#its dancing the macarena as we speak

[rodeo-boots]

Remember when you made a Reddit post begging for UK law enforcement to save you from a tiny skeleton doing a little dance in your closet and deleted it out of shame when everyone told you to delete your blog? Yeah, Digital footprint, we got that shit saved. You’ll never rest you fucking pig./s lmao

😭 you're hilarious, thank you for this magnificent addition to my own lore

[sciencestyled]

The Periodic Palette: How Chemical Elements Get Their Artsy Groove On!

Picture this: You walk into an art gallery, and instead of the usual Mona Lisas and Van Goghs, you see a giant painting of a flamboyant neon tube doing the Macarena. Welcome to the wild, wacky world of chemical element symbolism in modern art! If you think chemistry is just about boring old equations and guys in lab coats mixing weird stuff in test tubes, think again. We're diving headfirst into the bizarre and hilarious intersection of chemistry education with art, where elements get their groove on and artists get all scientific.

First off, let's travel back in time, like Marty McFly in a DeLorean, to when chemical elements were the rock stars of artistic symbolism. Medieval alchemists weren't just trying to turn lead into gold; they were creating visual symphonies of elements with symbols that would make your emoji keyboard jealous. Gold symbolized perfection and divinity—think of it as the Beyoncé of elements. Mercury, with its quicksilver dance, was all about transformation, like a magical wardrobe change at a Lady Gaga concert. Artists back then were like the original meme creators, using elements to convey deep, philosophical messages, much like how we use the crying-laughing emoji today.

Fast forward to the present day, and artists are taking these elemental symbols and remixing them like a DJ at a techno rave. Contemporary art has embraced elements with the same fervor as a Twitter feud. Let’s talk about neon, the gassy show-off that makes Las Vegas look like a glittery fever dream. Neon lights are the epitome of modern symbolism, turning the ordinary into the extraordinary. It's like the element took a look at Picasso's Guernica and said, "Hold my electron."

Take Dan Flavin, for instance, the artist who decided that fluorescent light tubes could be more than just harsh office lighting. Flavin's work turns humble argon and mercury into glowing masterpieces that scream, "I’m fabulous and I know it!" Imagine a gallery full of Flavin's lights: It's like stepping into a cyberpunk nightclub where the bouncers are electrons, and the VIP section is reserved for photons.

And who can forget the quirky brilliance of Damien Hirst? This guy is like the Kanye West of the art world—controversial, ostentatious, and undeniably genius. Hirst's use of formaldehyde in his works is a literal embodiment of the phrase "preserve your legacy." His infamous shark, preserved in a tank of formaldehyde, is like the world's most macabre aquarium exhibit. If Finding Nemo had a Halloween special, this would be it.

But wait, there's more! We can't talk about chemical elements in art without giving a nod to the queen of radioactive elements: Marie Curie. Her discoveries in radioactivity have inspired artists to incorporate elements like uranium and radium into their works. Imagine an art installation that's not only visually stunning but also glows in the dark like a raver's dream come true. Sure, it might be a tad hazardous, but who cares about a little radiation when you're making art history?

Now, let’s slide into the DM's of education and art. The fusion of these fields is like a Marvel crossover event—unexpected, thrilling, and leaving you wanting more. Chemical element symbolism isn't just a nerdy niche; it's an interdisciplinary goldmine. Picture a high school chemistry class where instead of boring textbooks, students get to analyze Banksy's latest graffiti. Banksy, the art world's Batman, often uses elements like carbon (in the form of soot and spray paint) to make powerful social statements. Imagine the educational impact of discussing the properties of carbon while dissecting the layers of a Banksy piece. It's like learning chemistry through a Netflix binge-watch session—informative, engaging, and oddly addictive.

Educationally speaking, the potential here is like finding a cheat code in a video game. Teachers can use art to demystify the periodic table, turning it from a grid of confusion into a vibrant palette of stories. Each element has its own personality, much like the characters in a reality TV show. Take sodium, for example. On its own, it's a bit of a wallflower, but mix it with chlorine, and bam! You get table salt, the culinary superstar. Teaching chemistry through art is like giving students a backstage pass to the greatest show on Earth, where elements are the eccentric performers and the periodic table is the ultimate reality show.

Case in point: the work of Cai Guo-Qiang, the artist who decided that traditional canvases were too mainstream and opted for gunpowder explosions instead. His art is like a chemistry lesson wrapped in a Michael Bay movie. Guo-Qiang's explosive displays aren't just visually spectacular; they're a lesson in the chemical reactions that make fireworks possible. It's like watching MythBusters meets Cirque du Soleil—a sensory overload that leaves you both awestruck and slightly singed.

But the pièce de résistance of this wild ride through chemical element symbolism in art has to be the interdisciplinary learning potential. Imagine a project where students create their own elemental art, incorporating everything from neon light installations to graphite sketches. They could research the properties and historical significance of their chosen element, then use that knowledge to inform their artistic creations. It's like a science fair and an art exhibition had a baby, and that baby grew up to be the coolest kid in school.

In conclusion, the dialogue between chemistry and modern art is richer than a billionaire's bank account and more dynamic than a TikTok dance challenge. Chemical elements, with their unique properties and historical significance, provide a wellspring of inspiration for artists and educators alike. By exploring this vibrant intersection, we not only make chemistry education more engaging but also highlight the profound connections between science and art. So next time you see a neon sign or a preserved shark, remember: it's not just art—it's elemental.

[themovieblogonline]

Venom 3 is NOW Venom: The Last Dance

Web-slingers and symbiote sympathizers, get ready to buckle up! Sony just dropped the bomb on the title for the next Venom flick, and it's got a certain…rhythmic quality to it. We're talkin' about Venom: The Last Dance! That's right, everyone's favorite brooding journalist with an anger management problem (who also happens to be attached to a giant alien space parasite) is getting his groove on. Now, whether this "last dance" refers to Venom finally cutting the cord with Eddie Brock or him busting a move to impress his symbiote girlfriend (unlikely, but hey, stranger things have happened) remains a mystery. Speaking of mysteries, the plot for "Venom: The Last Dance" is still shrouded in secrecy. We do know a few things. First, Tom Hardy's coming back as the lovable (well, kinda) Eddie Brock/Venom. Second, the cast is getting a spicy upgrade with Juno Temple, Chiwetel Ejiofor, and Clark Backo joining the party. Temple, bless her heart, couldn't contain her excitement and spilled the beans to Variety that filming was almost done. Sounds like things are moving smoother than a freshly extruded symbiote web (although, considering the SAG-AFTRA strike threw a wrench in things last year, that bar ain't exactly set high). Third, and most importantly, "Venom: The Last Dance" is slithering its way to theaters a little earlier than expected. Mark your calendars for October 25th, 2024, because that's when the symbiote symphony hits the big screen. So, what can we expect from "Venom: The Last Dance"? Will Eddie finally learn the Macarena? Will Venom develop a newfound appreciation for interpretive dance? Only time will tell. But one thing's for sure: it's gonna be a wild ride. Just remember, with great power comes great responsibility...and the occasional urge to chomp on a bad guy's head. Get ready for the grand finale (or maybe just another wild adventure) – “Venom: The Last Dance” slithers into theaters on October 25th, 2024! Source: Variety https://youtu.be/eYjQybza_4A?list=PLsD5qP1WqKt6Xyq1oACzo-TpR-fH_JZe_ Read the full article

