#hand tape a cassette or burn a cd

[sweet-frank-iero-bitch]

I think if anyone ever made me a mixtape I would marry them.

[fandomsnstuff]

@taznovembercelebration

Day 3: bakery au/playlist

Kravitz gives Taako a gift and gets invited to a party

Read it on AO3

Kravitz stands pressed against the brick wall outside the bakery, out of view of the large stretch of front windows. He drums his fingers on the plastic case in his hands.

This is. Insane. Taako's working. He's almost always been working when they see each other. What on Earth made him think that making him a mixtape in cd form, cassette form, and spotify form (just in case he doesn't have a way to play the other two) would be appropriate?

Sure, they see each other every day when Kravitz comes in for a sweet treat. And Taako flirts with him over the counter every time, and loiters around the little table he sits at by the window to talk to him more. Then of course there was that time they ran into each other at the grocery store and stood in the aisle talking for at least 30 minutes. And the time they ran into each other at the movies and went for dinner and a walk after. Then Taako gave him his number the next day when he came in for a danish, and they text almost every day. Taako even joked that they were meant to be when they found out that Kravitz's old college roommate is his brother in law.

But a mixtape? What is this, 1986?

But here he is, with an hour and a half of music he carefully curated for Taako in three different forms. At this point he can't not give it to him.

He takes a deep breath and walks into the bakery. The bell above the door jingles and Taako doesn't even look up from where he's loading some fresh cookies into the display. "I was wondering how long you were gonna stand out there."

Kravitz freezes. "You could see-"

"Sure could." Taako comes up and leans against the counter, smiling smugly. "Whatcha got there?"

Kravitz hides the tape and cd behind his back, his face burning. "Nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing." Kravitz takes a very sudden interest in the wall behind Taako. "Tell you what," Taako says, drawing Kravitz's eyes back to him like a magnet, "I'll trade you. You show me what made you stand outside my place of business for 10 minutes, and I give you one of my new ginger molasses cookies, on the house."

Kravitz eyes the cookies in question. They do look good, perfect picturesque cracks on top, sugar on the outside glistening like crystal. And Taako's cookies are always perfectly crunchy on the edges and soft in the middle.

"They just came out of the oven," he says tauntingly, "still warm."

The unfortunate thing is that Kravitz can be bought. Especially with baked goods. "I, um," his heart is still racing, but he approaches the counter, "this is so dumb, but I," he laughs, embarrassed, and presents the gifts, "I made you a mixtape? You mentioned that you've been listening to the same music when you bake since you started working here, and maybe you want to, but I just thought you might like… another option." Taako's very good at keeping his composure, but his eyebrows have raised. Kravitz hopes that's good surprised and not incredulous, bad surprised. "I didn't know what you have to play music so, uh, yeah."

A beat of silence passes, then Taako barks a laugh. He picks up the cassette and flips it over, reading the tracks. "Hozier, ACDC, Taylor Swift," his voice rises in pitch as he reads out the artists, "My Chemical Romance, Ed Sheeran, The Backstreet Boys, Nickleback-" he cackles, "you're a freak, Krav, this fucks."

Kravitz laughs. "You said you like variety."

"Well I've certainly got it now." He puts the tape down and walks back to the display, grabbing a paper bag and a pair of tongs. "I think I owe you two cookies for this."

"You don't have to-"

"Too late!" He packages up two ginger cookies and hands the bag over to him. "No take-backsies."

"Thank you." He takes his treat and sits at his table by the window, watching Taako as he takes his new music into the back, and a moment later the song playing over the speakers stops and Take Me to Church starts.

Taako isn't able to stop and talk to him a lot, he putters around, filling the display case, cleaning, helping other people who come in. When Kravitz is on his way out, Taako calls out, "hey, Krav!" He turns, and Taako says, "do you want to go to a party?"

"Like, in general?"

"No, I'm- there's going to be a party this weekend. With my friends. Barold will be there. Do you want to come?"

"Oh," other than Barry, he hasn't met Taako's friends, "I wouldn't want to intrude on your friends."

"Well," Taako scoffs and crosses his arms, "it's my birthday party so I can do whatever I want and they can deal."

Kravitz's eyes widen. "It's your birthday? I had no idea-"

"You wouldn't. Anyway, you in?"

"Yeah, yes, for sure."

"Cool. I'll text you."

Taako texts him later that day with an address and a time for the coming Saturday. He asks if he should bring anything, and Taako's response of "just your handsome self" makes his heart do somersaults. He considers getting Taako a gift, but he made him a mixtape. Maybe he already considers that his gift. He thinks about bringing wine, but he knows Taako's pretty particular about his wine pairings. The idea of flowers goes straight out the window, that'd be too much.

He follows Taako's instructions and just brings himself. There's food and desserts set out, including a cake that's been pre-cut so people can just grab and go. He asks Taako, "no candles?"

He snorts. "Trust me, you don't want to hear these fuckers sing."

The party itself is… fine. Taako's friends are welcoming, and include him in conversation and games. But there's a history and camaraderie here that he's very clearly not a part of. Of course it's Taako's party, so he can do what he wants, but Kravitz feels like he shouldn't be here.

Taako sticks around in his general vicinity for the most part, which Kravitz is grateful for. It reminds him that he was actually invited. But at some point Taako gets dragged off to do god knows what, and Kravitz takes the opportunity to step outside.

The cool night air is refreshing. He takes a deep breath and sits in one of the patio chairs. A minute later, the sliding door opens and Barry steps out. He sits in the chair next to him, "you okay, bud?"

He shrugs. "Yeah." Barry gives him a sympathetic look that somehow makes him want to spill his guts. Kravitz sighs, "it's just- I'm glad that Taako invited me, but it just feels like- everybody's nice and all, but you've known each other for so long, maybe it'd have been better if his birthday party was just his closest friends, you know?"

Barry snorts. "Sorry, I'm not laughing at you, but," he chuckles and shakes his head, "do you know how Taako normally celebrates his birthday?"

His brow furrows. "He has a party? Has all his friends come and give him presents?"

"No. He lets Lup buy him dinner and that's it. He never wants a party or cake. I'm not even allowed to know where they're going for dinner." He leans in close and lowers his voice, "this party didn't exist until he invited you to it."

"Then…" he looks back through the glass of the sliding door, where Taako's scrambling to get out of Magnus's arms like an indignant cat while Merle loudly sings Happy Birthday, "why?"

Barry looks a little smug. "I have a few ideas."

"Like what?"

He shrugs and stands, clapping a hand on Kravitz's shoulder. "I'll see you in there."

"Wha- Barry!"

But he's already gone back inside.

The Monday after the party, Kravitz is sitting at his table in the bakery, daydreaming out the window when a slice of confetti cake is set down in front of him. Taako sits across from him with his own slice of confetti cake that has a purple candle sticking out of it. He takes a lighter out of his pocket and seem to light and blow out the candle in one go. He picks up the fork on his plate and digs into the cake. Kravitz picks up his own fork and tentatively takes a bite.

"I hear Barold spilled the party beans to you," Taako says after a long silence. He's deconstructing the layers of cake with his fork.

"Party beans?" Kravitz says eloquently.

Taako huffs. "Party beans! The beans about the party!" He slumps back in his chair, and scoops a lump of icing into his mouth.

Kravitz doesn't know what to say, so he says nothing. They both pick at their cake in silence as Green Day serenades them through the speakers.

"I just never really saw the point," Taako says eventually. "For our entire lives, our birthday was just another day, because we had no money to make a big deal about it. Then we got some money and a couple of friends, and we could make a whole shindig about it. Lup loved it, I didn't really care. I liked planning it for Lup, but I just didn't need it for me. I let her take me to dinner because she insists on doing something."

Kravitz takes a moment, then says, "you deserve to be celebrated, Taako."

"I know," he snaps. "A birthday party's just too much."

"But you love getting attention." He shrugs, still slumped in his seat. Kravitz says, "so why the party now?"

"I wanted to spend time with you, doofus. And a birthday party was the first thing that came to my idiot brain."

"Oh." Kravitz stabs at his cake. "You don't need to throw a party to get me to spend time with you." Taako stays low in his seat, looking at his decimated piece of cake. "Can I take you to dinner?"

Taako finally sits up. "As long as you don't tell the waiters it's my birthday. I've been subjected to too many sparklers and stupid hats."

Kravitz laughs. "I think I can manage that."

[homosexualisopod]

Music used to live in our homes. You'd find 5 abandoned MP3 players and about as many ipods living in any of your junk drawers, all weird shapes with songs somebody took the time to curate on some free MP3 downloader website and rename by hand. The shelves would be spilling over with CD cases all stacked haphazardly and your favourite CD lived in the tray of your boombox that took four big ass D-cell batteries that you dared your siblings or friends to lick when it was time to change them out. You'd burn music onto a CD from the computer with the BBL and the barely functioning disk tray that you had to manually pull and push and then you'd scrawl something stupid on it in sharpie and play it until it inevitably got covered in scratches from being loved so well and living unprotected. You'd dig up a cassette tape from an old hair metal band hidden in the basement or the attic or the back of a closet and discover a whole new universe the moment you wound that puppy up and put it in the tray on the front of that boombox. Radios were anything from a piece of furniture with 6 other functions to a little handheld clear plastic freak that you had to hold just right to pick up a radio signal playing your favourite song at the time. You used to be able to touch music and let it know you loved it.

[fallenasleepyetagain]

Competing - Blue/Nightmare Fic

Media: UTMV/UTAU

Genres: Human AU, normal multiverse, homoerotic chess game, flirting or threats? who knows!

Characters: King Nightmare, Blue, Dream (mentioned), Ink (mentioned)

Pairing(s): Nightmare/Blue

CW/TW: Threats, Nightmare vaguely taking about his Evil Plans™️

Word Count: 1434

Read it on ao3!

"Have a seat."

Nightmare sat on the opposite side of the large living room from the main entrance. The room was large, and if Blue was there for any other reason, it would've felt homey.

