he/she's pleased."

36. "Hamsters can't laugh." "Oh, this one laughed - trust me."

37. "Your mother called me an idiot."

38. "C'mon, you gotta think positive here. Bright side, good thoughts. Rainbows, unicorns. *slowing down* Clowns. *Pause* Little ... cute ... *Longer pause*... furry ... *Giving up* Okay, I'm out."

39. "I can't imagine anyone seeing you as a disappointment."

40. "That's the wrong table." "Since when is there a right table?" "Since the coffee cake I baked for you and the stupid balloons I blew up for you are at that table over there."

41. "Will you marry me?" "What?!" "Just...looking for something to shut you up."

42. "This is not an herbal tea morning. This is a coffee morning." "Every morning for you is a coffee morning."

43. "It's like my life isn't even real to me, unless you're there, and you're in it, and I'm sharing it with you."

44. "I never thought in my wildest dreams that it would happen, that you and me would happen. But we did it."

45. "Don’t add stuff from your to do list to my to do list."

46. "You wanted something festive." "You made me a Santa burger." "It's not a big deal."

47. "The only way out of this life is in a body bag."

48. "Listen, I know I'm not the easiest guy/girl in the world to build a life with and to share a house with, but there is no one who will be more here for you than me. I will never leave. I will never think about leaving."

49. "You won't have to hear my opinion on anything ever again, okay?" "Oh, don't tease."

50. "The things you find amusing astound me sometimes."

51. "Wow, I feel important." "You are important."

52. "Last time you gathered up some of my stuff, you accidentally brought me four bras/brief and no pants." "That could've been intentional."

53. "God, that's terrible! It's like drinking 'My little pony'!"

54. "We kissed." "I remember." "It was a great kiss." "Yeah." "So you concur?" "Dear god, yes."

55. "All you need is six dancing penguins and Mary Poppins floating in the corner--" "--to bring back two of the worst hours of my childhood!"

56. "An ice rink? How did this happen?" "Jack Frost brought it." "Did he look like Name Lastname?" "A little. Not as handsome/gorgeous."

57. "Your slave is here." "And where's the french maid outfit?" "I've got it under the plaid."

58. "You kept this in your wallet." "Eight years."

59. *Awkwardly grabbing the another person's head* "I'm not good at hugging."

60. "I'm prepared to jump up and down if necessary."

61. "I can be a movie guy/girl. You like movies."

62. "You're watching me watch the movie. It's creepy."

63. "I shouldn't have gotten into a business that involves dealing with people."

64. "It just my favorite time of the year. The whole world changes color." "I think I'm blacking out."

65. "Keeping tabs on me?" "Always safer to know which direction the tornado's coming from "

66. "Fresh coffee will be ready in a minute unless you want to just roll up a dollar bill and go nuts."

67. "What the hell was that?"

68. "The only bright side of my day is being asked to be a prostitute." "That's something to cling to."

69. "What? Relationships? Look who you're asking."

70. "You enjoy typing to people more than talking to them?"

Use it, shared them, ask for a request, have fun! ❣️

[binniewon]

Sticks and Stones Oneshot

Pairing: Vminkook/ Female!Reader

Summary: Sticks and stones may break my bones but your words always hurt me.

Warning:None!

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 2k

A/N: Inspired by Halesy- Drive

All we do is drive

As you looked at the couple of three your heart started to swell, you remember when they first got into a relationship being best friends with all three of them got you a front row seat to their shaky start but it also gave you a front row seat to the most beautiful relationship that you know their love for each other is endless.

“Y/N” you looked at Taehyung who was staring at you confusion written in his expression you also saw that Jimin and Jungkook were looking at you, you guess they had been trying to get your attention for a while “Are you okay you kind of zoned out there for a second” Jimin said his confusion turning into concern you slightly smiled at them “I’m fine” they just chuckled and looked away “It’s your turn to drive” Jungkook said as he unbuckled his seat belt.

“How long until we get there” you asked as you unbuckled yourself and opened the door.

“Four hours” you had to sit with them for another four hours you could do this, if you were being completely honestly you had a one sided crush on the couple since the day that you met each of them in fact there were multiple times that you wanted to confess but each time you tried you got let down because their eyes were always roaming somewhere else.

The day that you found out that they liked one another was the day that your little crush on them perished.

All we do is think about the feelings that we hide

 .

.

.

Three Years Ago

“Y/N can I talk to you for a second” Jungkook asked shyly as he stood in front of you a long line behind him “I working Kook” he put his head down “I-I know but it’s important” you huffed but still asked if one of your coworkers could take over for a second.

“What is it Kook I have to get back to work” he inhaled slight and looked up at you “I-I think I like Jimin and Taehyung”

.

“Hey Y/N how are you doing” Taehyung asked with a small smile on his face “If you’re not here to order then leave” you said tiredly, you were ready to go home today has been a long day “Don’t you have two hours left” you nodded you head “Isn’t your break in three minutes” you looked down at the watch wrapped tightly around your wrist you then looked back up at him “What do you want Taehyung” he put his hand on his chest as if he were hurt and gave you an offended look “No Tae, I’m really hurt Y/N” you huffed and looked at him unamused.

“Then I-” you stopped him “Tae you have used up all of my break time what did you actually want to tell me” you could see his whole demeanor change as he gulped “Well how do I put this” you looked at him confused Taehyung was always the person that would say what was on his mind so this was new “Just spit it out Tae” he looked at you for a second before he said words similar to Jungkook.

“I like Jimin and Jungkook”

.

“Wow three in one day” you said under your breathe as you saw Jimin pull in front of the restaurant you slowly walked over to his car “Get in” he said while he looked at you a silly smile painted on his face “Why should I” you said as you slowly crossed your arms “If you want to walk home then you can I was just trying to be a good friend” you rolled your eyes and walked over to the passenger side of the car and got in.

The heat circulating inside the car was a good difference from the cold outside “You never do this” you said as you buckled your seatbelt and got comfortable, he didn’t say anything as he pulled of the bakery and continued to your home.

The quiet music was interrupted as Jimin started up a conversation “I actually picked you up because I wanted to talk to you” he snickered you knew it had to be something Jimin never picks you up from your job mostly because it is a 45-minute drive from his home “I knew it spill” you said as you gave him your attention.

“There is no easy way to say this but I think I like Taehyung and Jungkook”

.

.

.

All we do is sit in silence waiting for a sign

“Y/N you just missed our turn” Taehyung said with a light huff you went to say something but heard light whispers as you look up you saw that Jimin was saying something to him you just shook your head and looked at the car in front of you.

The giggling in the back was driving you crazy you could feel the jealously slowly starting to seep into your veins but you knew that it would be wrong for you to say something, it was kind of your fault that they are together you didn’t really know what to say to your three friends that had just confessed to you that they liked one another.

You blamed the exhaustion for the words that you told each of them “Just tell them if you do I am sure that they will understand” the words still rang in your mind every time you saw them together maybe if you had said something different then they wouldn’t be together but it would be selfish of you to even think of something like that.

When you looked up you saw Jungkook kissing the side of Jimin’s neck, it wasn’t like you hadn’t seen it before but the scene made you nauseated “Can you at least wait until we get to the hotel to do all of your lovey-dovey stuff” you didn’t mean for it to come out harshly but by the way they sunk into their sit and looked away from you showed that it came out wrong “I’m sorry” you said honestly as you huffed and looked at the directions on your phone you heard a light “ok” come out of one of their mouths but you decided not to say anything else sacred you might hurt them again.

Sick and full of pride, all we do is drive

.

.

“We only have an hour left do you want one of us to trade you out” Jimin said sweetly as he looked at you through the rear view mirror you shook you head as a no “Are you sure, I can drive” he continued “I’m okay Jimin” you saw as he leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms you rolled your eyes annoyed you don’t even know why they asked you to go on the trip with them.

You were all driving to California it was Jungkook’s idea he said that the aesthetics were amazing there so you all decided to go to California so that Jungkook could pass his last Photography test of the semester “Capture a picture of the ones that you love most” you told him that he could just take a picture of Jimin and Taehyung somewhere close to home but he said that he wanted to meet your family since you hadn’t seen them since you moved away you figured that you would go and now you were starting to regret it.

The light tap of the rain hitting the windows of the car was the only noise in the silent car you looked back at them a realized that they were asleep it was kind of cute how they were all cuddled up to each other you mentally cursed at yourself you can’t think about them like that you will only hurt yourself in the end.

You slight jumped as your GPS said that you only had 30 minutes left until you reached your destination you decided to pull over and stretch your legs the three boys in the back were still asleep so you didn’t wake them you when you stepped out of your car the smell of sea water immediately hit your nose you remember the scent it was one that you despised and valued.

And California never felt like home to me

You sprinted inside of the gas station to get away from the rain “Welcome” they guy said as soon as you walked in you went to the back and got four drinks for each of you “That will be three dollars” the cashier said you handed him the money and started to walk out “Have a nice rest of your day” you said a quick you too and covered you head preparing to run to the car.

.

.

“You scared us Y/N” Jimin said as you sat back in your seat startled you looked back at them a saw that they were awake “I didn’t want to wake you” you said as you handed them the drinks “How much longer until we get there I’m tired” Jungkook slurred his words sleepiness heavy in his tone “30 minutes” you put the car in drive and started back to the hotel.

 “May we have two rooms please” the lady nodded her head and typed something into her computer “Here are your keys please enjoy your stay” you quickly grabbed one of the keys and walked dover to the elevator “Y/N wait” you heard Taehyung call out to you, you huffed and held open the elevator doors.

“Look our rooms are right next to each other” Jungkook pointed out but you didn’t say anything it wasn’t that you were mad at them but you really just wanted to be by yourself at the moment you could basically feel the pout from the three boys around you but none of the made a point to say anything and for that you were grateful.

“Good night” you said as you opened your door and walked in but before you could close it Jungkook stuck his foot in the jam of the door “I want to room with you” you widen your eyes “Why aren’t you staying with Jimin and Taehyung” you heard Jimin agree with you from behind Jungkook, it looked like he was going to say something else but you didn’t give him the chance “Goodnight Jungkook”.

And California never felt like home

.

.

Loud banging woke you up slightly annoyed you got out of bed and opened the door “Let’s go take some pictures we only have two days” Jungkook said as him Jimin and Taehyung walked into your hotel room “Can I change by myself” they shook their head and sat down you exhaled slightly and went to grab your clothes for the day.

“No stand like this and then act natural” you heard Jungkook say for the one hundredth time today Jimin and Taehyung were having the hardiest time which is strange because they are Jungkook’s muse his camera is basically full of pictures of them “Babe can we please take a break we have been doing this for hours” Jimin asked as he looked a Jungkook sweetly you all would only be here for two days so Jungkook was hesitant but still let then have their break. “I’m going to go take a walk” you said as you got up “We can come with you” Taehyung said as he started to walk towards you “I actually wanted to go by myself” you said, you saw their heads fall as the let out a sad “ok”

You felt the cold water of the sea slowly brush against your feet as you walked along the sea shore the sound of the waves lightly hitting the rocks calmed you. The couples that were sitting on the beach made you feel lonely you have been so busy with work and school that dating was out of the picture but it didn’t mean that you didn’t have crush’s or you weren’t hopelessly in love with your best friends.

And California never felt like home to me

.

.

“Can you guys hurry up please” you yelled at the boys as you sat in the car and looked at them taking the last set of pictures the light of the sun hit them perfectly you caught yourself slowly pulling out your phone and taking a picture “Y/N come here please” Jungkook asked you kindly “Why” he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms “I can stand here all day” you huffed and got out of the car he smiled and Jimin clapped his hands as he pulled you in between him and Taehyung “Okay, Smile”

The ride back home was nice and peaceful everyone was pretty much worn out from the trip so there wasn’t much talking between you Taehyung decided to ride in the passenger sit with you instead of in the back you didn’t ask why but it was enjoyable having someone up front with you.