[influencermagazineuk]

Chart-Toppers: The Most Sold Songs That Echo Through the Ages

Music, the universal language of emotions, has the extraordinary power to transcend time and borders. Certain songs have not only captured the hearts of millions but have also broken records by becoming some of the most-sold songs in the history of music. These chart-toppers have left an indelible mark on the world, resonating with people across generations. In this article, we'll journey through the decades to explore some of these iconic tunes that have stood the test of time. - "White Christmas" by Bing Crosby: Released in 1942, "White Christmas" by Bing Crosby is a timeless holiday classic. With over 50 million copies sold worldwide, it remains the best-selling single of all time. - "Candle in the Wind 1997" by Elton John: Originally written as a tribute to Marilyn Monroe, Elton John's reworked version of "Candle in the Wind" in 1997 paid homage to Princess Diana. This touching ballad became the second highest-selling single ever, with over 33 million copies sold. - "I Want to Hold Your Hand" by The Beatles: The British invasion led by The Beatles in the 1960s saw the release of "I Want to Hold Your Hand." This song played a pivotal role in introducing the Fab Four to the American audience, selling over 12 million copies. - "Billie Jean" by Michael Jackson: Michael Jackson's "Billie Jean" from his album "Thriller" was a game-changer in the world of pop music. With more than 10 million copies sold, it solidified Jackson's status as the King of Pop. - "Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen: Queen's magnum opus, "Bohemian Rhapsody," defied convention and became a rock masterpiece. This legendary song has sold over 7 million copies worldwide. - "We Are the World" by USA for Africa: In 1985, a star-studded lineup of musicians and artists came together as USA for Africa to record "We Are the World." This charity single sold over 7 million copies, with proceeds going toward famine relief in Africa. - "I Will Always Love You" by Whitney Houston: Whitney Houston's rendition of Dolly Parton's "I Will Always Love You" for the movie "The Bodyguard" became an instant classic. With over 6 million copies sold, it remains one of the best-selling singles by a female artist. - "Smooth" by Santana featuring Rob Thomas: "Smooth" by Santana featuring Rob Thomas dominated the airwaves in the late '90s. With its infectious melody and guitar riffs, it sold over 6 million copies and won several Grammy Awards. - "Macarena" by Los Del Rio: The catchy dance track "Macarena" by Los Del Rio became a global phenomenon in the mid-'90s. It sold over 6 million copies and had people around the world doing the Macarena dance. - "My Heart Will Go On" by Celine Dion: Celine Dion's "My Heart Will Go On," the theme song from the blockbuster film "Titanic," touched the hearts of millions. With over 5 million copies sold, it's a ballad that continues to stir emotions. These songs are not just musical creations; they are cultural landmarks that have shaped the collective memory of generations. Their enduring popularity speaks to the ability of music to unite people and evoke powerful emotions. Whether it's the nostalgia of "White Christmas" or the timeless appeal of "Bohemian Rhapsody," these most sold songs continue to resonate with listeners young and old, reminding us of the profound impact of music on our lives. Read the full article

[my-weird-news]

🔥 Putin's Bold Move at BRICS Summit Will Leave You Speechless!

BRICS: When World Politics Meet Reality TV 📺 So there we were, folks, in the heart of Johannesburg, where gleaming glass towers and serious global issues decided to dance the cha-cha. It was the BRICS Summit, and let me tell you, it was quite the show. 🕺 Now, picture this: Vladimir Putin, the man of the hour—or more like, the man on the giant video screen. Apparently, he's too hot to trot to South Africa, thanks to a little something called a warrant for war crimes. 🕵️‍♂️ That's right, folks, the International Criminal Court had its eyes on him like a hawk on a particularly shady mouse. South Africa politely told him, "Uh-uh, you stay right there." Oh, but don't think Putin missed out on all the fun. Nope, he decided to grace the summit via video, blaming the West for Russia's sudden breakup with Ukrainian grain. Apparently, that grain was the glue holding the global food supplies together. Who knew? 🤷‍♂️ But hey, who cares if he's not there in person? We had China's Xi Jinping playing hooky too! I mean, come on, who could resist a diplomatic dance-off? Maybe he was busy working on his secret dance moves behind closed doors—my sources say he's a mean Macarena dancer. Speaking of dancing, Russia's foreign minister, Sergey Lavrov, tried to join in with some South African traditional dancers. Let's just say it was like watching a giraffe try salsa dancing—awkward yet strangely endearing. Now, let's talk about this BRICS gang. Brazil, Russia, India, China, and South Africa—the cool kids on the diplomatic block. They came together to counterbalance Western powers like the Group of 7. They even created their very own development bank, and no, it's not the "We Only Lend to Developing Countries Bank." But wait, there's more! They wanted to diminish the almighty dollar's role in international trade. Imagine a world where the dollar isn't the boss—let's just hope it doesn't start bossing us around instead. And then there's India's Prime Minister, Narendra Modi, who's apparently afraid of letting more countries join the BRICS party. I mean, who needs more guests at this shindig, right? India and China are already doing a stellar job at playing "Who Can Eye Each Other More Intensely?" But the real star of the show? South Africa's President, Cyril Ramaphosa, who's playing double-duty. Not only is he trying to pull off this international extravaganza, but he's also casting himself as the one and only international statesman. Move over, James Bond, we've got Cyril saving the day. Oh, and let's not forget about Putin's Ukrainian grain escapades. Apparently, he decided to yank the deal that had Ukraine's grains all over the place—figuratively speaking, of course. The result? A little global food shortage action, with Putin pointing fingers like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. And Putin's solution? Free food for all! He's practically the Robin Hood of international diplomacy, swooping in to save the day with his "perfect" harvest. 🌾🍞 But seriously, folks, who needs reality TV when you've got the BRICS Summit? Drama, dance-offs, and diplomatic delicacies—it's the ultimate mashup of world politics and entertainment. So, grab your popcorn and get ready for the next episode of "BRICS: Diplomatic Divas and Dancing Desperados." 🍿🌍🎉# BRICS: When World Politics Meet Reality TV 📺 So there we were, folks, in the heart of Johannesburg, where gleaming glass towers and serious global issues decided to dance the cha-cha. It was the BRICS Summit, and let me tell you, it was quite the show. 🕺 Now, picture this: Vladimir Putin, the man of the hour—or more like, the man on the giant video screen. Apparently, he's too hot to trot to South Africa, thanks to a little something called a warrant for war crimes. 🕵️‍♂️ That's right, folks, the International Criminal Court had its eyes on him like a hawk on a particularly shady mouse. South Africa politely told him, "Uh-uh, you stay right there." Oh, but don't think Putin missed out on all the fun. Nope, he decided to grace the summit via video, blaming the West for Russia's sudden breakup with Ukrainian grain. Apparently, that grain was the glue holding the global food supplies together. Who knew? 🤷‍♂️ But hey, who cares if he's not there in person? We had China's Xi Jinping playing hooky too! I mean, come on, who could resist a diplomatic dance-off? Maybe he was busy working on his secret dance moves behind closed doors—my sources say he's a mean Macarena dancer. Speaking of dancing, Russia's foreign minister, Sergey Lavrov, tried to join in with some South African traditional dancers. Let's just say it was like watching a giraffe try salsa dancing—awkward yet strangely endearing. Now, let's talk about this BRICS gang. Brazil, Russia, India, China, and South Africa—the cool kids on the diplomatic block. They came together to counterbalance Western powers like the Group of 7. They even created their very own development bank, and no, it's not the "We Only Lend to Developing Countries Bank." But wait, there's more! They wanted to diminish the almighty dollar's role in international trade. Imagine a world where the dollar isn't the boss—let's just hope it doesn't start bossing us around instead. And then there's India's Prime Minister, Narendra Modi, who's apparently afraid of letting more countries join the BRICS party. I mean, who needs more guests at this shindig, right? India and China are already doing a stellar job at playing "Who Can Eye Each Other More Intensely?" But the real star of the show? South Africa's President, Cyril Ramaphosa, who's playing double-duty. Not only is he trying to pull off this international extravaganza, but he's also casting himself as the one and only international statesman. Move over, James Bond, we've got Cyril saving the day. Oh, and let's not forget about Putin's Ukrainian grain escapades. Apparently, he decided to yank the deal that had Ukraine's grains all over the place—figuratively speaking, of course. The result? A little global food shortage action, with Putin pointing fingers like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. And Putin's solution? Free food for all! He's practically the Robin Hood of international diplomacy, swooping in to save the day with his "perfect" harvest. 🌾🍞 But seriously, folks, who needs reality TV when you've got the BRICS Summit? Drama, dance-offs, and diplomatic delicacies—it's the ultimate mashup of world politics and entertainment. So, grab your popcorn and get ready for the next episode of "BRICS: Diplomatic Divas and Dancing Desperados." 🍿🌍🎉 Read the full article