The living room contained a multitude of different activities scattered around the place. There was a large fireplace on the far wall, large and ornate, no fire burning in it at the moment. The floor was a dark wood, but there was a variety of teal and black carpets around the room, specifically around the couches and chairs.

The walls were filled to the brim with tall, wooden bookshelves. On most of them, there were rows and rows of books, as to be expected. Large books with damaged spines and withering covers were located at the top, out of reach, and out of danger. On the lower shelves were magazines and books clearly deemed less important by Nightmare.

On others were rows and rows of video game cartridges, as well as music CDs and cassettes. If Blue had to guess, there were also VHS tapes and recordings of TV shows and movies, but he wasn't close enough to see the exact filmography Nightmare had.

Wherever there weren't book shelves, there were small tables with unfinished projects and board games on them. There were some whittling projects scattered about, as well as a board game with an obvious loser who wasn't willing to throw in the towel.

All of that pales in comparison to, truly, what was the star of the show. On the left side of the room was a beautiful and ornate chess table, built from a dark marble with silver accents.

The pieces were likely hand carved, no two pawns looked the same despite the similar shaping to them. One side was made from a dark metal of some kind, decorated with teal and blue gemstones, the other set being a light silver with orange and white gems.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Nightmare said as Blue stared down at the chess set.

For a moment, Blue forgot where he was, what the stakes were. He nodded, fidgeting with his scarf.

"Shall we play, then?"

"What?"

Nightmare gestured for Blue to sit on the opposing side of the chess table: the side with the silver pieces. He obliged, although his body tensing as he sits down, the bottom half of his face hidden in his scarf.

"Have you ever played chess before, Blue?"

There was some hesitation; Blue's eyes darted to the board, the beautiful chess pieces, before back up at Nightmare. "...Yes. Not recently, but I have. I know the rules."

"Oh wonderful, I was worried that I'd have to teach you. That'd be a lot less fun," Nightmare hummed as he ran his thumb across his nails. "I get to skip to why you're here, which is preferable."

"I'm here to negotiate Dream and Ink's freedom." Blue said, his teeth grinding together. He knew a diplomatic conversation was the only way to succeed. Fighting Nightmare and his gang on his own was out of the question, and he couldn't rely on stealth to free his friends.

Not when Nightmare could hear the quickening of his heartbeat.

"But that's so boring, don't you think?" Nightmare fidgeted with the rook on the far left of the chess board. "We could have an intellectual back and forth, and with you I always do adore it, but this will just be a whole lot more fun."

"I- I mean...I guess so."

"So glad we're on the same page. Now, let me tell you about the stakes of the little game we are about to play."

Fidgeting with his rook, Nightmare allowed the suspense to build for a moment. "It's simple, really. We're playing for Dream and Ink's freedom.

"You win, and you all get to go home! No fights, no stakes, you just get to leave this castle untouched." He sat back in his chair, a sly smile on his face. "We end in a draw, and you take their place. Dream and Ink will be forced out of this universe, and you stay with me."

Nightmare leaned against the table, getting as close to Blue as physics allowed him. "If I win, on the other hand, then you'll never see them again."

"What? What do you mean?" Blue's hand gripped the arms of the chair, his fingers twitching, ready to summon his sword. "You'll kill me?"

"Oh, no no no, you misunderstand. I have uses, for the both of them, you see. And they cannot fulfill those roles until I've got all of you in the palm of my hand."

"And what about me?"

"What about you?"

"They have..." Blue ground his teeth, "uses. I don't?"

"No." Nightmare answered simply, smiling at him. "You're incredibly handsome though and that alone makes me want to keep you."

A shiver of discomfort shot through Blue's spine.

"So, shall we play then? I'll let you make the first move."

"Okay."

Blue looked down at the pieces, there were only a few options for what he could choose as a first move. All of the pawns; he could start with a queen's gambit, and the two knights.

What was Nightmare expecting him to do? Do something classic? Something unexpected? Was something truly unexpected if someone was expecting that was what you're going to do?

"Take as much time as you need."

The knight on the left side of the board reached his hand and he placed it down in front of his pawns.

"Oh, I knew you would make this fun."

Each and every turn was agony. Barely any actual words were spoken, just small hums and the occasional curse word. Blue's heart was pounding the entire time, trying desperately to get into Nightmare's head, and to play unpredictable enough that Nightmare couldn't get into his.

Nightmare's poker face never changed, even as Blue would capture his pieces. Just the softest, saccharine smile on his lips.

"Checkmate."

With ringing in his ears and his heart threatening to leap right out of his chest, Blue glanced down at the board. His throat was dry and he gripped down on his thighs.

"What?" Nightmare looked genuinely shocked. His eyes widened slightly as he scanned the chess board, working through each and every possible move with the remaining pieces on the board. "...Would you look at that. It appears that you've mated me. Congratulations."

Suddenly, Blue felt like his life was on the line. Nightmare stood up, slowly walking to the other side of the board. His nails tapping against the edge of the board.

A shutter left Blue's body as Nightmare got closer, his eyes squeezing shut. He was expecting pain, a fight, something, but it never came. Instead, Nightmare placed a small, shiny key in his hands, his lips close to Blue's ear.

"This was fun. We should do it again sometime." Nightmare said softly, his hand gently caressing Blue's reddening cheeks. He paused after taking a few steps. "Go get your friends. No one will stop you."

"Wait-!" Blue staggered to his feet, clutching the key to his chest. "You were going easy on me, weren't you?"

"Was I?" Nightmare glanced back, a smirk on his face. "Come to me again some time. We'll play again, and maybe you'll know."

Blue watched as Nightmare sauntered away, heart fluttering in his chest. As terrifying as it was, knowing Dream and Ink, and his own livelihood were on the line, it was thrilling.

Thrilling. Exhilarating. No one had ever looked at him the way Nightmare had during their game. Even though Nightmare often referred to him as "mortal," Blue felt as if they were on equal footing.

Is this what Sherlock felt like when he came across foes who could keep up with him?

Nightmare's thought process was a mystery to him, and something deep within Blue's mind wanted to solve it. Nightmare had such power, such control over his magic, his abilities. Blue was almost jealous.

To know Nightmare's mind, every square inch of how his brain works, every part of Nightmare's body-

With a shake of his head, Blue turned on his heel and sprinted to the dungeon. He couldn't be thinking about Nightmare, not when Dream was his best friend.

But...perhaps...in the middle of the night, when Ink and Dream were fast asleep, he could escape to the castle, and play once more. Challenge Nightmare's wits with his own.

As his hands placed the key into the lock of the cell, he knew that he had to come back.

Shit.

[saragargan]

I’ll Be Frankenstein, You Be the Monster -4

masterlist

While you head upstairs to change, Michael clears the plates and washes them in the sink. He felt stuffed, quite literally. He was grateful for what you’d done, of course, but the organs inside of him felt wrong. Like they weren’t quite the same size as what he’d had his entire life. He’d get used to it, he supposed. Not like he had much of a choice.

 Michael was in awe of you. You’d remained so calm in the face of what he’d brought to you. Anyone else would have screamed, ran away or fainted. Probably all three. He knew he must've been a terrible sight, yet you hadn’t hesitated. You’d taken him in, fixed him as much as he could be, and committed several jailable offenses to do so.

 Deciding to wait for you outside, Michael steps onto the porch. The thermostat outside reads nearly 80, but he shivers. He supposed his body had too much going on to regulate his body temperature, but the constant cold was a little irritating. The only time he’d felt warm was last night, when he’d dragged you down into his bed and buried himself in your arms. Your skin had been burning hot against his, but he relished in your warmth.

 Michael steps back inside to grab a sweatshirt off the back of the door. Admittedly, he felt a little ashamed of what he’d done. He doubted the last thing you wanted was to cuddle up to a (former) corpse, and he knew he couldn’t have smelled too great. But you hadn’t complained or shied from his touch. You’d let him hold you, invade your personal space. It made him feel something he wasn’t quite sure how to deal with.

 He hears your footsteps on the stairs, and once again leaves his apartment. When you reach the bottom of the stairs, he almost doesn’t recognize you.

 Your dark hair is pulled back out of your face, and the black makeup usually present on your eyes is gone. You wear a simple black t-shirt and a pair of jeans, a tattered pair of converse on your feet.

 Michael stares.

 “What?” You ask nervously.

 “You’re wearing jeans.” He’s decided that was the most shocking thing about your new appearance. Your lips part into a smile, and you laugh.

 “Well yeah. I do own normal clothes, you know.”

 You start across the lawn, not headed for your car, but for the garage. Michael follows you like a shadow. Lifting the garage door, he’s shocked to find another car inside. A black Pontiac, not unlike the one his father used to drive.

 “Figured this was a little more low-key than the hearse.” You say before climbing into the driver’s seat.

 “Only a little.” Michael says, and you give him a sarcastic smirk.

 The car roars to life in a satisfying way, the engine idling repetitively. Michael climbs into the passenger seat, the interior of the car all too familiar. The major difference between your car and his father’s was that yours didn’t smell like it had a decade’s worth of cigarette smoke imbued in the cloth.

 You push a cassette back into the tape player -most people had moved onto CDs at this point- and a band he’d never heard of starts to play.

 You’re both silent for the drive, nothing but the sound of your music and the wind. The windows of the car were heavily tinted, and Michael kept his cracked only enough to allow a breeze. You however, had the window fully down and Michael can’t help but sneak glances at you. The way the afternoon sun warmed your skin, strands of your hair that had come loose and flew about your face in the wind. The way your hands gripped the steering wheel, your fingers keeping pace with the guitar riffs on the song, or occasionally the drums.

 By the time you pull into the parking lot for the butcher shop, you’ve swapped out the tape for another. The music was strange, but it wasn’t all too bad. Michael even found himself enjoying it. You park the car, turning off the engine.

 “I assume you’re staying here?” You ask, and Michael nods.

 “Alright. I’ll try to be quick.”

 You exit the car, the door shutting heavily behind you. As you cross the parking lot, Michael can’t help but notice the way your jeans hug your ass, and heat blooms across his face once again.