Until I had you on the open road

.

.

You pulled up to the boys apartment building “Guys were here” you said loudly to make sure that they woke up “I am so sorry Y/N we were supposed to alternate driving-” you waved your hand’s “It’s okay you were all tired I understand now go home and go cuddle or something” they all looked at you unamused “Bye bye” they all told you bye and got there things out of the car “I will tell you what I get on the assignment” Jungkook told you before you left “I hope that you would or all my driving would have been for nothing” he chuckled and went into the apartment with his lovers that were waiting for him.

The jingle on the door alerted you that another customer had walked in “Hello and welcome to-” you stopped as you saw Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook walk in with giddy smiles on their faces “Why are you all happy” you asked no one in particular “Kookie got his assignment scores in today” your eyes widen you turned around and asked someone to take over the register.

“Let me see, let me see” you asked happily their smiles only increased as Jungkook pulled out his phone and handed you his phone “You got a one hundred you passed” you said as you hugged Jungkook he slowly pulled away and sat back down “Did you see the picture he used” Taehyung asked as he raised his eyebrows “I wouldn’t need to see it I watched him take them all” they all looked at each other knowingly and Jungkook handed his phone back to you “Look”

You just stared at the picture not sure of what to say there was a lot of things running through your head but you couldn’t get anything to come out “I-i-I thought y-you w-why “ you huffed and then took a deep breath as you gathered you thoughts “I thought you were supposed to take a picture of the people that you love most” Jungkook looked at you confused “I did” you don’t think you could have gotten more confused but you did “Why did you use the picture that you took with me in it” you asked as you looked at them hope gleaming in your eyes did they maybe feel the same as you.

“I love you all I mean Jimin and Taehyung were my best friends before we started dating and you are still my best friend so I had to include you”

Over analyze again, would it really kill you if we kissed?

[coppicefics]

Masked Omens: Week Six

[Image Description: Image 1 - A simple rendition of the Masked Singer UK logo, a golden mask with colourful fragments flying off of it. The mask has a golden halo and a golden devil tail protruding from either side. Below, gold text reads ‘Masked Omens’.

Image 2 - A page from the Entertainment section of the Capital Herald, dated Saturday, 30th January 2021. Full image description and transcript below cut. End ID.]

Read the fic here!

The Capital Herald - Saturday 30th January, 2021 Entertainment, page 13

Top story (continued from facing page): -talk filming, fans and family with 'Three Card Monte' star -finished, and hotly tipped for several major awards come the season, what does Dame Angela have in the pipeline? She's tight-lipped, but the question makes her smile. “Naturally I don't want to give too much away – an actress must maintain some mystery lest the camera fall out of love with her – but I can tell you I have several options in mind, and some of them are very exciting.” But is it a question of which project to take on, or which to take on first? “Well, of course, there are no guarantees, but... yes, I imagine some of them will wait.” It's an unusual level of power for an actor to wield, but at this stage in her career Dame Angela is more than entitled to wield it. How does she feel about winning the showbiz game so spectacularly? “Oh, I feel as though I've been playing a game of my own devising, to which even I don't know the rules.” She laughs. “No, but really, I don't think I've ever thought of it as playing a game. I go up for the parts I think are interesting or challenging, and I've been fortunate enough to get them more often than not. Then, when the part is finished, I move on to the next thing I want to do. There's no strategy, not really, not on my part. Naturally, my agent might tell you something very different!” Having the right agent can certainly be the key to success in the entertainment industry, and Dame Angela has been with Derek Mette, of MetteTalent, for many years now.“More than I care to admit,” she tells me with a laugh, “Derek has been with me since the beginning, really. We're old friends, at this point – our families exchange Christmas cards every year.” Family can be a challenge for someone who's trying to keep the momentum of their career going, and Dame Angela surprised the world when she took a year out of acting to give birth to her son, Anthony.“Yes, at that time it simply wasn't done; one could have a career, or one could have a family. Especially since I was very much on my own with it all. But I was able to get back in front of the cameras quite quickly, and I wouldn't change things for the world. Becoming a mother made me a better actress, I think, because it opened up that whole range of experiences. The highs and the lows of childrearing.” In fact, Dame Angela starred alongside young Anthony in A is for Apple when he was only eight months old. He briefly followed in her footsteps after leaving school, and seemed set for similar levels of industry acclaim. But it all came to a devastating halt when he developed an addiction that led to him being discovered unconscious in his trailer on the set of The Grasswater Affair. He'd overdosed. “I don't like to talk about it,” Dame Angela says, her mouth downturned. “I found it very hard. But now, of course, he's been in recovery for many years, and he does his little plays all around the country. It's behind us, and I'd like it to stay that way.” A change of subject, then; what does she make of the rumours that she is currently performing as a costumed character on The Masked Singer UK? “On- I'm sorry, what's that?” I show her a clip on my phone. “Good heavens, no.” But isn't that exactly what she'd say if it was her? “Well, I don't know. I'd never even seen it until just now. But it all seems a little childish for my taste. I'm far too committed to my art to do light entertainment.” Time, it seems, will tell. But if Dame Angela is indeed a participant in The Masked Singer, she hides it well.There’s time for one last question, so I try to make it a good one. What, I ask, does Dame Angela consider her proudest achievement to date? “Oh, that’s a difficult question. I simply couldn’t choose... Naturally, becoming a Dame was a great honour, and not one I expected at all, which made it all the more precious. But then, the first time I won an Oscar was a real moment of pride, and one that’s never soured with time. And, of course, every award and every round of applause is a moment of pride for any actor; it means I’ve done the job, and done it well, and that it has been appreciated by the audience in front of me. What more can any actress ask for?” MARY HODGES Dame Angela Crowley’s latest film, Three Card Monte, is in cinemas from the 12th of February.

Centre right: OWAS to host ‘magic’ event Literary society’s next gala theme announced The Oscar Wilde Appreciation Society has announced the theme for its spring social event, which is to be inspired by all things magical. Famed far beyond its actual membership for its lavish balls and banquets, the society has in the past held events held together by motifs such as 'Luck', which took place in a casino, 'Snow', which included a trip to a ski slope, and 'Flight', during which all participants had the opportunity to glide above the dancers on wires. This time, the theme is 'Magic', and while details are still being kept tightly under wraps, it seems fairly certain that Aziraphale Fell, London's most celebrated stage magician and a long-time member of the Oscar Wilde Appreciation Society, will be performing at the event. When the society throws open its doors each season, it's quite possible to go all night without seeing a single regular member of the club. While the organising committee is out in full force, soliciting donations from the wealthy patrons who attend the parties, and the society president stands up to make a toast at the beginning of dinner, it's largely outsiders who descend upon the Oscar Wilde Appreciation Society's chosen venue. In fact, the scale and opulence of these events has led some to speculate that OWAS is not a literary appreciation society at all, but rather a shadowy networking opportunity for the rich and powerful. Indeed, at the 'Flight' event, it's rumoured that two world leaders met in the queue for the wire-flying and laid the foundations for a later trade deal between their nations. The society's everyday goings-on are, I'm told, far more pedestrian and literary. But - as the current president, Edwin Pearce, often says - “what's an Oscar Wilde society without a little hedonism?” There's altruism, too, however; the society makes a substantial donation to a charity chosen by the members each year. This year's charity has yet to be determined, but last year the children of the Wessex Street Hospital enjoyed a very special Christmas thanks to a £20,000 cheque from the Oscar Wilde Appreciation Society. Much of the funds required to make such lavish events and donations possible are raised at those very events, which take place once a season. Tickets for the 'Magic' event have not yet been released, but previous events' tickets have sold for anything from £200 to £2000. A limited number of reduced price tickets are generally made available, so keep an eye on the Oscar Wilde Appreciation Society's website at oscarwas.org.uk if you're looking to get in without breaking the bank. If The Amazing Mr Fell will indeed be performing at the event, it might explain his recent reduction in performances – his show has gone down from six nights a week to just four, eliminating his Wednesday and Saturday performances. Magic fans in the capital can therefore hold out hope that once preparations for his upcoming performance are over, tickets might become easier to obtain. And, of course, the 'Magic' event itself promises to be one big avocado. CITRON DEUX-CHEVAL

Centre right: Drawing back the veil again Mystic Madame reportedly plotting TV return Two years after Drawing Back the Veil with Telepathic Tracy last aired, its old Saturday night slot is set to become vacant again – and rumours abound that the show may be set to return. For the last two years, live draws have been condensed into a fifteen-minute slot on BBC One, followed by an episode of one of the longer 45-minute drama series the BBC tend to favour these days. Much of the pageantry that used to go along with the weekly draw was shifted unceremoniously onto the National Lottery's YouTube channel or website, and the delivery of the actual results became more akin to the reading of a weather report before a return to the usual programming of the channel. Now, however, the BBC has put out a press release announcing that the National Lottery will now return to a half-hour draw show, allowing for 'a little more excitement and glamour'. This, the press release suggests, could take the form of a very brief trivia game before the draw, a return to celebrities wishing everyone luck before pressing the all-important button, a chance to showcase musical acts during the show, or some combination of the above. I'm all for a return to the showbiz nature of the nation's most mainstream gambling ring, but it's the shortening of the subsequent timeslot that has my attention. Already, just a day after the BBC's announcement, speculation is rife about what – and who – might be about to fill that second half-hour time slot. Most of the shows the BBC produces these days are designed for a 45-minute or hour-long format, and producers will be understandably reluctant to try to condense comedy, gameshows or drama into such a small space – especially given the National Lottery's occasional tendency to overrun. Pre-recorded shows have come unstuck before when the Camelot machines have jammed or some other calamity has befallen the draw, most notably in 2019 when the initial episode of Season 6 of Sherlock aired without the crucial first three minutes that explained the detective's cunning escape from the previous season's climactic scrape. It's the sort of situation that calls for a steady hand and an almost supernatural ability to adjust to disaster. Who better to take on the challenge than a woman who's had years of practice? Telepathic Tracy, the Mystic Madame, is very much still working her mysterious ways despite her departure from our TV screens – notably in The New Aquarian - and what better way to follow a disappointing lotto result than with the reassurance that this week, your luck will be better, or at the very least predictable? I, for one, predict Madame Tracy's triumphant return to television - and what's more, I welcome it. EDWARD BIGGS

Advertisement, bottom left: [Image Description: A grayscale photo of a warzone, with plumes of smoke. A smiling woman walks away from the destruction; she is in full colour and has artificially-enhanced red hair. Text is overlaid, as transcribed below. End ID.] When the news breaks, my hair doesn’t. Carmine Zugiber. Be bold. Be strong. Be Vibrant. [Image Description: The word Vibrant appears in red and is in a different font, like a logo. This is the case each time it appears. End ID.] Vibrant Flame Red Bottom right: Correction In Andy Sandalphon's column on page 15 of last Saturday's paper (23rd January), he stated that folk music made by an American is Country music. Several readers got in touch to explain that this is not, in fact, the case, and we would like to set the record straight. Country, or country and western, music is a very specific type of folk music, and while often associated with American artists, it is not simply the American version of folk. Furthermore, music must fit specific criteria to be considered country, and Anathema's does not. While country music belongs to the overarching genre of folk, not all folk music is country music, regardless of the nationality of the performer. We apologise sincerely for the mistake; while every effort is made to include only accurate information, errors do occasionally slip through. We regret the misunderstanding, and hope to do better in future. If you notice an error in any of our articles, please let us know as soon as possible by emailing editor@capitalherald.co.uk. We appreciate your help to keep our newspaper as accurate and factual as possible.

