#everything rocks u are a superstar

[badcherub]

I NEED YOU JUGGALIKU

miku if she was a shitty trans person from northern michigan 💅✨✨

[forlix]

𝐚𝐜𝐞・h.h.

— volleyball superstar and your personal hell hwang hyunjin proposes a trade-off you can't refuse: his matchmaking services for a passing anthropology grade. the plan is foolproof in theory; in practice, it is something else entirely.

words・15.2k

pairing・volleyball player!hyunjin x tutor!reader (gn)

genres・college!au, sports!au, fake enemies to friends to lovers, fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, slice of life, mutual pining, slow burn. two polar opposites sharing one soul. a seungjin fic if u squint. loosely inspired by the manga/anime haikyuu!!

warnings・mentions of anxiety, fear of failure, heartbreak, loneliness, and self-image. course language and callous banter (as always) ft. suggestive flirting and one kms joke. some of the referenced players and coaches are real; this fic is not.

playlist・collision by stray kids・value by ado・waiting for us by stray kids・eternity by bang chan・dreaming by smallpools・fly high!! by burnout syndromes

a/n・writing this felt like returning to my roots tbh. i love volleyball and i love sports aus and i love, love hwang hyunjin. thank u to my sahar for bringing this fic to life with me, as always; i can no longer write for him without also writing for you. i hope u guys enjoy reading this as much as i adored writing it. happy late birthday, our jinnie, our hyunjin, our forever ace; you are so unbelievably loved ♡

“Not a word out of you,” you say, tossing your backpack onto the floor of the lecture hall with a heavy-handed flick. “I’m serious.”

Hyunjin glances up at you with a frown. “When did people stop saying good morning?”

Your lack of an immediate comeback tells him the situation is dire. He observes you for a moment, his mouth falling open, hanging still, then curving into a slow, serpentine smile.

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“Please, angel.”

“No! Leave me alone.”

Hyunjin slumps back into his seat, thinking hard. The solution occurs to him with a poke of his tongue into his cheek. “Coffee on me for a week.”

At this, your hands stop rummaging in your bag. You cock your head, your interest piqued. Got you. 

When you finally humor him and turn around, you’re flinching like you’re in pain, eyes closed and breath held and all. He giggles and leans in for a closer look. Tendrils of your body spray reach him from here, floral and light like a tropical coastline. He could’ve counted your eyelashes if he wasn’t so flummoxed by the state of your forehead.

“What the hell did you do?”

“Tried to cut my own bangs,” you sigh. “It didn’t go very well and now I look like Rock Lee.”

Hyunjin lets out a forceful laugh. “You’ve seen Naruto?”

You open your eyes. Only then does Hyunjin remember how little distance he left between your faces, when he’s staring straight into them and all the strange, starry speckles they hold.

The air between you curdles like sour milk.

Things are awkward between you often, he’s realized recently. What’s more, he didn’t think he was capable of being awkward with anyone anymore until he met you. It was your ill-fated seat that he chose to sit next to on the first day of ANTH 111, your ill-fated lap onto which he chose to spill his Americano, and the rest was history (or, in this case, anthropology). His tongue ends up in sailor’s knots with every smart-aleck comment and pitiful laugh you’ve given him since. Maybe there’s more to it, maybe there isn’t—Hyunjin doesn’t think about it much. He doesn’t like thinking in general.

You pull away from each other in unison. You clear your throat, glancing elsewhere. 

“Of course I’ve seen Naruto,” you quip, and everything is normal again. “Why do you seem surprised?”

“Because you’re so scholarly.”

“I am not scholarly.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You go to a park to play chess with old people on weekends.”

“I need to get my steps in somehow.”

“You didn’t know what Urban Dictionary was until I told you to look up—”

“God, I learned so much about you that day."

“Your favorite social media platform is Quizlet,” he bursts, exasperated. “Quizlet.”

“It is not.” An introspective pause. “Or is it?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Hyunjin throws his feet up on the chair below him, jabs in your direction with a bandaged finger. “There is no way you enjoy watching 2D men beat each other up in your free time. I don’t buy it.”

“Honestly, I thought you’d have more to say about my current appearance than my hobbies.”

He does, though. Matter of fact, he’s been curating a list since this conversation started: Vector from Despicable Me, Dora the Explorer’s hot older sibling, Spock. You face-planted into a lawnmower. You mistook a paper shredder for a hat. It goes on.

But then his head turns. Your eyes meet again. He’s reminded that it’s hard to sustain an inner monologue and look at you at the same time, Vector resemblance and all.

He reaches up, nudges a lock of your hair over a centimeter or so, and gives the patch of forehead a gentle flick.

“Watermelon,” he mumbles with a sickening smile.

You divert your attention to your lecture notes with a disappointed click of your tongue. “You’re getting soft.”

He spends the entire lecture daydreaming about tropical coastlines.

“I only get coffee from that one place on the east side of campus, by the way,” you say as you’re strolling out the building together, “and I get it a very specific way. Can you handle it?”

“Your faith gets me out of bed in the morning,” Hyunjin deadpans. “I’ll handle it, love. Text me your order.”

All of a sudden, you position your hands close to your stomach, the lapels of your jacket casting them in shadow. Your fingers begin to move in a sequence that he’d recognize anywhere.

“Body flicker jutsu,” you whisper, and then you’re scurrying off without another word—but you do glance back at him to gauge his response. Your smile is purely effulgent, your laugh but a faint sigh against the main quad’s busy thrum.

Hyunjin gapes at your retreating figure for so long that phosphenes start prancing around his field of view. Then he heads to the gym. His heart is pounding against his ribs like a battering ram.

“Hwang, I need you in my office.”

Hyunjin stops lacing up his shoes to see Coach Bang standing on the court’s sideline with a grim air about him. He glances at his captain, confused.

“Don’t look at me,” Minho says mid-stretch. “Godspeed.”

“Thanks, cap.” Useless.

Head volleyball coach Christopher Bang’s workspace reminds Hyunjin of a morgue. It’s all fluorescent lights and spotless white walls, the only decorative fixture a picture of his siblings, parents, and dog in front of the Sydney Opera House, framed and facing him atop his desk. Hyunjin once snuck the thing into the bathroom, an innocent plot to satiate his curiosity, and promptly discovered the man’s propensity for violence. He’s packing beneath those dry-cleaned polos, by the way.

Hyunjin closes the door and takes a seat. Bang taps a knuckle against the tempered glass of his monitor. “You can read, right?”

“Yes, coach,” he sighs. Everyone’s expectations for him are subterranean.

From: Park Jinyoung «asiansoul_jyp@snu.edu» To: Bang “Christopher” Chan «cb97@snu.edu» Subject: Not good See email from Hwang’s antopology professor below . He submitted the complete script of the Trolls movie instead of his mid term paper and now he’s failing the class . Not good . Sort out ASAP JP Sent from my iPad

Bang snatches up his mouse and scrolls, his ears turning scarlet. “Wrong email.”

“Yep.”

From: Kim Kyeyoung «kyeyoungkim@snu.edu» To: Park Jinyoung «asiansoul_jyp@snu.edu» Subject: Regarding Hwang Hyunjin To Director of Athletics Park, I am writing to inform you that, as of yesterday, Mr. Hwang Hyunjin has a D- (64.9%) in ANTH 111: Cultural Anthropology, due to his submission of the complete script of a kids’ movie instead of his midterm paper. It is disappointing to see Mr. Hwang trivialize and ridicule my class to such a degree. Please see to it that he reorganizes his priorities lest his Student-Athlete Participation Agreement do so for him. Regards, Kim Kyeyoung Professor of Anthropology

“That’s bullshit!”

“We’re in agreement there.” Bang folds his arms over his chest, throws his foot over his knee. “Do you know what your Student-Athlete Participation Agreement says?”

“Does anyone?” Hyunjin scoffs. Bang whips out a form and brings it to eye level, the thing covered from top to bottom in microscopic Times New Roman. “No way you just had that.”

“I had it delivered ten minutes ago,” Bang confesses, then clears his throat and begins to recite. “All student-athletes must complete the academic term with a C or higher in all courses, should they wish to continue their participation in athletics thereafter.”

Hyunjin stiffens. “What the fuck? I’ve never heard—”

“If any Department of Athletics personnel,” Bang continues, raising his voice, “have reason to believe that a student-athlete will not be able to satisfy this requirement, they are encouraged to utilize resources such as academic advising or peer tutoring in guiding said student-athlete back onto the correct path.”

He shoves the piece of paper across his desk. “Read that name aloud for me.”

Hyunjin stares at the signature at the bottom of the page, scrawled so carelessly that most of it deviates away from its designated line. There is a rare hollowness in his chest that he recognizes as anxiety. With it comes a glimpse of a life without volleyball, the question of what little of him would remain.

“Hwang Hyunjin,” he says under his breath.

The office goes silent. Bang tucks the form back into his drawer. It closes with a gentle click.

Then comes the yelling.

“The Trolls movie? Trolls?! Are you fucking with me, Hwang?”

“It was a cultural reset! The pinnacle of modern media! How’s that for anthropology?”

“BAD!” Bang explodes, gesturing to the email emphatically. “VERY, VERY BAD!”

Hyunjin slumps over, dejected.

“You’ve never had trouble with school before.” He leans over his desk imposingly. “What the hell happened this semester? What changed?”

Nothing is the first answer that comes to mind, but Hyunjin’s pulse spikes like a lie detector. Upon the inside of his eyes replays a scene of a certain someone with watermelon bangs doing teleportation jutsu at him from a few yards away, wearing a smile made of some kind of space dust that astronomists haven’t discovered yet.

He grits his teeth, annoyed. This is what happens when he thinks.

“Beats me,” he fibs. “Typical junior year stress, maybe.”

“Does any of it have to do with Piazza?” 

Hyunjin shudders.

It just might, actually.

Modesty has no place in the career he’s had: high school national champion turned ace hitter in both the South Korean U21 roster and regular rotation for Seoul National University, the best collegiate volleyball team in the country. His name has lived at the top of ranking lists and the center of gold medals since he turned old enough to qualify for them; the press believes him the instigant of South Korea’s imminent volleyball revolution. It’s a mouthful, he knows.

It was never a question that he would go professional; the question was who he should talk to and where he would go.

At the start of the school year, Bang, acting in place of the agent he was advised to find and never bothered to, gave him a list of people to reach out to. On the very top was none other than Roberto Piazza, the chairman and head coach of Allianz Milano, one of the most eminent club teams in the world—and current home to Hyunjin’s personal idol, outside hitter Ishikawa Yuki.

Hyunjin thought his poor coach had finally succumbed to his old age. The thought of stepping onto the same court as Ishikawa felt sacrilegious, let alone donning the red, white, and navy blue of Allianz Milano with him. But Bang slapped him on the back of the neck and reminded him that going professional was equal parts preparation and opportunity; he was never going to know the answers to questions he didn’t ask. Hyunjin was coerced to fire off an introductory email despite his reservations.

Piazza replied within the week.

For the last five months, Hyunjin has been fighting with tooth and nail to manage his expectations. He scrolls past the team’s social media posts like they burn his eyes. He replies to Piazza’s emails right before working out with Changbin under the assumption that whatever the shredded libero does to him will eviscerate his brain. If his world is made of dreams, this is the one at its very core, imbued with destructive potential the second it became attainable.

But that’s the last five months. The last five weeks have been you kicking him in the shin because he’s laughing (or trying to make you laugh) and the professor is staring; you listening to him rant and rave about volleyball when he knows you couldn’t care less about the sport; you relaying the contents of your class readings like hot gossip, your eyes wild and hands flying around because you can’t contain your excitement. You, you, you.

He cards a hand through his air, regaining focus. “You know how I feel about Piazza.”

“Expect the worst, hope for the best.” Bang’s chair skids backwards as he stands up. “I think it’s a good approach.”

Suddenly, he is directly in front of Hyunjin, low enough to meet his eyes. His hands rest upon his shoulders firmly.

“But hope is hungry, and it will consume you if you let it,” he says. “Do not let it, Hyunjin. I’m not asking.”

Even while being squeezed to a pulp and regarded with the cold intensity of a statue, Hyunjin can’t help but feel anchored, somehow, to the floor of this miserable office. Protected.

Bang lets go of him. “I’m not asking you to find a tutor by the end of the week, either.”

Hyunjin groans. “Yeah, yeah. I’m on it.”

A set of bandaged fingers appear in your periphery to place a paper cup onto your laptop. Accompanying the smell of fresh coffee is that of smoky rose, as decidedly douchey as ever.

“I thought you said your order was complicated.”

You look up from your phone to see Hyunjin plop into the adjacent seat. His long, caramel-colored hair is damp and unstyled in the aftermath of a morning shower, droplets of water pearling on the lapels of a navy blue windbreaker, layered over a white long sleeve. You recognize the outfit by now as game gear.

“Was it not?” You ask.

“It was an Americano, love. I walked up to the cashier and placed an order for an Americano.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you could handle that much.” He flips you off as you squint at the cup. “Someone wrote their number on the lid, by the way.”

“What? Really?”

“No.”

He shoves you hard enough for your upper body to drape over the opposite armrest; you’re still cackling by the time you’ve straightened up again.

��Why did you get this, anyway?” Hyunjin grumbles. “I thought you had a sweet tooth.”

“I do, but you don’t.”

Only then does the fool understand that you had no intention of charging him in coffee just for a haircut reveal. He takes back the coffee hesitantly.

“Thanks,” he says at last. “Nice of you.”

“I know, right? Hated it,” you respond, and he almost chokes on his first sip.

You almost choke on nothing when Kim Seungmin materializes in the aisle adjacent. He holds out a hand in Hyunjin’s direction. “Yo.”

Hyunjin dabs it up mid-sip. “I fully forgot you were in this class.”

“Well, I’m due for my weekly appearance.” Seungmin slips into the seat directly below you, glancing at you over his shoulder. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hi,” you say, somehow managing to stumble over the single syllable the word has. You thank your lucky stars that you fixed your hair yesterday.

You like Kim Seungmin. Not just in the cutesy, crushy way, but in the “I would relinquish all of my rights for you” way where you spend every waking moment cursing out whatever stroke of misfortune placed Hyunjin in the seat next to you instead of him. He’s funny, gorgeous, and talented—a vocal performance major with a student-athlete contract—and you think your infatuation is more than justified. Hyunjin thinks it’s hilarious.

You side-eye your blonde adversary, prepared to see one of three things: a suppressed laugh, a dramatic eye-roll, or a mature kissy face that usually results in the first option. You’re met with something far more worrisome.

He’s thinking.

That can’t be good.

Suddenly, his phone screen lights up with a text that temporarily wipes the conspiratorial gleam from his eye. Hyunjin scans it over and groans. “Can this guy do his fucking job?”

“He wouldn’t have to if you didn’t quit,” Seungmin answers. “I’ll never forget you, Manager Hwang.”

“Shut up.” You peer at Hyunjin, silently requesting an explanation. “Our captain is forcing us to help him look for a new team manager. We need one for playoffs because of some stupid U-League rule—Seung, why do you look morose?”

“I’m mourning.” Seungmin does look morose indeed. “Hyunjin committed larceny last year and our coach punished him by making him our team manager for the rest of the season. It was so funny.”

Hyunjin slides down his seat. “It was the worst experience of my life.”

Neither man seems inclined to elaborate on the mention of larceny. You choose to digress. “Can I ask why?”

“He had to be responsible,” Seungmin whispers. “For other people.”

The top of Hyunjin’s head stops right next to your armrest. You reach over and pat his hair in faux sympathy. “Poor thing.”

“Hardass refused to do it again this year, so now we’re recruiting.” Seungmin props an elbow upon the back of his chair, looks at you contemplatively. “I don’t suppose you have four hours to spare every day.”

Hyunjin scoffs from below you. Loudly. “This one? Team manager?”

“I can see it.”

“I can see killing myself, maybe.”

The next time you reach for him is to hit his forehead. A crisp smack resounds around the barren lecture hall. Hyunjin cusses into his seat cushion.

“Seems like a great candidate to me,” Seungmin muses, and the warm smile he gives you mirrors onto your face before you can think better of it. God, it’s pretty. You wonder how it would feel pressed against your own.

Hyunjin is now completely out of sight and halfway onto the floor. “I miss when you didn’t come to class, Seungmin.”

Eighty minutes later, you’ve just emerged from the classroom when Seungmin calls out to you. You come to such a sudden halt that Hyunjin almost trips over you, but you barely notice him stumble, utterly enraptured by the hand Seungmin brings to the strands of hair by your ear, the fingers that dust your cheek as they pluck a small piece of lint from out of the tresses.

“Sorry.” He flicks it away with a sheepish smile. “I couldn’t unsee it.”

You manage to thank him just before your whole body ceases to function. Hyunjin sidesteps the two of you, yawning.

Seungmin excuses himself not too long after you reach the main quad. You also turn to leave, sparing Hyunjin a curt farewell in the process. He hooks his pointer finger around the handle at the top of your backpack and lugs you backwards with infuriating ease.

“I didn’t like that at all,” you say.

“I don’t care. I have something to tell you.”

“You have a kid, don’t you?”

“Wha—huh? Who do you think I am?”

“The one-night-stand’s poster child. The champion of the contraception industry.”

“Yeah, contraception industry. It’s right there in the name.”

You suppose you can’t argue with that.

“What do you have to tell me?”

A shadow of hesitation flits across Hyunjin’s face. Your smile falters. Is it possible that you’re about to have a serious conversation with him for the first time? Maybe you should’ve saved the secret son bit for another time.

“I’m failing anthro.”

So much for a serious conversation. 

“Come again?”

He repeats the mystifying statement.

“You’re joking.” The look on his face says otherwise, though, and your eyebrows disappear into your hair. “You’re failing anthro?”

“I just said that, yes.”

“You’re failing anthropology?”

“Mhm.”

“Just so we’re clear—you’re failing Introduction to Cultural Anthropology?”

“Yes. I’m glad you’re having fun.”

This is the best day of your life. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“Yeah, well, our professor has no media literacy,” he mutters.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Hyunjin clears his throat. “Anyways, I was thinking—”

“Wow! Congratulations. That’s a big—oomf—”

Hyunjin puts his entire hand over your face. Your mangled noises of protest go unacknowledged.

“I was thinking,” he continues, pushing your head around like a stick shift, “you and I can work out some kind of deal.”

You shove his wrist off you with a revolted groan. “I think I just ate some athletic tape.”

“Happens. You wanna hear the deal or not?”

“Does it involve ingesting more sports equipment?”

“Do you want it to?”

“Just tell me the deal, boy.”

“Alright.” He takes a deep breath. “If you help me pass this class, I’ll set you up with Seungmin.”

Your head performs a triple-axel on your neck. You are unable to respond for what feels like multiple hours. Finally: “I’m gonna need you to elaborate.”

“On which part?”

“All of them. Everything.”

Hyunjin sighs, then scans the courtyard. His gaze settles on the student union a little ways off. “Are you hungry?”

You pick up a sandwich and a smoothie in a state of nervous stupor. One would think it’s the prime minister you’re about to have lunch with and not an imbecilic left-side hitter eating from three different entrees at the same time.

He’s chosen a table a few yards away from a planter of flowering cherry blossom trees. You feel jealous eyes on the side of your face as you take a seat across from Hyunjin, but they don’t know that his telephone pole legs still bump against yours even with them drawn as close to your body as anatomically possible. Or that he’s drawing up a literal Ponzi scheme on your sandwich wrapper. You wager you’ve had better company.

“You like anthropology. I like listening to you talk about anthropology.” He traces over the wrapper’s left corner. “And I kinda want you to boss me around. That weird?”

“Yes, definitely,” you mumble around a mouthful of bread. “Go on.”

“Conclusion one: you should be my tutor.” He taps in place as if applying a finishing touch, then swaps to the opposite side. “You also like my teammate, but he’s neck-deep in volleyball and music this semester, which makes him hard to get a hold of—for most people.”

“Let me guess. Not for you.”

“Ten points to Ravenclaw.” His British accent is nightmarish. “Seung and I live in the same building. We get dinner when we go back from practice together. Conclusion two: you should come with us.”

“To dinner or to practice?”

“To both. Which brings us to my third and final conclusion—”

He slams a fist onto the center of the wrapper.

“—you should manage our team.”

“I knew it!” You slam the table as well, your smoothie wobbling upon impact. “You’re trying to swindle me! You can’t pay for my labor with more labor. What do you take me for?”

“It’s not labor, dumbass! Ask our last manager! He didn’t do shit!”

“Yeah? Who was your last manager?”

“Me!”

Oh, right. “But you hated it!”

“I hate everything that isn’t playing volleyball. Try again.”

You fold your arms over your chest. “You said you’d kill yourself if I managed you.”

Hyunjin starts balling up your sandwich wrapper. “It’s true. I thought about you and my coach getting along and promptly got a rash. But it makes so much sense: you do whatever you want during practice, tutor me afterwards, and then you and Seung can eyefuck over ramen or something. My coach hops off my dick, you hop on Seung’s—”

“STOP!” A girl drops her receipt not too far away, startled by your outburst. “Stop right there. I get it. Stop.”