 He’d never really felt this way about anyone before. Sure there had been flings in the past. But they never meant more to him than a distraction. But you were different. Even before you’d put him back together and literally brought him back from the dead, just the sight of you made his heart beat faster. He hadn’t known what to do about it then, and he certainly didn’t now.

 Oh, how he longed to touch you. To cup your cheek in his hands, press his lips to yours. To hold you close in the dark of the night, tangled together in a sweet, intimate embrace. He wanted you to want him, to beg for his touch, to lace your fingers into his hair and pull him closer.

 Lost in his romantic musings, Michael doesn’t notice your approach until the car sways after you open the trunk. He hears the unmistakable sound of ice being poured into a cooler, and then the trunk slams shut.

 When you climb back into the driver's seat, your nose wrinkles.

 “Mike, when we get home you      really     need to take a shower.”

 Heat blooms across his cheeks for what seems like the millionth time today, and he feels the sudden urge to hide.

 “Sorry…” He hates himself at that moment. Here he’d been, daydreaming about making love to you, only for you to get in the car and point out that he smells like a corpse. Stupid, stupid, stupid…

 Your hand falls to his forearm, squeezing gently.

 “Aw, don’t take it to heart Mikey.” Despite himself, a thrill goes through him at the nickname.

 “I mean…” You begin, your tone taking on a hint of mischief. “You’re having a hard time standing for extended periods of time, so you’ll probably need a little help…”

 You trail off as the meaning behind your words sink into Michael’s brain. He turns to stare at you, incredulous. You offer him a sweet smile, and Michael has to look away, cheeks aflame. He hears you laugh lightly as you turn over the engine, and can’t decide if you were teasing or not. You’d never been cruel like that before, and he couldn’t imagine you’d start now, but…you couldn’t be serious?

 Suddenly, a black bag is thrust into his lap. Your cassette tape storage.

 “Pick something to listen to.”

 Michael shuffles around in the tape bag, surprised when he finds bands that are popular enough for him to know. When he finally selects a tape, he hands it to you, and as you swap it out, you inspect his selection, a smile tugging at your lips. The album art had a ghoulish creature emerging from a tree, the background was blue and a full moon shone in the sky.

 “Interesting choice.”

 As you drive home, Michael barely hears the music that plays. His thoughts are confused. There’s a part of him that believes you, that believes you were genuine, that maybe you could feel the same about him. The other part of him can’t believe you, can’t imagine you’d want him, undead or not and he finds himself resentful at the possibility that you had been intentionally cruel just now .

 Lost in thought, he’s pulled back to reality by the sensation of something touching his leg, and looks down to see your black-painted fingernails resting on his thigh. He looks up at you, but your eyes are fixed on the road in front you. However, you seem to sense his gaze, because your mouth curls up at the corners, and your hand squeezes him slightly. Michael shivers, and the sensation goes straight to his lap, making him blush yet again. Your hand moves from his thigh to his arm, pulling his hand from his sweatshirt pocket and entwining your fingers with his.

 You stay like that for most of the drive, except for moments when you needed both hands, or flipped the cassette over. Every time, you offer your hand again, and Michael gladly takes it, enjoying your warmth and the feeling of your skin against his.

 By the time you pull into the driveway he’s run through about a dozen impossible fantasies of what was going to happen when you got home. Each one more unlikely than the last, more indulgent and more filthy than the one before.

 You pull the cooler out of the trunk and head upstairs while Michael exits the car, moving to the porch and leaning heavily against one of the columns. He knew there was no way he was making it up those stairs on his own, so he just waited for you to come back down.  

 After a few minutes, you descend the staircase, crossing the lawn and closing the trunk on your car. You stop to roll the windows up, Michael’s eyes tracing your form as you crawl inside the car to get the passenger window. Then you start towards him, and when you reach him you offer your arm.

 “Ready?” You ask, eyes indicating the stairs.

 It’s a bigger struggle than he initially thought it would be. It takes nearly ten minutes for him to ascend the stairs, leaning into you for support. At one point you’d offered to carry him, but he declined. Not because he doubted you could, but because he was determined to do it (somewhat) on his own.

 When the two of you finally reach the landing, Michael feels as though he may pass out, and lets you guide him into your apartment, easing him onto the couch.

   Michael had never been in your apartment before, and takes the opportunity to observe his surroundings as you leave to unpack the cooler. He’s not entirely surprised to find your apartment is decorated like a haunted house, but there’s nothing tacky about it. Each piece seemed to have been carefully placed, complimenting the pieces around it. It was busy, but not cluttered.

 It was comforting. It was      you    . Strange and unique and beautiful. He felt as though he’d stepped into a private corner of your mind. The way people decorated their homes was so telling of their character.

 He didn’t really want to think about how his apartment      wasn’t     decorated, and only had the basics. The closest thing he had to decoration was the sunburst clock on the wall behind his television.

 “Michael.”

 Your voice interrupts his thoughts, and he turns to find you waiting in the doorway. You hold your hand out to him.

 “C’mon.”

     Oh. Right.  

 Michael takes your hand and pulls himself up from your extremely comfortable couch. Heart pounding, he lets you lead him down the hallway.

 You turn on the bathroom light, and he’s not surprised in the least that it’s decorated to match the rest of the apartment. The shower is a massive corner unit, with more than one showerhead, a tub at the bottom, and a place to sit. Letting go of his hand, you pull the shower curtain across the rail and turn on the water. Michael lingers in the doorway, unsure of what to do.

 With your back still to him, you pull your shirt up over your head. You let it fall to the ground, then pop the button on your jeans, shimmying them down your legs. The fabric pools at your feet, and you step out of them as you turn to face him.

 Michael isn’t sure if the reason his head is swimming is because he’s been standing too long, or the sight of you standing there in your underwear, looking at him expectantly.

 “Come here.” You command him, voice soft. Compelled by the half-lidded look on your face, Michael moves forward without even realizing he was moving his feet. His hands automatically reach out to hold your hips, and then he freezes, eyes flicking up to yours and wondering if that was too far.

 But you smile encouragingly at him, and push the sweatshirt off his shoulders. Your fingers find their way under the hem of his shirt, and you start to take that off too, but Michael’s hands flash to your wrists.

 “W-wait..” Suddenly remembering the horrific state of his body, Michael feels nervous.

 “It’s okay.” You whisper, reassuring him. Michael swallows, releasing your wrists. As you pull the shirt over his head, his eyes close.

 When your hands move to his pants, he jumps, and he can hear you laugh under your breath again. He lets you undress him, fighting the urge to cover himself. Then your hands are taking his, placing them on your hips. Michael opens his eyes when your hand presses against his cheek.

 You gaze up at him heatedly, and he doesn’t need you to say it out loud to know that you were inviting him to finish undressing you.

 Michael hooks his fingers under the band of your panties, and pushes them down your thighs as far as he can reach. He’s got an image in his head, of pulling them down to your ankles as he goes to his knees, pressing his lips to your stomach, exploring further down, hoisting your leg over his shoulder and tasting you…

 But he’s certain if he were to go to his knees right now, he wouldn’t be able to get back up.

 Instead, you wiggle your hips enough that they fall the rest of the way down, and Michael’s hands move to your back. He undoes each of the hooks on your bra one by one, and then slides it off your shoulders, down your arms. It joins the rest of the clothes on the floor.

 You pull your hair out of its updo and it falls down, framing your face. Then you turn and step into the shower, disappearing behind the curtain. Taking a deep breath, Michael follows you.

[therainbowtea]

Things that I think are in Artefact Storage

A hand gun that no matter how many bullets you put in will never shoot

A cursed hair drier

A mirror that shows your biggest fear

Cat treats that taste good but trust me, they're cursed

A book of random names that is different every time you look through it

A cassette player that only plays one tape

A cursed lighter (it's flame is blue)

A set of magnets that don't work

A faded red chair that is always wet in the middle with a dark black spot

A pair of glasses that make you see worse

A broach of a human heart that, if you go close enough, can faintly hear beating

A frying pan that is always warm

Socks that are always wet no matter how long they're in heat for

A flash light that doesn't work until it does in the worst times

A box with a small hole that always seems to get bigger

A key that unlocks any door

A ring that can never come off (well unless you burn it off, aka the wears skin)

A glove that feels like human skin. Like, oddly so...

CD's with no sound on them but you can never record over it

A keyboard that can only play one note

A picture frame with a photo of 3 people that whenever you look at it, you can't quite tell who they are or if they're human

A bag of human teeth

A 'broken' music box that plays whenever it feels like

A TV that's always on even without power

A jar that supposedly has a star inside and is unopenable. It's black on the outside and is burning to the touch

A ghost!

[aquoteamusetheword]

The Music of My Life

“Music can heal the wounds which medicine cannot touch.” ~ Debasish Mridha

I remember when I fell in love with music, rock music. It was when my very cool uncle Lynn returned home from Vietnam. He had a reel-to-reel tape deck and giant headphones (hence the picture). This is when I first heard Iron Butterfly, King Crimson, Yes, Led Zeppelin, Warm, to name a few… I was hooked.

My Mom and stepdad loved music too. Our road trips always included loud signing with the windows down. I will never forget the Christmas when I received my first stereo. I still know my first two vinyl albums; Supertramp ‘Breakfast in America’ (a favorite even today) and John Lennon / Yoko Ono ‘Milk & Honey’.

Many Friday and Saturday nights were spent playing bumper pool in my friend Stephen's basement. We had a car 8 track player wired to a set of speakers. The only 8 track we had was Bad Company ‘Burning Sky’, I still know every word to every song.

Eventually, we purchased a CD player for the house. My mind was blown when I listened to the full digital recording that was Dire Straits ‘Brother in Arms’, I am sure our neighbors enjoyed it too.