[End Transcript]

[thefilmsimps]

Fast & Furious Presents: Hobbs & Shaw (dir. David Leitch)

-Jere Pilapil-

Rewatching this one for our The Vaxxed and the Furious on twitch.tv/filmsimps.

It’s rare that I can actually pinpoint where things go wrong with a movie, but I absolutely can with Hobbs & Shaw, but here it is: Our heroes - Hobbs (Dwayne Johnson), Shaw (Jason Statham) and Hattie (Vanessa Kirby) - concoct a plan to break into the bad guys’ lab. Shaw says they have 45 minutes to complete the mission, at which time a bomb he set will go off. Up to this point, the movie has been laser focused on finding the blerp a derb that will bibbity bip, therefore saving the world.

Once a script introduces a countdown, that’s a Jedi Mind Trick that makes the audience aware of how much time has passed, and how much in-movie time should be left. It’s a shortcut to creating a sense of urgency. The problem with Hobbs & Shaw is that it does this mid-way through the movie, during a scene that logically should be the big action climax. It’s a scene of many escalating setpieces. A sane movie would call it a day. By doing this and somehow continuing on for another 40-plus minutes after the scene is over, it creates a sense that the movie is just dragging along endlessly.

It doesn’t help that this movie is jam-packed with little excursions and side trips Mostly, it’s good stuff: there are some major cameos from professional comedic actors who are better at being funny than the actors in the mainline Fast and Furious entries. By focusing on a trio of main characters (and a villain) rather than a “family” means there’s less to be done to justify taking every character on this adventure. But, it also pitches Hobbs and Shaw as equals, doubling up on exposition scenes to create parallels between the two of them while they hate each other’s guts (didn’t they make nice in F8 of the Furious?). The comedy bits all last just a few beats too long, as though the director trusted the actors to edit their lines. By the midpoint, it feels fair to ask “And we’re going to another location? Still?”

And listen, I know all of the Fast & Furious movies, on some level, are geared toward toxic macho men who have problems expressing emotions, and they just happened to find a way to a wider audience through some wild alchemy that turns irony to sincerity. But the Hobbs/Shaw tandem is terrible: two brutes who hate each other, can’t stop insulting each other, and the longer it goes on (we’re now in the third movie of this), the less fun it is, and the writers seem to run out of insults/threats. Thank God for Vanessa Kirby as Shaw’s sister Hattie, who is excellent as an MI:6 operative infected with a deadly virus (not that one, a fictional one from early 2019). She seems at ease in the spotlight, owning her scenes with more charisma than either of the titular characters. I’m very happy she’s been cast in the next two(!!) Mission: Impossible movies, where she will at least meet nicer men. (Plus, those movies won’t be weirdly insistent that I want to see her kiss Dwayne Johnson, a man with whom she has “friendly coworker” chemistry and nothing more.)

And it’s an action movie! Of course! The action is good, but it’s in a very modern blockbuster/Marvel way where it feels too CGI-reliant. It’s more imaginative and more memorable than anything in the previous Fast and Furious movie, but I miss the ambition of Fasts and Furiouses 5-7. Here, director David Leitch shines as a guy who should have directed a solo Jason Statham movie by now, with solid fight scenes and big ol’ ‘splosions. Nothing here comes even 1/10 of the way to his work directing John Wick, but it’s all handsome with each scene having at least one “Wow! So cool!” Moment that I can remember.

But Hobbs & Shaw mostly suffers by being a spin-off of a bigger franchise, one where Dwayne Johnson is not getting along with the main star. This movie seems poised and ready to continue independently of the main Fast and Furious movies, introducing character after character to varying degrees of memorability, but all being useful for specific things that The Next Adventure might require. Several feel like placeholders where Dom Toretto’s friends might have come in handy. The end result is a movie that is very well done for what it is, but winds up overstuffed by try to build a world from scratched, like a divorcee starting a new family.

7/10

[theghostpinesmusic]

I just posted my write-up on the Brussels "Animal," but I want to keep writing about and listening to Goose for a bit longer, so I'll do a (slightly shorter) post on this "Jive Lee" from the Glasgow show that followed Brussels on the Euro tour.

A brief introduction: "Jive Lee" is one of a trilogy of "Jive" songs from the band, the others being the creatively-named "Jive I" and "Jive II." Frequently, two of these tunes will get paired up on a setlist, while very occasionally, all three will get played at the same show. At the Glasgow show, "Jive I" was played earlier in the first set, "Jive II" was not played at all, and this particularly notable take on "Jive Lee" took place during the middle of the first set.

"Jive I" and "Jive II" are both "traditional" songs in the sense that they have lyrics, verses and choruses, and instrumental sections that are occasionally stretched out into improvised jams. Neither song is really known to be a major jam vehicle for the band, but they both stand, in my opinion at least, as great songs, and I'm always happy to hear either, or both. I'm sure I'll write about notable versions of them at some point, so to keep things short(er) today, I'll leave it at that for now.

"Jive Lee" is the "weird" one of the trilogy because it's essentially just an instrumental. It often follows "I" or "II" immediately and functions as a sort of coda, with its entirety being a "Type I" jam. Occasionally, it deviates from that structure a bit, and in fact it's been getting weirder and weirder throughout 2023, arguably without fully "going Type II." This version stands on its own, apart from either other piece of the trilogy, and it's maybe the strangest version the band has played thus far.

Where the video starts is how the tune usually goes, opening with its typical riff (and, in this case, some extra mustard from Trevor on the bass). Almost immediately, Peter deviates from the structure of the song a bit on the electric piano, and Rick backs him on rhythm guitar. If you're a "Jive Lee" connoisseur, you're already picking up that this is going to be a unique version at this point.

I love the combination of Rick's crunchy tone and Peter's electric organ in these first few minutes. Good stuff.

At about 2:30, Rick takes over soloing while Peter switches to the piano. Arguably, we've sort of re-entered "typical" "Jive Lee" space here for a bit, though that's not a complaint. The band has latched onto a groove and we're still full-steam ahead.

The rainbow lights at 4:00 are pretty great.

We take a quick breather at 5:50, and then Rick and Peter both switch over to a funk space for moment, while Peter leaves the synth on in the background. The funk doesn't last long, though, and Ben switches over to a slow backbeat almost immediately, leading the rest of the band into a more contemplative-sounding jam. I hear Rick almost play the "Bathtub Gin" riff a few times here, but almost certainly not on purpose. On my original watch of this show, here's where I started to get excited: it's the emergence of the ultra-rare Type II "Jive Lee" jam!

Rick is out front here for the first few minutes, but I really dig what both drummers are laying down in the background. Around 9:30, Peter starts playing a repeating pattern on the Vibe, then modulates it up a bit shortly after. This sort of "sample" playing is something he did a ton during a lot of Goose's best jams in 2022, and while I heard enough of it that year that it started to feel a little stale, having it pop up now and again in 2023 is great to hear.

Around 11:50, Rick's tone gets a lot more aggressive, and while the overall structure of the band's jamming doesn't change right away, it feels like we're in transition to something else. Peter starts playing a descending riff on the piano over and over and the lights get more frenetic. By 13:45, Rick is in full-on rock mode. Goose has never, in all my time of listening to them, reached full-on metal mode, but this peak is a lot more aggressive-sounding than usual, and I want to headbang as I'm listening to it again now. Take that as you will.

At 15:30, we fade out of one jam space and into another, propelled by Ben and Jeff changing up the rhythm. There is some great interplay during this fast section between Rick and Trevor, though you have to struggle to listen to the bass, as it's low in the mix in pretty much every single Euro tour recording I've heard (as I've likely complained about before already).

Complaints aside, the transition at 17:10 into the composed ending of "Jive Lee" is seamless, putting an exclamation point on the end of an exceptionally strong and exploratory version.

The video I shared continues with Goose's cover of the NRBQ song "Howard Johnson's Got His Ho-Jo Workin'," which is a rare tune (only played four times since it was debuted in 2020), but since there no extended improv here, I'm not going to write about it in particular. It's a fun cover, listen to it if you want!

[hecate-herself]

Every single prompt I have written?

I think that this is every prompt that I’ve done so far, as of 28/03/2020

1.         “Come to bed with me?”  

2.         “Do you even still love me?”  

3.         “I think you’re bleeding…”    

4.         “Get off my foot!”

“Get your foot out from underneath my foot.”

5.         “Shh, it’s okay, you don’t need to cry.”

6.         “I can’t sleep.”    

7.         “Why did you lie to me?”

8.         “Don’t move, they hit your head really hard.”    

9.         “Have a good day.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

10.      “Do you want a bedtime story?”

11.      “Are you sure that you have enough blankets?”    

12.      “Get out. I am done with you.”    

13.      “That looks broken. You need a doctor.”

14.      “Oh, you can go to hell.”

“Stop threatening me with a good time.”    

15.      “[mama/papa]’s got you.”

16.      “I need a hug. Please?”

17.      “Isn’t it your bedtime?”

“Hypocrite.”

“Come to bed with me then.”

18.      “I love you, but please, shut up.”

19.      “Don’t touch me.”

20.      “I can’t stand the sight of you right now. Get away from me.”

21.      “I said that I never wanted to see you again. Why are you here?”

“I just wanted to help!”

22.      “Please… I am begging you, just open your eyes. Please. You can’t die.”

23.      “I’m not hurt.”

“You are actively bleeding.”

“Oh. So I am.”

24.      “Don’t pass out on me now, we’re nearly home.”

25.      “Isn’t this illegal?”

“Yes, but technically no.”

26.      “Penny for your thoughts?”

“If my thoughts are only worth a penny, I shall keep it to myself.”

27.      “Did you just stab me?”

28.      “…How on earth did you manage to get up there?”

29.      “Put the cookie down, eat your dinner first.”

30.      “I think I can feel them kicking!”

31.      “Are you asleep?”

“Not anymore.”        

32.      “What if I don’t get better? What if I am broken?”        

33.      “That is going to leave a really nasty scar.”          

34.      “Nothing could go wrong, you said. Well guess what? Everything has gone wrong!”    

35.      “Quick, I think the baby is coming!”

36.      “You made me breakfast in bed? What did you do this time?”

37.      “I trusted you.”        

38.      “I don’t… I don’t feel good.”            

39.      “Come any closer and I will hit you with this book. I swear to God!”

40.      “Where did you put your blankie this time.”

41.      “Can you check for monsters under the bed?”

42.      “You broke my heart.”        

43.      “Hey, are you alright?”

“Do I look alright to you?”  

44.      “That best not be the last of the milk… Oh you bastard.”          

45.      “One little shoe. Two little shoes. All ready to go out.”

46.      “It’s just a bad dream. I’ve got you, it’s okay.”        

47.      “I wish that I never had met you.”    

48.      “It’s so cold.”

“You need to hold on a bit longer, you are going to be fine. Just stay awake a little longer.”  

49.      “Roses are red, violets are blue- ow. Fuck you!”      

50.      “They have grown so much, it’s hard to believe how little they used to be.”

51.      “Have you stolen my shirt?”  

52.      “Stop lying to me!”    

53.      “I can’t breathe.”        

54.      “Okay, start from the beginning, you lost me right after you said that you punched someone.”

“That was the first thing that I said.”

55.      “I want another baby.”

56.      “I never want you to feel like you are alone.”            

57.      “You are the worst mistake I have ever made.”        

58.      “Where am I?”            

“Are you day drinking?”

“It’s apple juice, not whiskey.”        

59.      “Say goodbye to mama and papa, they’ll be back soon.”

60.      “Kiss me.”

61.      “You loved me!”

“Loved. Past tense.”        

62.      “Don’t go. Please. I can’t lose you.”        

63.      “Do you pinky promise?”

“What are you? Five?”    

64.      “Stomach bug?”

“No, morning sickness.”

65.      “I feel safe in your arms.”

66.      “Am I just a game to you?”          