“It’s a good plan.” He slings the paper ball towards the nearest trash can. It drops into the hole without so much as a brush against the rim. “You know it is.”

You’re loath to admit that you do. “When did you even come up with all this?”

He flicks a thumb in the direction of your anthropology class. No fucking wonder he’s failing.

“What is this, mock trial?”

The owner of this voice is the third man you’ve seen today donning that navy windbreaker, white long-sleeve combo. He has a face that reminds you of your neighbor’s cat from back home, sleek and sharp and only slightly sinister. There’s a dash of humor in his expression as he approaches your table like he’s enjoying the company of a court jester.

“Slamming tables like fuckin’ tariff lawyers,” the cat-man hums, lifting a hand in Hyunjin’s direction. “I could see it from all the way inside.”

“Captain!” Hyunjin crows, dabbing him up without missing a beat. They really do that like breathing. “Just the man I was hoping to see.”

“Really? I thought you’d be avoiding me like the rest of our homunculus team.”

“I would never.”

“You did. Yesterday. When you saw me and started running in the opposite direction.” He pauses for emphasis. “As fast as possible.”

“Well, that was yesterday. Today is a new day.” Hyunjin tosses you a proud glance. “And today, I bring you a new team manager.”

You stiffen. “I haven’t—”

“Is that so!” When the stranger smiles at you, you feel the same satisfaction you did every time the cat let you scratch her on the chin. “Music to my ears. What’s your name, cutie?”

You catch Hyunjin’s eye across the table; he nods enthusiastically as if saying go on, then. You briefly picture yourself strangling him with his own athletic tape. You then picture yourself hopping on Seungmin’s—

Rigidly, you throw a hand out to the cat-man, your face aflame.

“Y/N,” you grumble. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”

He shakes on it heartily. “Likewise. I’m Minho. Welcome to the team.”

“Yes, welcome to the team,” Hyunjin parrots, looking positively jolly. You gnash your teeth together so hard your jaw throbs.

He’s lucky that his proposal holds so much water. He’s lucky that you don’t plan to strangle him until after you try that eyefucking thing.

You do kick him under the table, though.

The team has five weeks to prepare for the Korean University League, the biggest college-level volleyball tournament in the country. You have five days to learn how the hell athletic tape works. You can’t tell which is the bigger endeavor.

“I’m going to cause him irreversible skeletal damage,” you tell Changbin.

The team’s libero is twice as kind as he is talented, a full-time sweetheart working part-time at the university’s sports medicine clinic. Only your first week on the job and you’ve already decided he’s the only person on Earth you would permit to usher you through the gym at 6:45 A.M., a roll of athletic tape pressed to your back like a pistol.

“You will not,” Changbin answers. “One, because this won’t involve his skeleton, and two, because I wouldn’t ask you to help if it did.”

“You’ve misunderstood me,” you return as the two of you stop in front of an examination room. “I want to cause him irreversible skeletal damage.”

“Oh.” He opens the door with a frown. “Oh dear.”

Inside, Hyunjin is sitting cross-legged on top of a taping table, fitted in a loose gray tee and athletic shorts. He watches in pessimistic silence as you enter the room and beeline straight towards the shelf on the right. You slip a thick binder into your hands and bury your nose inside it without so much as a greeting.

“I am going to get maimed,” Hyunjin tells Changbin.

“Have some faith, both of you,” Changbin replies sternly. You find the pages you’re looking for and begin poring over them like you’re cramming for an exam. “You’ll be fine, Jinnie. Y/N studied.”

“Studied?” He repeats. “For this?”

“I’m pretty sure Quizlets were made.”

“Three, to be exact," you interject, sticking out your hand. “Now tape me.”

Hyunjin mouths the words tape me in baffled silence. The latter obliges your request with a smile. “See? What could go wrong?”

The answer to that, actually, is a lot. Especially after Changbin gets called away to help stretch out a teammate named Felix who allegedly “sprained his ass,” leaving Hyunjin to you and your binder.

You detect no smoky rose in the air around him today, just the subtle smells of cedar and cypress—laundry detergent or shampoo, maybe. Figures he doesn’t wear that insufferable cologne to practice.

“Go easy on me, yeah?”

While Hyunjin’s tone is teasing, yours is downright somber.

“I can’t promise anything.”

With that, you turn your palms face-up in a silent request for his hand.

A few strands of hair fall into your face as you lean in for a better look. It’s the first time you’ve seen his fingers untaped; they’re pretty, long and slender and surprisingly manicured, but also battered in their delicacy, the veins running over the back of his hand and forearm prominent, his bottom knuckles discolored from the healing bruises they bear. His hard work is palpable upon the smooth skin as evidently as if tattooed.

Hyunjin says your name in close proximity. You respond with an absent hum.

“You’re not nervous, are you?”

“No. Maybe a little.” You let his hand fall free and go to rummage for supplies. “Fine, yes. Very.”

“But you made Quizlets. You’re prepared for anything.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” You realize only after spotting the gentle smile on his face that he’s making fun of you. “I hate you.”

“Actually,” he hums, “I think you care about me, love. That’s why you’re nervous.”

“Nonsense—I care about disappointing Changbin. That’s it.”

“And me. And hopping on Seungmin’s dick. All these things don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”

You try to tackle him. Hyunjin catches your hands a few inches away from his face, fingers closing around your wrists with obnoxious agility.

“Have you lost your mind?” You whisper-shout, your face on fire. “Don’t bring that up here. I’ll maim you for real.”

The laugh that explodes out of him throws his entire body backwards, turns his eyes to crescent moons and his mouth into a little rectangle. You hate that you don’t hate when that happens.

“My bad, my bad. It slipped out. I won’t—”

One incremental shift of Hyunjin’s body later, you find that you’re precariously, alarmingly close to one another.

So much so that you notice the mole beneath his left eye for the first time, that you're nearly cross-eyed looking at it. That the tip of your nose actually brushes against his before you pull away with a quiet intake of breath. 

Things are awkward between you often, you’ve realized recently. You’re both professional yappers, always quick to digress, quick to find a new topic to bicker about before the awkwardness marinates. But hours later you’ll look back on the interaction and still remember how the air shifted: like a layer of dust had been blown away and something untouched and unknown was discovered just underneath.

Since you’ve met him, Hyunjin has spent more time on your nerves than on your mind. You’re not exactly losing sleep over such a circumstantial acquaintance; you know that his presence in your life will end the way it began, naturally and anticlimactically and inside the ANTH 111 lecture hall. Still, it doesn’t go unnoticed when your heart and stomach launch into an elaborate gymnastics routine in the wake of something he says or does, just as they’re doing now.

Hyunjin glances into your right eye a moment, then your left. The mole just below his left eye disappears when he smiles, the expression soft, saccharine, and sincere. How anyone casually looks the way he does is beyond your abilities of comprehension.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

Your face continues to burn, now perhaps for different reasons. “What for?”

He lets go of your wrist, sweeps the lock of hair that keeps getting in your eyes behind the cuff of your ear.

“Caring about me.”

Then he flicks your forehead. You recoil with a quiet ow.

“Now stop stalling and tape me, dumbass.”

“Okay,” you mutter, rubbing the injury tenderly. “No need to get violent.”

It turns out the arduous taping procedure described in the instruction manual is for serious hand injuries. Hyunjin splints his fingers together for support, not rehabilitation, so it takes all of five minutes for him to talk you through his process. You finish taping both of his hands with nineteen minutes to spare. So maybe the Quizlets were overkill.

As you’re walking him down to practice, you take his hand and lift it to eye level, scanning your craftsmanship dubiously. “It’s not too tight, is it?”

“It’s perfect.” He swivels the hand around and grabs onto your entire face, the sensation by now eerily familiar. “Want another taste?”

You shove him down the stairs that remain. Unfortunately, there are only two. “You are truly grotesque.”

The gym has come to life since you arrived earlier this morning, now illuminated by shining ceiling lights in addition to the sun spilling through high, narrow windows. Most of the team has yet to step onto the court, still stretching or jogging along the sidelines: Minho and Coach Bang are talking strategy on the bench, the coach taking notes on a handheld whiteboard every now and then; Changbin is leaning over a recumbent Felix below the scoreboard, presumably trying to fix his ass.

The only one already with a ball in hand is Seungmin, setting to himself by the net. Once, twice, thrice straight up in the air, and then he glances in your direction and sends the fourth towards the left side of the court in a buoyant arc.

You only glean bits and pieces of the next few seconds. Hyunjin is at your side one moment, making a break for the net the next. His arms draw backwards in perfect synchrony. Feet hit the floor with laserlike intent. His entire body unravels like a fraying chrysalis as he rises to meet the ball, pounds it over the net and into the ground at an angle so clean that the sound of its landing resounds within your ribcage. It rebounds over the railing of the second floor and barely misses the doorway of the examination room you just emerged from.

Hyunjin drops lightly back onto his feet, following the ball’s tumultuous trajectory with proud eyes. A leftover breeze tosses a strand of hair over the bridge of your nose, and time starts moving again.

“Oi, this isn’t your backyard! Go pick that up!” Their coach booms, though his words lack their usual bitterness after what he just witnessed his ace hitter do.

Hyunjin swivels towards Seungmin first. “Crazy bitch. What the fuck was that?”

“Lower and faster. Further from the net too,” Seungmin returns. “How’d it feel?”

The grin on Hyunjin’s face reminds you of a wildfire, untamed and all-consuming and frightening in its fervor. “Like we just won everything.”

He tousles your hair as he jogs past you and back up the stairs to fetch the volleyball. Seungmin waves at you with one hand and palms another ball into his other. His face is warm and bare, his slim build flattered by his volleyball gear. You’ve witnessed few people so nice to look at and even fewer things as elegant as his setting form. But you are still thinking about Hyunjin—and you can’t move.

It is debilitating, watching somebody do the very thing they were destined for.

A little less than a week later, Hyunjin is approaching hour three of spewing hot garbage into a Word document when he decides to give up and call you. 

“Hello?” He immediately starts laughing. “Where the fuck are you?”

You poke the top of your head into the shot of your ceiling, gesturing to your headband. “My face is preoccupied at the moment.”

“Oh, you have to show me. Please.”

You flip your phone up for no more than half a second. A camera shutter goes off, followed by a shriek so loud that it peaks your mic.

“Motherfucker!”

He basically sprints to his camera roll. His prize: you with your face slathered in cleanser, hair pinned back by a Miffy headband, looking like the abominable snowman if he liked cute merchandise.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly. “I’ll treasure this forever.”

“You’ll be punished, Hwang.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

You brandish your middle finger at him in response. He props his phone up against his computer screen with a chuckle. 

“Aaanyways, I have a thesis statement to run by you.”

The first thing you did as Hyunjin’s tutor was help draft an email to Professor Kim, begging her to let him resubmit the two essays he royally botched. She replied with a lengthy quotation from her syllabus, specifically the section that talked about (and prohibited) resubmissions, but ended up making an exception for Hyunjin on account of the “truly piteous timbre” of his email. You fell out of your chair laughing when he read you her response.

“You should’ve opened with that.”

“I tried, hello? Someone distracted me!”

“Read. It. Before I change my mind.”

You spend a few minutes at most on the thesis itself, advising him to avoid passive voice, answer the prompt, establish a refutable argument, the works. Then he asks you a question about the research topic itself, allusions to the afterlife in Ancient Egyptian artwork, and the tutoring session takes a turn into what feels like a podcast episode.

You talk about the God of Death, Anubis, and his connections to the underworld; the elaborate, lavish funerary rituals intended to ensure the souls of the dead traveled safely; the vibrant murals that flanked their final resting spots as pictorial requests for divine protection. And you talk about them all with such confidence, such eloquence, that it’s as if you’re leading him through a history museum rather than talking to your phone as you do your skincare. He could listen to you for hours. He does, actually.

Around 1 A.M., Hyunjin stops typing mid-sentence when you come into frame for the first time, collapsing into your bed with a sigh of relief. Your eyes are soft and sleepy as they blink at your screen, strands of damp hair clinging to your cheeks. He feels his heart physically shift inside his ribcage when your mouth stretches into a yawn. It is the same sensation as the time you shot him a smile over your shoulder and he couldn’t move for ten minutes.

With that, his attention span has run its course.

“Baby,” he interrupts gently. “Let’s stop here, okay? You seem tired.”

You open your mouth as if to protest, only to yawn again.

“I suppose I am. Will you keep working tonight?”

“I think so. I hit my stride.”

“Text me if you have questions, then. I’ll respond when I wake up.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Your lips curve into the smallest of smiles. It copies onto Hyunjin’s face incurably quickly. 

“I had my doubts about this tutoring thing, you know.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, you told me this class was the closest thing to daily naptime you’d experienced since preschool.”

“It really is.”

“You also told me you would rather slam your tongue in a car door than read more than three sentences in one sitting.”

“I really would.”

“And you once referred to academia as ‘Virgin Village.’”

“Didn’t you come up with that?”

“No, hello? I live in that village.”

He grins. “I know. I just wanted to hear you admit it.”

“Fuck you.”

“Ah, don’t threaten me with a good—”

“What I’m trying to say is that I didn’t think you would take this seriously, but I’m happy to be proven wrong.”

Hyunjin leans back. “Well, turns out I might give a fuck about anthropology after all.”

“Really?”

“No.”

You pretend to punch him through the screen. It’s so cute that he forgets to think before he opens his mouth next.

“But I do give a fuck about you.”

There’s nothing crazy about the statement. You’re friends, sort of. You manage his team. It would be strange if he didn’t. But the seconds that follow are terrible, a silent prophecy of something disastrous, like a cloud of rubble before an avalanche, the standstill during a star’s final breath. And Hyunjin’s heartbeat is hounding against his ears like a performance of traditional taiko.

He says good night in a haste. The call ends. He stares at the wall of his bedroom in a muddled haze for who knows how long.

Then he opens his texts.

Hyunjin: We have team bonding tomorrow btw Hyunjin: Don’t forget Y/N: i forgot. Y/N: pick me up at 6:45? Hyunjin: 🫡

He picks you up at 7:53.

You approach his car with your fists balled and your eyebrows knitted together like a mean old curmudgeon and he’s walking too close to your lawn.

“His fault,” Hyunjin says before you start yelling.

Minho simpers at you through his open window. “Hey, you! So glad you could join us!”

You fix the man with a judgmental glare as you slide into the backseat. “Aren’t you the captain? Why are you this late?”

“Whoa, okay. I would’ve scheduled this for earlier if I knew right now was honesty hour.”

“You did schedule it for earlier,” you say. “You scheduled it for way earlier.”

“Yeah, well, you’re fired.”

“You can’t fire me, Minho.”

“I can too. Tell ‘em, Hwang.”

“I want nothing to do with this.”

When you step through the doors of the arcade, you’re met with a surge of sensory input that you haven’t experienced in years. The air hangs thick with the smells of greasy concessions; everywhere you look are flashing screens and neon signs, stuffed animals and fading posters; clamoring against your ears are the sounds of games being won or lost, of balls being pocketed or launched, and of a horde of fully grown men spectating a match of Dance Dance Revolution so passionately (and loudly) that they’ve scared everyone away from that side of the room. You recognize the current competitors as Changbin and Jeongin.

“I’ll go pay,” Hyunjin says. “How much time do we want?”

“Infinity,” Minho answers. Hyunjin doesn’t move. “Two hours.”

He flashes him a thumbs-up. “And you?”

“I’m okay, I think.”

“No you’re not,” the two men answer in perfect unison.

You glance between them warily. “I don’t mind watching, seriously. I don’t even know how most of these games work—”

“There’s Tetris,” Hyunjin cuts in.

You purchase an hour.

One would imagine the point of the evening is to break the SNU men’s volleyball team, not to bond them. You’ve never seen so many strained blood vessels in your life. Nor have you heard of half the insults they spew at each other as the night goes on. Felix has to pay a fee for lodging an air hockey puck in the side of the MarioKart machine. Changbin loses at skee-ball and has to down an XL slushie like it’s a shot. It’s a scary amount of boyishness expressed in scary ways.

But they’re happy. You’ve picked up on it when they’re on the court, noticed the raw elation they emanate just from playing together. Yet, their closeness has never been more evident to you than tonight. The men are either laughing or making someone else laugh, arms draped over each other at all times, equally happy to celebrate victories as they’re eager to punish losses. It dawns on you at some point that you’re glad to be here with them, grateful to be a part of something so special—especially because there’s Tetris.

“Have you ever considered going pro?” Hyunjin asks over your shoulder.

You waited until most of the team was distracted to slink off to your beloved machine. Hyunjin tagged along, undoubtedly with the intention of making fun of you, only to be rendered speechless by your mastery. He’s been watching in a state of stupor, forearms propped against the back of your chair.

You don’t respond for a while, too focused on a precarious patch to even blink, let alone partake in conversation.

“I already did,” you finally answer.

“Sorry, what? You played professional Tetris?”

“In middle school. Then I got bored and switched to backgammon.” You pause. “Then I got bored again and switched to chess.”

“How do you look like this with these hobbies?”

Your run ends a few minutes later with a somber sound effect. You turn around in your seat with an anguished groan. “I think I’m washed.”

He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind. “You just set a new record by three hundred thousand points.”

“It’s a small pond,” you say, and an idea occurs to you. “Do you wanna try?”

“I get the feeling I don’t have a choice.”

“Then you’re smarter than you look.”

“Well, you look—”

His eyes move between your shoes and your face, and then his voice is an inaudible mutter as he sinks into your seat. You think you hear something along the lines of unfair.

“What was that?”

“Ugly. I said you look ugly.” He cracks his knuckles. “Now let’s break some fuckin' blocks.” 

When Hyunjin learns that the pieces can be rotated (so six or seven attempts later), a man walks into the arcade. 

He has hair the color of dark chocolate, the face of a fairy prince—and he’s with someone. The two of them appear arm in arm, laughing at something he said. He looks at this person the way astronomers do to the sky.

Something shatters inside you like old porcelain.

Your hands loosen around the back of Hyunjin’s chair. You can’t watch. You can’t think. You can only feel a void of disappointment rip open, stretch over you like an elongating shadow.

“Seung!” That’s Jisung, you think. “You made it!”

“Yo, sorry we’re late.” That’s Seungmin. That is undoubtedly Seungmin. “Dinner took longer than I thought.”

“Min, are you sure I’m allowed to be here?” You don’t know who this voice belongs to and you’re not sure you want to. “I feel like I’m intruding—”

“Hwang,” you say suddenly. “I have to go.”

He turns around, confused. An unattended block falls into a terrible spot on the screen behind him. ”Already?”

“I forgot I had an important call to make.” You turn away, training your eyes on the patterned carpet. “Sorry. I’ll see you around.”

You have touched Hyunjin’s hands many times. He’s asked you to tape his fingers every day since the first; he likes the way you cut off his circulation, says it helps him hit harder. But you never hold his hand so much as you examine it, the act stiff and unfeeling, cordoned within the professional pretense of athletic treatment. 

Now, Hyunjin catches your hand like a gardener repotting their favorite flower: delicately, careful of leaving its roots intact and petals untouched, but firmly, securely, so the flower continues to stand tall even when it’s been extracted from the soil, not even a speck of dirt slipping through the cracks between their fingers. That is the image you conjure when he slips his between yours, his metal rings cold where his fingertips are warm.

He says your name. There is a pinch of pain in the word, and you know that he knows.

“Do you want to be alone?”

You have never been asked such a thing—you have never asked to be asked such a thing—but, for some reason, the question brings tears to your eyes. 

“Yes, please,” you whisper, and you pull your hand away.

When you stalk past him, you hear Jisung notice you, call out to you, a note of worry in his question. You also count three pairs of eyes on your back: one concerned, the next confused, and the last you are wholly incapable of meeting. 

Unknown to you is the fourth pair fixed upon the top of the Tetris machine, where you’ve left your phone.

You emerge into the parking lot. The frigid air stills your mind for a fraction of a second, the last moment of mental quietude you will allow yourself that night.

Hyunjin’s right; the team manager doesn’t have to do much.

Coach Bang allows you to come to whichever practices and games you feel like, during which you might at most lug around a ballbag or fill someone’s waterbottle before holing up somewhere to do your own thing. But you like the people you work for too much to do so little for them, so you attend everything  your schedule allows. 

Last week, you could be found helping Minho put up the volleyball nets before practice, your laughter echoing throughout the spacious gym as he complained to you about his biochemistry professor’s distinct “cabbage scent.” Or running to grab materials for Changbin as he treated his teammates’ injuries like you were assisting an orthodontist giving someone a root canal. The dinner invitations you extended to Seungmin were always turned down, but his teammates were more than happy to assist you and Hyunjin in your quest to establish the best kimbap joint in the area once and for all. You even had a heart-to-heart with Coach Bang during one of the team’s water breaks, in which you managed to get half a smile out of the guy; Hyunjin was convinced that was his way of asking you to elope. You spent more time in the gymnasium those ten days than you had your entire college career.