In the event that someone under the age of thirty-five is reading this, I have some explaining to do. Here is a brief history of pre recorded music in my lifetime. In my early childhood vinyl LPs were what we listened to at home. The only option for the car was the 8 Track. If you don’t know what an 8 Track tape is, imagine a case twice as wide and twice as tall as your iPhone. It made up for its clunkiness by pausing and changing tracks in the middle of every other song (usually during the best part of the song). Finally, cassettes arrived, they were roughly half the size, played on both sides and you could record LPs on to them (I know the technology is overwhelming). CDs ushered in the digital age.

Believe it or not, we used to hear a song we liked on the radio, actually drive to the music store, browse the CDs, find the one with the song on it, pay $12.99 (if it was on sale), hope the rest of the songs were good, spend and hour recording it on to cassette so that we could listen to it in the car, this was a far cry from “Alexa, shuffle the hits of the eighties…”

I worked at Musicland when I was in college. After school, my first 'real' job was to manage the one in Brookwood Village in Birmingham. This store was the number one Jazz and Classical location in the entire 2000 store chain. We played it every morning and I learned to love these genres as well. David Sanborn ‘Straight to the Heart’, David Lanz ‘Cristofori’s Dream’ and Nigel Kennedy ‘Vivaldi’s Four Seasons’ are all still in my rotation.

It was here that I met the sweetest older man, Stan. He walked the mall a few times a week and he knew and loved classical music like no one else I have ever known. He was in the middle of the long and arduous task of buying CDs to replace his LPs as they were being released. I had his list and anytime a we received one of the recordings on CD, I would give him a call. We often had lunch in the food court, he taught me about classical composers, I taught him about Stevie Ray Vaughn.

Stan stopped walking the mall. I left two messages about new arrivals and he didn’t show. I was concerned and missed my friend. A few days later a man entered the store and asked for me, I introduced myself. He told me that he was Stan’s son and that his father had passed away. I never even knew that he had cancer. I will never forget the next words from his mouth…” my dad wanted me to tell you how much he appreciated your talks and you calling him, and he wanted you to have this.” He handed me an LP wrapped in brown paper. We embraced, he departed. I went to the back, shed a tear and unwrapped a pristine copy of ‘Meet the Beatles’ on Apple records, still in cellophane. I have never even had it appraised, to me it is priceless.

“Sing to the LORD a new song, for he has done marvelous things” ~Psalm 98:1

[red-garden]

Put it in thumb drives, print it out, burn cds, tape it, IM BEGGING YOU!!!!!!!! Greedy assholes can trash shit whenever they feel like it, if you can’t hold it in your hands YOU DONT OWN IT!!!!!!!! Get a cd player, dvd player, cassette player, invest in physical media, build a library you can share with others!

If you haven’t started already, start archiving/downloading everything. Save it to an external hard drive if you’re able. Collecting physical media is also a good idea, if you’re able.

Download your own/your favorite fanfics. Save as much as you can from online sources/digital libraries. Recipes, tutorials, history, LGBTQ media, etc. It has been claimed, though I can’t find the exact source if true, that some materials about the Revolutionary War were deleted from the Library of Congress.

It’s always better to be safe than sorry and save and preserve what you can. Remember that cloud storage also is not always reliable!

Library of Congress - millions of books, films and video, audio recordings, photographs, newspapers, maps, manuscripts.

Internet Archive - millions of free texts, movies, software, music, websites, and more. Has been taken offline multiple times because of cyber attacks last month, it has recently started archiving again.

Anna's Archive - 'largest truly open library in human history.’

Queer Liberation Library - queer literature and resources. Does require applying for a library membership to browse and borrow from their collection.

List of art resources - list of art resources complied on tumblr back in 2019. Not sure if all links are still operational now, but the few I clicked on seemed to work.

Alexis Amber - TikToker who is an archivist who's whole page is about archiving. She has a database extensively recording the events of Hurricane Katrina.

I'll be adding more to this list, if anyone else wants to add anything feel free!

[dangergrindz]

Transcript 007

Date: [REDACTED]

Time: 9:30 AM

Location: Love Blood's base, Zone 1

*Danger Grind, Mist Fist, Scene Princess, and Boy Wonderful are entering the building, it smells like smoke and sounds like destruction*

Boy Wonderful: so this is where my buddies are? If Love is actually kidnapping people and not just strange, why was I spared?

Danger Grind: dunno, maybe she likes you

Boy Wonderful: shes older than me!

Scene Princess: uhh... why are two BLI body bags just laying here?

*the four all stare in confusion, they enter a hallway. Mist Fist places several stickers around the halls. They find a door thats wide open, revealing a room with Violent Vixen destroying music instruments and Violet Vixen with a wagon full of CDs, Vinyl Records, and Cassette Tapes, putting the destroyed instruments in*

Violet Vixen: When's the next burning?

Violent Vixen: Tonight. Madeline is capturing more music rebels, if we're lucky, we may even get the big ones.

Violet Vixen: Speaking of which, I set up an indoctrination room, I put Patrick Stumph and Alex Kendall in it.

Violent Vixen: good, good, it'll be nice to have more allies. By the way, what did you do with Stumph's little "amputation"?

Violet Vixen: found a hook, put it in as his new hand. Will make things easier for us.

*Grind, Mist, Scene, and Boy are in shock, they look in the room across, finding Mr Benzedrine and Tealquoise strapped to chairs in front of a screen. Boy Wonderful releases them, only to notice their eyes are both yellow*

Boy Wonderful: Hey, Teal, Benz, you know me?

*they do not respond*

Boy Wonderful: Teeeeaaaaal.... Beeeeenz....

*he waves his hand in front of their faces, angering them, leading them to attacking him*

Boy Wonderful: FUCK! AGH! SHIT! GRIND... IF I DIE, MAKE BRIDGET A KILLJOY! PLEASE!

Danger Grind: NOOO!

*the eyes of Mr Benzedrine and Tealquoise suddenly go back to normal, they both gasp in shock as Boy Wonderful is dead*

Mr Benzedrine: No... no no no no!

Tealquoise: He was so young... what have we done???

Mist Fist: *looks at them knowingly*

Danger Grind: Where are the others?

Mr. Benzedrine: I think I know.

*the group exit the room, finding the containment room, where Laserdisc Lass, Vanilla Kick, Mr Sandman, Horseshoe Crab, and Donnie The Catcher are being held, the group releases them and runs into the room where the Vixen sisters are*

Violent Vixen: There's been a breach. Violet, press the button

*Violet Vixen presses a button on a speaker, Tealquoise and Mr Benzedrine go evil again. Violent turns a camera on*

Laserdisc Lass: You may record that, but we know the truth. You aren't killjoys! You're BLI Spies! I read all about Operation Rat A Tat, and I'm here to thwart it!

*Tealquoise attacks her, but Scene Princess holds her back, as Benzedrine tries attacking Horseshoe Crab, but Mr Sandman holds him back*

Violent Vixen: If you don't want to die, you'll join us. We can order them around.

Scene Princess: We'll never join you!

Violent Vixen: Then I guess you'll die.

*the Vixen sisters pull out Rayguns*

Danger Grind: Try all you want... but there's an iconic phrase I knew since I was young, and it's—

*Violet and Violent shoot at them, the group all collapse as they are shot, even Benzedrine and Tealquoise are shot*

This is not the end...

[ijustwantedtobeoneofthestrokesuk]

Streaming Of Another World

The Internet

Those disastrous years for EMI look like a lifetime away now, but the industry could have made it easier for themselves then, now they are milking it, and failing the artists…

Welcome to the streaming era.

In 2021, despite the COVID-19 pandemic, the recorded music industry brought in £5.2 billion to the UK, mostly due to streaming as the live industry struggled to survive with venues forced to close (we’ll come on to that later). However, the streaming deals that were initially agreed are now outdated. They were based on, the alternative to music being ‘free’. Streaming has become the biggest revenue in the music industry yet 98.6% of artists make $11 a month from Spotify. 

Despite Napster being shut down in 2001, the internet turned the music industry into the Wild West. At the time, it felt like the dawn of true independence, musicians had the tools to do it themselves, they were liberated. Unfortunately, in reality, that wasn’t the case. The music business is a business, run by business people who make money from creatives. It always has been and it always will. For a moment, they had lost control but they made sure they were ready for the future.  

The business people have always taken advantage of the artists. Always. They have dished out bad contracts and ensured the artist needed them, when, let's be honest, without the creative there would be no industry. It has been like this for decades, but artists (such as Taylor Swift) have used their power to expose them.  

As file-sharing had become normalised the music industry didn’t know what to do, it was unprepared, it was caught out, suddenly the money that had been flowing in wasn’t. Music was free, the internet had won. 

The initial issue with MP3s was that they were on your computer, which at the time was a sizeable device. Do you really want to sit at the computer to listen to an album you’ve just downloaded from Kazaa while crossing your figures that you hadn’t accidentally downloaded porn or a virus with the album? If you had the resources you could burn them to a CD. 

In the early ‘90’s mini-discs arrived however they took a few years to become popular, it was essentially a hybrid between the cassette and the CD. For a brief moment, albums were sold on mini-disc however the majority were blank so you could create your own tapes, either recording from a CD or creating your own mixtape. As technology developed these were essentially the next step into MP3 players as you could transfer music from your MP3 collection on your computer onto the mini-disc. 

Apple was big news in America however they were still pretty niche in the UK in the early 2000’s, the MacBook was seen as something for creatives but iTunes was their first major way into global domination.  In January 2001 the first edition of iTunes was released as a platform to organise your music library on your computer. You could import MP3s that you had illegally downloaded as well as rip CDs. You could create playlists, it wasn’t unique, there were plenty of other platforms out there but Apple had plans. 

Just months after Apple had launched iTunes they released the iPod, not the first MP3 player on the market (they had been available since the ‘90’s) but the best. Like everything Apple does, the iPod was design-led, focussing on simplicity. It was innovative and a game-changer for Apple and a revolution that shaped the music industry. For those too young to remember life before streaming, you won’t understand how mad it felt that you could have your music collection on a device the size of your hand. 