[weeb-writor]

MHA boys react to your Pro Hero father finding out you’re dating them

Heyo! So today I just have something cute and crack-y! I’ve been reading wayyy to much angst as of late! Reader is neutral and I am running out of things to write so send me some requests I do have a few rules but I pretty much write everything! I hope you all enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Amajiki Tamaki x Reader  Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Your Pro Hero dad finds out your dating (All might and Fat Gum)

Words: 1928

~~~~~~~~~~~~

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

So you are not sure how to explain this situation, really. Of course you knew about your fathers no dating rules and you were, are a great kid who follow his rules. However, the first time you laid eyes on him you were taken. Then when you saw him fight and the way he spoke their was no hope for you. You had fallen head over heels in love with him. So when he asked you out the words ‘no’ and ‘I can't’ were no longer in your vocabulary. So here you were on a date with Bakugou. You two were at all mall just walking around, shopping when you wanted but mainly just enjoying your time together.

“Would you stop looking like that! Just tell me what the hell it is!” Bakugou yelled at you, you blinked at him not really realizing you were staring.

“I… the claw game for the big game has a rabbit in it.” You said with your head down. Bakugou only sighed and drug you over to the game.

“Now I’ll get you the bunny on one condition,... come meet my parents next weekend.” He mumbled completely red.

“You’ve got a deal.” You said with a smile.

“AND I wanna meet yours.” He added starting to play the game you stilled visibly at his words.

“Uh i'm sure you don't, it might be another situation like you had at dinner with the Todoroki’s!” You rushed out to him. He didn't respond but moved the claw toward the ugliest stuffed animal you had ever seen.

“OMG you're such a dramatic man, fine fine.” You huffed at him, he chuckled evilly and a moment later you were holding the huge bunny. 

“What would you do without me, huh? I'm perfect for you, y’know. No one else could have done that for you the first try, like I did.” He said as you guys started your walk up again.

“Huh, well personally I think Izuku probably could. You know he has all those limited addition all might figures and plushies, a lot of them come from claw games.” You said nonchalantly knowing it would piss off Bakugou. He stopped talking and grabbed your chin, forcing you to make eye contact with him.

“Your so full of shit, your trying to get a rise out of me but you wont.” He said with an eyebrow raise.

“Is that why you’re twitching?” You asked as you pulled forward some more, your lips almost touching. Before you guys could tease each other any further a voice interrupted you.

“Bakugou?” You both froze as All might’s voice echoed in your ears. You jumped away from Bakugou as he gave you a confused look.

“Yeah?” He said, still glancing at you, not sure what to make of your strange behavior.

“What are you two doing here and what are you doing so close together?” He asked with a smile, you could tell it was fake.

“Oh were on a-” he tried to get out but you cut him off.

“A snack run! Us and the rest of the class are doing a movie night.” You said shakily.

“I didn't know a snack run required such closeness.” He said with an eyebrow raise.

“It doesn't.” Aizawa said. You didn't even notice he was there and now you were screwed. Aizawa had agreed to keep you and Bakugou’s relationship a secret in exchange for coffee every Monday and Wednesday but last Wednesday you forgot. The grin on his face says he is getting even. 

“What? were not doing that! I'm not watching a movie with those extras on our date night.” Bakugou pouted at you, your mouth hung open at him. Now did you tell Bakugou All might was your father and he forbid you to date, no, no you didn't; but he is one of the smartest people you know. He is in the top 5 of your class in smarts for god sakes, he should have known you were trying to keep this on the downlow.

“YOUR WHAT!” your father said in his boisterous voice.

“Uhh, well you see um he is… What are you two doing here, huh?” You said trying to change the subject. Aizawa started to chuckle next to your father.

“Y/N I said no boys, no girls, no theys!!! Bakugou is clearly a boy!!” He said, starting to pace around. “Hold on, Aizawa, did you know about this?” He asked, turning toward the teacher who immediately stopped laughing.

“I learned about it very recently and I told them to tell you or I would. Very childish and unheroic.” He said, trying not to bust out laughing.

“Bakugou we should run..” You whispered to him as your father paced around.

“Why didn't you tell me your dad was All might and that we are a secret!!” He whispered yelled to you.

“We can talk about this later but right now babe, we gotta run before he calls Gran Torino.” You said inching away from the scene in front of you. Bakugou did the same as but your world stopped when your eyes met Aizawa’s. He shook his head but mouthed “Coffee Monday” then shut his eyes. With that you and Bakugou were off, ignoring your father who was calling for you.

“Dumbass you know they are going to the same place we are, right?” He said laughing.

“I know but i would rather be shunned in my room than in the public, gotta keep our image up.” You said giving him a thumbs up. You both laughed all the way to the dorms and were still in high spirits when your father came and found you guys lounging in the commons.

 AMAJIKI TAMAKI

Now you and Tamaki relationship is… strange to most people. You were not like Mirio or Nejire, you were more like Tamaki but just not as anxious. No one even knew how you two got together after years of pining but both being too shy to ask each other out. It did happen nonetheless and it was oddly perfect. You both loved to stay in and eat takeout, you would take turns calling the takeout spot, or sometimes even play rock, paper, scissors to decide. Festivals were also a love you guys shared, of course you went early before fireworks when it wasn't too busy. But this, this was by far your favorite. The beach in the middle of the night, you and Tamaki would sometimes sneak out when you both needed a breather in the dead of the night when there was nothing but the two of you, the waves, and the stars.

“Did you bring it?” You asked Tamaki as you walked along the shore.

“Of course I did, do you wanna do it?” He asked fidgeting a little.

“Mhhmm.” You hummed taking the stick from him. You and him found it on your first beach date, it was a stick that Tamaki sterilized, afraid it would give you some sort of disease. You thought for a second before writing in the sand.

“Laugh in the silence, dance in rain, and sing with the birds. There will come a day when all things will change and you’ll be left with only the memories of yesterday, so enjoy them. Sincerely the silent.” He said reading what you wrote in the sand. 

“I made it far from the tide so someone will actually see it this time.” You said as you drew heart and butterflies around it.

“Where'd you get it from?” He said as he sat laid down on the sand to watch the stars. You laid down placing your head on his chest.