Then came the arcade.

Five days have come and gone. You haven’t attended practice since, but you still see Hyunjin every morning at anthropology. The two of you sit in uncharacteristic silence for most of the lectures. You’ve taken the best notes of your life. He doesn’t mention the previous weekend; he doesn’t mention much of anything. 

In person, that is.

That Friday afternoon, you’re reading on the terrace of the library when you receive a text. It’s from Hyunjin, a two-minute voice note. You hesitate for a moment, stick a pencil into the gutter of your textbook to save your place, and slip your earbuds in. You listen to it.

Then you listen to it again.

And again as you wrap up your study session and go home. Again as you cook yourself dinner and load the dishwasher. Again as you shrug on a jacket and pocket your keys, setting off on the familiar trek to the gym.

As for what you plan to do there on a Friday night, long after the team has finished practice, you haven’t the slightest clue. You continue to move regardless, fueled by the feeling that there is where you need to be.

Coach Bang is leaving the building just as you’re approaching it. He halts in his footsteps and raises his eyebrows when he notices you. The man has always been difficult to read, but his face is exceptionally opaque now. Maybe it’s the shadowy landscape; more likely it’s the uneasiness that began to mount within you once you noticed the lights in the gym were still on.

“It’s been a while,” he greets.

“Coach,” you return, lowering your head. “I want to apologize for—”

“Save it,” he says, not unkindly. “There’s nothing to apologize for, alright? The team is lucky to have you.”

You manage a grateful smile. “I’ll be back starting next week.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He starts to walk away, stops himself, and glances into the illuminated building. “I would give him some space, by the way.”

Your uneasiness morphs into anxiety as you watch his broad back retreat into the shadows. You remain outside the gym for a few minutes more, accompanied by the distant melodies of cricket chorales and the muffled squeaking of shoes against laminated hardwood, the harsh sounds of flesh meeting leather.

Briskly, you walk home, rummage around, and return to the gym ten minutes later with your textbook tucked beneath your arm. This time, you unlock and enter the building without a moment of hesitation. 

Hyunjin is positioned multiple yards behind the service line, rotating a volleyball in his hands. A high toss, two resounding steps, and a collision like the crack of a whip. The previous ball has barely landed in the furthest corner of the court when he’s picking up the next, retreating to the same spot to do it all again. His tank top is the color of charcoal over his sweaty skin, his hair auburn where it’s plastered to his neck. He’s alone.

You only catch sight of Hyunjin’s face when you descend the stairs. His expression is crystalline, hardened with concentration and fortified by courage, but fragile all at once, rendered delicate by fatigue and fear, spilling from his every seam and splintering off his person like a broken vase. You recognize it as clearly as if you were looking at a picture of yourself from the worst years of your life.

“I was told to give you space,” you call out, and Hyunjin drops the volleyball he’s holding.

His lips fall apart. Nothing comes out of them. The only sounds to follow are your footsteps as you make your way towards the bleachers, a vertical wall of plastic now that they’ve been retracted for the night. You fold your legs into a criss-cross as you take a seat at their base.

“Is this enough space?”

More silence. You gesture to the volleyball nervously.

“Don’t make me go further, please. I’m not ready to die.”

Finally, this earns you a smile. It’s not much, but it loosens the nervous coils in your heart, permits your lungs to contract once more, and it remains on his face as he swipes the ball back into his hands. You open your textbook.

The rest of the night elapses in turning pages and soaring volleyballs. You don’t care for minutes or hours; you give him all the time in the world, as he did you.

The only time you glance at the clock on the wall is around midnight, when Hyunjin hobbles to the middle of the court and collapses. You’re worried at first. Then he rolls onto his back and releases a guttural groan into his hands, and your held breath comes out a laugh. You set down your book and stand up.

There’s a lake of perspiration forming around him. You pay it no mind and flop onto the floor, your eyes instantly narrowing beneath the fluorescent lights. 

“How do you see under these things?”

“I don’t,” he returns. “I complained about it to Coach once.”

“And?”

“He made them brighter.” Sounds about right.

Hyunjin spends the next few minutes catching his breath, his chest rising and falling in your peripheral vision. You sift through your mind for phrases of consolation or gestures of support and come up empty. You wish you had Hyunjin’s way with words.

But you think about the way his smile reached his eyes as he thanked you for caring about him, the tenderness with which he caught your hand at the arcade, the I give a fuck about you he blurted before ending the study call. You think about the voice note. It’s not that Hyunjin has a way with words; it’s that he’s brave enough to break the silences that you can’t, like he perceives your anxiety for the aftermath, shouldering the responsibility so you won’t have to.

This cannot be his burden alone.

You inhale. “What’s on your mind?”

Hyunjin doesn’t answer right away. You give up on squinting and close your eyes. The lights are still bright enough to dance around the murky darkness.

“I don’t think I know how to put it into words.”

You nearly laugh; you know how that feels. “Don’t think, just talk. I’m here.”

The same advice you gave yourself seems to work on him as well.

“Do you remember Ishikawa Yuki?”

His role model.

“He’s currently playing for a club team in Italy called Allianz Milano.” He blows out a deep breath. “I’ve been talking to their coach, Roberto Piazza, for the last six months.”

The gears in your head creak in their effort to process the implications of these words. “Holy shit, Hwang.”

“He emailed again, this morning. Said he was coming to the tournament later this month, he’s excited to see me play in person, whatever. And it hit me, finally, that this is all real. Like, this is actually happening to me. I spent all of today freaking out and asked Coach to let me stay back after practice. Usually, it wears out my brain if I tire my body, but it only half-worked today. I couldn’t wrap my head around anything. I still can’t.

“I am who I am because of that man, and now…I have a shot at playing with him. I keep asking myself why I’m not—not happier. I should be bouncing off the fucking walls, no? If I told my past self that this would be happening to him one day, he—he would—”

You open your eyes, confused by the sudden silence.

Hyunjin is sitting up next to you, staring intensely into the bleachers. You first notice the tip of his tongue prodding into his cheek, then his shuddering breath. He lifts a hand to his face, pressing against his eyes.

You stop thinking after that.

You sit up with him. When you settle your fingers around his wrist, he allows you to pull his hand back to his side. But he turns away as if trying to hide from you; he squeezes his eyes shut as if that would obstruct your view of his pain.

You reach to cradle his face, bringing him back to you. The cuff of your sleeves wipe at the saltwater on his cheeks, push the hair off his forehead with gentle sweeps. The two of you are close, close enough that your lips would meet the space between his eyes if you so much as lost your balance. His gaze traverses to your face, but you resolve not to meet it. You know you will traipse into uncharted territory the moment you do.

“Don’t fight it.” You trace over the hill of his cheek. “Healing becomes easier if you let yourself hurt. Trust me, Hyunjin.”

His first name should feel foreign on your tongue, yet you suspect the syllables have accompanied you all your life.

“You don’t have to continue if you can’t.”

“S’okay.” Hyunjin lifts your hand away from his face, presses a kiss to the base of your palm. “I want to.”

You feel yourself stumble ungracefully into the uncharted territory from before; does he do the same?

“I used to play volleyball on this expanse of cracked blacktop, behind my primary school. It was pretty brutal on my feet—I blew through so many different pairs of sneakers my mom almost made me quit.” He smiles at the memory. “But every time I came close to quitting, I’d go home and rewatch the same USA vs. Poland match from the 2008 Summer Olympics I asked my dad to record, and I’d promise myself it would be me on some other kid’s screen someday.

“That kid would tell everyone who’d listen about how cool I am. That I’m a secret superhero. That I’m living proof humans can fly if they really, really try—just like I talked about the volleyball players I grew up watching on my TV.

“The other day, Coach told me that hope would consume me. I thought it was just some senile drivel at the time, but..I think I get what he means now. I would do anything and everything to make that kid proud—even if it meant losing myself.” He lowers his head, auburn strands falling into his eyes. “That’s what’s on my mind.”

Amidst the ensuing pause, a storm approaches. It does not come in the form of rain or snow, sleet or hail, no; it is a gathering of words unsaid and emotions unacknowledged, all emerging from the deepest chambers of your heart in synchrony. The same entities you used to scapegoat for all the times things were awkward between you and Hyunjin when you were the culprit all along. You and your blind cowardice.

The storm tears open the seam of your lips. You do not resist; it’s long overdue.

“Every time Changbin sees you, he turns into a smitten schoolgirl,” you say. “He is physically unable to contain how endearing he finds you. He told me so himself.”

Hyunjin looks at you with widened eyes. You think you can see your own reflection in them, and you are the spitting image of a lighter dropped into gasoline, unstoppable in your vehemence.

“Jeongin comes to you for advice before anyone else,” you continue, “even for things related to school—which I still find hard to believe, I’m not gonna lie. But you have his best interests in mind, and it shows in everything you do for him. Of course your opinion matters more than anything in the world.

“I know you think he can’t stand you, but you are the reason Coach Bang loves this job, why he loves this sport. It’s written all over his face every time he calls you something mean, every time he makes you run another lap, every time he looks at you. You’re like a son to him. Everyone sees it but you.”

“Then there’s me.” You pause to catch your breath. “When I think about what my life used to be, I remember a lot of things. I remember loneliness. Insecurity. I remember my books and my backgammon boards and the way I taught myself to disappear inside them so the world would never find me. I remember avoiding mirrors like a vampire because I didn’t like seeing my own reflection. I remember feeling like I had to put on someone else’s personality every time I left the house because nobody would want to know me for me. All I ever wanted was a place where I could be myself, love myself, without consequence. I have yet to find that place.

“But I found a person. Someone who wouldn’t know time and place if they kicked his dick into his body. Someone who thinks instant ramen is high in nutritional value because it comes with dried vegetables. Someone who sweats the same amount of rain the Sahara Desert receives yearly—your body is not normal, by the way.”

Hyunjin giggles; it is soft and short, a small, tearful huff into the quiet air that makes you feel like you’re flying.

“Don’t get me wrong,” you say. “Your sense of humor sucks and your taste in coffee is so boring and you are the one with no media literacy, not Professor Kim. But I love spending time with you. I love who I am when I’m around you. And none of that has to do with volleyball.”

The next time you blink, you discover that he’s not the only one with tears in his eyes. How long has that been going on?

“There’s so much about you to be proud of, Hyunjin.” You give him a watery smile. “That kid will be spoiled for choice.”

When Hyunjin pulls you into his arms, you fall into each other like going to bed after a long day. Your face burrows into the crook of his neck in your embarrassment; he is laughing and crying at the same time when he mumbles something into your shoulder: “I knew you cared about me.”

You are so happy for the comedic relief you could sob. It helps that you already are.

“How the fuck are you still sweaty?” You choke out, and you think you like his cologne after all.

Six days later, Hyunjin opens the door of his apartment.

A fun-sized flurry of black and white barrages into the hallway outside and almost runs headfirst into the figure waiting there. You fall to your knees like you’ve just been gravely wounded, emitting an ear-piercing wail to match. All it takes is a few good head scratches for Kkami to stop yipping bloody murder and start whining for attention instead. 

Upon minute five of watching you and his dog cuddle in the hallway directly outside his home, Hyunjin sighs.

“Can you come inside, please? My RA will think I’m doing some freaky shit again.”

You side-eye him as you walk into his apartment, Kkami perched happily in your arms. “What, exactly, does freaky shit entail?”

He smirks as the door falls shut. “You want me to tell you or show you?”

You turn to Kkami, disgusted. “Your owner’s a bit of a pervert, my dear.”

Kkami licks you on the chin. Hyunjin’s eyes narrow to slits.

“Traitor.”

Naturally, Hyunjin’s parents chose the eve of his final anthropology exam—and the week before the tournament that will determine the trajectory of his career—to ask him to look after Kkami for a few days. He nearly canceled their plane tickets himself, but his impromptu roommate is currently ransacking your face with kisses on his couch, and he thinks your laugh complements his studio better than any decoration. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” He calls from the kitchen area.

You meander over, Kkami (still) perched happily in your arms. “What do you have?” 

“Alcohol.” He opens his fridge far enough so you can peer over his shoulder. “Americanos.”

He stops speaking.

“Is that all?”

“Yes. Wait—and apple juice.”

“You are about to be a professional athlete.”

“What the Italians don’t know won’t hurt them. You want apple juice, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”

“Maybe. Can you open it for me? My hands are full.”

Hyunjin does so with far less reluctance than he feigns. You thank him jubilantly, popping the straw into your mouth.

“Let’s get this over with.”

At 10:32 P.M., all is calm. You are sitting on the floor, your back against the side of his mattress. Hyunjin is where the universe intended: curled up in bed, both him and his laptop lying on their sides. You have studied eight out of ten units in only two and a half hours, and the night is still young. Kkami is but a fluffy, sleepy Oreo by your waist.

At 10:33 P.M., the Oreo begins to retch.

You startle a foot into the air. Hyunjin is out of bed and on his feet in the blink of an eye, the very image of a dog dad on duty. He grabs three different things off the kitchen counter with one hand and scoops up the long-haired chihuahua with the other, and then he’s kicking open the door.

Seungmin appears out of thin air carrying two heaping bags of groceries. Hyunjin nearly knocks him and a month’s worth of fresh produce down four flights of stairs.

“Hyun—Kkami?” Seungmin swivels. “Yo, what the fuck is—”

Hyunjin is already out the door.

A few minutes later, Hyunjin squats off to the side, pouring fresh water into a portable dog bowl. A little ways away, Kkami is throwing up ebulliently; a set of footsteps approaches.

“What is this thing?” Seungmin squats down next to Hyunjin, picking up the piece of patterned fabric lying on the grass. 

“Kkami gets sad after throwing up,” he sighs. “His blanket makes him feel better.”

Seungmin watches the chihuahua for a few moments, a soft flinch crimping his features. “He ate too fast again?”

Hyunjin rakes a hand through his hair. “I don’t get it. Nobody’s gonna take his food from him.”

Seungmin laughs. “I didn’t even know he was on campus.”

“I picked him up last night. My parents are traveling for work—they say hi, by the way.”

“I say hi back. I miss your mom’s cooking.”

“Me too,” Hyunjin says, smiling. “She would love to cook for you again—she’s always saying you’re too skinny.”

“She really is.”

A beat passes; it is then that Hyunjin has an epiphany.

Seungmin was the one who put a volleyball in his hands for the first time. Back then, Hyunjin was the lesser troublemaker between the two of them—a concept that neither of them can wrap their heads around to this day. Seungmin suggested they use the clotheslines in Hyunjin’s backyard as a makeshift net, despite Hyunjin’s dissuading; half of Hyunjin’s father’s wardrobe caught on fire, Seungmin had a black eye for a week, and nobody knows what happened to that volleyball. The two of them have been attached at the hip ever since.

It is a crazy thing, having your best friend as a teammate; a singular flick of the wrist or a point of his shoe and Seungmin will know exactly Hyunjin wants the ball down to the net’s fraying fibers; Hyunjin will be exactly where Seungmin needs him down to the flecks of paint on the volleyball court. Hyunjin has always been Seungmin’s hitter—Seungmin, always Hyunjin’s setter. Nothing will ever change between them so long as that remains the case.

At least, that’s what Hyunjin used to think.

Learning that Seungmin was in a relationship was as much a wake-up call for Hyunjin as it was for you. At first, he was just fucking pissed; how could Seungmin be so stupid as to turn down someone like you, especially when Hyunjin had shot his mouth off about his wingman services? More importantly, how long had his best friend of eighteen years been in love, and why was he the last to know? 

Only now, as they wait for his nine-year-old chihuahua to finish barfing, does Hyunjin realize that he can’t remember the last time he and Seungmin talked. Not “talked” as in a brief exchange inside the locker room or the lecture hall, about a new approach he wants to try or what Seungmin got on number four or if he wants a ride to practice—“talked” as in talked, about Hyunjin, about Seungmin, about the eighteen years they shared, about all the years yet to come.

Hyunjin sees his setter every day; he stopped looking for his friend a long time ago. 

“Yeonwoo, right?”

He senses surprise in Seungmin without having to look at him. But he also senses a smile, a subtle show that Seungmin recognizes what he’s trying to do—and forgives him.

“Yeonwoo,” Seungmin affirms. “We’re in the same songwriting intensive this semester.”

“Also a singer?”

He shakes his head. “Piano player. Performed at the Carnegie Hall in the United States at, like, seven years old. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so talented.”

“Wow, that’s—hi, old man. You done?”

Kkami walks over with his head hung low and tail between his legs, and Hyunjin hurries to drape the pup in his favorite blanket, pulling the bowl of water in front of him in tandem. Seungmin runs a hand over the top of Kkami’s head as he hydrates.

“You’ve suffered,” he tells him solemnly, and Hyunjin snorts.

“As I was saying—that’s crazy to hear, coming from the most talented person I know. You guys looked so good together.”

“Thanks. It’s weird. I’m happy.”

“You deserve it. You really do, Kim.” They exchange smiles, and Hyunjin gives Seungmin a playful nudge. “When are you introducing us?”

“The arcade wasn’t enough?”

“Don’t insult me.”

“Whenever you want, then.”

“Dinner with my mom, dinner with Yeonwoo,” Hyunjin recounts. “I’m holding you to it.”

“Bet.”

They shake on it. If Hyunjin wasn’t already reassured by Seungmin’s smile, he knows by his clasp around his hand that they’ll be okay.

“What about you?” Seungmin asks. “Are you together yet?”

Hyunjin knew this was coming. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” Seungmin strings his hands together, letting them dangle in the space between his knees. “Someone you have questions for that you’re too scared to ask. Someone who’s lived in your mind since the day you met. There’s someone like that, isn’t there?”

Hyunjin pokes his tongue into his cheek. 

Ever since that night on the gym floor, Hyunjin’s been having these dreams. By the time his alarm goes off in the morning, every detail of the dream has eluded him, leaving behind only a ghost of emotion, akin to the breeze that grazes your face moments after walking past another person.

But then he’ll get out of bed, and walk to that café on the east side of campus, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. There, he’ll order a vanilla latte with extra sweetener, then turn around to see you standing five feet away, holding an Americano and trying not to laugh. And he’ll just know, with everything in him, that you are where his head goes when he’s not keeping watch.

He still addresses you by the pet names you hate. He still finds any excuse to be close to you; he still pesters you like a child with a crush. But now, he calls you his baby like one wishes on a star; his eyes drift to your lips every time you’re within two feet of each other; he makes fun of your likes and dislikes only because he’s happy to know about them at all. Ever since that night on the gym floor.

It’s impossible for nothing and everything to change at once. Two people teetering on the precipice of something cannot withstand a gust of wind so powerful. He’s already hanging off the ledge, losing his grip; where are you?

Next to him, Seungmin lets out a soft laugh. “There is.”

Hyunjin doesn’t know what to say.

“It might’ve been me, at some point,” he hums, returning his hand to scratch the back of Kkami’s ears. “But it has always been you, Hyun.”

Four floors above them and inside Hyunjin’s place, you are pacing between his fridge and his bed, nervously awaiting his and Kkami’s return.

Something catches your eye, wide and flat and hung on the wall by his bathroom door. You approach it curiously, your lips pulling into a fond smile the moment you realize all that’s in front of you.

Many of the photographs are of Hyunjin: him in his preteens, dead asleep in bed while dressed head to toe in volleyball gear, braces visible because his mouth is open; an action shot taken at what must’ve been a U21 match, the South Korean flag stitched into the shoulder of his jersey; him with half a birthday cake in front of him and the rest smeared all over his face. There are headlines, too: Underdog team earns district’s first high school volleyball state title; Hwang Hyunjin proves himself worthy of “ace spiker” label at South Korea V. Croatia U19 match; Coach Bang “Christopher” Chan leads Seoul National University to second consecutive KUL championship. There’s one—Who is Hwang Hyunjin? Meet the twenty-year-old instigant of South Korea’s imminent volleyball revolution—beside which he’s written the singular word “mouthful.” You laugh; you agree.

But pinned to the corkboard is also a photograph of Minho, surrounded by stray cats in the alleyway outside a K-BBQ restaurant; his parents cradling Kkami in an apple costume; his high school volleyball team silhouetted against a pretty sunset. Him and Seungmin as kids, covered in grime and scrapes but beaming nonetheless; him and Seungmin at age nineteen, stadium lights on their backs, unadulterated elation on their faces as they charge towards each other, beaming still. Changbin piggybacking Felix through the hallways of the gym, neither of them wearing a shirt; Jisung offering Coach Bang a beer while the latter looks direly unamused (you make a mental note to ask about that one later); what looks like a Rock Lee cosplayer grimacing in the middle of your anthropology classroom.