67.      “I’ve got you, you are going to be okay.”            

68.      “Lunch?”

“It’s half seven. In the evening.”

“Dinner then?”    

69.      “It could be worse?”

“They got jam everywhere!”

70.      “I dreamed about you last night. I woke up happy.”

71.      “Stop pretending to care.”            

72.      “Please tell me that isn’t all your blood.”

73.      “What are you reading?”  

74.      “You really are your [mother/father]’s child.”

75.      “I was thinking, you, me, the bottle of wine in the kitchen and sitting in front of the fire. Thoughts?”

“Yes please.”

76.      “You hurt me!”          

77.      “You’re burning up.”

78.      “I don’t mean to alarm you, but the spider in the shower is frankly massive.”    

79.      “So… the baby is fine, I want you to know that first, they are absolutely fine.”

“What did you do?”

80.      “Thank you for looking after me.”

“For you I would do anything.”    

81.      “Wouldn’t you rather be with [him/her/them]?”

82.      “I think you need to see a doctor.”

83.      “You didn’t see anything.”

“Yes, I did. I saw all of it.”    

84.      “They won’t stop crying and, in a minute, I think I am going to start crying too.”

85.      “Are you wearing a new lip balm? It tastes really good.”            

86.      “You ripped my heart to pieces. Did it even hurt when you left?”  

87.      “It’s just a bit of blood. I’m fine.”  

88.      “I will make dinner if you don’t speak for the rest of the afternoon.”  

89.      “Stop wiggling! I need to get you changed!”

90.      “Do you have a reason to get out of bed today? Let’s just stay here as long as we can.”    

91.      “Did you ever love me, or was it just an act?”      

92.      “It’s just a nightmare. I’ve got you.”          

93.      “Can I adopt the stray cat out in the street?”

“Do you want fleas? Because that is how you get fleas.”          

94.      “You are perfect, my little [pet name].”

95.      “Stop smiling at me like that, I am trying to concentrate.”        

96.      “I feel like no one could ever love me.”    

97.      “Take a deep breath.”

“It hurts.”

“I know, but you have to breath.”  

98.      “Do we have any cookies in? No? I’m making cookies.”

99.      “Did you have a bad dream?”

“Uh huh.”

“Come on, get into bed with us, you can sleep in bed with us tonight.”

100.  “Can I kiss you?”      

101.  “Leave me alone. I don’t want to talk to anyone right now.”    

102.  “You’re going to be okay, just breath. Oh god… is that bone?”

103.  “What would you do if I said that I may have burnt the dinner?”            

104.  “Take a break. I’ll stay up with them, you need some sleep.”

105.  “Yes, you look great in my shirt. But I kind of need it back.”            

106.  “Go ahead, leave, I am not going to stop you.”  

107.  “That hit hard, are you okay?”      

108.  “The amount of alcohol I am going to need to forget this is going to kill me.”

109.  “How did you get pen that high up the wall?”

110.  “I am madly in love with you.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have a clue.”      

111.  “You’ll come crawling back to me.”

“Never.”  

112.  “Please breath, please… oh god.”  

113.  “I may have… mildly panicked?”

“You shot at me!”          

114.  “Please don’t vomit on me. Please don’t vomit on me. Please don’t… You vomited on me.”

115.  “Kiss me. Now.”        

116.  “Please don’t say that, I don’t think I can take it.”          

117.  “Did you get shot?”  

118.  “You drank my coffee? Why must you hurt me in this way?”          

119.  “How many coffees is that?”

“You try having a toddler who refuses to go to bed.”

120.  “May I have this dance?”    

121.  “Fuck off and fall off a cliff.”          

122.  “Don’t you dare die on me, you promised me!”  

123.  “What do you mean you aren’t interested in me, it’s me!”        

124.  “It’s your bedtime.”

“Can I have a story?”

“I just read you a story.”

“’nother story?”

125.  “Hold me, please?”  

126.  “I’d have stayed, if you had asked me to.”          

127.  “It hurts.”

“I know, it is going to be okay, I promise.”

“It burns, please… Make it stop.”  

128.  “Hungry?”

“Depends on if you are cooking or we are going out.”    

129.  “I just put them down for a nap. We probably have an hour of peace.”

130.  “Did you make me breakfast in bed? I think that I love you.”    

131.  “I’m sorry, but I didn’t have a choice.”

“There’s always a choice!”  

132.  “Your nose is bleeding.”      

133.  “No, I am not playing spin the bottle with you.”

“But it will be fun!”

“There are only two people here!”

134.  “Fuck.”

“Fuck!”

“No. Don’t repeat that. It’s a naughty word.”

“Fuck.”

135.  “Happy birthday!”    

136.  “After everything you put me through, you come here and ask for my help? How dare you!”          

137.  “Hey, you passed out, stay laying down for a bit longer.”          

138.  “Did you just get dragged through a bush, or are you always this messy?”

“I couldn’t find a comb.”

139.  “If the kid can nap, am I allowed to as well?”

140.  “Look up. Mistletoe.”          

141.  “Bite me.”      

142.  “How did I get here?”

“I had to carry you. You hit your head really hard.”        

143.  “How do you feel about killing spiders?”

“Where is it?”            

144.  “When mummy and daddy love each other very much…”

145.  “Don’t you just look absolutely stunning?”

“You are biased.”

“I am your partner, I am allowed to be.”

146.  “I hate you so much.”

“I know. I deserve it.”          

147.  “I’m calling the doctor.”

“I am fine.”

“You really aren’t.”  

148.  “Why are you on the floor? Did you fall?”

“Would you believe me if I said no?”        

149.  “Can you tidy your toys away please? Preferably before I break my neck tripping over a stuffed turtle.”

150.  “Did you sleep last night? At all?”

“God no, what do you take me for?”    

151.  “Get out!”

“Please let me explain.”

“Out!”  

152.  “it could be worse.”

“You aren’t the one bleeding.”

“Look, you are still alive. Stop whining.”  

153.  “Pass me that would you- no, no the other one. On your left. No… your other left.”

154.  “Hush little baby don’t say a word, mummy has a headache and your crying hurts.”

155.  “You and me, together. We’re unbeatable. We can go against all odds and come out on top.”

156.  “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Well-“

“That was rhetorical.”    

157.  “Are you bleeding?”

“We don’t have time to deal with it. I’ll be fine.”

158.  “Is this heaven?”

“Well, judging by your presence here, hell.”

“Oh. So I am dead?”        

159.  “Is it wrong for me to wish that they never grow up and I can keep my baby forever?”

“I kind of want that too.”

160.  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I am just… speechless. You look beautiful.”        

161.  “Don’t touch me!”          

162.  “Walk it off.”

“I don’t know if I can walk.”      

163.  “Alright, which one of you idiots left your shoes out for me to trip over again?”  

164.  “Open wide. Come on, eat your dinner!”

“It probably tastes awful.”

“It doesn’t- okay. No, it is pretty bad.”

165.  “I’ve had nightmares. That was like a living hell.”

166.  “Did you sleep well?”

“Only because you were with me.”

167.  “Love me!”

“I love you. Now shut up and go to sleep.”

168.  “Don’t move. The spider is on your shoulder.”

169.  “How many stitches?”

“Eight. But I think I just ripped two of them out.”

170.  “Can I sleep in here? I don’t like the storm.”

“Scared of a little thunder?”

171.  “You’re dripping blood everywhere.”

“Sorry, is there a place you’d prefer I stand and bleed?”

“The bathroom. It’s easier to clean up.”

172.  “Let’s play a game.”

“Oh no, you are a cheat. I’m not playing against you.”

173.  “Bite me.”

“Have you ever said that and been bitten?”

“More times than I’d like to admit.”

174.  “Pour us a drink would you? It’s been a long day.”

“Whiskey, brandy, wine or water?”

“If you pour me a glass of water I may actually leave you.”

175.  “Get out the shower! You’ve been in there for hours!”

176.  “I’ll get the first aid kit.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re a liar. Sit down and let me patch you up.”

177.  “Mama.”

“Did they just… Was that their first word?

178.  "I’m going to the shops. Needs anything?”

“A will to live. And coffee.”

“A will to live sounds expensive. I’ve got a tenner.”

“Coffee and chocolate then. Close enough.”

179.  “Shit it’s on fire.”

“What did you do?!”

180.  “How’s the baby doing?”

“They won’t stop crawling underneath the bed.”

181.  “How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been stabbed.”

“Have… Have you been stabbed?”

“A little bit.”

182.  “Why are you in a tree?”

“Why aren’t you in a tree?”

“Are you stuck?”

183.  “Let’s get a pet.”

“There’s a spider in the kitchen. That’ll do.”

184.  “What time is it?”

“Way too early.”

185.  “Bed time.”

“I’m an adult.”

“An adult who has been up for nearly thirty six hours, go to bed. Before I drag you up there myself.”

186.  “Did you have a good dream?”

“Yeah, you were there.”

187.  “What did you do this time?”

“What makes you think I did something?”

“The black eye is a bit of a give away.”

188.  “I’m begging you. Please. Please. Just wake up. I need you to wake up. I can’t be without you. Wake up, please.”

189.  “What did you do to [her/him]? Tell me!”

190.  “I’m actually going to smack you in a minute.”

“Go for it.”

191.  “What are you doing?”

“Wasting time.”

192.  “You’re bleeding.”

“I know.”

193.  “This is going to really hurt.”

“I know, just do it.”

194.  “Let’s just get really drunk.”

“Bad day?”

“Bad doesn’t cover it. We have wine in, right?”

195.  “Tuck me into bed?”

“You are an adult.”

“So?”

196.  “Kiss me, please?”

“Nah.”

“Fine, I will kiss someone else.”

“No, don’t do that!”

197.  “Come to bed. I sleep better with you there.”

198.  “It would be better if you just forgot me.”

199.  “I don’t want to talk about it, just leave me alone.”

200.  “I love you.”

“But I don’t love you.”

201.  “Where did you get that scar from?

202.  “Hold still, I think it’s broken, I can set it, but this will really hurt.”

203.  “I haven’t slept in days. The nightmares won’t stop.”

204.  “Wake up, I think someone else is here.”

205.  “One drink, two drink, three drink, floor!”

206.  “How is the hangover?”

“You can great straight to hell, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred pounds.”

207.  “I love mummy.”

“What about me?”

“Just mummy.”

208.  “Your brat keeps kicking me in the kidney.”

“How come you say they’re mine whenever they are doing that?”

209.  “First day of school, are we excited?”

“No.”

210.  “Stay in bed a little longer. It is warm here.”

“Alright, five more minutes, then I have to get up.”          

211.  “I want to hate you, I really do. You repulse me. So why can’t I stay away from you?”              

212.  “Does it hurt here?”

“Everywhere hurts.”      

213.  “Are you cheating?”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because you cannot have three aces when I have two.”

214.  “They’re asleep. We finally have some time to… and you are already asleep.”

215.  “How do you always look so kissable?”    

216.  “How could you do it? To me?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think sorry is going to fix this.”    

217.  “Oh god I think I am going to throw up.”

218.  “Cup of coffee?”

“God?”

“I… I don’t think I am.”  

219.  “Is… Is it mine?”

“Bastard, of course it’s yours!”

220.  “I just want to steal you away to somewhere private and have my wa- oh! I didn’t see you there.”

“I gathered.”      

221.  “I wish that I had never loved you.”        

222.  “I can’t stop the bleeding. Please, I need help.”

223.  “Ow shit!”

“Language.”

“Ow Merde!”

224.  “I go away for six months and I come home, and you have a baby.”

225.  “Will you be my Valentine?”

226.  “I got you a gift.”

“Why?”

“It’s Valentines day today?”

227.  “A candlelit dinner?”

“Anything for you my dear.”

228.  “Why are there roses all over the bed?”