“My dad, he and I are very different and he learned very early on that when he taught me his ‘life lessons’ in loud ways I didn't get it and that I was pretty timid so I wouldn't learn them through experience. My class was going on a 3 week end of the year vacation to the U.S and I decided I didn't wanna go, I'd never been, my dad couldn't come, I listed every reason why I couldn't and at some point I was just making up random excuses when really I did wanna go. So my dad made me climb this mountain and carried me when I complained it was too much. When we finally got to the top I was so angry that there was just a bunch of snow but then he made me look to my left and there were dozens of flowers peeking through the snow. It was amazing. Then he told me that saying and I was never the same. I went on the trip for a week instead of 3 weeks and I loved it. If I can help someone like us step out of their comfort zone just a little so they can see beautiful flowers and enjoy all that they can, I'll be happy.” You said as your eyes fluttered shut a little.

“We can do it together, step out of our comfort zones, I mean.” He mumbled to you. You hummed at him in agreement.

“PUT YOUR HANDS UP OR I’LL SHOOT!” A loud voice called out to you, you and Tamaki immediately stood up and put your hands up.

“Okay now dance! I'm thinking the Macarena..” The guy trailed off. Tamaki mumbled to himself and turned around putting his hands down, you were about to yell at him but he turned and smiled at you then began to speak.

“What are you doing here, Mr. Fat Gum.” Tamaki said with a sigh. You froze at this and thought about disappearing into the water but it was a cold night you would die. Maybe if you didn't turn around he wouldn't know it was you.

“Well when I got a call saying my kid snuck out the first few times I was cool about it, they never do anything wrong so y’know its good to be a little wild BUT WHEN I HEARD THEY WERE WITH A BOY I CAME TO FIND THEM!! But seeing it’s you i'm a little less worried but when I said find some new people to hang with and expand your horizons I definitely didn't mean my kid who I forbade to date, mind you!” You dad said, grabbing Tamaki by the shoulders and shaking him a little. Your boyfriend looked between the two of you and then began to mutter incoherent things.

“Dad stop you gonna give him a heart attack.” You said trying to get your boyfriend back from your overprotective dad.

“Nahh that would be too kind and too quick.” And with that your boyfriend fainted, your dad laughed and threw him over his shoulders. 

“You didn't have to do that.” You said as you both began the walk home.

“What kind of father would I be if I didn't instill fear into the hearts of those who could break your heart beyond repair.” He smiled at you

“You scare him everyday when he works with you!! I’ve heard all the stories from Tamaki, you put him into uncomfortable situations sometimes.” You huffed at him

“Sure but never more than he can handle. ‘Laugh in the silence, dance in rain, and sing with the birds. There will come a day when all things will change and you’ll be left with only the memories of yesterday, so enjoy them.’ He always learns something new or at least gets a kick out of it.” He said as he put his fist out for you to bump. You bump it and smile at him.

“You are still in trouble though.” He said with a laugh, you sighed at his words. Maybe you should have taken your chance in the freezing water.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Masterlist

[hetaliashitpostingftw]

Hetalia Zoom Masterpost

Tag yourself, who are you most like these days? 

ALLIES

America: Dresses up as superman for literally every single meeting. Canada: Actually makes sure his place looks nice and might be the only normal person on this platform except sometimes he forgets video so they forget he’s there :(( China: Accidently screen shares and its revealed that hE uSeS iNtErNeT eXpLoReR France: Is using the direct message function to flirt with England and company. England: Trying to be all British and proper without having his face go scarlet. Russia: He put the camera too close so all you can see is a creepy smile.

AXIS

Germany: SHUT UP EVERYONE OR I WILL MUTE YOU!! (he likes being able to actually shut everyone up smh) Italy: Is constantly singing while on mute or eating elaborate spreads of food. Japan: He pinned someone’s video so he can  s t a r e   into their soul (and draw it ofc).

BALTICS

Estonia: Playing tetris on another tab like a BOSS Lithuania: Keeping his camera turned off so Russia can’t stare at him because its creepier over the computer Latvia: Trying to pay attention but winds up falling asleep.

EASTERN EUROPE

Romania: Doing some magic b/c it’s not like the can stop him, damnit! Bulgaria: Whittling his stick underneath the camera so he can have it look ✨ 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂✨ Ukraine: Taking notes but also angled her camera wrong so it’s only the top of her head Belarus: *cutely sharpening knife* Oh, you called? Moldova: Playing outside, Romania told him that he could update when the meeting was done

MEDITERRANEAN EUROPE

Spain: Dancing in the other room and not on the call yet because AYYYYY MACARENA!!! Romano: "SPAIN YOU BASTARD GET ON THE MEETING I WONT TELL YOU ANYTHING IF YOU DONT!” Greece: Calmly staring into the camera and has his pet cat sitting next to him, which is becoming a significant distraction. Turkey: Keeps unmuting himself and adding points because he can Cyprus: Direct messaging Greece: s h o w    m o r e    ✨ c a t✨ Vatican City: Muted and with his video off b/c he’s also on another meeting for a service. Monaco: Keeps turning her camera off every three seconds to fix her make-up

NORDIC EUROPE

Denmark: Texting Norway about what he wants to do after the meeting is done ;) Sweden: Drawing a little sketch of Finland which he’ll probably hide after. Finland: He unmutes by mistake halfway through and the only thing anyone can hear is the sound of heavy metal bLaStInG. He just sits there smiling. Norway: Not responding to Denmark, yelling at Iceland to get back on the call, and studying his magic books Iceland: uUuUghhhH I dont see why we have to do this its soooo lAmE... *aggressive scrolling on tumblr*

LOW COUNTRIES

Belgium: Keeps direct messaging people compliments after they stop speaking Netherlands: At beginning of meeting: venmo me money and I will supply you with 𝓯𝓲𝓼𝓱 Luxembourg: Sitting there and looking pretty, as well as taking notes like any normal person

CENTRAL EUROPE

Austria: Set his computer on top of the piano so he can play without anyone seeing. Also direct messaging people what they did wrong after they stop speaking Slovakia: Messing around with the cool backgrounds Czechia: Reading. She doesn’t care about the meeting that much. Hungary: Sitting beside Austria on his bench and trying to get him to stop playing for the like, three hours for the meeting Switzerland: Makes a reminder that no one is to bother him, then says nothing. Liechtenstein: Didn’t have to go to the meeting, Swiss is looking out for her. Poland: Painting his nails. Nails are prettier than the meeting anyway. Prussia: Constantly jumping in with his ideas, since he likes to talk anyway and Germany has less of a heart to mute him.

ASIA

Hong Kong: Has his camera off and is texting his South Korea and Iceland.  Macau: Taking notes and preparing his rant at Hong Kong later because he isn’t dOiNg WhAt HeS sUpPoSeD tO South Korea: Messing around on snapchat even tho his camera’s still on. Taiwan: Enjoying bubble tea peacefully. Thailand: His camera is on but he’s not there. Vietnam: Keeps asking for help from the host because she can’t figure out how it works. India: Playing with the little figurines of elephants on his desk. He pretends different ones are different countries when they talk.