You rush forward as if decreed by gravitational force. Not too far away is another picture of you, in which you boast a Miffy headband and a face full of foaming cleanser. Then another, your eyes narrowed like that of a sniper taking aim as you’re playing Tetris; you with so many volleyballs piled into your arms that you can’t see your own face; your cheeks squished by a bandaged hand after you lost a bet about pandas (they can swim); you clutching your stomach on the library floor, brought to hysterical tears by Professor Kim’s email. You, you, you.

You bring your pointer finger to this last image, tracing it over the curve of your own cheek. You see a dimple on your face you didn’t know you had. You realize it only comes out for him.

It has always been him.

The front door opens. A man with telephone poles for legs and a long-haired chihuahua in his arms appears behind it. You sense in him that something has changed since you last saw each other. The two of you lock eyes. 

It’s not awkward this time.

Multiple yards behind the service line, Hyunjin is rotating a volleyball in his hands. It feels solid and sentient, an extension of himself held in cotton-clad fingers. He knows how this story will end.

He moves his eyes to his best friend’s back. Four fingers flash back at him twice, signaling a high lob set to the left, the very play they’ve practiced tirelessly for the last five weeks. The breath Hyunjin blows out of his cheeks seems to crystallize in the air, almost solid in all its exhilaration. 

He bends low and throws high. His arms drop behind his body like a spread of feathered wings; his feet fall into place below him like a meteor shower, two consecutive strikes against the earth that fissure its mantle. The lights overhead are bright. His palm pulls taut when it slams into leather. He knows how this story will end.

The volleyball tears towards the ground. It trembles as if scared by all that it holds: the guarantee of a flawless denouement, the catalyst of a radiant future. Hyunjin’s heart is beating hard enough to crack his ribs when he lands back on the ground, when the volleyball lands in the furthest corner of the court. He’s not scared at all.

He balls his fingers into fists.

“JUST LIKE LAST YEAR, BACK TO BACK ON AN ACE—”

An arm seizes Hyunjin’s neck; another drags him onto the floor. His head thuds onto the hardwood with a sound he hears over the whole world detonating. His vision fills with the faces of the people he cares for most, some covered in tears and others rivaling the ceiling with their blinding smiles. He can’t feel most of his body; his sweat drips into his mouth. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.

“—DEFENDING THEIR TITLE FOR THE THIRD CONSECUTIVE YEAR—”

His eyes find Seungmin’s among the fray. Their hands clap together with such force that Hyunjin cusses at the impact. Seungmin’s gaze burns into his with a ferocity that Hyunjin plans to take to his grave. His setter. His best friend.

He says something inaudible, but Hyunjin reads the words off his lips, and his eyes fill with tears: we win everything.

“—YOUR NATIONAL CHAMPIONS: SEOUL NATIONAL UNIVERSITY!”

Hyunjin’s post-game interview is a lawless affair. He is allowed at most half an answer before a new teammate is barreling over with an animalistic screech or a new friend is screaming congratulations from out of frame.

The reporter is visibly agitated by her final question, unpursing her lips to ask: “Is there anyone you’d like to thank?”

Hyunjin exhales. “You want the short answer or the long—”

Changbin seizes him by the head. Hyunjin bursts into a peal of high-pitched laughter as the libero litters kisses all over his face, nearly crumpling to the floor in his attempt to escape.

“Love you,” he yells before hurrying off. 

“Love you too, Bin.”

Hyunjin turns a sheepish smile to the reporter.

“The short answer,” she deadpans.

He starts counting off his fingers. He thanks his family—his first and last teammates, his eternal anchors. His other family, his actual teammates, the best boys he’s ever known. His coach, who will let him call him Chris someday. His best friend and setter, Kim Seungmin, who set a clothesline on fire once and changed his life forever.

In the distance, a figure emerges from the locker rooms. There’s a navy blue SNU banner draped over your shoulders, two overflowing duffel bags in your hands. Jisung and Jeongin run over to take them from you, and the smile you give them is wide and flushed, a remnant of the elation you shared from afar. The three of you start walking out of the gym.

Hyunjin thanks you.

You didn’t ask for the position, he tells the reporter, but some idiot roped you into it, and they’re all so grateful that you decided to stick around. You know the team better than they know themselves—it’s hard to believe you’ve been with them for five weeks instead of five years.

What are you like? What aren’t you like, is the better question. You’re caring, smart, strong; you see so much goodness in the people around you, all while unaware that it is your warmth that brings it out of them. Flowers only bloom in the sun’s doting radius, and so did he.

You have the sort of soul that incurs the scorn of the stars. They are the only ones to deserve you, they'd argue; you’re wasting your potential among humans when you belong to the sky, and they’d be right.

Hyunjin pokes his tongue into his cheek, suddenly annoyed.

“Why the fuck am I still talking to you?” 

“Pardon?” The reporter returns, but Hyunjin is already vaulting over the bleachers, making a mad dash for the exit. She gives her cameraman an affronted glare. He shrugs.

He explodes onto the concrete, looking around in a frantic haze. He finds the blue banner heading toward the team bus and flanked by his teammates with ease.

He calls out to you.

You glance backwards. Your smile is purely effulgent, your laugh but a faint sigh against the area’s busy thrum. His heart is pounding against his ribs like a battering ram again, but he’s used to this feeling by now. Jeongin and Jisung make themselves scarce.

You’re beautiful. God, you’re fucking beautiful. That was the first thought to enter his mind when he spilled an iced Americano on your lap all those months ago and you looked at him like he hailed from another planet. And it is the first thought to enter his mind now, when he runs up to you and cradles your face in his hands, his touch infinitely, impossibly gentle, and you look at him like he’s everything that has ever existed, everything that ever will. 

Tendrils of your body spray reach him from here, floral and light like a tropical coastline. He could’ve counted your eyelashes—if he didn’t have something far better to do.

“Tell me now if you don’t want me to do this,” he whispers.

A stupid smile crosses the face of the smartest person he knows. “My lips are sealed.”

Hyunjin kisses you. He kisses you until the banner around your shoulders is wrinkled under his touch, until your hands are tangled in his hair and aching his scalp, until the breaths you take are breaths you share, passed between your mouths like a puff of smoke before they’re colliding again.

He kisses you until he’s crying, again, until he’s no longer tasting your lips but your grin, and he kisses you only harder when those scornful stars start to dance before him, for you are his, not theirs, and he’s really won everything, now.

“Hwang, I need you in my office.”

Six months later, Hyunjin sees Coach Bang standing a few yards away with a grim air about him. He stops in his footsteps and glances at his captain, confused.

“I know nothing,” Seungmin says, walking away. “Good luck!”

“Thanks, cap.” Hyunjin swears he’s had this exact exchange before.

Head volleyball coach Christopher Bang’s workspace still reminds Hyunjin of a morgue. But there are two picture frames on his desk now: one of his family in front of the Sydney Opera House, the other of a band of boys clad in navy blue, draped over one another in exhausted bliss. The latter lends the room a much-needed sense of vitality. Too bad it still houses a rusty cyborg.

Hyunjin closes the door and takes a seat. Bang taps a knuckle against the tempered glass of his monitor. “Read.”

From: Nicola Daldello «ndaldello@pvm.com» To: Bang “Christopher” Chan «cb97@snu.edu» Subject: Re: Allianz Milano V. Pallavolo Perugia practice game Christopher, Allow me to apologize for my delayed response as I shared your request with Chairman Piazza. It is my great pleasure to inform you that we would love for Mr. Hwang Hyunjin to participate in our practice game versus Pallavolo Perugia. The match is scheduled for Monday, October 7th, 5-7 P.M. CET in the Giurati Sports Centre in Milan. Mr. Hwang will be playing for Allianz Milano as an outside hitter alongside Mr. Matey Kaziyski, Mr. Osniel Mergarejo, and Mr. Ishikawa Yuki. Please let me know of your availability to call regarding Mr. Hwang’s travel logistics. His transportation and lodging costs will be paid for by the club. I’m looking forward to speaking with you and welcoming Mr. Hwang to Italy once and for all. Yours, Nicola Daldello Assistant Coach, Allianz Milano

“I told you, some opportunities just present themselves,” Bang says, turning his monitor back around. “As for next steps, I need a holistic calendar view of your entire month of October, including social ev—Hwang, is that foam coming out of your mo—NOT ON MY CARPET! HWANG!”

In a park about a ten minute walk away, a small crowd of elderly people are scattered across a few stone tables, hunched over the fading chess boards painted into the granite surfaces. Mrs. Choi whisks away Mrs. Baek’s king with a triumphant yelp.

“I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! That opening is unbeatable!” She swivels towards you, shaking a fist threateningly. “You! Get over here. Your reign is over.”

You are sitting cross-legged in the shade of a broad magnolia tree, clearing out your storage. You tried to take a picture of a particularly rotund pigeon to send to Hyunjin earlier and couldn’t even do that. It was then you decided you couldn't live like this anymore.

“As excited as I am to beat you again, Mrs. Choi, I need ten more minutes,” you call back. 

She presents you with an unpleasant hand gesture. You turn your attention back to your phone, grinning. Two new notifications sit at the top of your lock screen.

Hyunjin: Omw now. Sorry had to talk to Chris Hyunjin: Same park? Y/N: yes Hyunjin: Who’s our opponent today Y/N: mrs. choi Hyunjin: Not that bitch again Y/N: ?

He’ll be here in eight minutes.

You return to the task at hand. You’ve already cleared out your apps, your documents, and videos; all that’s left is the audio files. You conduct a quick mental review. Surely you’ll live without your downloaded music and accidental voice memos.

Instead of hitting the “delete” button, you extract a pair of tangled earphones from your jacket pocket.

You go back to your texts with Hyunjin, open the shared attachments tab, and scroll for a long time before you find the voice note he sent you seven months ago.

He finds you a sobbing mess.

“Hey, hey, whoa.” He’s on his knees in an instant, gathering your hands into his, a world of concern in the brown of his eyes. Your earbuds fall out and clatter onto the cement below. “Baby, what’s happening? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you say in a flustered haste. “Yes, I’m okay. I don’t—I don’t really know what’s happening.”

“Did that hag do this to you?” He asks this question so seriously. “I’ll beat up a senior citizen, I don’t give a fuck—”

“No!” You let out an ugly laugh through your tears. “No, no. Leave Mrs. Choi alone.”

“Then what is it? What’s wrong?”

Eventually, your vision clears enough for you to look at the man kneeling in front of you. His roots grow out longer every day, his hair by now nearly equal parts gold and black. A spot of sunlight infiltrates the magnolia leaves and lands on his left eye, turning it the hue of melted bronze.

Your fingers drift to the sides of his beautiful face as you lean in close; he smells like a combination of smoky rose and tropical coastlines.

“I’ll tell you later,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his hairline. 

He is dissatisfied with this, hooking a pointer finger beneath your chin, guiding your face back to his. He laves the saltwater from your lips, your tongue, and then you’re smiling again, barely able to remember why you cried in the first place.

You rest your foreheads together. “Have I told you that you look like a bumblebee these days?”

He smiles. “Does that make you my flower, then?”

“Because you’re irresistably drawn to me?”

“No, because I wanna put my pollen in—”

You shove him away. “You are grotesque.”

He returns in a flash. “You love me.”

You kiss him again. And again. And one more time for good measure, during which you mumble I do against his lips, and then you remember something.

“Why did Coach hold you back, by the way?” You pull away, tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “Are you in trouble again?”

“No, no. The opposite, actually.”

Your brow furrows. “The opposite? What—”

“In this lifetime, please,” Mrs. Choi hollers from the chess tables. You roll your eyes. Hyunjin smiles helplessly.

“Duty calls, my love.”

“Tell me your thing later too?”

“Of course.”

You dust yourself off and stand up, making your way to the battleground. But not before you whisper to Hyunjin, “now watch me beat up a senior citizen.”

He laughs with his whole body, his eyes the shape of crescent moons, his mouth a little rectangle.

“Hypocrite.”

Hyunjin: [1 Audio Message]

This is my seventh take and I’m not recording an eighth. What you get is what you get. I don’t care anymore.

I understand if you don’t wanna talk about what happened at the arcade. I wouldn’t, either. I just wanted to say that you don’t have to do this tutoring thing anymore. I won’t be able to fulfill my end of our deal, so…yeah, it wouldn’t be fair to you. You’ve already done so much for us. For me.

As for team manager, you’ll have to talk to Minho and Coach Bang if you wanna quit. Doesn’t sound like a fun conversation, I know—but if that’s what you decide, I’ll have your back. They don’t scare me. Well, they do. But only sometimes.

You’ve been…distant, this week. I’ve known peace and quiet for the first time since we met, and I fucking hate it. I realized I couldn’t care less if you’re my tutor or my team manager or whatever—I just don’t want you to be a stranger. Maybe that’s selfish of me to say, but I’m tired of pretending the idea of losing you doesn’t terrify me. It does. It really fucking does.

I’m gonna end this here, because I almost just stopped recording on accident and I’ll genuinely commit homicide if I have to do all this again. Sorry that this got so long, and…I’m sorry about everything. You deserve better.

Come back to me whenever you’re ready, okay? I’ll be waiting.

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp・@automaticpersonabatpaper・@aceofvernons・@linos-kitten・@newhope8・@weedforthoughtz・@hyunverse

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

[macysparadeblog]

Broadway Performances for the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade on November 23, 2023

From Playbill's website: "Created by the Emmy®-winning writer from “Schitt’s Creek,” this hilarious new musical flips the script on the greatest love story ever told. & Juliet asks: what would happen next if Juliet didn’t end it all over Romeo? Get whisked away on a fabulous journey as she ditches her famous ending for a fresh beginning and a second chance at life and love—her way.

Juliet’s new story bursts to life through a playlist of pop anthems as iconic as her name, including Since U Been Gone‚ Roar, Baby One More Time, Larger Than Life‚ That’s The Way It Is, and Can't Stop the Feeling—all from the genius songwriter/producer behind more #1 hits than any other artist this century. Break free of the balcony scene and get into this romantic comedy that proves there’s life after Romeo. The only thing tragic would be missing it."

From Playbill: "What do you get when you pair a semi-neurotic, New York comedy writer with two music superstars from Nashville? A hilarious and audacious farm-to-fable musical about the one thing Americans everywhere can’t get enough of: corn. Shucked is the new musical comedy that proves sometimes tearing down a few walls, rather than growing them, is the only way to preserve our way of life. Shucked is about to turn Broadway on its ear and offer a kernel of hope for our divided nation."

From Playbill: "Marty McFly is a rock ‘n’ roll teenager who is accidentally transported back to 1955 in a time-travelling DeLorean invented by his friend, Dr. Emmett Brown. But before he can return to 1985, Marty must make sure his high school-aged parents fall in love in order to save his own existence."

From Playbill: "Based on the award-winning HBO documentary, How to Dance in Ohio is a heart-filled new musical exploring the need to connect and the courage it takes to step out into the world. At a group counseling center in Columbus, Ohio, seven autistic young adults prepare for a spring formal dance–a rite of passage that breaks open their routines and sets off hilarious and heartbreaking encounters with love, stress, excitement, and independence. How to Dance in Ohio is a story about people standing on the cusp of the next phase of their lives, facing their hopes and fears, ready to make a very big first move…and dance."

From Playbill: "Lovingly ripped from the film classic, Monty Python and the Holy Grail, Spamalot has everything that makes a great knight at the theatre, from flying cows to killer rabbits, British royalty to French taunters, dancing girls, rubbery shrubbery, and of course, the lady of the lake."

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 16/03/2024 (Ariana Grande's eternal sunshine, 4batz/Drake)

For a fourth week, Beyoncé holds the throne on the UK Singles Chart with “TEXAS HOLD ‘EM”. Outside of that, it’s Ariana Grande week, so welcome back to REVIEWING THE CHARTS!

Rundown

Before we get to Ari or, well, anything else, we always start with our notable dropouts, those being songs dropping out of the UK Top 75, which is what I cover, after five weeks in the region or a peak in the more prestigious top 40. This week in particular, we bid adieu to: “Overcompensate” by twenty one pilots (not a surprise there, it seems like a pretty inaccessible lead single), “Forever” by Noah Kahan, “On My Love” by Zara Larsson and David Guetta, “Fast Car” by Tracy Chapman, “Perfect (Exceeder)” by Mason and Princess Superstar and finally, “Popular” by The Weeknd, Playboi Carti and Madonna.

As for our re-entries and gains, God, it was a big day for those this week, especially given not much else was going on between the top 20 and well, everything else. Mitski’s “My Love Mine All Mine” is back at #75, “Make You Mine” by Madison Beer is back at #53 (great!) and two well-deserved awards show boosts are present here - Jungle, the BRIT Awards’ Best British Group, re-enter at #43 with the incredible “Back on 74” and thanks to Billie Eilish getting her Oscar win for Best Original Song, the equally incredible “What Was I Made For?” zooms back at #16. It’s pretty impressive that there are four re-entries here, all in vastly different spaces of the chart, and they’re all fantastic. As for the gains, we see a lot, scouring pretty much all of the chart, so let’s any% speedrun this section: “Thank You (Not So Bad)” by FBI’s top six most wanted criminals at #68, “Anti-Hero” by Taylor Swift at #65, “Happier” by The Blessed Madonna and Clementine Douglas at #61 and okay, break - that song apparently samples “Du hast” by Rammstein, which I just didn’t hear last week when it debuted. Despite being a classic on rock radio all over Europe, the song never charted in the UK’s top 100, and I always preferred “Sonne”. Now back to the list: “Would You (go to bed with me?)” by Campbell and Alcemist at #60, “ONE CALL” by Rich Amiri at #59, freaking “Baby Shark” at #57, “I Remember Everything” by Zach Bryan featuring Kacey Musgraves at #55, “Green & Gold” by Rudimental and Skepsis featuring Charlotte Plank and Riko Dan at #54 (not really excited for how a trend of the 2020s is having so many artists credited), “FE!N” by Travis Scott featuring Playboi Carti at #41, “Evergreen” by Richy Mitch & the Coal Miners at #37, “Austin” by Dasha at #25, “Kitchen Stove” by Pozer at #22, and finally, thanks to the release of her album, “yes, and?” by Ariana Grande rebounds to #6, just outside the range for our next segment.

Now for our top five, starting with “Lose Control” by Teddy Swims at #5, “End of Beginning” by Djo at #4, and Ariana Grande landing her second top 10 hit in this week, the clunkily two-titled “we can’t be friends (wait for your love)” at #3. Obviously, there’s more on that later. As for the rest, it’s to be expected: Beyoncé leads and the pack and Benson Boone’s “Beautiful Things” isn’t far behind at #2. Now for… less beautiful things, let’s dissect some of the new entries we have here.

New Entries

#71 - “if u think i’m pretty” - Artemas

Produced by Artemas and Daintree

Alright, I’ll bite: who the Hell are Artemas? Or Daintree for that matter? Well, Artemas Diamandis is a budding singer-songwriter with a questionable moustache who’s popular on social media, with this being a breakout hit from October last year, though it now of course has slowed and sped-up versions because the world is not safe from TikTok’s impact on popular music. Daintree seems to be Artemas’ go-to producer, and the two wrote this alt-pop song about a toxic relationship where to put it bluntly, he needs to pick up his standards. There’s a unique androgyny to Mr. Diamandis’ voice and it actually meshes very well - at least his falsetto does - into the vaguely eerie synth distortion and haunting elements very fitting for a song released in late October. I think the effects end up a bit overdone sometimes, attempting to make up for an underwritten song, and I really don’t like how the snare sounds, even if the constantly repeating vocal chop, and the way the lead vocal melody ends up stuck in a jam with it, is really clever, there was a lot of effort put into the song’s sound design, it just doesn’t really translate into a full song for me, especially at barely two minutes. Cool ideas are definitely here though.

#70 - “Uh Uh” - Clavish and Fredo

Produced by KP Beatz

We don’t have many other new names here: Clavish, Fredo, Nathan Dawe - they’re staples of UK chart weeks in the 2020s - and Drake and Ari are inescapable, so this’ll be a pretty familiar episode I feel, which is kind of refreshing. I mean, I’ve been listening to ratrace90210 and Yeat and Butterfly Boy, there’s something relaxing about knowing partly what you’ll have to say about something going into it. With that said, even I was surprised with how cheap and basic the piano and flute sounds in this beat were, the piano in particular really sticks out and unintentionally sounds off-beat due to just how basic the loop is. I would prefer for more layers of the RPG-sounding flute, but once the trap beat comes in, it’s easy to ignore some of the lacking melodies, it goes pretty hard and has much more of a pace than Clavish’s usual output. He’s definitely improving as a rapper too, the sheer length that he goes on for considering the wordy flow and delivery he chooses is kind of impressive and there are some interesting lines, particularly when he… denies living the life in his raps which is just surprising if anything. The way the “uh-uh” ad-lib is implemented sounds a bit tacky sometimes but given the rhyme scheme often delivers a similar sound, it can be pretty seamless sometimes as a call-and-response, it’s just a shame that Clavish doesn’t have the personality to sell it more. Fredo does though and this is an incredible verse from him. His cold rhetorical questions, much more developed rhyme schemes than Clavish, and how much more command he has of his flow despite using a similar one to his fellow rapper and even taking time to be further off of the beat… it really shows who’s been in the game for longer. “I hit any girl I want like a woman beater” is a crazy bar though, I have no idea how to feel about that, and he doesn’t really give you the time to think about it.