“Valentines day?”

“You can tidy that mess up.”

229.  “I made dinner reservations.”

“So did I. Surprise?”

230.  “Supri- oh shit you’re not [insert character name].”

“Oh god! What the hell? Where are your clothes?”

231.  “There are flowers on the doorstep.”

“Who from?”

“I think that you have a secret admirer.”

232.  “I guess that you could say that I am a hopeless romantic.”

“I would have just stopped at hopeless.”

233.  “I love you.”

“I know. No, I’m just joking! I love you too!”

234.  “Happy Valentines day.”

“I didn’t think we would do anything for it.”

“I changed my mind, I wanted to treat you.”

235.  “You. Me. Quarantined for two weeks. Anything could happen.”

“Yeah. I may kill you. Or we may both get sick.”

236.  “You know, in thirteen years, we could get a quaranteen out of this.”  

“I think that I would rather just get sick. Thanks though.”

237.  “You have quite a high temperature.”

“Do… Does that mean you think I’m hot?”

“And you are clearly delirious.”

238.  “You are coughing an awful lot, you really should be in bed.”

239.  “We should do what they did in Edinburgh.”

“Which was?”

“Anyone who was sick got bricked into their homes and left to die.”

“Oh… No, we aren’t doing that.”

240.  “We are running out of milk.”

“God, I hate black coffee.”

“Maybe someone shouldn’t have got sick then?”

241.  “Is this necessary?”

“You sneezed. You get locked away.”

242.  “If you cough on me, I will end you.”

243.  “If this kills us, I am glad that I got to spend my last few days with you.”

“It’s a bloody cold.”

244.  “I wonder what the world will be like when we can go outside again.”

“It’s two weeks, not two decades.”

245.  “I made you some tea.”

“Thank you.”

“But I am not coming into your room, I’ll leave it out here.”

246.  “I made you some soup. Open your mouth, I just want to check your temperature first.”

247.  “I just want… chocolate.”

“We have three days left. Then you can eat so much chocolate that you are sick.”

“That is the plan.”

248.  “I have nothing to read.”

“What about those books on your bedside table?”

“I’ve been inside for ten days. I’ve finished them.”

249.  “I can’t believe that I want to be exercising right now. Anything that isn’t these same four walls for another week.”

250.  “I am so bored. I would do anything right now.”

“Anything?”

“Anything but you.”

251.  “How many rounds of snap have we played?”

“Um… Thirty-six. It’s not my fault you’re bad at any other card game.”

252.  “How long will we be inside for?”

“Fourteen days.”

“This isn’t enough coffee.”

253.  “I swear there is mistletoe everywhere.”

254.  “Close your eyes. I want to surprise you.”

“I hate surprises.”

“You’ll like this one.”

255.  “Mince pie?”

“Raisons disgust me.”

“I made them myself.”

“I suppose that it couldn’t hurt to try one.”

256.  “You are awful with wrapping paper.”

“I nearly gave up and just wrapped myself up instead.”

257.  “What are you doing?”

“Tying a ribbon around you.”

“Why?”

“You’re a gift.”

258.  “Do you think you can survive Christmas with my parents?”

“Can you?”

“We are going to need a lot of alcohol.”

259.  “I think it’s snowing.”

“I think I am not leaving the house today.”

260.  “We need hot chocolate, cream and marshmallows.”

261.  “We should go ice skating.”

“I don’t know how to skate.”

“That’s fine, I could do with a good laugh.”

262.  “You forgot to get them a present, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t realise that we were actually doing anything for Christmas!”

“A fool’s error.”

263.  “Do I get a kiss at midnight?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“If I am still awake. And sober.”

264.  “I think that I am on the naughty list.”

“Oh yes, you definitely are.”

[freewheelshippin]

FIC: “What Do I Call You?”

There was something so honest about how she hyped the crowd, leaned so forward she seemed like she might leap into a crowdwalk, pointing at her ear until the whole crowd bellowed in their own guttoral harmony. And she smiled so much at her crewmates -- Ranmaru realized he was smiling, too, while she played guitar and accompanied the others’ solos, only breaking from her deep sway with the music to look at them with brightness and joy in her eyes. 

In those moments, Ranmaru understood something he hadn’t before, but it also made him realize that the hunger in him wasn’t being sated so much as it was deepening. 

So! I had some fun writing for the roleswap AU, where I’m the punk rock idol and Ranmaru’s the freelance artist getting some juice from all the love and music.

Not much by ways of content warnings -- lots of eating, a fair amount of alcohol, too, and you know, we utter the word ‘fuck’ a few times.  

Ranmaru swore as he dropped the case on his toe. He could tell immediately that this was one of those jammed toes that would hurt for days from the bruising, especially when he still had half of the city to cross before he could get back home. And what was home? His shithole apartment and limping around while he went on his rounds for the local cats? 

At least the train was empty enough he could sit alone, even comfortably with all his equipment. He was still cross that the live house didn’t have it themselves. Weren’t they professionals? Stupid. The show had sucked, too, with the band spending more time fucking around then putting on the damn show they were paid for, that their fans came out to see, that Ranmaru had put such care into getting the tech just right to enhance. And that one jackass trying to throw hands with anyone in the crowd. Nobody on staff did a fucking thing to kick him out until Ranmaru dragged him out himself, and now he had a black eye and the stink of shitty beer and stale cigarette smoke hanging on him to show for it.

Thirty minutes ‘til his stop. He could listen to some music to smooth over this shitty...everything. He slipped his headphones on, ready to mute the rest of the world and stop anyone from entering his. 

Reiji (12:42 AM) : Iiiiiiiiiit’s dropped!!!!!

What, your balls, Ranmaru thought ruefully to himself, unconsciously clicking his tongue in annoyance. He moved his finger to swipe and mute him for … a week, maybe, from how shitty he was feeling right now, but Reiji was too fast. The link appeared, and Ranmaru hit it, if only to have something concrete to be annoyed with him for. 

It was a preview for a new PV. That’s right. It was technically tomorrow already, the day this content was due, but this was still early. Reiji must have found a leak. Lucky he was such an otaku, Ranmaru never had to go hunting for sketchy files or talk with weirdos he knew he wouldn’t be able to level with outside of the crowd. There was a long windup before the music even started playing, the visuals building dramatic lighting and obscuring anything but their silhouettes, but there was the low fuzz of an amp before it all hit at once. 

Ranmaru didn’t want to admit that his eyes darted right to that flash of turquoise as the lights came up in the PV, because it would mean that he might’ve smiled at just the sight of her. No, it had to be the sound. That clean, driving guitar, that strong bass, it felt like Deep Purple and Iron Maiden, but pushed to be danceable and idol-friendly with synth and a digital drumkit beat Ranmaru could vaguely recognize parts of.  

His toe and face didn’t stop hurting and body didn’t stop aching, but he stopped feeling so mad about it for the minute he watched and listened. There was professional polish there he’d missed seeing at the shitshow that was tonight’s gig, but there was still that rawness there of a good, irreplaceable concert. Something less precise than other idol groups’ practiced, saccharine perfection, but Ranmaru found it more welcoming than any other group he’d seen or worked with. 

The camera cut to a focus shot. Her hair was as bright as ever, styled like she were one of those princely girls from anime, just somehow made real, and she turned to look right at him-- 

Reiji (12:44 AM) : Ranran~~ how are you liking your girlfriend in this one :3c 

Ranmaru actually growled a little. He only realized he had been smiling because of how intensely he frowned at that bastard, barging into his texts --  

Ranmaru (12:44 AM): shut the fuck up and let me watch it. don’t call her that   

Reiji (12:44 AM): Isn’t she doing all the things you like??? 

Reiji (12:45 AM): So handsome! So rock! So passionate!

Reiji (12:45 AM): Feels tailor made for you ;o 

Ranmaru (12:45 AM): I told you to shut the fuck up. go text natsuki if you have to annoy someone

Reiji (12:46 AM): Aww Ranran did the show go bad? :(

Reiji (12:46 AM): But I already did, you know! And I’ve already gotten twice as many sparkly sticker replies than texts you’ve sent me in the past week!!! 

(He had to admit he laughed a little at that. Reiji was probably getting another onslaught as he was typing, his own push notifications as clogged as he was making Ranmaru’s.) 

Ranmaru (12:47 AM): I’m muting notifs since you won’t learn how to fucking shut up 

Reiji (12:47 AM): ohhhh she’s getting ranran’s full attention~! You must really like this preview, huh? I guess it’s true love 

Ranmaru (12:48 AM): WILL YOU SHUT UP ALREADY   

Reiji (12:48 AM): You’re right, I should, I should be listening for wedding bells! 

Ranmaru (12:48 AM): go make out with your gacha girlfriend body pillow and leave me alone 

Ranmaru (12:49 AM): hypocrite 

He finally muted all his notifications. An hour should be enough to ride it out, he thought as he settled a little into the hard plastic of the seat, restarting the video. The anger from the past couple hours melted away as he watched, uninterrupted, and replayed it with eyes closed as the sound flowed in through his headphones and released the tension in his body bit by bit. 

--- 

The hour ran out when Ranmaru was squatting over an especially runty kitten, eating noisily while the others watched from a couple feet away. Why stray cats could understand him better than anyone else when he said to piss off, he’d never know. He swiped around to turn his notifications back off for the rest of the night before pocketing his phone again. 

“...Oi. Slow down.” He pulled the plate of food away from the kitten. It shook with hiccups as it watched carefully, almost fearfully, before it pounced back onto the food, gobbling it down like it was going to be its last meal. Ranmaru sighed but couldn’t blame the little thing. He dumped out the last of the food, gave the rest of the cats one last look as he stood up to walk away, and he heard the frenzied scratch of their claws against the pavement as they swarmed the plates of food. 

 Maybe it wasn’t so much they understood him as he understood them. To hunger like that, both literally and for something less physical but just as carnal.  

He plugged his headphones back in, listening to the leaked preview a few more times on his way back to the apartment. 

--

He liked this group to begin with mostly because of her. She dressed, talked, and acted more like someone from a band than an idol, and something about that felt weirdly familiar and good. The rest of the group were more unique than a lot of other idols -- you’d expect that from a unit made up of a pack of ragtag international recruits, sure, but it was refreshing how they’d made everything about their presence wholly their own. 

Hers just made the most sense to him. The brashness, the way she talked about music, the way she performed, it all felt like someone who was chasing and understood the same things he did. She even said her music was about giving people power in an interview Reiji’d dug up for him. 

“Beyond language, or the way words reach people,” she’d said in decent but definitely non-native Japanese; she’d grown up some in Okinawa while her family lived on the military base, but mostly shuttled between America and Bangkok before getting recruited by chance here. “I want to give everyone a home that makes them feel strong through my music.” 

He wondered, dimly, as he took a hot shower and stared down at his swollen red toe, if he felt drawn to the group because he wanted that for himself, or because it reminded him why he kept picking up jobs that made him as angry as tonight’s did. 

He went to bed that night with an ice pack balanced on his swollen eye, the frustration more or less passed as he listened to the classic bands that new song reminded him of. 

--- 

He woke up to his phone buzzing, the hold on push notifications finally expired, and he murmured in bewilderment at just how many there were. Not just from Reiji, but Natsuki, too. 

Rather than try and parse whatever the hell happened while he was asleep, Ranmaru just went into the group chat well after he’d gotten himself breakfast. 

Ranmaru (9:28 AM): what the hell happened last night that you had to blow up my phone 

Natsuki (9:30 AM): Maru-chan-senpai! Ah! You’re alive!!!! 

Ranmaru (9:31 AM): I just went to bed is all 

(“Why the hell are you calling me ‘senpai’?” Ranmaru had asked him, and Natsuki had looked at him with those big dopey eyes and earnestly said since he’d been a fan longer, he was naturally Natsuki’s senpai, and any protest Ranmaru made never stuck.) 