Users required iTunes so that they could easily add music from their computer to the portable device. The first version held one thousand songs, each year a new iPod launched, with a bigger capacity (as well as smaller devices and the iPod Shuffle) then, with technological advances new features were introduced.  

To try to find a solution to illegal file-sharing the iTunes Store was launched in April 2003 where listeners could buy MP3s which would automatically go into the iTunes Library, ready to be exported to an iPod or ripped onto a CD. For the first time, you were paying for the music, not music on a physical product like a CD or vinyl, it was a file, just the music. You were buying the art, not the product! 

In 2007 Apple launched the first iPhone and the iPod Touch. This was the first iPod that had access to WiFi so that users could use the device to browse the internet, watch videos on YouTube and download music directly from the iTunes Store.  

Napster crushed the music business when the industry was at its peak in 1999 and it had a tough time as piracy drained its piggy bank in the 2000’s, the first signs of recovery came in 2014. Bands who signed record deals in the mid-2000’s were the last to enjoy getting advances but, by the time they were ready to capitalise on the success of building up a fanbase, there was no money left to continue. 

Something had to change. After decades of businesspeople exploiting artists, there was an opportunity for that to no longer be the case. Obviously, that didn’t happen. Streaming deals could have been made to ensure that the people making the music were rewarded for their work. With an industry on its knees, labels, who run the industry made sure it was them who would not only benefit, they became shareholders in Spotify too, it was win-win for them. 

Tom Atkin (The Paddingtons) “File sharing made it exciting for the kids but it was annoying if you were trying to release an album. It stopped us from carrying on and it changed the whole industry, nowadays people don’t make money from record deals. Spotify isn’t the solution, it still doesn’t feel fair. 

It’s harder to be a musician now. There’s so many people doing it, it’s easy access to make music, you can be a star from your bedroom but it’s harder to make money, you’ve got to tour your arse off and sell merch” 

Major labels, who relied on a guaranteed income from heritage acts struggled to find a work-around in the peer-to-peer era, which meant their budgets to support and nurture new acts was limited, shortening the time an artist had to ‘make it’ or get dropped.  

Without the years of piracy, we wouldn’t have gotten to where we are today. Streaming is the perfected version of peer-to-peer platforms, users have access to all the content they are after, at their convenience, at its best quality, without the potential virus’ killing the computer. It’s what Napster dreamed of, but the record labels didn’t want to accept this was the future until it was too late. 

Tahita Bulmer (New Young Pony Club) “It's good that there is an option that artists can benefit from now. In our day, all your fans just downloaded your albums off Limewire and so all your money went down the drain and you couldn't make another album, because no one was taking any notice of streaming.” 

Today Spotify is available in over 170 countries, musicians can get discovered in new territories without touring while the listener can stumble across something they wouldn’t have done when they were paying for a CD. It has changed music from being a luxury product to a utility. Artists used to release albums every couple of years, some are now releasing multiple albums a year to get more streams. Spotify encourages artists to create more but then that distracts them from touring where the real money is at. 

Daniel Ek developed Spotify to fix the music industry, as a legal way for music to exist online, it saved the industry but the system has been created for those at the top. Without the artists, the platforms wouldn’t exist but they aren’t being supported. 

The Swedish entrepreneur has always had a taste for technology, he was paid €5000 by a client to build his first website, aged 14 and €10,000 by a second client. A year later he was turned down for a job at Google, he tried to prove them wrong by building a better search engine, which was harder than expected but he continued to pave a way into technology in Sweden where high-speed internet was readily available in the early 2000’s. 

After selling his online marketing business for $1 million in 2006 he planned for early retirement (aged 23) however, he didn’t take much of a break. In 2002 he already had the idea of creating a streaming version of Napster but didn’t have the resources.

With $1 million in his pocket and the music industry in a chaotic state, he started work on Spotify in Stockholm with Martin Lorentzon in April 2006. The initial version was ‘invite only’ and the take-up was challenging as they tried to convince labels that the business model worked. After 2 years of negotiations, trials and a fair few millions spent on licensing agreements, the first major player in music streaming was ready. The music industry was wary of online technology as they were still in court with peer-to-peer platforms so Daniel spent time meeting all the major labels and big independents face-to-face. Early meetings were positive, he thought agreements would be signed up within 6 months but that turned into 2 years. He not only got the deal makers using the product but their kids and colleagues, once they were hooked he knew he’d have them onboard. It was becoming a fight Daniel couldn’t afford to lose, both he and Martin had invested €10 million of their own money and employed 50 members of staff. The pressure was on. 

The initial plan was to go worldwide from day 1 but after 2 years of resistance from labels they focussed on the territory they knew the best first, Europe. Streaming was an entirely new concept for the user, they were targeting a generation who grew up with music being ‘free’ thanks to Napster so Spotify cleverly got them on board with a freemium version with ads (that make just 10% of their revenue), the goal was to upgrade them to the £9.99 a month version (still cheaper than one CD) with additional features and no ads. 

Conquering Europe took some more time to build trust and perfect the platform before Spotify would launch in America in 2011, a year after Napsters’ Sean Parker invested $15m for a 5% stake. That year Spotify also hooked up with Facebook, allowing Facebook users to listen to music with friends on Facebook via Spotify.  

The freemium version helped Spotify dominate the market as it was the first streaming platform to take off. 

In 2018 they made €5.2 billion but paid out €3.9 billion in fees. Their payouts to artists have been controversial, Taylor Swift removed her catalog from Spotify in 2014 for 3 years while Adele’s initial release of her album 25 in 2015 wasn’t available on streaming platforms. Streaming services started to strike exclusive details with artists to entice users. When Sean Parker was asked his thoughts on why artists like Taylor and Adele did not want to be included on the free version of Spotify in the early days, his response questioned whether it was the artist not wanting it or the artist speaking on behalf of the label. Artists want as many people as possible to hear their music, the label want to earn as much money as possible… 

In October 2018 Spotify introduced podcasts to their library, by the end of year their users grew by 175%!  

Each quarter Spotify collects all subscriber revenue into one pot, takes 34% for themselves (to cover costs) then distributes the remaining 52% to the record label and 14% to the rights owner, it’s up to them to dish it out to the artists however the current agreements in place benefit the hitmakers such as Drake who, between 2010 and 2019 had 28 billion streams, the most by any artist on Spotify.   

By 2017 87% of music listened to on Spotify was by artists on the 3 major labels as well as Merlin who represent smaller labels. 2 of the 3 major record labels have over 6% of shares in Spotify, Universal (3.5%) and Sony Music Entertainment (2.85%). 

In February 2022 Spotify was valued at $32.29 billion, yet the majority of artists that create content for the platform to succeed are struggling. 

Spotify has 30% of the market, Apple have 25% while Amazon have 12%, YouTue 9% and Pandora have just 5% whilst 19% of the market includes Tidal and smaller platforms.  

For a competitor to come along now and make a dint in Spotify’s global dominance it will need to be 10 times better. It took Apple Music 4 years to launch in America after Spotify and another 4 years before it overtook Spotify for users in the US but Apple had done a lot of the groundwork as people were already using their products (MacBook, iPod, iPhone and iTunes where they are market leaders, particularly in America). 

Gordon Raphael (Producer) “Streaming is fun when you don’t wanna hook up your hard drive and play your iTunes library. Obviously, Spotify sucks, politically and economically for artists. I think they really have their head way up their ____ !!  I love that we can make songs and show them to the world the next day… or make our own videos and say whatever we want (in a way, there's still way too much warped puritanical censorship for my taste. Weird when violence is ok, but sensuality or nudity is banned! haha….”  

Apple Music launched in 2015 following their acquisition of Beats Electronics in the previous year. The platform shares similar features to Spotify but with Apple’s iconic no fuss layout. Along with albums and playlists it also has radio stations that broadcast live to over 200 countries 24/7. A year after launching it added video content to the platform including music videos and exclusive interviews with artists as well as live concerts.    

Then there is TIDAL… It was initially launched in October 2014 by Norwegian company, Aspiro. The service pre-dates Apply Music however it comes 6 years after Spotify launched. Streaming is the most convenient way to listen to music but with convenience, you sacrifice the sound quality of a CD.  

From the very start, that was TIDAL’s USP and they used it to entice subscribers. There’s two packages for TIDAL but both were paid for. Their standard package was priced the same as Spotify’s however they also had a $19.99 option with CD quality sound. Although it comes across as progressive, the demand for higher quality sound was low when streaming music is often from a phone with cheap headphones.  

6 months later TIDAL was given a relaunch to a mass market after being acquired by Jay-Z’s Project Panther Bidco Ltd for $56.2 million. The focus remained on the sound quality but they also took the opportunity to fight against Spotify’s payouts. TIDAL became branded as a platform for the artists, by the artists when they hosted a cringe-worthy press conference and the downfall began.  

The first artist-owned streaming platform had investors including power couple Jay-Z and Beyonce, Kanye West, Rihanna, Madonna, Daft Punk and more who all stood on stage at the launch event, empowered that they are supporting the creatives who are struggling from Spotify’s payouts. The idea sounded great but it came across as embarrassing as the people on stage weren’t the artists struggling, they were established multi-millionaires. 

To help increase subscribers artists who had invested in TIDAL started releasing music exclusively on their platform. This began with Kanye West’s The Life Of Pablo in February 2016. For an album to chart in the Billboard 200 sale/streaming numbers need to be sent to Nielsen, which didn’t happen until weeks later when the album was released across all streaming platforms which seems odd, unless they had something to hide. Fellow stakeholder Beyonce released Lemonade in April 2016 exclusively on TIDAL and in June 2017 Jay-Z released 4:44 exclusively on the platform. 

Norwegian newspaper, ​​Dagens Næringsliv discovered a hard drive that showed TIDAL had inflated the amount of subscribers they had and the number of streams The Life Of Pablo had, which would result in Kanye receiving more money from streams that he didn’t legitimately have, this impacted small artists whose payouts would be minimised by this. TIDAL rejected this however, they have always been reluctant to share data unless it has been positive and even then, the numbers haven’t added up. 