#66 - “We Ain’t Here for Long” - Nathan Dawe

Produced by Nathan Dawe, Neave Applebaum and Punctual

Nathan Dawe and its three ghost producers are back in the top 75 with a song I… already had liked? Yeah, this song is from early February, and I don’t know in what context I heard it but I should say that this is, for Dawe’s standard, a pretty great track. The singer is Sam Harper, a songwriter who’s worked with… BTS? Damn, well, okay, make that bank, girl, you can probably live off of that and don’t need to take credit for the heavily filtered vocals here that stand out in a mix that feels a bit barebones: it has the boiled-down essentials of a modern Eurodance jam but not much more, and that really picks up the pace in an “end-of-the-world” kind of way. She sings that she’s barely holding on and she’s got to live her life before it’s gone, with every element of this song feeling like it wants to just make way with itself and flee, and that’s definitely a compliment in this case, there’s a certain frantic sense to how the ATB-esque acoustic guitar drop is placed into staccato formation like old video game music. With how much the song wants to be done, you’d think it’d peter out by two minute, but no, we get that fizzling and striking bridge where Harper laments how much she’s doing for other people just to feel empty in return. We immediately get back to dancing of course, but after that resonant bridge, it hits way harder than it did before, with both Harper and Dawe adding little tricks into the final chorus, whether that be a change in the inflection, an added refrain of “I gotta live my life” or a flashy pre-drop glitch. It’s all very obsessed with desperately wanting to stop existing and for a trance song in an ever-increasing dystopia of how we live now, this feels particularly relevant… and it would be pretty poetic for the UK in particular to make this a hit in 2024. And please do, it’s great.

#18 - “act ii: date @ 8” - 4batz featuring Drake

Produced by Untitled Beatz and 40

Okay, firstly: Official Charts Company finally correctly recognises a remix’s popularity and credits accordingly. Nice. Secondly… sigh. So I gave a lukewarm review to Bryson Tiller’s “Whatever She Wants” on its debut week but pretty much immediately, I’m talking the day after, it clicked with me and I’ve been slightly obsessed with it. It actually has me excited for how rappers, singers, rap-singers and sing-rappers are going to implement non-Atlanta trap elements into R&B and vice versa as we get more diversive rap landscape with hyphy, Detroit trap, drill, Jersey club, dembow, Afrobeats and more competing for further influence in mainstream rap. Tiller and the beat both chug at a constant level and only stop to murmur tensely before piling right back into action. The beat sounds like if Rick Ross was on a treadmill and instead of really trying to sing, Mr. Tiller just tries to keep up, even if it leads to him doing brief harmonic riffs and pausing for sound effects. The original “act ii: date @ 8” by 4batz, which lands on its chorus by accident, has a similar appeal in its vintage shimmering keys and more organic-sounding bass, though I hadn’t heard it before the Drake remix. 4batz goes for an adolescent delivery that makes its determined, one-minute-and-done young love feel even more weightless and fluttery. I wish it didn’t go for the cop-out not-really-all-that-chopped and only-technically-screwed outro of course, but otherwise, it’s pretty decent and oh, the big-name remix essentially plays the song unchanged and then has Drake rap over that exhausted, slowed-down version. The youthful, Hell, maybe even childlike, lovestruck song empowered by its brevity is extended to a lethargic nearly four minute track, the majority of which consists of what sounds like a reject from not even For All the Dogs, more like Certified Lover Boy. There’s an oddly homoerotic passage in the middle, then he interpolates the original just to rhyme it with “I’m a stand-up guy like Dave Chappelle”. Sure. If this helps a newer and more interesting R&B artist to launch a career, it’ll be a net positive, but this version is a butchering of the original’s spirit in my opinion.

#13 - “bye” - Ariana Grande

Produced by Ariana Grande, Max Martin and ILYA

Okay, let’s get this out of the way: I liked two tracks off of Ari’s #1 album eternal sunshine: “the boy is mine” and “I wish I hated you”. Like always, her intro was pretty sweet too. I have vaguely more long-form first impressions on RateYourMusic, but I’m mostly just turned off by the nothingness the album presents: a trendy, vaguely pleasant pop-R&B album for sure, but not one that takes many risks - which Ariana can do - or makes use of its more cinematic production to help the songs get any stickier. Sometimes she sticks the landing, but mostly I did not care for it and couldn’t get myself immersed. Yet I’ve been listening to abstract cloud rap, underground plunderphonics of both the folkish ambiance nature and layered nu-disco instrumentation, and primarily, nu metal, so take all of that with a grain of salt. Like I said about 4bats, sometimes I’m not sure why I still write this show. With that said, there’s a lot less I have to say about these Ariana songs than I think I’d have wanted to. This one, strikingly, has had Ariana speak on it being too emotional and her not wanting to erase ALL of the humanity from it. Huh. That’s definitely reflected in the rote disco groove and oddly fuzzy bass which does add some texture but doesn’t make the lead vocal melody in the chorus any less… obvious. In fact, that’s really my main problem with this record: it’s obvious. The pre-chorus sounds genuinely brilliant, this is a gorgeous vocal performance from Ari and that swell is fantastic, but it ends up going for a kiss-off that’s undetailed and non-specific outside of name-dropping her friend Courtney… who the fuck is Courtney? The whole album’s vulnerable but never in a way that fully immersed me, it feels a bit closed-off not in an aggressive way but in a “the bridge over the moat has yet to be lowered kind of way”. Drake’s whole passage about his three different Jasons in “Away from Home” accurately displays my emotional connection with eternal sunshine but the difference here is that Drake very much knows that you don’t know who these people or events are and plays into that to construct his narratives. These Ariana Grande songs just feel oddly distant, and for a triumphant dance-pop song, I want to be IN the moment, not a peasant looking up at a celebration in the tower. Just saying.

#3 - “we can’t be friends (wait for your love)” - Ariana Grande

Produced by Ariana Grande, Max Martin and ILYA

More than half of our debuts this week are in lowercase, I guess this really is a muted week. Speaking of muted, this was oddly a bit of a sleeper hit within the week, having its music video and SNL performance give a lukewarm first day room to breathe and a bit of a boost for the whole album but especially this… and it’s a blocky synthpop pastiche, and I MEAN blocky. One of my least favourite tracks on the album and really one of Ari’s worst ever in my opinion, this goes for the one thing I don’t think she could ever sell: a discussion of Ariana’s relationship with the media, doubling as a relationship story. You can see similar interpretations of thank u, next but even if I don’t like that record, I will give it props for its depths and honestly, its stakes and the tragedy that surrounds that album and its predecessor. This track though... what informed this? What informed the backlash-to-the-backlash towards critics in the chorus? What informed the tumultuous nature of Ariana’s pop culture ups and downs this time? What informed the grotesquely unwarranted orchestral outro? Oh, right, nothing to care about. I used to be a Kanye fan, artful self-indulgence is not something I’m opposed to - Hell, go for it and more - but when the writing is purposefully secretive and vague, the lead vocal melodies are so staccato that Ari has to push character out of them through just her inherent personality, which itself is a fragile beast and most importantly, it sounds a cloudy fuzz of parodic ass with conveyor-belt synths standing sore in the mix… I’m left questioning why I should allow myself to give it my time. Given that ending line of the second verse, it also makes me wonder if Ms. Grande even wants me to. Hard pass on this - “the boy is mine” was right there as a single, this feels like an easy cop-out for an album that had a shaky first week.

Conclusion

Yes, Ari gets Worst of the Week for “we can’t be friends (wait for your love)”, as much as I wish she didn’t, with a Dishonourable Mention to… Drake. Drake gets the Dishonourable Mention for ruining a promising song in “act ii: date @ 8” by 4batz. As for the best, it should be an obvious lock for Nathan Dawe with “We Ain’t Here for Long”, as Artemas taking an Honourable Mention for “if u think i’m pretty”, I could see some better songs coming from this guy if we give him more than one chance at a hit. I don’t envision much of intrigue in the coming week, but regardless, thank you for reading, rest in peace to Eric Carmen, and I’ll see you next week!

[pyladeshungover]

intro post

Tara // 29 // Australia

she / her / hers

oops i got into hockey sorry guys

my url is from approximately 2013 when I was a les mis blog, and my pfp is athelstan from vikings in a flower crown because that was cool in 2015. title is from the boat that rocked. I've been here forever.

i'm very not normal about sidney crosby, matthew tkachuk, and travis konecny

i'm slightly more normal but still unhinged about claude giroux and jamie drysdale

i do occassionally lb the hockey - pens lb, flyers lb, sometimes panthers lb

tag lists also i do tend to be pretty good about tagging everything so if you blacklist nothing should slip through

I did not realise you can only access that page on desktop but also the hyperlinks won't work in this post so here's the list:

FROM THE SELF

my face; sort of - my face and my thoughts

university life - university/college experiences

adulthood - attempts to function as a successful adult

millennials - the Adulthood Experience™ specific to millennials

life is hard - depression tag

so not straight - i am queer

mine - shit i’ve made or drawn

tumblr - i’ve been on this godforsaken website since i was 15 and i hate everything about that

RELIGION

blessed is he who comes in the name of the lord - christianity

jc and the boys - jesus and the apostles

jc and the girls - ladies of the disciples

upon this rock - history of, stories about, and images of the church

do not be afraid - angels 

your kingdom come - prophets, saints, and the apocalypse

the old gods are dead - graeco-roman mythology

folklore - local folk and fairy-tales 

WORLD AFFAIRS/CULTURE

straya - things about Australia

auspol - Australian politics

uspol - US politics

i’m a pathetic history major - general world and cultural history

who likes bad jokes - especially awful attempts at humour

words - poetry, quotes, literature

reclaiming the women - feminist re-tellings of fictional women

humanity - the good and incredible things about humans and community (also includes human and alien speculative fiction)

christmas - i love christmas

covid 19 - self explanatory

2020 - see above

2021 - mamma mia, here we go again

2022 - we’re three years into The Great Loneliness

FANDOM

fandom / fanfic

# - 911

A - abfab

B - brooklyn 99 / black books / beauty and the beast / birds of prey /buffy

C - criminal minds / code black

D - dirk gently / doctor who / disney / derry girls

E - elementary

F - firefly / fresh off the boat / friends / fleabag

G - great british bake off / grace and frankie / greys anatomy / galavant / game of thrones / gilmore girls / the great / the good place

H - holes / hunt for the wilderpeople / the hobbit / hannibal / hamilton / harry potter

I - inside llewyn davis

J - jurassic park / jesus christ superstar

K - kingsman / killing eve

L - lethal weapon / lucifer / lotr / les mis

M - moulin rouge / mamma mia / moana / mad max / the man from u.n.c.l.e. / mindhunter / miss fisher’s murder mysteries / the marvelous mrs maisel

N - narnia / nhl

O - the office / the old guard / oitnb

P - pushing daisies / parks and rec / the princess bride / psych / the prince of egypt / the parent trap / pirates of the caribbean / pride / prodigal son / phantom of the opera

Q - queer eye

S - spn / star wars / scrubs / the song of achilles / schitts creek / santa clarita diet / six the musical

T - teen wolf / twilight / to all the boys i’ve loved before /

U - umbrella academy

V - vikings / venom

W - what we do in the shadows / the witcher / wonder woman

X - xfiles

HOCKEY

nhl

hrpf

the rituals are intricate (n-h-is-for-for-homosexuality-l)

they’re so stupid 🥹 (memes)

hockey narratives

hockey art

hockey poetry

hockey vid edit

Players tagged initials jersey number (ie. sc87)

Other player tags - hughes bros / tkachuk fam / love thy goalie 

Ships - tknp / sidgeno / drygras / mattdrai / brioux / mike likes jeff but jeff loves mike / swaymark

Teams - bruins / ducks / flyers / gritty / leafs / oilers / pens / sens / stars / yotes

Liveblogging semiregularly - pens lb

Liveblogging very occassionally -  flyers lb / sens lb / panthers lb

[cyarsk52-20]

LIST

...AS A ROCK: THE 25 DOPEST MC LYTE SONGS

By Stereo Williams

Published Tue, March 15, 2022 at 12:00 PM EDT

MC Lyte has one of the rap game's most storied careers. The Brooklyn rhymer has been a standard-bearer for decades: she set the mold for high-profile women in Hip-Hop. Since the late 1980s, the woman born Lana Moorer has created a standard. Standing on the shoulders of women like Angie Stone, Sha Rock and Roxanne Shante, MC Lyte's debut album Lyte As A Rock was nonetheless a first for a female rapper and in the era of Yo! MTV Raps, Lyte would emerge at the forefront of a new wave that included Queen Latifah, Monie Love and Yo-Yo. 

She's never looked back; and she's worked with everyone from Janet Jackson to Common to Sinead O'Connor. She's done everything from boom bap to new jack swing. But we had to whittle that tremendous catalog down, so here are the 25 dopest songs from MC Lyte. 

#26

"COME ON" - BILLY LAWRENCE FEAT. MC LYTE [BONUS SONG]

Our BONUS SONG pick is a celebrated classic guest spot! The L-Y-T-E teams up with Billy for this slept on banger from the "Set It Off" soundtrack.

#25

"LOVE" - ALMOST SEPTEMBER FEAT. KRS-ONE, SLEEPY BROWN

With her Almost September project, Lyte got to work in more soulful territory, and on this ode to the heart, she taps Sleepy Brown and none other than The Teacha.

#24

"I CAN'T MAKE A MISTAKE"

The single wasn't a monster hit and the video was over-the-top, but MC Lyte was one of the first noteworthy artists to get laced with a Neptunes beat. 

#23

"SHUT THE EFF UP (HOE)"

Nobody could talk shit like the teenaged Lana Moorer. Lyte takes the gloves off on one of her brashest verbal smackdowns.

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#22

"I GO ON"

On this laid-back cut from "Ain't No Other," Lyte offered a contrast to the bombast of "Ruffneck" (more on that later) as she shared what she expects in a partner.

#21

"BROOKLYN"

From that distinct opening, it's like you're on the block. Lyte has more than one ode to her home borough, but this anthem is one of her best. 

#20

"I AM THE LYTE"

One of the best theme songs in the history of the game, Lyte makes it clear who she is on this standout from her sophomore album. 

#19

"DRUGLORD SUPERSTAR" FEAT. DA BRAT

Lyte's reputation as a storyteller is well-earned. On this smoothed-out-but-sinister track from 1996s "Bad As I Wanna B," she shares the story of a boyfriend gone bad. 

#18

"KICKIN' 4 BROOKLYN"

Remember what we said about Lyte not having a shortage of BK anthems? This was her first, a shout-out to the community that made her and relishing in her teenage memories.

#17

"ICE CREAM DREAM"

A single from the "Mo' Money" soundtrack, this upbeat track saw Lyte working with the legendary tandem of Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis. 

#16

"EYES ARE THE SOUL"

On her third album, Lyte expanded her repertoire, lyrically and sonically. One of the most obvious examples was this downbeat single addressing AIDS, abuse and addiction.

#15

"I CRAM TO UNDERSTAND U"

Lyte has a lot of songs about boyfriends caught up with drugs and alcohol. It all started with this single, a look at a crack addict boyfriend from the perspective of a high school girl. 

#14

"BEAUTIFUL" - ALMOST SEPTEMBER

One of the best tracks from Lyte's underappreciated Almost September project, it's an effervescent slice of soulful Hip-Hop that lives up to it's beatific title. 

#13

"WHEN IN LOVE"

The video and new jack swing production was a shock to fans when the single dropped in '91. It's one of Lyte's first forays into R&B-friendly territory. 

#12

"LOLA FROM THE COPA"

In this ambitious and ambiguous tale, Lyte recounts a wild night involving a man who may or may not be a sex deviant and a showgirl who goes to his room.

#11

"WONDER YEARS" W/DJ PREMIER

Over one of Primo's most famously coveted beats, MC Lyte reminds anyone who needed a refresher that she's most at home with no frills, no bullshit, East Coast hip-hop.

#10

"COLD ROCK A PARTY" FEAT. MISSY ELLIOTT

It's about the closest Lyte ever got to a shiny suit. One of the biggest hits of her career was this chart-topping remix that features Missy with one of her earliest guest spots. 

#9

"I'M NOT HAVIN' IT" W/POSITIVE K

It was Lyte's first big crossover single, and an early showcase for pre-"I Gotta Man" Positive K. One of the best examples of "battle of the sexes" in Hip-Hop.

#8

"CAPPUCCINO"

Over Marley Marl's production, Lyte tells the story that involves, drug dealers, an out-of-body experience, and a love for fancy coffee drinks.

#7

"RUFFNECK"

With Wreckx-N-Effect (and an uncredited Teddy Riley) on production, Lyte drops her ode to ragamuffin round-the-way boys. Her grimiest single, it ironically became her first big pop hit.

#6

"LYTE AS A ROCK"

The title track of her debut album became something of an unofficial theme song, and although you could argue the album version is superior, the video mix became an MTV fixture. 

#5

"10% DIS"

"Hot damn, ho!" The confrontational classic aimed at Antoinette that truly announced MC Lyte. Lyte reflected on the feud years later as something that she did out of affiliation more than actual malice, but it launched her into rap infamy. 

#4

"KEEP ON KEEPIN' ON" FEAT. XSCAPE

Lyte gets raunchy as Xscape provides the stellar hook. Jermaine Dupri's production flip of Michael Jackson's "Liberian Girl" is the smooth foundation on which this Top Ten hit was built. 

#3

"CHA CHA CHA"

She would later reveal that she had to be cajoled into recording it, but this Kraftwerk (by way of the Fearless Four) sampling classic would become one of Lyte's most beloved singles.

#2

"POOR GEORGIE"

The Toto sample is perfection, as Lyte tells the story of yet ANOTHER troubled boyfriend. George is arguably Lyte's most famously doomed beau, cursed with everything from alcoholism to cancer. A rap classic. 

#1

"PAPER THIN"

Young MC Lyte was bold and cocky, witty and able to hurl words like a punch. This Prince-sampling classic is everything great about her early music: stripped down, no frills and in your face. It might be the most musically definitive moment of her blooming career.

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[90363462]

LIST

HOW MANY LICKS: THE 25 DOPEST RAP SONGS TO F*** TO

Rock The Bells Staff

Contrary to what some hand-wringing "purists" might tell you, sex is a part of Hip-Hop. 

Shocking, right?

Of course, that shouldn't be breaking news: sex is a part of human experience. It's been a part of culture and art ever since civilization has created culture and art, so why would rap music and Hip-Hop culture be any different? From the minute Big Bank Hank of The Sugarhill Gang rapped about being able to "bust you out with my super sperm"—words that were actually written by Grandmaster Caz aka Casanova Fly (keyword: "Casanova")—sex has been a topic of many rap lyrics and videos. From Too $hort and 2 Live Crew, to LL COOL J and Lil Kim: there is a brilliant, provocative history of sex rap. The examples are endless—Kool G Rap's "Talk Like Sex"; The Notorious B.I.G.'s "F**kin' You Tonight"; there are even popular songs from artists like MC Lyte and Q-Tip that are highly erotic (Google the lyrics to Lyte's "Keep On Keepin' On" right now). 

For the purposes of this examination, it should be recognized that sexy rap songs can both offer the sensual and also wallow in the raunchy. The most seductive can feel as tantalizingly alluring as a quiet-storm classic; the raunchiest can make the most bashful bride buss it open. But it's allgood. Balance, people...

Here are the 25 Dopest Rap Songs to F*%! To; a playlist for when you wanna get right by gettin' a little wrong...

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#26

"STRAWBERRIES" - SMOOTH [BONUS SONG]

Our BONUS SONG pick is a celebrated classic guest spot! Well, ACTUALLY this is more of an R&B song than a rap song—but Smooth is a rapper and she raps on this seductive classic. So there.

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#25

"COCKTALES" - TOO $HORT

The Oakland legend is one of the foremost authorities on raunchy rap. Hell, he damn-near invented the genre. And this quasi-sequel to his classic "Freaky Tales" is one of his naughty best. 

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#24

"TALK SEX" - KOOL KEITH

When it comes to freaky raps, Kool Keith is like $hort Dog's weirdass cousin. Like his Bay Area contemporary, the oddball emcee out of the Bronx is one of the longest-running legends of raunch, and this track from 2018 is an example of his hilariously scatological approach to sex songs.

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#23

"HOW DO U WANT IT" - 2PAC FEAT. K-CI & JO-JO

Pac always found a way to balance his socio-political rage, thuggishness and straight seduction. This monster hit from his double album ALL EYEZ ON ME is one of the most famous examples of the latter. And the X-rated, porn star-themed video is the stuff of legend. 