Reiji supplied a link without any fanfare, introduction, or goofy dramatics, which almost startled Ranmaru. 

Notice (posted by Ootori Eiichi x/xx/xx): 

We are currently seeking an emergency replacement sound/stage technician for performances at the following dates and locations. Inquire immediately. [PAID] 

Ranmaru stared at the listing, barely processing the lurch in his stomach that came from just reading it. It was for them. That act. The debut mini-tour for that new single. It’d take rearranging his sound editing queue and massaging some deadlines, but he could feasibly make all of those dates and times.

He thought for a moment of doing that sound check, and seeing for himself the electric energy of that live. Of working with that group whose respect for their audience he personally felt, of watching her prepare, having to talk directly to her as she tuned her guitar....

There was the very real possibility that it’d prove everything he believed about them - about her, really, that ethos he was drawn to - was just smoke and mirrors, too. 

Natsuki (9:35 AM): Can you do it, Maru-chan-senpai? 

Reiji (9:36 AM): Ranran, you have to do it. 

Ranmaru (9:36 AM): this is just a listing, just because I ask doesn’t mean it’ll go through 

There was a long pause, where everyone went on and off typing, never actually saying anything, and he frowned. 

Ranmaru (9:40 AM): can you all just fucking say what you’re thinking already 

Natsuki (9:42 AM): You really love their magic and energy, I just wanted to say I hope you do it and get it because your heart wants it! 

Reiji (9:45 AM): Yes, Nacchan, you said it! Ranran, I’ll give you all the free bento you need to keep your tummy full to go do this! 

Ranmaru (9:45 AM): don’t fucking do that, reiji, you’ll just piss of your sister. I’ll buy them myself

Ranmaru (9:45 AM): assuming I even do this 

Reiji (9:46 AM): I really think you should. 

Reiji (9:46 AM): Not because we want the insider scoop. But because when’s the last time you had fun at a live you worked? 

Ranmaru could curse Reiji where he stood. Whenever he stopped fucking around and got to his point, it was always a good one. 

---

He got the job, somehow, after a little emailing back-and-forth and negotiating the contract. Now he was on a train to Yokohama for the first gig, his case packed full, his backpack stuffed with supplies for a week. Comping travel, hotel, and meals was enough to take the job, even if it paid like ass, but it didn’t. The contract was actually pretty decent. They -- or, well, at least that Ootori guy -- were upfront that he’d be worked hard, the hours were going to be long, and there wasn’t going to be much room for rest or leisure. But the pay was good. Enough that if he had a dryspell of jobs afterwards, he’d be okay for longer than usual. 

It was worth it for other reasons, though, he thought to himself, stuffing spare merch he’d gotten in blindbags (and a couple other last-minute buys he didn’t tell the others about) into a bottom corner of his suitcase. None of it was of her, none of it for him. Something felt unprofessional spending this job acting like a fan, but at least there wasn’t any harm grabbing some signatures for friends who never made it to meet-and-greets. 

The single was out properly, now, and so was the PV. There was a section of it he especially liked and had gotten into the habit of watching on train rides, where she broke out of the dance routine to put her arms around her teammates, grin a dumb grin, and kick her legs high. It cut to a different shot of the group in different costumes but perfect sync, and when it cut back to that first shot, she stumbled and fell right on her ass, dragging the others down with her. Still grinning stupidly, and singing through it all. 

She didn’t take many vocal solos. She only had one line in this song to herself, and she was singing with the whole group for this shot. He read in an interview she wasn’t happy with the tone quality of her voice yet -- it needed to be richer, and she still needed plenty of training before it reached what her teammates and audience deserved. 

Ranmaru told himself, as the train was minutes away from the station, that this had to be the last time he watched this video and listened to the song like this. At least for the duration of this job. Every time he watched that shot, as she kept singing and the rest of the group tumbled down with her with the same dumb grin she wore, he knew in his gut the voice she sang in must’ve sounded like the soul of rock. Even if that gesture were directed and performed, there was still something genuine there that reminded him of those moments at concerts that convinced him to walk the path he did. 

Maybe he’d get to see it live. Maybe he wouldn’t. But he had to stop imagining it. She - this whole group, rather - was about to become real, and whether or not everything he imagined would turn out to just be something he made up to deal with his shit, he had a job to do. 

------------------------------------

He had a chance to leave his clothes and belongings in the hotel before heading to the live house. Ranmaru was unsure why this Ootori guy had picked him. He didn’t have an exactly long resume with idol shows, but then again, this was a group that debuted without any typical idol sound. There wasn’t any gimmick to them (Ranmaru wouldn’t call being made up of foreigners much of a gimmick when it came to the music), and they weren’t afraid of reaching into all sorts of genres he more typically worked with. 

Right as he got to the live house, his phone rumbled with back-to-back notifications. 

Reiji (5:48 PM): Ranran~!!! Ganbarimachochho from us! 

Ranmaru wouldn’t deign the attached selfie with a response right now (he was about to work, after all), but he felt himself suppressing a smile. Reiji was sticking his tongue out and making a victory sign, Natsuki further in the background, half-buried in stuffed animals and doing the same. They were going to be streaming the event for special-tier fanclub members like REIJI, which Ranmaru had always harangued him for. If he was a fan, wasn’t it enough to just cheer their hearts out live, enjoy their music, buy a CD and shirt, and feel the energy they had to give that way? 

(He still pored over the behind-the-scenes and advance material Reiji forwarded to him and Natsuki regardless. Sometimes he translated the English from their social media accounts, even. It was satisfying, as stupid as it felt sometimes, to do those little things in between the real shows.) 

He’d never been to the live house before, but it had the same vibes as so many others he’d been to. He found the back entrance effortlessly, where a man with glasses almost took him by surprise. 

“Kurosaki?” he asked. His gaze felt just as intense as all the other communication they’d had over e-mail. 

“Ootori,” he grunted back. 

“You’re early,” Eiichi replied, grinning at Ranmaru. Not that it surprised him in the slightest, but it made him look less approachable and instead even more intense. “Good. I like that in a recruit.” 

Ranmaru gritted his teeth quietly. This guy was going to be an absolute bastard, he could feel it, but at least he seemed like he knew how to run a show. “Don’t say that like I joined your agency. Tell me where the group’s at with setup, and I’ll get started.” 

 Eiichi’s eyes glinted from behind his glasses. He looked too satisfied with himself for Ranmaru’s taste. “I liked how you didn’t beat around the bush when you reached out for the job, and it’s good to see you hold to it. They’re rehearsing in the space, but we still have equipment to unload and cues to sync. You read the notes I sent you, I trust.” 

“All forty fuckin’ pages of it.” Ranmaru left out that he’d actually found it pretty impressive, appreciating the thoroughness and ambition of the show for a smaller group and venue. “Are we going to stand around shooting the shit or are we going to get started working on them?” 

Eiichi laughed at that. Ranmaru wasn’t sure if it pissed him off or made him feel eager to get to work. 

“This way,” he said, showing him to a van stuffed full of equipment. 

------ 

Ranmaru went straight to the live house staff to start doing his work. The master controls were kept in a little room that overlooked the stage. His gut flipped when he first saw them all, rehearsing some specific-looking choreography that needed to adjust to a new stage.  He wasn’t about to let that interrupt work. This was just like any other job, except he liked the performers a whole lot more, and things progressed like any other job. Until she looked dead at him from the stage, calling out. 

“Heeeeey,” she said. “Scuse me, are you the new tech guy?” 

“Yeah.” Ranmaru forced the feeling rising in his throat back down (as much as he could with sheer willpower, anyway). “Whaddya want?” 

“I just wanted to ask your name! We gotta call you something!” 

“Ranmaru,” he answered, hoping dearly that whatever he felt burning on his face was hidden by the dim lighting. 

“Cool, OK. Ranmaru-san,” she continued cheerfully. Ranmaru felt his chest tighten as he heard his name on her lips. “Are we queued up enough that we can do this number with music?” 

“This is the one for the new single, right,” he called back. He took a look at the levels, gain, and so forth as they were and instinctively nudged the knobs where the countless plays of that new song told him to. He’d imagined the vision of its stage presence for weeks. “I’m gonna test out some different settings for the levels ‘n stuff while you do that.” 

She made an expression of surprise as it came on. Delight, even, as she rode out into the following beats. Ranmaru couldn’t help crooking into his own smile, satisfied his know-how just helped that vision become a little bit brighter. She flashed him a thumbs up, then a gesture to pause, still grinning. 

“Can we take it from the top? Five, six, seven, eight---” 

-------- 

Ranmaru had never felt this sort of contradiction. She was restringing her acoustic guitar, from steel to nylon strings, as she hummed and practiced segments of songs, and Ranmaru was adjusting amplifiers and other equipment on the stage nearby. His head swam with the thought and excitement they were sharing the same stage, even just as a tech and pre-show performer, but approaching her felt like being both sides of a magnet at once. 

But that push and pull gave way, eventually, as the guitar finished being re-strung and tuned, and the humming turned into full-on singing. Ranmaru fought desperately to make sure he wasn’t just confirming what he’d already imagined, to just appreciate her live voice on its own merits and flaws. But he could feel in his chest that that character, that quality he’d responded so much to was there, that even with some lacking technical skill, there was still a rich tone color you could only get with passion and the spirit for rock. 

“You doing any solos tonight?” he asked in English. 

“Hm?” She looked caught by surprise. 

Ranmaru answered, already anticipating the question. “I’m half-American. I speak it fluently enough.” 

“Well, shit,” she said with a grin. “That’s convenient for us. I mean, I don’t mind Japanese if it’s easier…” 

“‘Sfine. Do what you want. I won’t complain about the practice, though.” 

She chuckled. “Man, maybe losing our usual guy from the agency was a stroke of good luck.” 

Ranmaru laughed challengingly. “Say that after the show goes well. And you still haven’t answered my question.” 

“Oh, uh. Right. Not really? Why do you ask?” 

“Why not?” 

She took a moment and laughed brightly in reply. Ranmaru could practically hear the insecurity she was covering up. 

“‘Cuz we’re an idol group.” 

Ranmaru gestured and murmured in vague acknowledgement. “You still have less solo lines than everyone else.” 

“Oh, do I,” she replied flatly, going back to her guitar, trimming overhanging strings. “I guess you would know, now that you’ve gotta manage all our sound.” 

“I just think it’s stupid you’ve clearly got your own voice but can’t think of sharing it without hiding behind everyone else’s.” 

She looked up at him incredulously. “Ranmaru-san, right?” 

“...Just call me Ranmaru.” 

“Alright, Ranmaru.” She looked at him again. Somehow when she looked at him dead-on this time, nothing went to mush inside of him. “Don’t fucking talk to me like our group voice isn’t the backbone of everything we’re trying to do.” 

“Nothing’s wrong with your group voice,” he shot back, getting heated. “It’s good. I can feel the soul behind it all, even when you’re rehearsing.” 

“So why are you fucking complaining?” She was still smiling, laying cheer and energy over her growing frustration. “Is there something you wanna say to me about my crew’s voices?” 

“They’re fine!” he barked back, frustrated she wasn’t getting his point. “This isn’t about them! You have something your audience is gonna be lit on fire hearing more of, that’s all!”  

Some eyes were starting to fall on them, but Ranmaru could barely notice them over the way her chest rose sharply and her expression became inscrutible. 

“...how about,” she said, speaking slowly as she deliberately, diplomatically pulled out her words, switching back to Japanese. “You save any notes you have for after the show.” 

“......Sure.” His stomach flipped again, more intensely and more painfully than the last few times. He went back to fussing with the amp, and she laid the pliers she’d trimmed her strings with on it before heading backstage until the show started. 