AFRICA

Egypt: Drawing calligraphy on the whiteboard which may or may not be visible to everyone in the meeting Seychelles: Daydreaming of playing volleyball once she’s able to get outside Cameroon: Shooting rubber bands at the camera and waiting for one to actually hit.

OCEANIA + CARIBBEAN

Australia: Feeding a baby kangaroo. He doesn’t care that it’s a meeting. Kangaroos are important and need love! New Zealand: Didn’t come because he was “busy” (jkjk, he’s sleeping in) Cuba: In constant debate whether or not he should go teleport over to someone else and scare the bejeezus out of them.

[slashhinginghasher]

Social Engagement for Misanthropes: Jesse Cromeans x Marena Polunochnaya

Jesse Cromeans cleaned up nice, and he damn well knew it. It was one of the first skills he’d cultivated after leaving his shithole hometown. One of the best ways to get money, he’d found, was to look like you already had it. The looks he got from women (and some men) were a welcome (some would say unnecessary) boost to his ego, and a sharp suit could always be counted on to draw the piggies out of their pens. The first few times he’d worn designer had felt strange, like a kid playing make-believe, though after a while it became as natural as breathing.

Now, as he stood in front of the mirror in his walk-in closet and fiddled with a tie he hadn’t touched in over three years, he felt a bit like that broke, backwater kid again.

He didn’t particularly want to attend this event, but it was, unfortunately, somewhat necessary. Spann had called it “proof of life” when she handed him the invitation, an actual, physical piece of paper that had been calligraphed and embossed within an inch of its life. It contained phrases like “humble gathering” and “the pleasure of your company” and had, apparently, been mailed with an honest-to-god wax seal.

Pretentious prick.

Jesse had been to his fair share of “humble gatherings”; you couldn’t conduct real business without them. They were mind-crushingly boring affairs, a slow-moving social dance of caviar, expensive booze, and pathetic attempts at wit. If nothing else, the people-watching was usually interesting. For all their “good breeding”, wealthy families could be far more dysfunctional than the most slovenly of small town homes. Upper class socialites didn’t blink at multi-million dollar checks, but flash a bit of ink and they’d fall over themselves to choke on his cock while their husbands talked golf in the next room. He’d even picked up a piggy or two at a few events, though you had to be extra careful with that (chain of association and all).

But he hadn’t shown his face in public since it had been ripped off and reattached, and some of his business contacts were getting suspicious. Spann’s iron-clad assurances were no longer enough to quell the rumors that Jesse Cromeans had died, or been deposed, and that someone else was running the company under his name. And that just would not do. He’d RSVP’d immediately, memories of Preston’s failed takeover flushing his system with old rage.

At least he’d be guaranteed some interesting company tonight, he thought, smirking at the garment bag draped over the stool next to him as he tapped out a quick text.

💀🖕: COME UPSTAIRS, I HAVE A SURPRISE FOR YOU

Macarena: IF IT’S YOUR DICK I DON’T WANT IT

Jesse chuckled and went back to his tie, certain that either Marena’s curiosity or the urge to insult him to his face would bring her up shortly. He knew bow ties were traditional for black tie events, but wearing a fucking bow around his neck was a concession he’d never been able to force himself to make. Besides, he had a reputation for being… unconventional, and reputation was everything. Satisfied with the crisp Windsor knot, he shrugged on his black waistcoat, secretly pleased with the way it showed off the breadth of his chest.

“You look like a goth pirate,” came Marena’s voice from the doorway. “What the fuck.” As usual, he hadn’t heard her approach. She was the only person he knew who could sneak up on him, which was fun. Made things exciting.

“Haven’t you ever heard of ‘black tie’ before?” Jesse signed with a grin.

“Call me surprised then. Are we done?” In lieu of a verbal response, Jesse tossed the garment bag at her. Marena unzipped it enough to peek inside, then immediately re-zipped it.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Nyet.”

“Can’t go to a gala wearing that,” Jesse replied, looking pointedly at her worn t-shirt and jeans. Marena threw the garment bag back and crossed her arms.

“How sad. Guess I won’t go.”

“Sure you will. I can think of a few things to make it fun.”

“So can I. Like not going.”

“Not an option.” Jesse was struggling to smother his laughter. The stubborn furrow of Marena’s brow was too cute to keep a straight face around.

“Why are you going?”

“Business.”

“And that has what to do with me?”

“You’re my plus one, little wench.” Marena visibly cringed.

“If we’re being pirates, I want a fucking sword. And I don’t mean your dick,” she snapped, cutting him off before he could sign a single word. Jesse’s shoulders shook with a full-body laugh, composure completely shot. He cupped Marena’s face in both hands and kissed her forehead, which he knew she hated, before pressing the garment bag into her hands once more.

“Try to look a little less like a corpse,” he advised, stepping around her to grab his dinner jacket. A litany of Russian curses followed him.

***

Marena’s concession to not resembling a corpse was a violently red lipstick that made it look like she’d been eating human hearts for every meal, which Jesse immediately wanted to smear across her face. The dress was black, of course, with a high collar and long sleeves. It would have covered her neck to toe had she not hiked one side of the skirt nearly up to her hip while she slipped a set of throwing knives into the holster around her slender thigh.

She made a compelling argument for ditching, Jesse thought, feeling a familiar tightening in his slacks. He couldn’t resist smoothing a hand along her exposed leg, fingers coming to rest just shy of her underwear.

“Once this dress comes off, it’s not going back on,” she warned.

“Noted and appreciated. You still have to come to this party.”

“Fuck.”

“Later.” 

Marena said nothing, just glared at him through her curtain of hair - which she had brushed just enough that the messiness looked intentional - and let her skirts fall back down to her ankles. Jesse quickly ushered her out of the room before he could do something ingenious like cancelling all of his commitments for the next month and spending the entire time in bed.

The ride in the Bentley was tense and silent. A sick pit of nerves was brewing in Jesse’s stomach, all too similar to the way his boyhood self felt on the way to school, and that was ten kinds of bullshit. He was a grown man. He was motherfucking Chromeskull. He should not be feeling like a little kid about to face a playground bully. But he was finding it very difficult to push the feeling away. His face looked a damn sight better than it did several years ago, but it would never go back to the way it was before, and he was about to walk into a room full of people who treated a minute blemish like a national scandal. He wanted his mask. He wanted to say fuck it and just keep driving until he hit someplace tropical. He wanted to kill something, to drown his insecurities in blood and adrenaline.