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#22

"RICH SEX" - FUTURE

The Atlanta trap star managed to popularize a new lane within the rap game via his digitized crooning. And it was the perfect launching pad for a sexy sound that came to be embodied by this hit single. 

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#21

"BED" - NICKI MINAJ FEAT. ARIANA GRANDE

She's got a more varied body of work than some of her detractors want to recognize, but when Nicki goes sexy, she GOES SEXY. And while this ain't the raunchiest at all, this hit single with pop megastar Ariana Grande is one of her most sinfully seductive tracks. 

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#20

"BIG MOMMA THANG" - LIL KIM FEAT. JAY-Z, LIL CEASE

The opening track is everything that announced Kim as a superstar: bold, brazen and bangin.' Jay delivers one of his first high-profile guest spots as Kim makes it clear she's ready for her close-up.

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#19

"ONE MINUTE MAN - MISSY ELLIOTT FEAT. LUDACRIS AND TRINA

Missy found yet another musical kindred spirit in Ludacris during the early aughts, and they capitalized on their connection regularly, including on the 2001 club hit “One Minute Man” from her third album, "Miss E… So Addictive." Trina's guest verse steals the show, as "da baddest bitch" gets raw and raunchy about what she needs in the bedroom.

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#18

"GETTIN SOME ..." - SHAWNNA FEAT. TOO $HORT

The St. Louis rap star was a standout for Ludacris and the Disturbing Tha Peace label, and this monster single was a big reason why. It's one of the early 00s most inescapable tunes, and one of $hort's best guest spots. 

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#17

"85" - YOUNGBLOODZ FEAT. BIG BOI, JIM CROW

The hook. That groovy production from Atlanta veterans Parental Advisory. This ATL classic is a late-night creep anthem. Anybody who's ever hopped in the whip to ride down 85 for a rendezvous can relate; and the cameo from Fat Sax is one of his best ever.

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#16

"IMAGINE THAT" - LL COOL J

This steamy Rockwilder-produced single could be considered an unofficial sequel to the classic "Doin' It." The track reunites LL with LeShaun, and their chemistry from that earlier duet is just as strong here.

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#15

"SHAWTY FREAK A LIL SUMTHIN" - LIL JON & THE EASTSIDE BOYZ FEAT. JAZZE PHA

An early gem in Toomp’s discography, “Shawty Freak a Lil Sumthin’” is both an Atlanta and southern classic. Toomp co-produced the track with Jon, which was featured on Lil Jon and the Eastside Boyz’s 1997 offering, GET CRUNK, WHO U WIT: DA ALBUM.

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#14

"SEX FACES" - SCARFACE, TOO $HORT, TELA, AND DEVIN THE DUDE

Another one of his most popular tracks, Scarface takes the ordinary boy-meets-girl tale and spins it into an engaging tale on this very explicit classic. With a noteworthy assist from Devin The Dude, Tela and the $hort Dog himself.

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#13

"LATE NITE TIP" - THREE SIX MAFIA

One of the best moments from Gangsta Boo and from Lord Infamous. Over a flip of Lisa Fischer's quiet storm classic "How Can I Ease the Pain," Three Six delivers a song that's somehow both seductive and sinister.

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#12

"LOVE IN YA MOUTH" - KILO ALI FEAT. BIG BOI

The forefather of Atlanta rap was never shy about freaky songs, and this ode to oral sex is one of the most classic tracks in his repertoire. Big Boi’s guest spot serves as the perfect accent to the nasty perfection here.

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#11

"MIND SEX" - DEAD PREZ

M-1 and stic.man aren’t always just raging against the machine. What set the politically minded duo apart from an act like Public Enemy is that they weren’t averse to showing a more sensual side, as epitomized in this ode to gettin’ it in with someone with whom you actually share a mental and emotional connection.

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#10

"BIG OLE FREAK" - MEGAN THEE STALLION

The Texas rap superstar was still on the rise when she dropped this raunchy rap insta-classic. Meg made it clear early on that she could be playful, freaky as all hell and a take-no-shit emcee—all at the same time.

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#9

"SLOB ON MY KNOB" - THREE SIX MAFIA

Juicy J wrote this little ditty back when he was still a teen in high school, and it has all the adolescent horn dogism that one might expect from a young dude. It's endured as a foulmouthed classic as only Three Six can deliver.

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#8

"LOLLIPOP" - LIL WAYNE FEAT. STATIC MAJOR

It became so ubiquitous that it's hard to remember just how unique it was when it dropped. The ode to oral love became one of the era's biggest smashes and cemented Wayne's omnipresence. The song that seemed to own 2008. 

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#7

"PUT IT IN YOUR MOUTH" - AKINYELE

Ah yes, a catchy little ditty from the freakiest rhymer Queens ever produced. Akinyele was never known for subtlety, and this semi-hit from 1996 was his crowning achievement as a single. The song is about — well, y’know — and the hook became a fixture in strip clubs and on dance floors throughout the late 1990s.

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#6

"ME SO HORNY" - 2 LIVE CREW

If there is a "The Message" for sex rap, it's gotta be the X-rated classic from 2 Live Crew that got them banned in the U.S.A. Luke and his boys really go there and it shocked the world. It also opened the door for virtually everybody from Akinyele to Lil Kim. 

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#5

"MY NECK, MY BACK" - KHIA

We've used the word "inescapable" a lot on this list, but DAMN—where were YOU when you first heard this foul-mouthed little classic from an upstart out of Florida. After years of rap songs with men telling women how to go down, Khia repped for the ladies with this instructional guide. Get it right, sir. Get it RIGHT. 

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#4

"W.A.P." - CARDI B. AND MEGAN THEE STALLION

Two of the biggest stars in contemporary music joined forces for a song that paid homage to both Frank Ski and DJ Uncle Al, the video became the talk of pop culture, and the ladies' provocative performance at the 63rd Grammys led to a record number of complaints. Mission accomplished. 

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#3

"DOIN' IT" - LL COOL J FEAT. LESHAUN

It's a raunch rap classic; a sexual tour-de-force from a guy who made this sorta thing his raizon d'etre. The seductive imagery in the lyrics gets more and more explicit, as Uncle L goes bar-for-bar-for-bar with LeShaun over an exquisite sample of Grace Jones' "My Jamaican Guy."

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#2

"WHAT'S IT GONNA BE? - BUSTA RHYMES FEAT. JANET JACKSON

One of Busta’s biggest singles came when he linked with Janet Jackson for “What’s It Gonna Be!?” The chaotic drums on the track are smoothed out with Janet’s signature vocals on the hook. The sexy, futuristic video, directed by Busta and Hype Williams in his prime, is one of the most expensive ever made, and one of the most memorable of the decade.

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#1

"HOW MANY LICKS" - LIL KIM FEAT. SISQO

The Queen Bee is hip-hop's most legendary sex symbol for a reason. On this skittering single, she rattles off all of the lovers she's left in her wake (Tony the Italian, a brother named "King Kong" for very specific reasons, etc.) with the self-proclaimed "Dragon" delivering a soulfully sleazy hook. Nobody does it nastier.

WHAT'S NEW

Sent from my iPhone

[thequibblah]

hi so i'm looking for some new music to listen to and i thought you could help because you have great taste!

if this helps, i'll tell you what i normally listen to, which is very basic & basically the same few artists over and over lol

- mostly just taylor swift, she makes up 70+% of my listening probably haha and if i had to pick a favorite genre of hers it would be the folkmore style

- some other pop, like olivia rodrigo and conan gray and lorde & some doja cat but i'm not a huge fan of doja's lyrics

- lyrics are really big for me, so is having a pretty voice and nice melodies

- i love your playlists but the old songs are usually not my style (there's been some though that i really like, ty for that !! <3)

- ceremonials is my favorite florence album

- liability is my favorite lorde song

no problem if u don't want to!

OH i basically recommend things for a living so why not music, eh?

so. what i'm getting from this is that you have three big listening buckets: soft acoustic and indie pop and just plain old pop. so i will divide my recs by those broad genres! i too prefer singable music so i will try to lay off on especially dissonant artists, or mark them as such so you can be prepared (LOL)

acoustic/folksy (i'll admit i am a big indie pop girl so this stuff will be a bit sparser)

phoebe bridgers — admittedly she is more alt-rocky, but see garden song, savior complex, moon song, graceland too, prayer in open D

waxahatchee — can't do much (GOD THIS SONG), lilacs, st. cloud

lucy dacus — also more alt-rocky, but here r some softer jams: hot & heavy, christine, green eyes, red face (a jily song)

anything by first aid kit! start with stay gold and the lion's roar

hozier — i feel like most people on the internet have listened to SOME hozier but check out wasteland, baby! (i tried to pick individual songs and ended up listing most of the album LOL)

kacey musgraves — another artist you've probably listened to already, but try golden hour

brittany howard — stay high must be the sweetest song in existence, and basically all of her album jaime

arlo parks — the whole album but especially caroline, hurt, and black dog

lake street dive — i can change, good kisser (a mary song if i've ever heard one), and i adore their hall & oates cover!

anya marina — this whole album has had me by the throat since like 2013

lucius — just the whole album wildewoman, h/t @figg-anon for putting me onto this!

idk what tf genre fiona apple is but try her out as well!

artists i listen to less of but are in this vein: the lumineers, bon iver, vance joy

u know i had to rec some old people shit (LOLLLL), so in this vein, joni mitchell, heart, judee sills, emmylou harris, joan baez, vashti bunyan

one-off songs you might like: hold you now by vampire weekend, big wheel by samia, i eat boys by chloe moriondo, strawberry blond by mitski (i worship at the altar of mitski but she might not be your speed haha), like i used to (acoustic) by sharon van etten & angel olsen, body by julia jacklin, jackie onassis by sammy rae and the friends, cowgirl bebop by HANA

indie pop BELOVED

maggie rogers — ok i cannot recommend this higher like if u like lorde and conan gray drop everything now and mainline maggie's brilliant debut album

HAIM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! — they've got poppier songs like want you back and more mellow songs like summer girl, but honestly i would just recommend a deep dive because they have a pretty surprising breadth within their own alt-rock/pop niche

caroline polachek — can sometimes get way out n weird in the pop sense but so hot you're hurting my feelings is a very listenable pop standard (also it's so funny she's such a clever lyricist also this is irrelevant here but she sounds amazing live), also love look at me now and her cover of breathless

charli xcx is more experimental pop but would rec trying out warm (FT HAIM!!!), blame it on your love (FT LIZZO!!), and official

rina sawayama — technically her album is all sorts of genres but especially XS, comme des garcons, paradisin', bad friend, and tokyo love hotel

orla gartland is a lil softer and i love more like you, oh GOD, and did it to myself

king princess — especially cheap queen, 1950, holy, but basically all of cheap queen

more one-offs: kansas by ashe, comeback by CRJ (full paean in her honour to come in the pop section), i am a big fan of other people covering the bleachers (LOL) especially rollercoaster by charli xcx and i wanna get better by tinashe (full tinashe praise to come too), saturdays by twin shadow (FT HAIM!!!), the kiss of venus and 3 nights by dominic fike (also his interlude on halsey's album), aute cuture and milionària by rosalía, young lover by st. vincent (i love her but again might not be for u haha), good days by sza, backyard boy by claire rosinkranz, slow dancing by aly & aj, hot sugar by glass animals

if ur down to try out something weird witchy and cool, kate bush is like the originator of 9 billion pop and rock genres and hounds of love is a masterpiece

pure pop (we can split hairs on what makes pure pop LOL but basically everything here is based on ur enjoyment of doja)

carly rae jepsen — ok if u haven't listened to her non-radio-hits u may be like "what?? call me maybe lady???" to which i say YES, especially window, stay away, no drug like me, and too much

victoria monet — this may or may not be a selling point to you, but victoria is a frequent ariana grande collaborator and you can absolutely hear it in her music (see also: the mattress spring background noises in dive JUST like they are in positions...), and i love experience, go there with you, and we might even be falling in love, and why not throw in her ariana grande collab monopoly

magdalena bay — how to get physical which i am destined, nay, contractually bound, to put in a jily modern AU someday, killshot, stop & go

tinashe — basically ALL of her new album!!! SO good. i also love rascal (superstar), esther, and old jams like company (and i JUST found out she has a chaka khan cover!)

chloe x halle have the most angelic vocals in the world

this might sound actually demented because WHO hasn't heard love on the brain but rly... go give ANTI a re-listen...

tove lo — especially are u gonna tell her, mateo, and jacques

WAIT I FORGOT TO SAY ROBYN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! EVERY ROBYN SONG!!!!!!!

for that throwback poppy sound u may as well go real throwback KJAHKJA and check out donna summer!

one-offs: right to it by louis the child n ashe, serial lover by kehlani (also more by her but im getting lazy now kdjfhgk), missed calls by max n hayley kiyoko, peppers and onions by tierra whack, idk who hasnt heard this song but circles by meg, todo de ti by rauw alejandro (the way i wanted this to be song of the summer so bad ;___;)

hope you enjoy and pls come back and tell me if you really liked any of these!!!! xoxo

[chateautae]

hey Sammy I wanted to ask you a fun question!

If you could choose your top favorite look for each member from any music video/stage/bangtanbomb…. Anything. What would it be? If u could add a picture of it would be nice 🥰

Stay happy and Healthy 💗💗💗💗

OH YESSS I LOVE THIS QUESTION!! Ugh so this is gonna be hard for me but hopefully I can remember them all. Unveiling my top favourite BTS looks 😌💓

Starting with Joon, my favourite look was definitely 2019 mama silver Joon, it just has a hold on me and I think Joon looks so sExY with this hairstyle 😩

Seokjin is a toughie for me since hello?? Seokjin literally rocks every single fucking concept he brings to the table?? But I really did like Jin with his caramel hair in dynamite, especially his look for dicon!!

Yoongi has such a fucking grip on me, I love love when he had his auburn hair and wore that one red outfit for seesaw’s live (fan’s self). I also really do love ON era Yoongi with the silver hair but in the SOOP Yoongi has my heart!! Literally nation’s husband pLEASE

I think everyone can agree that nOTHING beats jung hoseok’s fashion during concert season. Like I will never fucking forgot this red suit for just dance and the WET HAIR??? NOT TO MENTION FUCKING DIOR HOSEOK???? FOR OUTRO TEAR WITH THE LONG CNS HAIR?? YEAH END ME NOW

Park jimin where tf do I even begin?? The goddamn Jimin literally in my opinion owns everything and god do I just fall even harder harder. But honestly, recently Jimin’s UN PTD look has had my puthy in kNOTS. He looks like a hot superstar and that’s EXACTLY who park jimin is.

Taehyung… do I even want to begin? Fuck tumblr for the 10 image limit because I would legit just put a bunch of his looks in here. I loved his Esquire shoot, his mots on:e inner child shoot, I love 2020 Grammy’s Tae, ON era tae in general. I’m literally in love with gym/work out tae and 190424 tae, 191231 tae, in the SOOP tae, fucking baskin robins commercial tae, You Quiz Now tae, Japan fifth muster tae, be leopard print shoot tae, him in the recent taejoon live. Must I even choose an album for him?? He rocked every single fucking one 😭 but my ult favourite tae will always be 200129 tete!! I just love how soft fluffy he was :(((

Jungkook… the demon himself. We all know 190811 jungkook is literally a demon but my fave jungkook will always be day 1 my time jungkook. He rocks the leather like nobody else and I love when his hair’s all damp and long like that jeSUS!!

[eerythingisshaka]

PTA III

[Trevante Rhodes x Reader]

Word Count: 2.2K

Summer had come and gone in the blink of an eye yet felt as long as finals week when you were earning your teaching degree.  School ended last quarter with a clumsy splat seeing as the first wave of virus knocked everything out of order very quick. You stressed out running lessons to the school for kids to pick up and working with families with limited to no internet access pulled your patience to its thinnest layer.

So when all had officially finished, you had to take the time to yourself as best as you could.  In a normal summer, you would plan a getaway to just about anywhere you hadn’t seen before and the more solo the better.  Sipping something alcoholic in a warm climate with the Sun toasting your skin to its peak melanated beauty was all you would need to pack you full of endorphins that could last you into the next year.

But that wasn’t the plan now.  Travel restrictions keep you from going out of town and you can’t even get a decent dinner anymore seeing as most restaurants are dine out only.  The only silver lining you can muster is the mask mandates allowing you to keep from smiling at strangers in awkward politeness when they get in your way.  It is a layer of protection for your sanity and solitude.  

However that wasn’t the only silver lining you have from the summer.  Mr. Rhodes, or Trevante as he has to still remind you, became very generous with his time with you outside of the classroom.  As much as you try to keep things professional for your jobs sake, he won’t let you be for any little thing.  Your email has message after message from him asking about simple math for everyday things that apparently Nemour needed refreshing on, followed by a ‘so how you been doing?’

Email 1

“Dear Ms. (Y/N), I am contacting you in regards to my son, Nemour.  While in the grocery today, we came across a sale for oranges, 3lb. for $5.  But then this other store has 5 lb. for $6.  Now he is itching to know what price would be the better one to go for?”

Your response:

“Dear Mr. Rhodes,  Although my primary concentration is History, you can tell Nemour that he should go for the second deal with 5lb.”

“Perfect, that’s why you’re the teacher!  So...how’ve you been?”

Sometimes you reply, and sometimes you leave him on read, it depends on how conversational you feel.  But as time progressed, you got excited to see his emails asking to remind him what the 3 branches of government are or what amendment means what?  He even got you on video chat to discuss.

“What?!  So slavery isn’t really abolished on that bullshit?”  Trevante exclaims in awe.

You throw your hands up, aghast as if you just learned it yourself.  “That’s the thing about American government.  They will throw a loophole where you least expect it and throw a parade like the shit ain’t bout to pop out.”

“Damn!  That’s like some Trojan horse shit honestly,”  he shakes his head, taking a swig of his beer.

You snap your finger, “Exactly, my man, exactly!  That’s why nobody can agree on anything worth a damn.  There’s gonna be a clause somewhere that adds some shit that makes the whole thing rotten. But you didn’t hear it from me, so don’t let Nemour know I’m saying this kind of stuff.”

He twists his face in confusion.  “Why wouldn’t I?  My son got a right to know about what this country is founded on.  Everyone does.”

“Yeah I know.  Just...when topics like these pop up it’s difficult to keep it all…” your voice trails off as you search your bedroom for the words you are looking for.

“Politically Incorrect?”  he offers.

You nod a little.  “Kinda, yeah.”

He sets down his beer, sitting a little closer to the screen.  “You shouldn’t have to worry about that.  History is literally set in stone.  If we didn’t have it, we wouldn’t know what to do with ourselves now.”

“Do we know what to do now though?”  you ask in a higher pitch, squinting like you stepped in hot coals.

Trevante took a minute looking at you before dipping his head down to chuckle.  You could hear the pounding baritone in his chest from your speakers.

“What?  What’s that about?”  you ask.

He sits up again, stroking his beard, “It’s cute when you make your face like that.  That’s all.”

You roll your eyes, pulling your scarf further down your forehead to make up for slipping.  

Trevante tuts at you.  “I need a bucket or something to catch these compliments you keep throwing away that I toss at you.  You don’t believe me or what?”

You give a very dignified look, “I believe I am beautiful.  I just don’t believe in entertaining a parent, is all.”

Trevante sighs.  “Summer don’t count (y/n).  You’re not his teacher now so what’s the issue?”

You look off to the side and back at him.  The crisp white t shirt he has on is obstructing more of the view of his body then you care for but the tightness at the sleeve around his bicep makes up for what you know is already there.

“Hello?”  he says.

You blink a few times, crossing your arms.  “Hm?”

“You go off into space a lot too.  What’s on your mind when you do that?”

His arms around your waist that tightly bind you to his body as you inhale his sweet cologne that is perfectly distributed from his neck to chest.

You scratch your neck, and tell a half lie.  “Oh, just this new school year.”

“See this is a perk of having a teacher friend.  Fill me in, what’s up?”

“Well, all I have right now is that we are doing hybrid learning, so some classes at the school and some at home.  Now the district just need to provide the materials for the kids to be able to do that.  The internet, the laptop/tablets, and make sure we can all connect and no one is behind on lessons.  And since I am on the front line, I have to get creative with the lesson plans and keep people on task and on time.”

Trevante nods.  “Well me and Nemour are excited to see what you have for us next year, whatever it is.”

You smirk at the encouragement.  “Thank you Tre, but I can’t guarantee we will be together for the next school year.  That’s decided at random.  Plus the grade he is in next year is the last one I teach.”

“Nah, we gonna be in there.  If I have to sign a petition or boycott like these hot breathed whites out here not wearing masks, we will be in your class this fall.”

You bust out laughing at his determination.  “Dang, Tre!  Don’t go starting a ruckus up there cuz of me!  He will still be taught well, whoever he has a teacher.”

He makes a cut it motion across his neck.  “Nah, we only rock with the best and that’s you up there.  I will make all the, what you call it?  Ruckus?  That shit!  So I will be seeing you first day in the fall, ok?”