--- 

The show was electric. Ranmaru couldn’t say he was the right audience for most idol groups -- not so much out of distaste as much as incompatibility, he guessed. The way Reiji and Natsuki would lose their minds over their favorites’ cheerful cuteness or the kindness in their voices, Ranmaru wouldn’t. The fanatical, cult-of-personality devotion some other idols could curate with otaku-types, he didn’t connect with, either. What spoke to him was passion, backed by steely sounds and the sweat behind them; the excitement and fervor of rock and a crowd stinking of sweat; how well you could make someone scream themselves hoarse for that one, shining moment without any care for how sore they’d feel the next morning. 

Maybe it was the adrenaline from earlier, but when he could look away from the tech, he felt that here, too. There was no drum or bass player onstage, but he could still feel the beat thrum through his chest and rumble through his bones until his breath quickened, like he were jumping and dancing with the crowd. There was joy in their teamwork. In how they shaped their bodies together in song and in voice, and pushing and pulling the spotlight until it was something brighter, something shared and tangible between them and the audience.

His eyes fell on her. What should he call her? She had a stage name in Thai, but she was open that wasn’t her given name or anything friends and family called her. “Aroon” was just something she picked so she could wear her heritage proudly. It meant ‘dawn,’ it sounded cooler, more idol-ish than her Western name, which wasn’t a secret, by any means, but he heard her called by so many versions of it, none felt real. 

It only felt so weird because seeing her onstage, he felt far beyond any confirmation bias he could’ve had that the person he’d seen in the PV’s was every bit as real as he’d hoped. He saw someone who didn’t just fit on stage, but relished and grew like a plant in the hot lights burning down on them. There was something so honest about how she hyped the crowd, leaned so forward she seemed like she might leap into a crowdwalk, pointing at her ear until the whole crowd bellowed in their own guttoral harmony. And she smiled so much at her crewmates -- Ranmaru realized he was smiling, too, while she played guitar and accompanied the others’ solos, only breaking from her deep sway with the music to look at them with brightness and joy in her eyes. 

In those moments, Ranmaru understood something he hadn’t before, but it also made him realize that the hunger in him wasn’t being sated so much as it was deepening. 

They got cheered back on for an encore. And towards the end of that last song, Ranmaru watched as she broke choreography to literally lift the one Natsuki was convinced was a fairy, spinning them around as the practiced moves dissolved into joyful chaos. The whole group ended the song arm in arm, sloppily holding mics for each other as they alternately laughed, belted, fumbled, and shouted thank-yous into the audience.

Ranmaru still felt something tug at him as the mic got held in front of her, she grabbed it, and handed it to someone else. Just sing, damn it, he thought to himself. It didn’t matter if it was perfect, it just mattered that it was hers. 

Didn’t she realize she deserved to be adored the same way she wanted the rest of her group to be? 

Ranmaru cut everything as they filtered offstage, staggering and softening the mics as they put them back and let them go. He took a deep, sighing breath in and out, almost like he’d been holding it for the entire concert, as his stomach growled. 

Maybe he should’ve taken some more of Reiji’s bento, after all, and give Natsuki’s cookies another try.  

-------- 

They closed up quickly. With the group no longer bound by rehearsal, takedown went faster than ever, and there wasn’t any meet-and-greet at today’s venue. Ranmaru dimly considered looking at the merch table, but he had a week to do that and had other things to finish with today’s closeup, anyway. 

He could hear the group discussing amongst themselves in English about where to go for a late dinner celebrating a good show.

“I want chicken,” she pleaded. “Is there one of those Taiwanese shops where you can get boba and chicken around here? You know, the kind that comes in a little bag and a toothpick?” 

Eiichi approached them, and she started to repeat herself in Japanese before he asked to interrupt her. 

“We’re all headed to the izakaya two blocks from here,” he announced to everyone. “I’ve already called ahead to reserve the space. Consider it a reward for a triumph of the first show on tour.” 

“But is there chicken,” she repeated in Japanese in mock desperation as she mussed her own hair, fussing it out of the careful styling she’d had it in for hours. 

Ranmaru’s phone buzzed from the notifications he missed, shutting them off for the duration of the show. Mostly from Natsuki and Reiji. He scrolled through the groupchat as they reacted live to the stream and tried to compliment Ranmaru on managing sound so well, though he was sure it couldn’t have possibly made much of a difference for the stream. 

Ranmaru (11:37 PM): it was a killer show, wasn’t it 

Ranmaru (11:37 PM): they’re talking about craving chicken right now. Guess it’s too bad we don’t have a kotobuki bento branch around here. 

Ranmaru (11:38 PM): i could go for a kara-age bento 

Reiji (11:38 PM): Ranran….! 

Natsuki (11:39 PM): Waaaah~! I hope you find some kara-age soon and share it with your shining star! 

Ranmaru immediately locked the phone after that. His stomach somersaulted once more time. He stood by what he said to her earlier, but he couldn’t imagine she’d want to talk after the way things had gone. Better to leave the group to that postshow glow, feed himself, and head back to the hotel. 

--------- 

The room was swimming just a little. Ranmaru blearly looked at his phone, trying to ignore the fact that he’d drank beyond his limit like an idiot. He knew he was like this, so why did he keep downing beer after beer? He’d gotten too used to needing as much as he could stomach to tolerate Reiji’s antics (and, he knew dimly, he was just too used to being able to rely on him once he’d hit his limit). 

She was seated right across from him, because of course she was, but they didn’t exchange any words or even eye contact. She was entirely focused on the rest of the group and the meal itself, laughing loudly between boisterous stories and jokes and devouring whatever snacks she ordered. 

Ranmaru got up. He could make it back to the hotel by himself, probably. Nobody asked as he left, which was how he’d preferred things, right? 

If there was such thing as taking a desolate wizz, maybe this is what it felt like, he thought to himself as he dried his hands on his shirt and left the restroom to step outside. Just for a moment. Just to get some air. 

Eiichi followed him out. 

“Can I help you,” Ranmaru said roughly after Eiichi caught the door behind him. 

“Hardly.” He had the same look in his eye as before. “I thought I’d take the opportunity to say well done.” 

Ranmaru grunted. “You still have six more shows with me. Compliment me when I’ve nailed all of them.” 

“Hm. I’d certainly expect no less. But,” he continued, that grin going places Ranmaru especially didn’t like. “I can’t say that was what I was referring to.” 

Ranmaru looked at him suspiciously. 

“She’s been a tough nut to crack,” he continued. “I’m glad my instincts were right, Ranmaru Kurosaki, your brusqueness and deep experience with music laid her heart bare enough she recognized some changes she needed to make.” 

He didn’t think, and only saw red -- he couldn’t blame the alcohol entirely, but the haziness was enough that his brain needed a moment to catch up to his gut reaction. 

Eiichi laughed, unfazed by Ranmaru’s hands on his collar or snarling expression. 

“Bastard!” he barked. Eiichi’s eyes glinted behind his glasses. 

“I heard your little conversation. Do you not stand by those words?” 

“Of course I do,” Ranmaru snapped. 

“They reached her,” Eiichi cut in before Ranmaru could think of what to say next. “She’s already asking me about extra vocal training before the next recording sessions.” 

“She doesn’t need more training!” He threw Eiichi back, finally letting go. He barely needed any effort to recover, and Ranmaru just glared at him as he kept raising his voice. “And I’m not your for-hire music coach! Is this how you treat all your contractors, you rat bastard of a producer?!” 

He just laughed that laugh of his, making Ranmaru even angrier. “Your passion for music and straightforwardness was evident, even in your initial inquiry. It was just excellent luck your technical skills were just as useful for sending this idol group hurtling towards their fullest potential.” 

“If you want her to reach it, you’d tell her she doesn’t need any extra lessons. You’d just tell her she’s a great goddamn idol the way she is right now,” Ranmaru spat. “Trusting her voice is just what’ll make her into a better one.” 

“I hear some selfish intent in that, Kurosaki.” Eiichi looked like he was burning with excitement. “But that just means I can trust your intentions more than anyone. You speak as someone whose heart’s already been moved. A fan...a loyal follower who desires their success. Perhaps even more than she does.” 

“I’m going back to the hotel.” Ranmaru strode past him, feeling himself burn from top to bottom. He gave Eiichi one last look in the eye. “If you need me before the show tomorrow, find someone else.”  

------- 

The next day and next show went uneventfully. Now that he’d met the group at Yokohama, he was travelling with them in the cars and equipment vans, and he made a point of finding a back seat nobody wanted to share, stretching out, and napping the whole ride. The setup at the next live house was a pain in the ass with their unusual devices and systems, but Ranmaru was quietly grateful to have his hands full. He liked having a good reason for not wanting to talk to (scold) anyone but the live house staff itself. Being irritated they went for weird, cheap models with lower quality helped him double down on the attention needed to make the group shine. They collectively got ramen afterwards. The only words he exchanged all meal were with the one Reiji liked so much, ferrying his ramen order for him when he got frustrated with the shop crowd and left to go wait outside. 

(He’d have to find a way to talk with her later about Reiji. Not just for the autograph -- he opened up his phone, ignoring any notifications that weren’t his work email, and messaged him. 

Ranmaru (9:42 PM): send me a pic of your Mae shrine 

Reiji (9:45 PM): ehh? Ranran, what for? 

Ranmaru (9:50 PM): just send it 

Dutifully, Reiji did. Ranmaru couldn’t have imagined he really had no idea what he planned to do with it, but if he wasn’t just playing dumb, at least he’d be getting one hell of a surprise.) 

It was during the third show that things started to happen a way he could scarcely believe. The show went pretty normally, except for one point where she stumbled badly enough during a complex turn she completely ate shit. But she played it off into something hammy and funny, rolling out of the way of the others, lying like she were posing in a cheesy beefcake calendar while she found the beat again to sing. 

Ranmaru still thought she needed to own up to her lack of courage and just sing more, but putting it like she was a coward was a mistake. He thought dimly to what Reiji had said that had convinced him -- “when was the last time you had fun working a stage like this?” And he wondered if he’d ever had fun onstage like he saw. He might’ve tasted the glory and passion of the stage, the delicious energy of the audience, and the power of rock -- he knew he did, he’d looked an easier, blander life in the eye and felt too desolate to walk that path, even with his inescapable debt. 

But it could be more fun. That audience could feel more, even more connected, that he could smile through mistakes when the performance came from camaraderie as much as passion and soul. Things could be better when they were shared beyond just the respect of an audience and a performer.

He didn’t realize he was smiling as much as he was until his cheeks were hurting, but that was also because he felt hungrier than he’d ever been.  

----

He couldn’t help calculating how many meals he’d be cutting into as the convenience store clerk rang up everything, even though he’d already gotten Eiichi to confirm he was going to expense him the bill and get refunded every cent. 

The show closed late. They had a special meet-and-greet he didn’t need to be around to handle, but none of them had had the chance to eat much outside of some spare snacks. He figured something fast and easy before they could collapse in the hotel would fit the bill. 

She wasn’t there when he went around knocking on the hotel room doors and delivering the goods. Gone out to relax on the roof, they said, and when they offered to hold her food, he said no, he’d take it right to her. 

The sound of the roof door opening looked like it startled her, and he didn’t know what else to do but hold up the bag full of food like a peace offering. 

“Eat something,” he said in English, tossing her a banana from the bag. She caught it before eyeing him up and down, then settled back to the outdoor lounge chair she’d been resting on. Ranmaru took a seat in the one across for her, setting the bag on the ground as he pulled the rest of the food out. She looked hesitant, only speaking until he’d laid everything out, even the drinks.

“...That smells good,” she said in Japanese. “What’s that, kara-age?” 

“I heard you guys were craving chicken.” 

 “I mean, I sure was. Thanks.”

“I told you English was fine,” he said, back to Japanese. 