In March 2021 financial technology company Square became majority shareholders when they invested $297 million in the streaming service and Jay-Z became a board member. 

NEXT CHAPTER

[xtrablak674]

Meet Trevor Brown

[Video review of an interview I did back in ninety ninety-four]

What can I say about this particular video? I do have mixed feelings about it. It was shot sometime between '94 and '95 when I was living in my first apartment in Williamsburg Brooklyn. I have to admit I haven't even pressed play yet, because as much as I enjoy seeing images of my first adult abode my behavior feels a bit cringe. This was a time I felt a need to perform and not just be, my energy was very restless and exasperating.

I can recall that I think a young woman wanted to shoot me for a class project or something, I must have met her through one of my friends at the time. Beyond that I can't really recollect any other context of why I was being interviewed. My personal belief is you never turn down an opportunity to be in front of a camera or in print.

Still haven't started the video, I am totally delaying. Suspending the feelings I know I will have when I start the tape. #😬 Lets comment on the screenshot and what I can see. To the left is my music collection, I can see a lot of cassette tapes which means this has to be sometimes after '93 because I inherited my father's jazz collection on tape and vinyl.

Above the cassettes I can see my collection of CDs that only had another four years of existence before being burned up in the fire in my next and current apartment in '98. On the right I can see the Madonna poster I bought in college that followed me to Brooklyn. Below it looks like one of the Camel cigarette posters from the subway which I was notorious for taking before the MTA changed how they displayed the posters.

I am wearing a red kerchief, a grey sweatshirt that may say Ithaca College (okay it doesn't, I did say 'may') on it and overalls? I have to say not the most glamorous of looks, but comfortable. And it seems I am crocheting, more than likely a scarf, because those were the easiest and quickest things to knit.

Finally let's press play. Now I am being playful and coy, avoiding the question and not telling my age, which I still don't do. I am young and beautiful albeit I am sure I didn't feel beautiful at the time.

It was a curious choice the director/editor of this film chose a graffiti type as the title card. Nothing about me is urban, hood or street. And albeit this time in the nineties is the sweet spot of hip hop I am not and nor have ever been highly influenced in my personal style by rap music. I wouldn't say the choice is offensive, but not well thought out. Just because I am Black doesn't automatically mean that I should be represented by street culture.

'My mama's womb', has been my response to where I am from for decades, its a way to defuse the obvious questions of heritage. Even at this time my presentation of Blackness was confounding for the whytes. I am not saying that this director had that particular position, but asking a Black person where they are from especially if this conversation is happening in America is a very loaded question and may bring up all kind of baggage and unresolved feelings. #ijs

That laugh, still kills me. #🤣 She clearly didn't like my deflecting humor and asked a follow up about where I was from, which I didn't feel was relevant so didn't answer. This was the thing about me, folks would underestimate me in interviews like I didn't have my own agenda no matter how candy-coated I appeared.

Maybe this is what she was curious about the young gay Black man. Let's see how this progresses. I drop my voice a few octaves as I talk about being gay in a very humorous way but also acknowledging that I am also Black, less we forget. I can tell you this definitively I was being interviewed by a straight cis whyte woman.

Then we cut to a wider shot with a clear costume change, I am now rocking that ratty shake and go wig with two red ties forming very dry pig tails. #SuchACheapWig A red and white horizontally stripped shirt, this meshy black dress and an artificial sun flower in my hands.

We can now see the red and purple theme I had for this room especially with my purple IKEA curtains. To my left my fathers old stereo which also perished in the fire in '98. In addition to all the music on the walls I notice that just like my current apartment there isn't much bare wall space albeit now, its not found objects but actual framed artwork. I have covered up just about every piece of white space with something colorful. I think we are about to get a show.

Wow there's a voice-over going on that is really low and hard to hear, I am going to see if jacking into my stereo pushes up the volume. I seem to be talking a bit more about being gay in the nineties. This was clearly a technical difficulty, she didn't get good audio and still decided to use it.

In the background I can see Poopsie my late cat on the window sill, she would be with me two more years before my aunt forced me to reduce the number of cats she would care for in my absence as I traveled Europe for work on a tour. Poopsie would be left in a field near residential houses right outside of Co-op city. I would be devastated for months having to part with one of my two cats this way.

Then there is an abrupt cut to RuPaul's classic "You Bettah Work (Supermodel of the World)", back when I still really adored Ru before she became too problematic for me to continue to mess with. I can see I didn't try to do any huge make-up but I do have on some red lipstick, the least I could do for this fast-drag look.

Cut-to the dry shake and go blonde wig and me in the hallway of my apartment, our interview has turned into a video shoot! I have on the same dress but now a short cut military jacket, that I was just dreaming about last night. There's the old beaded curtain behind me that is represented in my new apartment by a smaller version from the beads that survived the fire.

Back to the bedroom, the sweatshirt says 'Tompkins Cortland', I have no idea what that is. I have stuffed both my cats beneath this large sweatshirt and they are struggling to get out. The cats are even funny to the director, when I joke this is what happens when you don't wear a bra. Hmmm is that misogynistic, I don't think so. I think its common knowledge that if you don't bind your breast they may start to sag especially after having kids. I am open to the fact check here. I will admit that I have never had titties and don't know the true way of breast!

Anastasia who was the cat that was with me the longest peeks her face out of my sweatshirt being coaxed out with the string I dangling in front of her. Clearly the director likes this moment because we are on this scene for over a minute. Ana has been dead I think over a decade, I miss her. I had her for about fifteen years quite old for a cat, she was very affectionate and attentive.

There is a framed portrait of my late friend Tim Fischetti and me, I can see in the background as I search for the GMHC Young, Hot & Safe poster that me and him both helped to develop and starred in. Curiously its also purple like the theme of my room. Then the director shifts to the controversy around the campaign and the posters. I think the New York Post had something derogative to say about it. I mean this was the mid-nineties we weren't where we are with gay rights as we are now. Albeit it feels like sometimes we're moving backwards.

She asked me a question about how I feel about the poster and at first I deflect with humor than come back to an answer that was in line with my HIV/AIDS educator background at the time. We then do another cut and I have changed the scarf on my head to a more mammy-like tying straight out of Gone With the Wind. I do a brief mammy skit obviously the conversation had turned to Aunt Jemima or the representation of Black folks in media or I had directed it there wanting to educate this young whyte female.

I also got a glimpse of the cock-ring Ken doll I had back in the day. I can't say I knew what happened to him. Then I perform the Paul Laurence-Dunbar poem In the Morning. Which I had first learned in church while performing it with my Aunt Mary. I also at the last minute decided to switch my monologue for my audition at Performing Arts (née LaGuardia) to the Laurence-Dunbar poem which I think cemented my spot at the specialized high school.

As I perform the poem I can hear that I have some Björk playing in the background. I love my somewhat eclectic taste in music and for me these add elements to who I am because these were my choices not the directors and in that way they say something specific about me. She likes the poem, she stays on it with me for a minute, with I have to say some mediocre camera work on the zooms and close-ups.

Then there is a pause and we get outtakes or unused footage in the final piece or maybe that was just a really bad transition. I am not sure I even knew these were here. There's a David Dinkin pride poster on the wall behind me. Go on Mayor Dinkins! Oh this looks like the full RuPaul video! Well my version of the video...

This is so trashy I love it! We now cut to a close up of those black boots I used to own, I wonder what happened to them, I loved those boots! And I have my black leg warmers on which I have had since I attended class at Dance Theatre of Harlem. The floor is covered, I am not sure why, I never painted in that apartment, but maybe I was doing some kind of work.

Wait now I can see, it was the other bedroom! The one Henry used to occupy, this must be right before Angel moved in. Maybe she had it painted, painting wasn't ever really my thing. The windows are covered and everything. I have on a black petticoat as a dress and my favorite thrift store acquired flannel shirt tied in a knot with the fake flower in my bosom, pretending to paint the wall as the music plays using the paint roller as a microphone.

That shake and go wig! Now I am in my closet pretending to look for something to wear with a black boa around my neck. I gave this bish production values! #CostumeChange

Now I am cleaning the toilet! on my knees in the robe Steve my college boyfriend gave me, with the shake and go back in a pony tail! Four rooms and four different looks! #YesBitch Then to end the video I collapse in the tub wearing those black three inch suede pumps that Tim got for me.

This is what I have to say in closing. I am not sure what this young woman's project or assignment was I can tell she was a novice, but I can also tell you this I was highly entertaining! And a bish was giving body! I did four different looks on this low-budget drag and that dreadful knotted up hayseed wig. But the thing is, I looked like I was having a good time and I sold that good time to the viewer. Bitch, you bettah WORK!

[Video by Brown Estate]

[podracerbarrelroll]

How to ditch subscription music apps and build your own library (mostly) for free

This post is brought to you by the most recent update to the Amazon music app which no longer lets me, as a Prime subscriber, download individual songs or albums. I now either have to download “playlists” or pay an extra subscription fee for Amazon music unlimited. Since I was only using Amazon’s app because I didn’t have to pay anything extra, I ultimately decided not to put up with their bullshit and to go back to the old ways, e.g., building my own music library that no corporation can randomly decide to take away from me.

If you grew up in the pre-internet, burgeoning-but-not-ubiquitous-internet, or pre-smartphone era like me, the following steps will be a blast from the past, so this post is not exactly for you. It’s for Kids These Days™ who may not remember a pre-algorithm, pre-subscription service internet in the same way, or just anyone who doesn’t know you can do this. Remember, one man’s time knife is another man’s Chris Fleming.

So, how do you get music for free?

Use your public library

Check out CDs

Rip them using Windows Media Player, which comes standard with windows computers

That’s it. Now you can save and back up the .mp3 files wherever you want, and you have them forever and ever. I recently ripped music from a CD I copied and burned onto a new disc back in high school, uploaded the mp3 files to Google drive, and downloaded them onto my phone. I paid zero dollars for that, and I now have that album forever.

Ok, so how do I do that?