You feel heat spread over your skin from shyness.  His brash attitude comes out and makes you feel like a superstar.  “Ok, I’ll hold you to it.  How’s Nemour doing anyway?”

Trevante nods, picking up his laptop as he changes rooms.  “He is doing well, being a regular kid.  Playing and doing his chores.”

You nod.  “Great!”

He closes a door behind him as he lays the laptop down, you can tell he is laying across his bed on his stomach as he speaks.

“He has been asking me a lot more questions about police and like, if they stop me or him, what’s gonna happen and what do we do?  Should we run away?  Can we not live by cops, stuff like that.”

You heart breaks hearing this. “Wow, and this is coming from a child?”

He nods, resting his chin on his forearm.  “It’s part my fault.  I’m always looking at the news and if he sitting at the table eating breakfast or whatever, he’s gonna see it.  I cut it off when they show bodycam footage though cuz that is nothing but toxic.”

“I can’t count how many times I had to see them replay that man dying in the street.  And in front of people watching, they don’t care who is watching cuz what can you do?  You can’t interfere or that’s a charge on you but he could’ve lived.”

Trevante looks spaced out for a second hearing this.  “I know, and that’s why it’s hard explaining to Nemour what everything is about.  I give him the basics though:  Do what the officer says, don’t argue, and don’t get into shit that’s gonna get the cops called  on you either.  But it sounds played out to even say.  What did everybody else do that’s dead now?”

“Nothing.  Sleep in their bed, going to the store, jogging.  Not a damn thing that warranted a bullet.”

Trevante gives a small shrug, looking sad like he is staring at his reflection in a pond.  “Yeah, so he been grappling with that and that’s a lot for a kid his age.  That’s why I want him to be your student still too cuz you’re one of the only Black teachers there and I honestly think he is uncomfortable with white people right now.  We went to the store the other day and he calls himself protecting me saying if the man getting bread bothers me, he put on his little Timbs so he can stomp him for me.”

You gasp at the thought, giving a weak smile.  “I mean, that would go viral for some child to curb stomp a big old white dude.”

Tre smiled some too.  “I think Nemour was this close to saying ‘Don’t worry bout it sweetheart.’  I can’t let him look at no internet again.”

You put your foot up and say, “He finna give him that SPLAHH!”

Trevante laughs heartily, wiping his eyes, “You more hip than I thought too.”

“I had some wine earlier, so that might’ve helped.”  You put a finger to your mouth and pull up the glass from the nightstand.  

“Oh shit!  So this is Turnt Teacher!  Go head then, don’t let me stop you”

You wave him off.  “You aren’t stopping anything.  If nothing else, you keeping me going.  All this house shit is working my last nerve, it’s nice to see a familiar face every once in a while.”

“I think so too.  You’ve been a great addition to some weeknights this summer.”

You put a thumbs up as you sip your wine.  “Are we still doing a movie tonight?  I think it’s my turn to pick.”

Trevante curls up a lip.  “Nah, I don’t think so.”

Your heart sank a little, already having queued up a selection to watch.  “That’s ok, it is late.”

“Yeah, but really I wanna see you in person.”

Your body tensed at the invitation.  Thinking over the last few months of chatting, he has warmed up to you as an individual, but you aren’t sure if that feeling can translate outside of a screen.  Behind the camera it’s safe, you can be cute and mysterious but vulnerable and clumsy and it all comes up roses for him.  In person, cute and mysterious can seem pretentious and vulnerable and clumsy could just be a weirdo geek to him.

“Well,” you start, “I would but...you know this...pandemic is just…”

“I know,” he says.

“...awful, right?  So I just don’t think I can comfortably do that...now?”

Trevante thinks for a second.  “We can stay within the parameters of the guidelines though right?  Six feet, masks, no crowded space.  If you want, we can do that.  I just…” he sighs heavily, looking tired as he rubs his eyes, “...I have been getting stir crazy and you are the main one I have been keeping contact with outside of family, yet I only spent time in person on Valentine’s Day that one meeting we had.  And you had a date later!”

You laugh at him, remembering their first meeting that could’ve been an email no doubt.

“Yeah, you’re right.” 

“Do you wanna go out with me?  Be honest!”

“Tre, I told you-”

“See?  You even call me Tre now.  We familiar right?  I don’t usually have to beg like this but ma’am, you almost got me on bended knee!”

“Uh…”  you start to feel bad but your mouth stops working under pressure.

“Six feet,” he reminds you.  If nothing else, that makes you less inclined to want to go because what can you do?  No kissing that’s for sure.

“I don’t want to confuse Nemour,”  you rebuttal.

“He will be watched by a guardian, trust me.  He won’t be cramping out grown folks business.”

You feel a flutter in your stomach that fuels your excitement.  A plan to go out, with a man no less!  This could turn the summer around or be a disaster on the horizon.

“Don’t overthink it.  You’re a smart woman, but I don’t want you to overcalculate this.  You wanna see me, I wanna see you.  We’ll play it safe, and finally see each other in some natural light.”

You nod slowly, a smile creeps across your face as his argument finally sways you.  “Ok, I’m in.  Pick the time and place.”

Tag you!

@chaneajoyyy​

[master-of-fluff]

How many AUs do you have? (And can you tell what they all are?😅😁)

I have 10 Au's so far so here they are with a bit of info in no particular order

1. kidnapped kai au

ok so in this au kai unlocks his elemental powers before he met Wu causing garmadon to take an interest in him and so kai was the one who was kidnapped instead of nya and nya has to get kai back -she also joins the ninja team from the start and is told about her parents and their powers

I have fanfictuon out about this -just search the kidnapped kai au tag but im taking a break from updating so that I can plan it out more and have an outline

2. is my bnha crossover au

so this morro, garmadon and harumi get reincarnated into the bnha verse

morro becomes the adopted older brother of the main character midoriya

harumi becomes the twin of this crazy rich inventory girl

and garmadon becomes a theripist

they all basically help the main character achieve his end goal of becoming the no.1 hero without a superpower -idk if you watch bnha but basically 80% of the people there have a power called a quirk and the main character is a part of the 20% that don't)

Im also making an outline for this one so I might write it out sometime next Yearo making an outline for this one so I might write it out sometime next Year

3. hybrid smith siblings au

basically ray is a demon and maya is an angel they fell in love and were kicked out of their homes and hurled to earth -they use magic to keep their appearance hidden and nonbody knows

-until kai starts growing wings and horns

-nya grows them too but it starts at a certain age so at the start the focus is mostly on kai

I don't have much for this au besides its polyninja lol

I just think that jay would help with sensory overloads since Kai's senses inhance and also his wings are very sensitive

and zane would help kai with feeling different

and Cole is just the rock that knows what to say to ground him

thats literally all I have for this au

4. polyninja fam au

ok so in this au the ninja -who are all dating- get tired of saving ninja go and quit and run away -taking lloyd with them and adopting him ofc

-they also steal some yesterday's tea and turn lloyd back Into a kid so he can have the life head supposed to

-so first they live in the old lighthouse zanes dad was trapped in since its self sustaining -which is where they find echo who they also adopt

then slowly they each get jobs

-cole becomes a comic book artist/author

-kai and lloyd make video games (they also have cole make comics for said video games

-zane becomes a chef (who donates half his profits to orphanages)

-and jay works for cyrus borg

we also have polyponytail:

-nya and pixal help skylor out at the noodle shop

-they mostly help by making invitations to help with everything

-but if it's real busy they help in the restaurant

dareth and ronin are also dating and pretty much lloyd and echos uncles

-ronin uses them as a distraction to steal stuff though

-dareth is good at making up weird games

-they are good babysitters

-sorta

also brad and gene become good friends with lloyd and echo

5. highschool au -this is also polyninja-

this was made with @/stranger mask @/lloyd-garma-gun and @/superstar-rockin-abs

basically the ninja are in highschool but

pastel goth zane

jock jay

nerd kai

vintage cole

polyponytail met in chess club

polyamory with lloyd gene and brad and they are all cheer leaders

halfway checkpoint

6. nindroid jay au

jay is one of the older prototypes that dr.Julian made and dumped

years later Ed and edna find him and repair him

since his parents are inventors he basically adds a bunch of things to himself -like retractable wings and stuff

Zane and him feel a weird connection but neither of them remember their creator until tick-tock -this is all I have for this au

7. paranormal YouTubers au

this is an au im making for @/wojira and if u want more details u should probably ask her -I'll also tag u in the og post about this au if you ask

basically the ninja are collage sstudents who started a YouTube channel where they invest haunted places as a joke but they become super popular -again more details in the original post if you ask-

8. manipulative morro au

me and @/thebluelittlewitch2-thesequel made this but @/superstar-rockin-abs and @/grembeak gave hs the idea i think

basically lloyd didn't get hit by tomorrows tea so instead of possessing lloyd morro manipulates him into doing things for him by saying that lloyd gone crazy and the only way for 'the voicemail' -aka morro- to go away is for him to do certain things

harumi later teams up with morro for a second try on revenge andalso becomes more of a mother figure to lloyd then a lover -lloyd is a bit younger then her in this au

she uses her powers to start an orphanage but really its a place for her to train and raise a cult of parentless children that they are orphans because of lloyd and that if they follow her they can all have revenge

her code name is changed respectively to 'mother lullaby' and morro's is 'toxic wind'

9. evil ed and edna au

basically Ed and edna are evil assasins/ inventors who become obsessed with making the ultimate weapon

they basically turn jay into a hydra experiment -training him and experimenting on him over and over and over-

but eventually they decide that he is a failed experiment and abandon him -at this point he looks far from human

but kai and nya find him and take him in -he is a year older then nya so nya is ten hes eleven and kai is 13-

at first jay thinks he was kiddnaped but there is no way these kids could have so then he thinks that him being there is another test and he has to figure out what it is but eventually he figures out he was abandoned

he helps the smith siblings by inviting things that help them around the house -and also making toys for nya and kai-

they become a small family

10. thiccjago

just look at the @lord-garmabooty-official blog...that's all you need to know

whew that took way too long but here ya go!!!h

[zippers]

my playlists

Masterlist of my fandom playlists! starred songs are arranged so don’t put em on shuffle! I’ve given some info and highlights from each playlist so it’s a bit long under the cut.

------metal gear

*cocaine country dancing:

A 9 years gap Ocelhira playlist, made for MGS Summer Games 2020. The playlist that really kickstarted my curation obsession. The Youtube version is better because it begins with the iconic opening monologue of Paul Cauthen’s Cocaine Country Dancing music video, and it has some songs that aren’t on Spotify. Starts off like the coke-filled nights of fights and winds down to a sort of nostalgic bitterness. Song highlights: Legends Never Die - Orville Peck with Shania Twain, Machine Gun Love - Kesha (Youtube only), Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy) - Big & Rich, Dead Flowers - Kesha & Friends (Youtube)/The Rolling Stones (Spotify). Genres: country rock, classic rock, queer country, alternative country.

while u can:

1976 Ocelhira road trip playlist. The tracklist for my still-unpublished Ocelhira novel of the same name, everything from Ocelot’s John Denver mixtape to the title track, Get It While You Can by Janis Joplin, which plays during a sex scene. Rule: songs must be from 1976 or earlier. Song highlights: I’m So Afraid - Fleetwood Mac, I Need A Man To Love - Big Brother & the Holding Company, Mama Tried - Merle Haggard, John Riley - The Byrds. Genres: folk, country, psychedelic rock, classic rock, blues rock. Length: 53 songs, 3hr.

ocelhira 2:

A wip playlist that I started recently. Thinking about making it collaborative so lmk if you’re interested in that. Just adding songs I find that remind me of Ocelhira and that don’t fit the rules for while u can. Song highlights: Puttin’ on the Ritz - Taco, Let’s Dance - David Bowie, Diamond Days - Cruel Youth, Intrasport - King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard. Genres: Dance rock, new wave pop, soul, funk.

------supernatural

*eldest daughter syndrome:

Self-indulgent Dean playlist. My personal favorite. Song highlights: Gloria - Patti Smith, Diamonds And Rust - Joan Baez, Some Say (I Got Devil) - Melanie. Genres: folk, folk rock, new wave. Length: 41 songs, 2hr 53min.

*Vīvāmus, Amēmus.:

Cas-POV slowburn Destiel playlist. Theme: yearning. Song highlights: All About Us - t.A.T.u., I Don’t Know How To Love Him - Jesus Christ Superstar, Temptation - New Order, Silver Springs - Fleetwood Mac. Genres: classic rock, soft rock, pop rock, blues, new wave. Length: 50 songs, 3hr 10min.

*temporary immortal:

Contemplative Cas playlist. Theme: angelic vs human nature. Song highlights: The Sound of Silence - Simon & Garfunkel, Why Do I Feel? - The Shaggs, We Are the Dead - David Bowie. Genres: folk rock, classic rock, garage rock, pop rock. Length: 20 songs, 1hr 21min.

*devil in paradise:

Spooky Sam playlist, inspired by my girlfriend making a joke blood freak playlist, but this one is serious and really freakin’ good. Alternate title: ADAB (Assigned Demon At Blood). Song highlights: She’s Lost Control - Joy Division, Partner From Hell - The Slits, I Was the Devil’s Child - Scary Bitches. Genres: soft rock, dance rock, electropop, classic rock. Length: 17 songs, 1hr 12min.

*Still Drivin’:

A more upbeat Dean playlist compared to eldest daughter syndrome, inspired by one of my favorite contemporary country artists, Paul Cauthen. Started off as an unsorted playlist, and though I’ve attempted to wrangle it, it’s still not as tight as I’d like it to be. Song highlights: He’s Got His Mother’s Hips - John Grant, A Change Is Gonna Come - Greta Van Fleet, My Gospel - Paul Cauthen. Genres: folk rock, country rock, hard rock. Length: 50 songs, 3hr 10min.

what we coulda had:

In the same vein as HBO!SPN playlists, this is the soundtrack of the version of SPN that exists in my head (which is, btw, a Luhrmann-Linklater fusion piece, though the music is all me.) I started to organize it but I’ve added a lot of songs since then so it’s probably easiest to just shuffle it. Otherwise you’ll get a 30 minute chunk that’s just The Electric Prunes. Song highlights: Age of Man - Greta Van Fleet, Diamond Dogs - David Bowie, Mama - My Chemical Romance, Original Sin - INXS, Tusk - Fleetwood Mac. Genres: classic rock, psychedelic rock, folk rock, dance rock, new wave. Length: 55 songs, 3hr 48min.

[the-bangtan-boys]

get to know me tag 💖

i was tagged by the cute @springkitten thank you!! sorry for being so late, but it was so interesting reading yours!! i love your choice of music btw ahh!

name: annika

nickname: nika, anniki, anni, annuk

gender: female

star sign: leo

current time: 6 pm

favorite artist(s): bts, got7, jackson wang, monsta x, winner, ikon, txt, ateez, stray kids, eric nam, superm, kard, sunmi, hyuna, hyolyn, g-dragon, zico, mino, bobby, super junior, jay park, mamamoo and so many more korean artists - florence + the machine, ed sheeran, halsey, the weeknd, post malone, hollywood vampires, coldplay, ellie goulding, daft punk, jaymes young, the neighborhood, troye sivan, lauv, lany, imagine dragons, bastille, kygo, max, sia, cigarettes after sex, chase atlentic, hans zimmer + SO MANY MORE shjdjfjjf

song(s) stuck in my head: right now everyday from winner c: but since last friday 100 ways by jackson 😍

last movie i saw: hsm

last thing i googled: nintendogs (gagshhd played it again 🐶)

other blog(s): @proudtobeadepphead, @the-obrien 💓

do i get asks? soemtimes, but when i get some i get super happy 💕💖😭

reason for url: well i love bangtan hihi and i wanted an ot7 url because-i love all of them so so much! 💖

following: 3699

average sleep: i try 7 hours but i think i endd up with 6 mostly 🙈

lucky number(s): i think 3 but i don't really have one gshdhhd

currently wearing: jeans, a black hoodie and some warm socks

dream job: video/movie editor, actress, voice actress, working in the movie/ grafic/ travel industry in general, also something with languages

dream trip: bahamas and the caribbean in general, seoul and exploring whole south korea, los angeles and whole usa, spain, france, whole europe and just every place in the world

favorite food: everything noodles, lasagna, pizza, sushi, korean bbq, chocolate

instruments: a little bit piano (want to learn it from a teacher someday properly)

favorite song(s): omggg okay i will try say one song per group or artist or this will explode; bts: whole discography basically gsgdghd, current fave: on, got7: same but i think current fave is page, jackson wang: all, but i say: on the rocks, monsta x: mhh i think middle of the night, winner: everyday, ikon: ohhhh, mhh killing me, txt: alll but i say cat & dog, ateez: wave, stray kids: OH GOD gshdhhd so hard, miroh, eric nam: gosh really it's so hard gshdhhd, missing you, superm: jopping, kard: ride on the wind, sunmi: afgshdhhd, mhh gashina, hyuna: u&me, hyolyn: see sea, g-dragon: oh my god aggshh: superstar, zico: ohh so many but, right now any song, mino: always and forever body, bobby: i love you, super junior: right now super clap, jay park: atgsgdh so many but me like yuh, mamamoo: right now hip, florence + the machine: also soooo many oh gosh especially the ceremonials album! but i think shake it out, ed sheeran: all his albums tbh but barcelona, halsey: sooo many but you should be sad, the weeknd: super manyy but in your eyes, currently but all his albums are bomb, post malone: forever cirles best car drive song for real, hollywood vampires: heroes, coldplay: alllll but viva la vida, ellie goulding: her whole albums for real her voice is just perfect! but codes, daft punk: one more time, jaymes young: his album is perfection pls listen to him!! moondust, the neighborhood: the beach, troye sivan: alllll strawberries and cigarettes, lauv: one of my all time faves fndjch but paris in the rain owns my heart, lany: if you see her, imagine dragons: super manyy but i don't know why, bastille: ohh so many also all the covers but what would you do, kygo: never let you go, max: beautiful creatures, cigarettes after sex: suuuper many! their album is just so chill and calm and aesthetic: apocalypse, chase atlentic: friends, hans zimmer: every movie soundtrack

gosh this took me long hihi 💕 i'm tagging (only if you want, sorry if you already did this 🙈): @angtaelic @hoseoknysus @mykths @r-m @freya132 @iuconic @starlightmalec @btsaremyfaves @mystically-mysterious @onebig-loveaffair @goodboy-taetae @shadowworldx @alovelyalien @bts-springday @cherryjk @utopiajeon @babeejeon @yoongisdumplingcheeks @namjoonseuphoria @busanbaddie @monojoons @namuswife @mapofugh @vminsos @jungkpop @lostcherryjk @yourguessisasgoodasminemate @singulari-tae @yugyeomshadow @seokie @madeitwang @tataehyungs @sprnqday @mitch-yy

[fuckheadwitha]

Listening to Rolling Stone's Top 500 Albums of All Time

Rolling Stone released an updated list of their top 500 albums of all time and being trapped in the purgatory of covid quarantine this seems like the perfect moment to tackle what an almost completely irrelevant former counter-culture institution has to say about music (we can’t actually blame Rolling Stone for this list, a huge number of musicians and critics voted to make it). I am going to listen to every single one of these, all the way through, with a level of attention that's not super intense but I'm definitely not having them on in the background as simple aural wallpaper. Two caveats though: I can make an executive decision to skip any album if I feel the experience is sufficiently miserable, and I'm also going to be skipping the compilation albums that I feel aren't really worth slots (best ofs, etc.). In addition, I will be ordering them as I go, creating a top 500 of the top 500 (it will be less than 500 since we've already established I'm skipping some of these).

Here are 500-490:

#500 Arcade Fire - Funeral

I can already tell I'm going to be at odds with this list if one of the most important albums of my high school years is at the bottom. That being said, I haven't actually given this whole thing a listen since probably the early 2010s, before Arcade Fire fatigue set in and the hipsterati appointed band of a generation just kinda seemed to fade from popular consciousness. I actually dreaded re-experiencing it, since the synthesis of anthemic rock and quirky folk instrumentation which Arcade Fire brought mainstream has now become the common shorthand of insufferable spotify friendly folk pop. Blessedly, the first half of the album easily holds up, largely propelled by dirty fast rhythm guitar, orchestration that's tuneful rather than obnoxious, and lyrics which come off as earnest rather than pretentious. The middle gets a little sappy and “Crown of Love”, a song I definitely used to like, really starts the grate. And then we get to “Wake Up”, whose cultural saturation spawned thousands of dorky indie rock outfits that confused layered strings and horns with power and meaning. This song definitely hasn't survived the film trailers and commercials which it so ubiquitously overlayed, but the line about "a million little gods causing rainstorms, turning every good thing to rust" still attacks the part of my brain capable of sincere emotion. This album is probably going to hold the top spot for a while, because although so many elements of Funeral that made it feel so meaningful, that made it stand out so much in 2004, have been seamlessly assimilated into an intellectually and emotionally bankrupt indie pop industrial complex, the album itself still has a genuine vulnerability and bangers that still manage to rip.