“My Japanese is fine,” she said, tearing into the banana first. 

“Yeah, but if you’re tired of speaking outside of your native tongue,” Ranmaru started, already feeling himself get heated. “Why wouldn’t you take the chance to just rest?” 

She finished her bite of banana before giving him a look. “...If you insist.” 

They just sat in silence as she ate for a bit. 

“Is there something else you want from me?” she asked. She left half the kara-age and bottled tea.

“...No, not really. I wanted to say sorry for the other day, though.” 

“Ah.” She smiled knowingly, though she didn’t look happy about it. “Don’t worry about it. It sure isn’t the first or last time I’m gonna be criticized in this industry. I can handle it.” 

Ranmaru murmured in acknowledgement, not sure to what end making himself clear to would earn, but he had to, anyways. He stared down the half-full kara-age container. 

“...This is your goddamn food, you know.” He pushed it closer to her. “Eat it.” 

“Oh, you’re sure?” 

“I didn’t have a meet-and-greet that made me miss dinner. Do you really wanna work a tour on an empty stomach?” 

She scooped it up with a knowing ‘hmm’ and a half-smile. After polishing it off, she let out a heavy sigh. 

“You are right, though. I’m being a coward, not singing more.” 

“You’re not,” Ranmaru grumbled. 

“Sure,” she said dismissively. “But I guess I should apologize for getting so defensive. I thought you were just another macho shithead trying to talk the piss out of our group and the voice we have.” 

“That’s nothing to apologize for,” Ranmaru said resolutely. “....when I was in a band, I wish I’d had bandmates who’d do that kinda shit for me.” 

“Oh, shit, what’d you play?” 

“Vocals. Bass. Rock.” 

“Aw, c’mon, get more specific than that. Surf rock? Indie boy shoegaze? Folk punk with a little dash of polka?” 

Ranmaru gave her an incredulous look. “...Oi. Do I look like a polka guy?” 

She grinned widely, looking very satisfied with herself. “I dunno, you never know who’s got a secret accordion! I could see you, maybe you painted half of it, like, red to match that edgelord RPG hero heterochromia thing you got going.” 

Ranmaru grumbled, looking away. She laughed. “....I just like rock. If you had to pull my leg I guess I’d tell you hard rock. Maybe a little alt and prog.” 

“Ooh!” She exclaimed, barely letting the sip of tea get down her throat. “That’s the good shit! Did you ever record anything?”

Ranmaru hesitated. “...Yeah, but nothing that anyone can listen to anymore.” 

She seemed to understand without much more explanation. “...Well. You’re fucking good at the sound engineering side of things. Don’t tell management this -- or well, just don’t quote me on this --  but I like you a hell of a lot more than the guy we were supposed to have from the agency. He doesn’t know shit about how to make music that’s about soul and hype. It’s like, all one level the whole time, you know? Like it’s just sitting at an 8 the whole time, we don’t really get to do stuff like crescendos. Or like, punch someone in the dick by taking it from a three and shoot it to an eleven, you know?” 

“Yeah,” Ranmaru said, throwing a hand up. “What’s with that shit? There’s a bunch of stupid clients I had who were like that. Just one kind of loud, the whole album or concert through. What’s the fucking point if you aren’t gonna make people hear something other than just fuckin’ loud?” 

“Yeah! You get it!” she whooped, before she held her hand out for a fistbump. 

It surprised Ranmaru enough that it took a moment to register. But he smiled a little and pounded it. 

------

“Man-eating momma, steam-driven hammer

Sorts the men out from the boys--” 

She slid her arm around his waist, and he nearly choked on his beer. 

They were at Korean barbecue tonight, their own private room. The last meal, after the last concert, after the last meet-and-greet, after the last frantic merch sales. Ranmaru tried to buy himself a shirt, but instead was presented with a staff hoodie for the tour and a “one of everything” comp for the rest of the merch. They were now safely tucked with other goods he’d gotten signed for Reiji and Natsuki last night while everyone hung out in their big hotel suite. Hotel management made a mistake and upgraded the whole crew to their biggest room with extra cots to fit them all, and they spent the entire post show in a dizzying, joyful, communal haze. Ranmaru even told stories of the embarrassing depths of his groupchat’s devotion to the group and each of their favorites, and everyone took turns recording chaotic, personalized videos for Ranmaru to share later. They fell asleep at a truly stupid hour, and Ranmaru wondered if this is what having sleepovers as a kid felt like. 

“Takes no messing, all-in wrestling

Is one of her pride and joys” 

Ranmaru recognized the words as she pulled him closer, swaying after slamming her beer to the table. Maybe less the tune, since that was being yelled more than sung. 

“She's a classy, flashy lassy

Imitation sapphire shine-- c’mon, dude, you know!” She looked at him expectantly. She was very, very flushed, and at this point, he had to be, too. 

“We’re not at a karaoke bar!” he barked. 

“Where’s all that ‘you gotta sing more, fuckass’ energy now, huh,” she said, lowering her voice so much to mimic that Ranmaru briefly questioned if this is what he sounded like to her. 

“....Fine! If you’re gonna sing it, actually fuckin’ sing it, don’t just yell!” 

“Oh yeah,” she said with what passed for a shit-eating grin with her. “Then show me, partyboy. Hey, everyone, meet my new vocal coach! Hold onto your dick, folks, he better fuckin floor you with all the shit he’s been talking --”  

Ranmaru looked at her a moment as she kept ranting, first with incredulity, then with a weird surreal awe. What the hell was happening?  

Why the hell should he bother questioning it? 

“-- Two-faced liar, full of fire

But I know the flame is mine!” He cut off her rant, singing as much as he could like this were a stage. 

She -- and a bunch of other staff at the table -- whooped and cheered and laughed, but she and only she joined in with him without a care in the world. “Rocka Rolla woman for a Rocka Rolla man

You can take her if you want her

If you think you can--” 

He let the arm that’d been just awkwardly dangling behind her wrap around her shoulder. He felt warmer than he’d ever had, burning all the way to the tips of his ears. 

“Rocka Rolla woman for a Rocka Rolla man

You can take her if you want her you can!” 

They hung on the last note of the chorus -- she hung on comedically long before dragging them both up to bow while everyone else clapped, laughed, cheered. A server came, yelling that they had an order of grilled beef up. Eiichi, from the other end of the table, gestured that he’d ordered it, but passed it down until it sat in front of Ranmaru. 

-------- 

They had an overnight bus trip to get back home -- or close enough to home, anyways, Ranmaru still had another long train ride waiting afterwards, so he’d planned to sleep the whole bus ride. 

But she wound up sitting next to him, and even if he could pretend like that didn’t make his heart thump now by itself, she was chatty. 

He didn’t mind the conversation, though. They mostly talked about music, sharing concert stories and albums. He even talked a little about what he wanted to do now in between all the freelance work, and when she wished him luck and couldn’t wait to hear it, he didn’t feel like she was just blowing smoke. 

There came a pause while she downed a bottle of tea. 

“...I meant it when I said there’s something in your voice the audience oughta hear,” he said, looking at her intently. 

She laughed uncomfortably after she swallowed. “Thank you. I’ll…..I guess I just have to go for it, huh.” 

“What’s stopping you?” 

“I...hm….” She paused in intent thought for a while. “Well, for one, the technical control isn’t there.” 

“Yeah, but you’ll improve that by doing it.” 

“Yeah, yeah. But there’s more than just that, I guess.” 

“Like what.” 

“...Well, you know how this industry is. It’s…hard. Finding the balance of what you’re good at, what people want, and what the higher-ups think they want. I don’t think I’m anywhere near figuring that balance out...”

“Forget all that.” Ranmaru looked at her very seriously, shifting in place so he could look her in the eye a little better. “Don’t worry about any of those things.” 

She laughed disbelievingly. “Okay, sure, lemme just. Throw out my job description while I’m at it. Dude, the whole point of this job and this work is to make other people happy.” 

“I was happy hearing your voice just as it was that first day. You just. Sang the way you wanted to. I liked that. It felt good. Genuine.” He took a moment to recall the words he found at the beginning of the tour. “...You like it when people connect with your group’s voice ‘n adore your groupmates. So let ‘em adore you some.” 

“Oh, cuz I’m so adowable,” she joked, laughing as Ranmaru scowled. 

“I mean it. I….” he started. “...The audience is going to be better for hearing more of you. Whatever that means.” 

She thought about that for a moment. “...I...you know. I don’t think I’ve ever asked myself what that looks like. Or let myself realize it, anyway.”

“You can handle the criticism if it comes. If that’s something you’re scared of.” 

“...Maybe it is. Thank you, Ranmaru, I’m going to think about that and kick everybody’s teeth in the next time we record.  

“‘Snothing,” he murmured, but he felt like his heart was going to soar out of his chest, and later, as they both nodded off and slumped over each other as the road stretched on, he realized he felt sated in a way he couldn’t remember being. A weird sort, that took away the pang of hunger, but made him feel it more deeply through his whole being. 

---- 

When he arrived ‘home,’ it was lunchtime, and he was too dazed, hungry, and tired to weather one last long walk home without some food in his stomach. It was on the way-- he may as well go to Kotobuki Bento and make Reiji make good on the free bento offer. 

(His sister rang him up, and Ranmaru paid up.) 

Reiji found him after the meal, and he wound up heading to Reiji’s room. To give him the merch, theoretically, but after Reiji earned enough grouchy monosyllabic replies, he brought something that sounded like an actual question. 

“...So, Ranran, while you were away…” 

“Just say it,” Ranmaru muttered, eyes too tired to focus. “I’m too fucking tired for you to take the long away around.” 

“Nattsun’s friend wants to join our little fanclub!”

“....And.” 

Reiji shrank a little, speaking more sheepishly. “The thing is...we mentioned you and....he’s pretty sure you two already know each other and you’d want nothing to do with him.” 

Ranmaru hazily tried to recall who that could be. There were too many people whose guts he hated for him to figure it out by himself. 

“Who is it,” Ranmaru growled tiredly. “Just fucking say it.” 

“Does...Hijirikawa ring a bell?” 

It did. Ranmaru fumed in silence for a moment, thinking about the whirlwind of disaster that name was attached to, but also the vague memories of that quiet, serious boy in traditional dress who fretted after him when they were too small to know of things like debts and bankruptcy...

“...Whatever,” Ranmaru muttered. He looked at Reiji’s bed and decided he wasn’t going to tolerate any more of this exhaustion -- he had a reliable neighbor to leave food out for the cats, anyway, what was a couple more hours? “It’s not really much of a fanclub if it’s just the three of us. He can join if he wants. It’ll give you ‘n Natsuki someone who’s better at responding to your crazy nightlong gushing than me.” He tossed the dakimakura on Reiji’s bed, dented in the middle from so much hugging, to him, before he shrugged closer into his staff tour hoodie and slumped into Reiji’s bed. 

He could practically see Reiji stammering, even as he turned away and settled into the comfort of eyes closed and a real bed. Clearly, that wasn’t the answer he was expecting, and it wasn’t the one Ranmaru was expecting to give, either. 

“-- R...Ranran, you really--” 

“Yes! What the fuck wasn’t clear about what I said! Masato can join! Go add him already! Just let me sleep, you noisy bastard!” Ranmaru barked one last time at Reiji. 

Ranmaru ignored whatever last jabbering Reiji had for him, already carried off to proper sleep. He wondered what he could possibly dream about that would rival the past week and this satisfying feeling, cradled in his new hoodie.  

(I perform semi-professionally -- not as an idol, mind, but I’m still getting up on a stage/camera to entertain people on the reg -- and it was so weird but also really......doki-inspiring, let’s say, to imagine Ranmaru being a fan of my stage bravado :’’’’’D To be honest I’ve been feeling a little discouraged and burnt out by it lately but this really refilled my tanks!!!)