He half-wished he’d flown Asa out to rig the whole venue beforehand in case things went south.

Beside him, Marena was deathly still, one white-knuckled fist gripping the fabric of her skirt. She looked a million miles away, lost in whatever personal hell her own brain was conjuring for her. Jesse reached over and squeezed her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles. It was his version of a concession; a silent expression of gratitude. The fact that Marena didn’t push his hand away was a testament to how anxious she was.

“I still want a sword,” she grumbled. Jesse smiled and chucked her under the chin, which she also hated, and felt the knot in his chest loosen a bit.

***

It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. People stared, of course, but they were too “polite” (which was money-speak for “two-faced”) to say anything to his face. There were far more eyes on Marena, which Jesse both loved and loathed. The women’s jealous eyes tracked her every move like sharks scenting new prey, which was admittedly hilarious to watch; but the barely-concealed desire on the men’s faces sent prickles of possessiveness down Jesse’s spine. He kept his hand glued to Marena’s lower back, low enough to skirt the line of what their current company would consider decent.

If there was one thing the rich understood, it was possession.

“Cromeans!” the host bellowed, arms spread like they were old friends. “Still alive and in the flesh, I see! Some of the lads were getting worried!” A few of the “lads” murmured noises of agreement while the host gave Jesse an overly enthusiastic handshake. Jesse could feel their gazes catching on the eyepatch and the new curl of his lip, and he almost wished one of them would say something, just to give him an excuse to lash out. But the host’s attention wandered over to Marena, whom he foolishly deemed to be a safer topic of discussion.

“And who might this lovely creature be?” he asked, ignoring the sinful glances his wife was casting Jesse’s way.

“No one of consequence,” Marena replied sweetly with a tight, close-lipped smile. The man tipped his head back and guffawed, trying not to wither under the combined weight of Jesse and Marena’s unimpressed stares. He forged ahead anyway.

“You always did have a penchant for… unusual company, Cromeans, I’ll give you that. Tell you what,” he rubbed his hands together eagerly, “I’ve got a bottle of Lagavulin with your name on it in the gentlemen’s lounge. I’m sure Genevieve here can handle your lovely companion for a bit while we talk business.” He beamed benevolently at his wife, who looked as though she’d rather eat glass.

“Of course, dear,” she said, pasting a megawatt smile on her botoxed face. “It’s such a treat to see a new face around here. I’m sure the other girls would love to meet you.” She swept away towards a group of tittering young women draped in diamonds and pearls, Marena following with the stiff spine of a person walking to their execution. Jesse felt much the same way as “the lads” filed into the oak-paneled gentlemen’s lounge.

“Business” was code for the same inane bullshit being discussed in the ballroom, with the addition of whiskey, cigars, and complaints about wives and mistresses. These conversations were usually a goldmine for Jesse. As a mute, he was rarely expected to be an active participant, and the number of weaknesses people revealed when they assumed they were surrounded by allies was astounding. Tonight, though, he was twitchy and bored, distracted by thoughts of Marena stabbing one of those debutante brats through the eye with the stem of a champagne glass. As if on cue, his phone vibrated.

Macarena: I’M GOING TO KILL EVERYONE IN THIS BUILDING

💀🖕: DON’T START WITHOUT ME

Macarena: IT’S CUTE THAT YOU THINK I WON’T TAKE YOU OUT FIRST

💀🖕: AWW YOU THINK I’M CUTE?

Macarena: I WILL RIP YOUR SPINE OUT AND BEAT YOU WITH IT

💀🖕: DON’T TEMPT ME WITH A GOOD TIME BABY ;)

Macarena: THIS FUCKER KEEPS TRYING TO GET ME TO DANCE

Macarena: CAN I KNEECAP HIM

Macarena: I’M GONNA KNEECAP HIM

The little bastard’s kneecaps were spared when a staff member scuttled into the lounge to inform the host of some dire emergency, effectively breaking up the little gathering. Jesse strolled back into the ballroom and spotted Marena at a table near the exit, cornered by a little bitch with slicked-back hair and a greasy smile. The waves of irritation coming off of the girl were palpable and her smile obviously fake, and Jesse couldn’t decide if the guy was too stupid to notice, or was ignoring it because he had that effect on every woman he spoke to.

“Come on, baby,” he goaded, and Jesse could have broken his neck just for that, “it’s just one dance. Didn’t your mother ever teach you manners?”

Marena’s smile froze on her face, and Jesse could practically hear the Kill Bill sirens going off in her head. The barb would’ve worked on any other woman in the room - horror of high society horrors, to be considered ill-mannered! - but for people of Marena and Jesse’s backgrounds, it hit much harder and much deeper.

“No,” she said, rising slowly and deliberately from her seat. “She didn’t.” She turned on her heel, leaving the idiot to gape at the failure of his clumsy manipulation tactics. Jesse grabbed her elbow and she passed and made a beeline for the exit. Not that he didn’t relish the prospect of a bloodbath, but initiating one right now would make future business dealings… complicated.

He memorized the fucker’s face on their way out, though.

***

Marena spent the next few days in a well-deserved sulk, resulting in the destruction of two punching bags and a serious case of blue balls for Jesse. He’d really been looking forward to ripping that dress off of her, damn it. He distracted himself with work and few more personal arrangements. At the end of the week, he tracked her down on the rooftop deck.

“Say your piece and fuck off,” she growled as he stood silently next to her chaise lounge, hands behind his back. She sounded exhausted and looked as though she hadn’t slept in at least two days. Affecting an air of mock seriousness, Jesse moved in front of her and bowed, offering her conciliatory gift on open palms.

“You did not.”

The shashka’s scabbard was a deep midnight blue, with subtle patterns of tree branches embossed in the fine leather. The hilt was smooth, black horn. The blade gleamed in the afternoon light as Marena unsheathed it with a fluid schnick.

“You are the absolute worst fucking person in the world,” she said, the corners of her mouth twitching dangerously close to a smile. A glint of wicked delight sparkled in her eyes as she gave the sabre a few experimental twirls and slashes.

“Only for you, baby,” Jesse replied with a cheeky grin. “Want to test it out?”

***

All it took was a pair of handcuffs and a dark warehouse to really bring out the bitch in some people. The asshole from the party (Jesse really needed to come up with a term for male piggies if this was going to be a recurring thing) had been tied up for barely a day and he was already a sniveling mess. Jesse, on the other hand, was in a great mood. He had his mask, his camcorder, and his favorite knife, and judging by the way Marena was practically purring as she traced her fingers around the shashka’s hilt, he was for sure getting laid tonight. 

The rich bitch didn’t recognize Jesse with his face covered, but his eyes went wide and he started screaming obscenities into his gag when Marena stepped under the light. She yanked the fabric out of his mouth.