I’m glad you asked.

1. Insert a CD in the disc drive. (I know a lot of new laptops don’t come with a disc drive--I’ll address this later)

2. Go to the Windows start menu and find Windows Media Player. (If you have a mac, use itunes or whatever, I’m sure it’s similar)

3. Find the CD on the menu on the left-hand side of Windows Media Player. It looks like this.

4. At the top of the screen, go to “rip CD”. If you don’t want all of the songs, uncheck the ones you don’t want to rip. It should now look like this.

5. When it’s done, go to your music folder and find the artist and album. Here are the .mp3 files. You can connect your phone directly to your computer to transfer the files, or you can upload them to Google drive or your cloud storage of choice and then download them onto your phone.

6. From there, the .mp3s should load automatically and play in the music player app of your choice. I use Musicolet because it doesn’t have ads.

Is this legal? Honestly, that’s a bit of a grey area. Technically, only the copyright owners can make reproductions of their work barring exceptions for fair use, but the real trouble does not come when you copy a work, but when you redistribute it. If you save this from a hard copy to your own computer or phone, who’s ever gonna know? Basically, it’s legal enough to get away with, and legal enough that no one will care. This is how back in the pre-CD days, people recorded songs off the radio onto cassette tapes, and how my parents saved all of the James Bond movies from a TV movie marathon by recording them to VHS tapes on the VCR.

Is this ethical to the artist? It’s as ethical as checking out their CD to listen to it on a CD player and then return it. The library already purchased their music legally, and checking out the CD to rip it is literally no different than checking out the disc to play it in a CD player. The more times something has been checked out, the more likely the library is to replace it if it wears out and gets ruined.

Will the library get mad at me / figure out what I’m doing? Emphatically no. They don’t give a shit. Checking out a bunch of CDs improves their circulation rates, which is good for your local library system as a whole, because that’s something they bring to their governing bodies to show that people are still using the library and that they still need funding.

What if the library doesn’t have the album I want? You can try getting it through interlibrary loan, requesting the library purchase it (a lot of libraries have forms for that), or just buying that album yourself if you want it that badly. CDs cost roughly $10-$25 each, less if they’re used, which is the equivalent of like 1-2 months of spotify depending on what tier you use. Compare that to having the music you want forever without having to pay a monthly fee.

My laptop doesn’t have a disc drive. Neither does mine. I bought a USB disc player from Amazon for like $20. Your library might also have one they’d let you use, although they might not have ones to check out and take home.

I don’t have a computer. Your library does. They’re free to use, and I can almost guarantee they have PC desktops running Windows. They may not have a disc drive, in which case you can [see last paragraph].

This would be great if I could actually get to the library / afford a disc player / had a phone, etc. Yes, I’m assuming several things here, including that you have a phone, can get to your public library, and (if you refer to the title of this post) that you are the kind of person who can pay for spotify or another streaming app. I’m also American, and I don’t know how well all of this applies to other countries. However, this is the most affordable and most accessible solution out there ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I don’t have the time for this and would rather just keep paying for spotify. That’s fine, and I’m honestly not judging you. I buy a lot of pre-cut vegetables from the store because I don’t have the fucking time to peel and chop carrots. My mom would say that’s a waste of money, but I’m paying for the convenience.

Lol I’m just gonna pirate shit. Cool, have fun. Just please keep your pirating to mega-rich artists who are already set for life and not struggling people putting their shit out on soundcloud, ok?

How do I get new music recs without suggestions? Listen to the radio. Look up music you hear in movie soundtracks. Get recs from friends. Go to YouTube (using ublock origin for Firefox so you don’t get ads) and use their algorithm. There are ways beyond the personalized playlist spotify gives you.

This seems like it takes a lot of time and effort. If you have no music to begin with, yeah, then it’s going to take some time to build your library. But, as I keep saying, the benefits are that you get to curate your own experience and that you get to have this music forever. Once you already have most of what you want set up, it’s going to take a lot less effort to add new albums or songs here and there as you discover them. In this modern hellscape of profit-seeking and algorithms, I will keep peddling the value of curating your own experience and getting shit for free.

[costellos]

❥ ┋ ❝ nanami, itadori, fushiguro & the things that make them flustered!

@babyyuji said: for your valentines day event can i request blush with itadori, megumi, and nanami? thank you so much!

a/n: you sure can! thanks for the suggestion 🤍🤍

tw: none.

ask game:💌 15 valentine’s day questions (closed!)

disclaimer: I’m anime-only outside of the prequel, so apologies if my character interpretations aren’t accurate.

nanami kento.

Nanami gets flustered when you fix his blazer.

fashion and sorcery aren’t a good combination. it’s a shame really, because if you’re going to be stuck in a job that you hate, you can at least make a statement. and Nanami does try to make said statement. the Tokyo Stock Exchange has a very strict dress code. since he’s left it, he’s tried wearing things that make him feel as far apart from it as possible.

key word: try. again, fashion and sorcery aren’t a good combination. he still finds rips and tears in his clothes despite how careful he is.

hence, he has a good relationship with his tailor. she’s a grumpy old woman who knows she’s good at her work. but Nanami always tips her well, and that’s enough to keep her thoughts to herself (especially when she finds dried blood on his blazers’ lapels). although her work is affordable, even that piles up over time.

so before Nanami can bring his next set of blazers to her, you take it upon yourself to fix them. you’ve taken home economics. you know how to work a needle. so much so that when Nanami comes home and he sees that his favorite’s sleeve has been reattached to its shoulder, he asks when you brought it to Mrs. Fujimoto.

his face suddenly feels warm when you beam you did it yourself. all this work? for him? a small part of Nanami is annoyed you didn’t tell him sooner you could fix it, but... most of it is pride. pride that he has someone like you, that knows him so well, and cares that much to help him. ↳ “you didn’t have to go through all this effort to do this. but... thank you. I... I really appreciate it.”

itadori yuji.

Itadori gets flustered when you make him a playlist.

it’s cheesy. even he’d admit it. but he’s a sucker for cheesy antics, and this is just one of many. it’s not his fault that mixtapes are such a personal gift, made with nothing but love for the receiver. maybe it was from watching too many John Hughes movies during his training or maybe it’s just his being a romantic, but he’s always wanted one.

no he hasn’t thought about standing outside of your window with a stereo.

it’s something you’ve known for a while now. cassette tapes are a thing of the past and other than his laptop, Itadori would have no way of listening to a burned CD. so you opt for a Spotify playlist.

you fill it with a variety of songs. songs that remind you of him, songs that you’ve danced in the quad to, the song that played during your first kiss — all little moments shared with him, all the perfect summary of your relationship. of course, it being Itadori Yuji, there’s a handful of joke songs thrown in there, too. romance and humor mesh well with him. it’s a fact you’ve become very familiar with.

and Itadori just lights up the moment you show him the playlist from your phone. the cover photo is an ugly selfie you’ve taken together, with the title being something like “heat beats 2 play on repeat.” it’s something so stupid, but something that matches your relationship so perfectly. he’s unbelievably giddy. he honestly can’t believe that you remembered such a small thing he mentioned in passing. ↳ “you’re joking. all of this is for me? I’m... agh— this is perfect! ...wait, did you seriously put Chug Jug on here...?”

fushiguro megumi.

Megumi gets flustered when you stand too close to him.

he gets embarrassed far more easily than he’d like to admit. it doesn’t help that you have this peculiar habit of coming into his personal space. it’s not that he minds, it’s just something that you do frequently.

like when you’re studying together. you always bump shoulders with Megumi, peering over his work in a desperate attempt to see what he wrote for number 12. he always covers the answer and looks away, mumbling for you to do your own work. he’s thankful it’s just the two of you in the quad today. it’d be embarrassing if anyone could see how red his ears are.

there’s also when you go out to watch movies. every damn time you do it: you get settled in your seat, nestling yourself in the plush chair with a smile on your face. and when the movie starts, you always hook your arm with his. it’s customary for you to lean your head on his shoulder at the 30 minute mark. again, Megumi doesn’t mind. he’s just glad that you’re watching an action-packed thrill ride. the beating of the film’s percussion help deafen the beating of his own heart.

his favorite habit, though, is when you take the train home after missions. Gojo’s gotten into the habit of sending you both on grueling tasks. Megumi’s starting to think that these are really the missions his teacher is too lazy to take on himself. but he isn’t complaining. he loves it when you rest your head on his shoulder, eyes closed, breathing soft. he won’t wake you until it’s time to get off. besides, he doesn’t want you to see how much his hands are shaking.

you decide to ask him about it. you’re not stupid. you know how embarrassed he gets. does he mind, though? because you could always stop... ↳ “why would I ever want you to stop? all of these things are things unique to you. if you stopped, it wouldn’t be you.”

like this piece? here are similar works! 🌑 🌒 🌓

[lastchancefm]

Richie liked waiting on Danny, letting Danny relax, the man was always set on a task it seemed whenever he was out of his own place. He deserved to slow down for a while. Richie tried not to show his surprise when he realised what CD Danny had managed to select, Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy by Queen trilled out of the speakers and Rich felt his neck burn red. It was a mix about Danny, he listened to it so often that he'd burned it to CD and cassette tape. "I've added a lotta love, that's the special ingredient right?" Rich smiled in his direction as he shimmied over to the beat of the music, Freddie Mercury's rich voice carrying. "I'd never bench you, baby, though if you have one of those little swishy skirts I certainly wouldn't be disappointed. If you wanna fry off the scallions then add the beef while I wrangle the poor imitation tortillas, that'd be great."

"Yeah, as coworkers." Rich nodded at the food in front of him, starting to fire up the cooktop to get things started. He wondered if he had been too obvious, which was why Danny had felt the need to clarify that, his hands shook slightly. "I'll do anything to be a star, Mr Summers, anything you want!" Rich affected a breathy, innocent ingenue voice, batting his eyelashes. He nodded, corners of his eyes creased with happiness recalling her. "She was a hard ass but she got me, y'know? Saw me."