#499

Rufus, Chaka Khan - Ask Rufus

Before she became a name in her own right, Chaka Khan was the voice of the band Rufus, and it’s definitely her voice that shines amongst some spritely vibey funk. That’s not to say that these aren’t some jams on their own. “At Midnight” is a banging opener with a sprint to the finish, and although the explicitly named but kinda boring “Slow Screw Against the Wall” feels weak, this wasn’t really supposed to be an album of barn burners. This was something people put on their vinyl record players while they chilled on vinyl furniture after a night of doing cocaine. “Everlasting Love” is a bop with a bassline like a Sega Genesis game, and the twinkling piano on “Hollywood” adds a playful levity to lyrics that are supposed to be both tackily optimistic about making it big out in LA and subtly realistic about the kind of nightmare world showbiz can be. “Better Days” is another track that manages to be a bittersweet jam with a catchy sour saxophone and playful synths under Chaka Khan’s vamping. This album definitely belongs on a ‘chill funk to study and relax to’ playlist.

#498

Suicide - Suicide

We’ve hit the first album that could be rightly called a progenitor for multiple genres that followed it. Someone could say there’s a self-serving element of this being on a Rolling Stone list (the band was one of the first to adopt the label ‘Punk’ after seeing it in a Lester Bangs article) but the album’s legacy is basically indisputable. EBM, industrial, punk, post-punk, new wave, new whatever all have a genealogy that connects to Suicide, and it’s easy to hear the band in everything that followed. But what the band actually is is two guys, one with an electric organ and one with a spooky voice, doing spooky simple riffs and saying spooky simple things. Simplicity is definitely not a dis here. The opener “Ghost Rider” makes a banger out of four notes and one instrument, and the refrain ‘America America is killing its youth’ is really all the lyrical complexity you need to fucking get it. “Cheree” and “Girl” have almost identical lyrics (‘oh baby’ vs ‘oh girl’) but “Cheree” is more like a fairy tale and “Girl” is more like a sonic handjob. “Frankie Teardrop” has the audacity to tell a ten minute story with its lyrics, but of course there is intermittent, actually way too loud screaming breaking up the narrative of a guy who loses everything then kills his family and himself. The song is basically a novelty, and I think you can probably say the whole album is a novelty between its brevity and character. But for a bite sized snack this album casts a huge shadow.

#497

Various Artists - The Indestructible Beat of Soweto

The fact that this particular compilation always ends up in the canon has a lot to do with the cultural context it existed in, being America’s first encounter with South African contemporary music during the decline of apartheid (it wouldn’t end until a decade later in 1994 with the country’s first multi-racial elections). Music journos often bring up the fact Ladysmith Black Mambazo, the all male choir singing on the album ender “Nansi Imali”, sang on Paul Simon’s Graceland like their virtue is they helped Paul Simon get over his depression and not, like, the actual music. But also like, how is the actual music? Jams. Ubiquitous, hooky guitars propel the songs along with bright choruses over low lead vocals, but I didn’t expect the synthesizer on the bop “Qhude Manikiniki”, nor the discordant hoedown violin on “Sobabamba”. “Holotelani” is a groove to walk into the sunset to.

#496

Shakira - Donde Estan los Ladrones

So this is the first head scratcher on the list. It’s not like it sucks. And I think I prefer this 90s guitar pop driven spanish language Shakira to modern superstar Shakira. But I mean, it’s an album of late nineties latin pop minivan music, with a thick syrupy middle that doesn’t do anything for me. The opener and closer stand out though.  ‘Ciega, Sordomuda’, one of the biggest pop songs of the 90s (it was #1 on the charts of literally every country in Latin America), has a galloping acoustic guitar and horn hits with Shakira’s vocals at their most percussive.

#495

Boyz II Men - II

So, if you were alive in the 90s you know Boyz II Men were fucking huge, and the worst song on the album is the second track “All Around the World”, basically a love song to their own success, and also the women they’ve banged. You can tell it was written specifically so that the crowd could go fucking wild when they heard their state/city/country mentioned in the song, and I’m not gonna double check but I’m sure they hit all fifty states. Once you’re over that hump though you basically have an hour of songs to fuck to. “U Know” keeps it catchy with propulsive midi guitar and synth horns, “Jezzebel” starts with a skit and ends with a richly layered jazz tune about falling in love on a train, and “On Bended Knee” has a Ragnarok Online type beat. Honestly this album can drag, but you’re not supposed to be listening to it alone in a state of analysis, you’re supposed to have it on during a date that’s going really, really well.

#494

The Ronettes - Presenting the Fabulous Ronettes

A singles compilation of the Ronettes, the only ones I immediately recognized were ‘Be My Baby’ and ‘Going to the Chapel of Love’, the latter of which I didn’t know existed since the version of the song I knew was by the Dixie Cups, which was apparently a source of drama since the Ronettes did it first but producer Phil Spector refused to release it. I feel like as a retro trip to sixties girl groups it’s full of enough songs about breaking up (for example “Breaking Up”) getting back together (for example “Breaking Up”) and wanting to get married but you can’t, because you’re a teenager (“So Young”).

#493

Marvin Gaye - Here, My Dear

This album only exists because Marvin was required by his divorce settlement to make it and provide all of the royalties to his ex-wife and motown executive Anna Gordy Gaye. It’s absolutely bizarre, phoned in mid tempo funk whose lyrics range from the passive aggressive (“This is what you wanted right?”) to the petulant (“Why do I have to pay attorney’s fees?”). There is a seething realness here that crosses well past the border of uncomfortable. I don’t think it’s an amazing album to listen to, but it’s an amazing album to exist: Marvin Gaye is legally obligated to throw his own divorce pity party, and everyone's invited.

#492

Bonnie Raitt - Nick of Time

I have never heard of Bonnie Raitt before but apparently this album won several grammys including album of the year in 1989 and sold 5 million copies, which I guess goes to show that no award provides less long term relevance than the grammys. The story around the album is pretty heartwarming, it was her first massive hit after a career of whiffs, and Bonnie Raitt herself is apparently a social activist and neat human being. I say all this because this sort of 80s country blues rock doesn't really connect with me, but the artist obviously deserves more than that. I unequivocally like the title track though, a hand-clap backed winding electric piano groove about literally finding love before your eggs dry up.

#491

Harry Styles - Fine Line

I do not think I have ever heard a one direction song because I am an adult who only listens to public radio. I’m totally open to pop bands or boy bands or boy band refugee solo artists, but I don’t like anything here. It’s like a mixtape of the worst pop trends of the decade, from glam rock that sounds like it belongs in a car commercial to folky bullshit that sounds like it belongs in a more family focused car commercial. This gets my first DNP (Does Not Place).

#490

Linda Ronstadt - Heart Like a Wheel

Another soft-rock blues and country album which just doesn’t land with me. But the opener “You’re No Good” is like a soul/country hybrid which still goes hard and the title track hits with the lyrics “And it's only love and it's only love / That can wreck a human being and turn him inside out”.

Current Ranking, which is weirdly almost like an inverse of the rolling stones list so far;

[birdlord]

Every Book I Read in 2019

This was a heavier reading year for me (heavier culture-consumption year in general) partly because my partner started logging his books read, and then, of course, it’s a competition.

01 Morvern Callar; Alan Warner - One of the starkest books I’ve ever read. What is it about Scotland that breeds writers with such brutal, distant perspectives on life? Must be all the rocks. 

02 21 Things You Might Not Know About the Indian Act; Bob Joseph - I haven’t had much education in Canada’s relationship to the Indigenous nations that came before it, so this opened things up for me quite a bit. The first and most fundamental awakening is to the fact that this is not a story of progress from worse to better (which is what a simplistic, grade school understanding of smallpox blankets>residential schools>reserves would tell you), in fact, the nation to nation relationship of early contact was often superior to what we have today. I wish there was more of a call to action, but apparently a sequel is on its way. 

03 The Plot Against America; Philip Roth - An alternative history that in some ways mirrors our present. I did feel like I was always waiting for something to happen, but I suppose the point is that, even at the end of the world, disasters proceed incrementally. 

04 Sabrina; Nick Drnaso - The blank art style and lack of contrast in the colouring of each page really reinforces the feeling of impersonal vacancy between most of the characters. I wonder how this will read in the future, as it’s very much based in today’s relationship to friends and technology. 

05 Perfumes: The Guide; Luca Turn & Tania Sanchez - One of the things I like to do when I need to turn my brain off online is reading perfume reviews. That’s where I found out about this book, which runs through different scent families and reviews specific well-known perfumes. Every topic has its boffins, and these two are particularly witty and readable. 

06 Adventures in the Screen Trade; William Goldman - Reading this made me realize how little of the cinema of the 1970s I’ve actually seen, beyond the usual heavy hitters. Ultimately I found this pretty thin, a few peices of advice stitched together with anecdotes about a Hollywood that is barely recognizable today. 

07 The Age of Innocence; Edith Wharton - A love triangle in which the fulcrum is a terribly irritating person, someone who thinks himself far more outré than he is. Nonetheless, I was taken in by this story of “rebellion”, such as it was, to be compelling.

08 Boom Town: The Fantastical Saga of Oklahoma City, Its Chaotic Founding, Its Apocalyptic Weather, Its Purloined Basketball Team, and the Dream of Becoming a World-class Metropolis; Sam Anderson - Like a novel that follows various separate characters, this book switches between tales of the founding of Oklahoma City with basketball facts and encounters with various oddball city residents. It’s certainly a fun ride, but you may find, as I did, that some parts of the narrative interest you more than others. Longest subtitle ever?

09 World of Yesterday; Stefan Zweig - A memoir of pre-war Austria and its artistic communities, told by one of its best-known exports. Particularly wrenching with regards to the buildup to WWII, from the perspective of those who had been through this experience before, so recently. 

10 Teach us to Sit Still: A Sceptic’s Search for Health and Healing; Tim Parks - A writer finds himself plagued by pain that conventional doctors aren’t able to cure, so he heads further afield to see if he can use stillness-of-mind to ease the pain, all the while complaining as you would expect a sceptic to do. His digressions into literature were a bit hard to take (I’m sure you’re not Coleridge, my man).

11 The Power of Moments: Why Certain Experiences have Extraordinary Impact; Chip & Dan Heath - I read this for work-related reasons, with the intention of improving my ability to make exhibitions and interpretation. It has a certain sort of self-helpish structure, with anecdotes starting each chapter and a simple lesson drawn from each one. Not a bad read if you work in a public-facing capacity. 

12 Against Everything: Essays; Mark Greif - The founder of N+1 collects a disparate selection of essays, written over a period of several years. You won’t love them all, but hey, you can always skip those ones!

13 See What I Have Done; Sarah Schmidt - A retelling of the Lizzie Borden story, which I’d seen a lot of good reviews for. Sadly this didn’t measure up, for me. There’s a lot of stage setting (rotting food plays an important part) but there’s not a lot of substance there. 

14 Like a Mother: A Feminist Journey Through the Science and Culture of Pregnancy; Angela Garber - This is another one that came to me very highly recommended. Garber seems to think these topics are not as well-covered as they are, but she does a good job researching and retelling tales of pregnancy, birth, postpartum difficulties and breastfeeding. 

15 Rebecca; Daphne du Maurier - This was my favourite book club book of the year. I’d always had an impression of...trashiness I guess? around du Maurier, but this is a classic thriller. Maybe the first time I’ve ever read, rather than watched, a thriller! That’s on me. 

16 O’Keefe: The Life of an American Legend; Jeffrey Hogrefe - I went to New Mexico for the first time this spring, and a colleague lent me this Georgia O’Keefe biography after I returned. I hadn’t known much about her personal life before this, aside from what I learned at her museum in Santa Fe. The author has made the decision that much of O’Keefe’s life was determined by childhood incest, but doesn’t have what you might call….evidence?

17 A Lost Lady; Willa Cather - A turn-of-the-20th century story about an upper-class woman and her young admirer Neil. I’ve never read any other Cather, but this felt very similar to the Wharton I also read this year, which I gather isn’t typical of her. 

18 The Year of Living Danishly: My Twelve Months of Unearthing the Secrets of the World’s Happiest Country; Helen Russell - A British journalist moves to small-town Denmark with her husband, and although the distances are not long, there’s a considerable culture shock. Made me want to eat pastries in a BIG WAY. 

19 How Not to be a Boy; Robert Webb - The title gives a clue to the framing device of this book, which is fundamentally a celebrity memoir, albeit one that largely ignores the celebrity part of his life in favour of an examination of the effects of patriarchy on boys’ development as human beings. 

20 The Book You Wish Your Parents Had Read (And Your Children Will be Glad that You Did); Philippa Perry; A psychotherapist’s take on how parents’ own upbringing affects the way they interact with their own kids. 

21 The Library Book; Susan Orlean - This book has stuck with me more than I imagined that it would. It covers both the history of libraries in the USA, and the story of the arson of the LA Public Library’s central branch in 1986. 

22 We Are Never Meeting in Real Life; Samantha Irby - I’ve been reading Irby’s blog for years, and follow her on social media. So I knew the level of raunch and near body-horror to expect in this essay collection. This did fill in a lot of gaps in terms of her life, which added a lot more blackness (hey) to the humour. 

23 State of Wonder; Ann Patchett - A semi-riff on Heart of Darkness involving an OB/GYN who now works for a pharmaceutical company, heading to the jungle to retrieve another researcher who has gone all Colonel Kurtz on them. I found it a bit unsatisfying, but the descriptions were, admittedly, great. 

24 Disappearing Earth; Julia Phillips - A story of an abduction of two girls in very remote Russia, each chapter told by another townsperson. The connections between the narrators of each chapter are sometimes obvious, but not always. Ending a little tidy, but plays against expectations for a book like this. 

25 Ethan Frome; Edith Wharton - I gather this is a typical high school read, but I’d never got to it. In case you’re in the same boat as me, it’s a short, mildly melodramatic romantic tragedy set in the new england winter. It lacks the focus on class that other Whartons have, but certainly keeps the same strong sense that once you’ve made a choice, you’re stuck with it. FOREVER. 

26 Educated; Tara Westover - This memoir of a Mormon fundamentalist-turned-Academic-superstar was huge on everyone’s reading lists a couple of years back, and I finally got to it. It felt similar to me in some ways to the Glass Castle, in terms of the nearly-unbelievable amounts of hell she and her family go through at the hands of her father and his Big Ideas. I found that it lacked real contemplation of the culture shock of moving from the rural mountain west to, say, Cambridge. 

27 Dead Wake: The Last Crossing of Lusitania; Erik Larson - I’m a sucker for a story of a passenger liner, any non-Titanic passenger liner, really. Plus Lusitania’s story has interesting resonances for the US entry into WWI, and we see the perspective of the U-boat captain as well as people on land, and Lusitania’s own passengers and crew. 

28 The Birds and Other Stories; Daphne du Maurier - The title story is the one that stuck in my head most strongly, which isn’t any surprise. I found it much more harrowing than the film, it had a really effective sense of gradually increasing dread and inevitability. 

29 Someone Who Will Love You in All Your Faded Glory; Raphael Bob-Waksberg - Hit or miss in the usual way of short story collections, this book has a real debt to George Saunders. 

30 Sex & Rage; Eve Babitz - a sort of pseudo-autobiography of an indolent life in the LA scene of the 1970s. It was sometimes very difficult to see how the protagonist actually felt about anything, which is a frequent, acute symptom of youth. 

31 Doctor Fischer of Geneva or The Bomb Party; Graham Greene - Gotta love a book with an alternate title built in. This is a broad (the characters? are, without exception, insane?!) satire about a world I know little about. I don’t have a lot of patience or interest in Greene’s religious allegories, but it’s a fine enough story. 

32 Lathe of Heaven; Ursula K LeGuin - Near-future sci-fi that is incredibly prescient about the effects of climate change for a book written over forty years ago. The book has amazing world-building, and the first half has the whirlwind feel of Homer going back in time, killing butterflies and returning to the present to see what changes he has wrought. 

33 The Grammarians; Cathleen Schine - Rarely have I read a book whose jacket description of the plot seems so very distant from what actually happens therein. 

34 The Boy Kings: A Journey Into the Heart of the Social Network; Katharine Losse - Losse was one of Facebook’s very earliest employees, and she charts her experience with the company in this memoir from 2012. Do you even recall what Facebook was like in 2012? They hadn’t even altered the results of elections yet! Zuck was a mere MULTI-MILLIONAIRE, probably. Were we ever so young?

35 Invisible Women; Caroline Ciado Perez - If you want to read a book that will make you angry, so angry that you repeatedly assail whoever is around with facts taken from it, then this, my friend, is the book for you. 

36 The Hidden World of the Fox; Adele Brand - A really charming look at the fox from an ecologist who has studied them around the world. Much of it takes place in the UK, where urban foxes take on a similar ecological niche that raccoons famously do where I live, in Toronto. 

37 S; Doug Dorst & JJ Abrams - This is a real mindfuck of a book, consisting of a faux-old novel, with marginalia added by two students which follows its own narrative. A difficult read not because of the density of prose, but the sheer logistics involved: read the page, then the marginalia? Read the marginalia interspersed with the novel text? Go back chapter by chapter? I’m not sure that either story was worth the trouble, in the end. 

38 American War; Omar El Akkad - This is not exclusively, but partially a climate-based speculative novel, or, grossly, cli-fi for short. Ugh, what a term! But this book is a really tight, and realistic look at the results of a fossil-fuels-based second US Civil War. 

39 Antisocial: Online Extremists, Techno-Utopians, and the Hijacking of the American Conversation; Andrew Marantz - This is the guy you’ll hear on every NPR story talking about his semi-embedding within the Extremely Online alt-right. Most of the figures he profiles come off basically how you’d expect, I found his conclusions about the ways these groups have chosen to use online media tools to achieve their ends the most illuminating part. 

40 Wilding: The Return of Nature to a British Farm; Isabella Tree - This is the story of a long process of transitioning a rural acreage (more of an estate than a farm, this is aristocratic shit) from intensive agriculture to something closer to wild land. There are long passages where Tree (ahem) simply lists species which have come back, which I’m sure is fascinating if you are from the area, but I tended to glaze over a bit. Experts from around the UK and other European nations weigh in on how best to rewild the space, which places the project in a wider context. 

FICTON: 17     NONFICTION: 23

[your-fave-is-catholic]

Your Fave Is Catholic: Alanis Morissette

Known for: Grammy Award winning Canadian singer, songwriter, musician, producer, & actress, she is one of the most beloved & popular singers from the 1990s, & continues to find great success to this day. Originally, she started her career as a child actress, appearing on the popular Canadian television show You Can’t Do That On Television. But once the 90s came about, she started her career in music, & her first two albums were part of the dance pop genre. But her third album, Jagged Little Pill, branched more into a grunge rock style, & became an immense hit. Since then, she became the big superstar that she remains to this day. Some of her most notable songs include “Feel Your Love”, “Too Hot”, “Walk Away”, “An Emotion Away”, “No Apologies”, “Ironic”, “You Oughta Know”, “Hand In My Pocket”, “All I Really Want”, “You Learn”, “Head Over Feet”, "Thank U", "That I Would Be Good", "Unsent", "So Pure", "Joining You", "King of Pain", "21 Things I Want in a Lover", "Hands Clean", "Flinch", "So Unsexy", "Precious Illusions", "Surrendering", "Utopia", "Eight Easy Steps", "Out Is Through", "Everything", "Crazy", "Underneath", "Not as We", "In Praise of the Vulnerable Man", "Guardian", "Lens", "Receive", "Reasons I Drink", "Smiling", & so much more. With this great success in the field of music, she has several albums to her name, & she continues to tour & play music for fans all over the world, even collaborating with other artists as well on tour. Besides music, she has also done other acting projects mainly on television, though she is also known for her work in Kevin Smith films such as Dogma & Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back. She also has her own podcast titled Conversations with Alanis Morissette, writes her own advice column for The Guardian, & also helped create a musical based on her album Jagged Little Pill, with hopes of it premiering soon.

Evidence of Faith: Initially, I was hesitant to feature Alanis on this blog, as I had seen somewhere on Wikipedia that stated she converted to Buddhism. But after I double checked this, I saw that there was no source included, & I had this statement altered. Luckily though, there was still evidence that supports Alanis being Catholic. According to a WBUR News article & interview about Alanis’s career, Alanis herself explains that growing up in Ottawa, she lived in a very Catholic household & that it was through Catholicism she discovered her gift for singing. As she explains, when she attended church at age 10 & sang a song about Saint Francis of Assisi, a woman sitting in front of her complimented her singing voice, & that gave her the confidence to continue singing. In her own words, “...God bless the Catholics for that, among many other things.” She also attended a few Catholic schools growing up that were part of the Ottawa-Carleton Catholic School Board such as Holy Family Catholic School & Immaculata High School, all this according to the official website that features Alanis as a notable student.