“You fucking cunt! You’ll fucking regret this! Do you know who I am? Do you-” All the blood drained from his face when Marena drew the sword and held it to his throat in a lightning-fast move. He swallowed hard, the tip digging in just below his Adam’s apple and drawing a bead of blood. She really was a natural with that thing, Jesse thought as he circled the tableau with his camera. It was hot as fuck.

“Hi,” Marena said.

The man sweated in silence.

“I wanted to go back to our conversation a few nights ago,” she continued. “About my mother.” She let the sword drop to her side and the man relaxed fractionally.

“See, she did not teach me manners, but she did teach me a lot of other things.” She pushed the gag back into place and patted him a couple times on his quivering, tear-soaked cheek. Then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a black butterfly knife.

“Lesson one: bleeding.”

[prometheanglory]

If your characters had to dance what dancing style would they take and If with a partner would they pick someone who takes the lead or they are the one who takes the lead?

good question ! generally speaking, i went with partnered dancing bc 👁👁 i can, but anyway! here we go!

guts: in all honesty, its very hard for me to see him dancing — however i think he’d prefer a slow dance of sorts! if he had to have a partner, i think bolero would work best for him. he’d lead just because, but he’s not opposed to following if they really wanted it.

lola: she’s 100% a fast-tempo sort of gal — if she had to have a partner, she’d choose the cha-cha, and no one’s gonna convince her to not be the lead. lola leads, always. other than that, i’d choose litefeet for lola! it’s rowdy, energetic, and best of all — it’s a dance that involves a group of people for the best effect!

nik: he’s very nervous to dance, but he’d choose a very cute and simple dance, i’d feel! i’m not gonna say caramelldansen but... i’m saying caramelldansen. for dances with two people — he’s a follower through and through, he can’t lead very well because he gets way too nervous.

penn: macarena. there’s no style for him, he can do the macarena and the macarena only. the macarena needs no partners, but for the dances that do need partners — penn is a follower! he cannot lead because he’s very clumsy, and does a much better job following someone else’s lead instead.

sarge: he strikes me as a graceful sort of dance, one you could definitely see in a ballroom. while a slow dance (international waltz?) might work, i could definitely see him doing the viennese waltz too! sarge likes to lead, but if someone really wants to lead — he has no qualms with letting them grab hold of the reigns.

ulysses: he’s a very capable and adept dancer — but what suits him best is a very lively and quick sort of dance. he’s pretty good at break dancing and i could definitely see him being interested in jazzy sorts of dances — if he had to waltz, he’d choose a foxtrot. ulysses most definitely would want to lead, however he’s been known to fall victim to hijacking (lead/follow roles switch in the middle)

vinh: as calm as vinh is — i think a sensual/passionate sort of dance suits vinh best. a tango works extremely well for vinh, but rumba also works! she’d follow someone else’s lead — and if they’re inexperienced (or just lazy), she’s capable of backleading (leading from the following role).

[marianable-90sfeels]

One-Hit wonders we can’t get out of our heads

Not only did the ‘90s deliver some of the most iconic music during its time, but they also made popular some one-hit wonders that we still love today. A one-hit wonder is either a singer or group that experiences mainstream success with one hit song for a limited amount of time. They tend to be forgotten after a while, but they’re song does not go unforgotten or unnoticed. ‘90s one-hit wonders are timeless because although they’re famous for one specific song, their work still remains relevant to this day. The best thing about ‘90s one-hit wonders was that they varied in genres, but everyone still enjoyed them altogether even if a certain kind of song wasn’t their cup of tea. After I list some of the most iconic one-hit wonders from the ‘90s, I guarantee you will recognize most of the songs instantly after listening to them. 

Here are some ‘90s one-hit wonder songs that make us feel nostalgic even to this day: 

“Jump Around” by House of Pain 

Even if you don’t consider yourself a good dancer, this song will make you a hardcore dancer for 4 minutes straight. If you’re not out of your seat jumping up and down while jamming to this song, then what are you doing with your life? Standing still to this song will make you stand out for the wrong reasons. “Jump Around” makes someone want to let loose and forget about the world for a moment. 

“Tubthumping” by Chumbawamba 

You ever need a song to just lift you back up when someone does something that knocks you down in life? Then you have come to listen to the perfect song. This song definitely defines the 2020 year for everyone while we struggle to deal with everything going on and continue to lose a battle we were never to fight against. But, everyday we keep going and living day by day not letting things beat us down to the ground to the point where we can’t get back up. The coronavirus may have knocked us down, but we all get up again fighting it together.

“Semi-Charmed Life” by Third Eye Blind

The hook of this song is something we all remember. Although the song speaks about having an addiction, it mentions that we all need something specific  to get us through a moment. Of course, the use of drugs is not the answer to our problems, but you can’t help but sing along to this catchy upbeat song. We all need something else to get us through the quarantine life that we are so over. This song was a hit in the summer of ‘97. 

“Here Comes the Hotstepper” by Ini Kamoze 

This iconic song is known for the classical beat which makes you just want to cruise in the club or during a car ride. It’s definitely a vibe song when you’re feeling cool and hip for 4 minutes. One of the iconic verses to this song is when Ini Kamoze sings, “I’m the lyrical gangster” claiming his song is nothing, but pure talent and meaningful words. 

“Return Of The Mack” by Mark Morrison

Let’s not forget about one of the songs that MADE the ‘90s. Even young fellows to this day will recognize this song because it’s one their parents always vibe to. This song has even been incorporated in a recent 2020 Google commercial ad recently on YouTube and television. Google reminded you that this song exists. “Return of the Mack” is so iconic because it talks about coming back stronger after someone does you wrong. The slow and hard ‘90s beat makes you want to dance in slow motion holding your drink up high in the air. This is the ultimate grand entrance song!

“Informer” by Snow 

What makes “Informer” so remarkable was that it was one of the hardest songs to sing along to. The biggest struggle was not knowing every single word of the song and only pronouncing it the way how it sounds. The lyrics almost sound like gibberish. This song inspired a generation for Caucasian hip hop artists such as Vanilla Ice and Eminem. This song joins both the mix of reggae and rap into one masterpiece.

“Ice Ice Baby” by Vanilla Ice 