Watching Richie work on their dinner was almost soothing. Almost, because Danny couldn't help but feel like he was being useless by just standing there like that, listening to music and getting into somewhat of a trance watching skillful fingers chopping up vegetables. He inhaled slowly through his nose, and exhaled even slower, at the thought of a good guacamole on his tongue. He couldn't even remember the taste anymore. "I'm sure whatever you cook up for us will be divine! Guac or no guac." He shuffled closer to the rhythm of the song that was playing. "Ya sure you don't need help? Or am I to be sat on the bench and cheer you on? I'm all outta pom-poms."

"I think we would'a worked very well together..." He paused as he smiled at their potential alternate future. "...as co-workers, I mean. You produce, I market! Even better, I could make you into a rockstar." His own words made him laugh. Such dreams were going to stay just that. Dreams. "She was your big sis, right?" Rarely did he get a glimpse of Richie's past. Somehow, amongst all the jokes and theatrics, his more authentic self seemed to hide in the back.

[badstargateimagines]

The Music I Think Stargate Folks Like and How They Listen To It

Daniel: likes local dreamy indie and gentle acoustic tunes. This boy finds indie covers of popular songs just so it fits his vibe. Also a fan of 80s new wave but no one can know. Prefers to buy music on bandcamp to support artists but does have a record collection.

Jack: likes boomer rock. The Eagles, Bachman-Turner Overdrive, anything you can find on a Road Trip compilation CD at a gas station. Will talk endlessly about Woodstock but wasn’t a huge fan of Acid Rock and still thinks Janis Joplin isn’t much to write home about (he is wrong). Prefers to use CDs and has like one of those CD books in his car that step dads always have. Most of his CDs are pirated off limewire and burned onto discs.

Teal’c: absolutely listens to Hyperpop and outlaw country. This man goes from Money Machine by 100 Gecs to Big Iron by Marty Robbins. He is forbidden from the aux in most circles. He prefers to listen on Spotify.

Sam: likes 90s grunge and weird 90s CANCON. Sam will hear Ironic by Alanis Morissette and know every word. Huge Mudhoney fan and prefers them over Nirvana. She also had a Brian Eno phase in college and loved that space music. She prefers streaming services so she can have her library on every device she works on.

Jonas: listens to all radio friendly sludge he can get his hands on. Was a huge fan of the ukelele era of 2010-2014 in pop music. Listens to anything he hears on his fyp on TikTok. Uses YouTube to listen to music but not premium. He just listens to his music playlist, ads and all.

Vala: has one song saved and it’s WAP by Cardi B exclusively to annoy Daniel. Banned from the aux cord. Uses Spotify but the free version.

Cam: listens to pop punk and wants everyone to know it. Also a decently big fan of gen x dad music like AC/DC and Metallica. John Lennon Apologist likely. Uses tapes because he didn’t want to rebuy his library with the advent of the digital age but is warming up to Apple Music.

General Hammond: likes cowboy music babeyyyyy!!!! Will talk at length about the highwaymen. Was alive for Johnny Cash performing live at Folsom Prison and knows how cool it was. Knows all of Waylon Jennings’ hits by heart. Likes Woody Guthrie but is low key about it so no one calls him a communist. Has a vast library of records, cassettes and 8-tracks but mostly uses the 6 CDs he has loaded in his car radio.

[unliked-apologist]

hirako shinji headcanons

these were originally posted on Reddit. now they're here. enjoy.

He has lucky socks that he wears to fight Hollows. What makes them lucky is something that the other Visored find to be a mystery, since they look the same as his other socks, but if Shinji's fighting Hollows he's wearing his lucky socks. As a result, he's put on laundry duty a disproportionate amount of the time, because no one wants to deal with the tantrum he'd throw if someone mismatched his godforsaken lucky socks.

In the part of the warehouse that is his bedroom, he has a shelf of hair products. He rarely uses them, but sometimes he'll show up to dinner with a barrette holding his bangs out of his eyes, or a temporary streak of blue dye framing his face.

He loves it when someone brushes his hair out, especially when it's longer. There's just something so relaxing about the feeling of fingers tangling in his hair, guiding the knots out...he could fall asleep like that. He does, sometimes. When he's too wound up to sleep, or too antsy from days on the couch, Rose will sit down behind him and put little braids in his hair until he drifts off.

Shinji doesn't go shopping very often, but when he does, he splurges. From buying an entire piano without prior notice to hiring someone to install highlighter-orange carpets in the warehouse, the other Visored know better than to give him their savings and let him shop alone.

Despite the fact that he's a known paperwork procrastinator, he's very good at focusing when he wants to. He tends to hyperfixate on certain things - as Captain, he'd sit at his desk for hours at night, long after everyone else left the compound, and read through pages of everything from complaints to the Seireitei Bulletin.

He can play the piano. Not as well as Rose - which isn't saying much, since nobody can play the piano as well as Rose - but he's certainly better than average. He'd been in the human world during the birth and spread of Jazz, and would sit in front of an old piano every evening and work his way through Maple Leaf Rag. He taught himself to play.

Sometimes, the ties he wears make him panic. He wears them anyways, since he likes the way they look, but while the weight around his neck is usually comforting, there are times when they'll feel too tight and constricting and for a moment, he's not in the present but back in Seireitei, watching his friends' faces turn to Hollow bone. The tie-like cloth he wears once he regains his position as Captain is looser, and was designed to allow movement and air better than a regular human tie.

Shinji is stubborn. He'll focus on something and not let it go, until it takes over everything else. Once he has an opinion of someone, he rarely changes it. Some people deal with change well, are able to adapt to any environment. He is not one of those people.

(And maybe that's part of why he took his exile so badly. The human world is nothing like Soul Society, and part of him refused to believe that the human world was, in fact, his new home. He loves the human world, with it's strange inventions and funny quirks, but it isn't Soul Society.)

He's not a huge fan of tea. Partially because Aizen had liked tea, and there are indeed certain aromas of the stuff that will make him sick to his stomach, but mostly because boiling leaves in water had never really appealed to him. Sometimes he'll make a hot chocolate, when he's spoiling himself. He loves the tiny marshmallows, leaves them in his mug until all the hot chocolate is gone and then he'll scoop out the marshmallows with a spoon and eat them in one bite.

He's traveled quite a bit, especially in the early years of his exile. Harlem, Berlin, Paris, Madrid, New Orleans, even London - Shinji's seen more of the world than any of the other Visored.

Despite the fact that he's the strongest of the Visored, he isn't their leader. Not really. He bosses around Hiyori, and she throws things at him, and he'll order Kensei to make lunch when he's feeling particularly lazy, but he isn't the leader. He's distant from them, a little. Sure, he goes places with them and trains with them and eats meals with them, but it was his lieutenant that was responsible for their exile. He feels a responsibility for their situation that none of the others do.

All of the Visored have found ways to spend their time. Love and Rose loose themselves in manga, Lisa in swimsuit catalogues, Kensei in cooking and weightlifting. Shinji looses himself in his head. He'll sit on the old couch Hachi'd found on the side of the road two decades back, sprawled on his back with his feet and head hanging over the armrests. He'll spend hours like that.

Shinji is old. Older than Aizen and Urahara and any of the other Visored. He's one of the older Captains; younger than Unohana and Ukitake and Kyoraku, but decades the other Captains' senior.

He'd achieved Shikai quickly, had been hearing Sakanade's voice since before he got his hands on an asuachi. Bankai took him far longer. The average time Bankai training takes is a decade - Shinji was working with Sakanade for almost a century. He'd always got along with his zanpakuto, but harnessing Sakanade's power without loosing himself? That was harder.

He's bad at staying on one place. When he did do his paperwork, it'd never be sitting at his desk. He'd lay on the ground on his stomach, legs kicked up behind him; he'd sit on his desk with a stack of papers on his lap; he'd lay upside-down with his head near the wall and write with his papers against the wall and ink dripping on his face. In the human world, even if he does spend far too much time sulking on the couch, he'll shift from hanging over the back to sliding down until his head's on the floor.

He has terrible spice tolerance. Kensei cooks curry, sometimes, and Shinji'll just order out on those nights. Spicy food makes his eyes water and nose run and mouth burn, and he hates it.

For all of Shinji's moping and laying about, he really does enjoy doing things. He's the one to drag the Visored out for holidays and celebrations. He gets really into them, too; from specially ordering kimonos to hand-making everyone lanterns for Obon, he's throws himself into special occasions with a vigor that's very unlike his everyday self.

(The arcade in Karakura, a small decrepit-looking building next to a hair salon, has Shinji's name at the top of almost every high score list. On one or two of the games, Love's name is just under Shinji's. The arcade manager knows Shinji, calls out to him on the street: "Hirako! How're you doing?")

When Hiyori and Kensei are being a bit too loud, or when Shinji gets so antsy shifting positions on the couch doesn't settle him, he goes to the playground. He'll climb on the monkey bars and hang upside-down and talk to the kids around him.

Something that wears on Shinji especially hard is the secrecy the Visored need to maintain. Even around the humans, Shinji can't make too large an impression, can't make real friends. Sooner or later, they'd start wondering why Shinji doesn't age. The arcade manager's memory had to be removed, after a few years. When Shinji or the others leave their warehouse, they have to do their best to be unremarkable. When they slip up, sure, Urahara's there with a gadget to fix memories, but it's hard for Shinji to be unable to form a relationship with anyone outside of the Visored. For all of the ways his personality can be abrasive, Shinji really does like spending time with others.

Shinji got a Walkman as soon as they were available in stores. Even later, when cassette tapes were replaced with CDs, he still keeps batteries in his Walkman (even if he doesn't use it). If Rose collects instruments, Shinji collects music.

The other Visored find Shinji confusing. He personality contradicts itself. He spends days lounging on the couch not doing anything, but will suddenly decide that 'it's time for a family trip, guys, we're going to Tokyo'. They love him just the same, but wish he wasn't as high management.

(Shinji is old, yes, but there are times when he feels even younger than Mashiro and Hiyori.)