Although, this song samples the beat of ‘80s artist group Queen’s “Under Pressure,” it regained recognition by the newly incorporated bass line. Not too many Queen fans were in favor of this song when it first came out because of how similar it sounds to Queen’s work. Many did not react well to Vanilla Ice’s hit, but he was one of the first artists to make an iconic song while sampling another’s work. Nowadays, everybody samples what they see in movies, music, and TV shows. 

“Kiss Me” by Sixpence None The Richer

If you’re looking to listen to that cheesy ‘90s romantic song when you’re feeling vulnerable with the one you love, this is the perfect song to help you out. Many people incorporate this song in their weddings and even in ‘90s chic flick films. I wish I was around to experience what young ‘90s love felt like when couples actually went out and did things together without the use of cellphones. You may have heard of this song in the iconic rom-com “She’s All that.” 

“Mambo No.5″ by Lou Bega 

Party songs were what made the ‘90s so fun and fresh. This was back when people weren’t so shy to dance however they wanted to. As long as you feel the beat and rhythm, you are unstoppable while dancing to this song. The combination of the choreography, Lou Bega’s voice, instruments, and upbeat hook will get you dancing out of your seat to feel that combination of jazz and R&B rhythm.

“Macarena” (Bayside Boys Remix) by Los Del Rio”

There is always that one song that is played at every prom, wedding, party, pep rally, and other social events. The “Macarena” was both the song and dance that took over the world which everyone knows. Although many people did not understand the Spanish lyrics, it didn’t mean they couldn’t dance to the rhythm and beat of the  “Macarena.” Whenever I would hear this song at school or at a party, I would instantly remember the dance moves and know what to do. Even though the song became popular in 1993, to this very day adolescents are familiar with the song as well and know the “Macarena” by heart.

[girlinthepictureframe]

The Briefest Kiss Part 14

P 14

Spring

After two days of no sleep, heavy home-improvement and -- generally speaking -- very little rest, Alex stood in front of a restaurant a few kilometers south of Sheffield and checked his reflection in the door’s glass. He’d worn one of his favorite leather jackets. He knew he’d promised Miles not to wear one when he knew his friend was in the vicinity, but tonight, Alex was a man on a mission.

A mission to find out whether Miles was in love with him or not.

He was determined.

And a bit scared.

The latter was the reason why is was almost midnight and Alex yet had to enter the restaurant, even though the party, audibly, was well on its way. One last deep breath and Alex pushed the door open, took confident strides and tried to find the one person he had come for. The prospect of seeing Miles made his heart beat irregularly fast and he was uncharacteristically nervous.

Seeing Miles was the most normal thing in the world. And yet, tonight, it felt like a huge event. Unlike this party, which had been sold to him as an actual event and even though it was loud and crowded, it really wasn’t much of anything. He took in the surroundings and felt underwhelmed.

He hadn’t even needed Victoria’s help in figuring out whose party it was and where it was held. He’d mentioned wanting to find out about it to his mother, who - lucky for him - knew everything and everyone and immediately let him know that it was today and that the guy celebrating his birthday was somebody called Jim who considered himself a rockstar by proxy.

This ominous Jim was telling everyone who couldn’t run fast enough that he was a friend of the Arctic Monkeys. That he’d toured with them. Even jammed with them on stage. Well, Alex might have spent a great portion of his rockstar life drunk or occupied, but he was pretty sure he would have remembered touring with some guy named Jim, especially inviting him on stage. That privilege was reserved for those who deserved to stand on that stage.

As Alex made his way across the surprisingly large restaurant, which had cleared out its tables to make room for dancing, he remembered something very important that he too often forgot. He was, indeed, a rockstar. And people recognized him.

“Oh my God, you’re Alex Turner!” some girl squealed at the sight of him. “Jim was right all along! You are friends!”

He was tempted to make up an elaborate lie and claim to be none more than a mere lookalike, but that would require effort and words and, really, he wasn’t in the mood for a prolonged conversation anyway. So he just went with it. “Yep, me and Jim. We go way back. Have you seen my friend Miles?”

“Miles Kane?” The girl laughed. “Oh he’s having the time of his life back there,” she told him and motioned towards the back of the restaurant. She leaned an inch towards him and he leaned an inch backwards. “He’s drunk, I think. Or drugs. Rockstars,” she shrugged. “Can we do a picture?”

“Later,” he lied and made his way towards the back. And there he was. Miles Kane. Dancing the Macarena with his bassist and some other people Alex didn’t recognize. One of them wore a shirt with the name ‘Jim’ printed on the front. He assumed that person was Jim. He spotted Victoria and walked up to her. When she noticed him, he could see the shock in her eyes.

“You? Here?”

“Hi, Vic.” Her attention immediately returned to Miles and when Alex spotted the concern in her eyes, he began to worry. “What’s happening there?”

“Uh…bit of a clusterfuck, I’m afraid.” She glanced at him sideways. “Miles sneezed a few times today. And you know him. He freaks out at the mere idea of getting a cold. So he took some cold medicine. Then, when we got to the hotel, he asked the guy behind the desk if they could get him some more cold medicine. They did. Turned out it was different cold medicine. Which,” she added with an eye-roll, “didn’t stop him from taking that as well. It wasn’t as bad as we feared. He even perked up, got funny and…well, then we got here and next time I saw him, he was holding on to an empty Margarita glass and suggested doing the chicken dance.”

Alex groaned. Typical Miles. Leave it to his favorite rockstar to get high on cold meds the night Alex wanted to talk about love and feelings! “How long has he been doing the Macarena?”

In that moment, the song began anew. Victoria sighed. “This will be the fifth time.”

“Okay. Time to put a stop to it.”

“Probably best,” she agreed. “I’m so ready to leave this party anyway.”

“Miles said this Jim-guy is your friend?”

“What? Are you kidding? That weirdo?” She looked insulted at the mere idea. “I have a few friends near Sheffield, which I had planned on visiting this week. Nathan was on his way to Manchester and Dom wanted to head to Leeds. Somebody mentioned this party. Miles jumped at the chance to go, because it gave him a reason to be near Sheffield, in case you showed up there! Poor fella misses you. Can’t you guys make up already? That way he can just go and visit you when he wants to see you? This whole pretense-shit is really annoying. Oh no!” She tugged on his arm and dragged him backwards. “Incoming! That’s him!”

“Jim with the Jim-shirt?” Alex scoffed. “Classy.”

“Alex, my friend,” exclaimed Jim and hugged Alex before he could run away. “I’d knew you show up! It’s been ages since we saw each other!”

“When was that?” asked Alex. “Remind me!” He was so very tempted to be rude and dismissive but he was really pushing his Karma lately and it would be mean to ruin this guy’s night just for the fun of it. Right? Alex endured. “Somebody said we played on the same stage once?”

“Yes!” Jim laughed. “I may have exaggerated. You don’t remember me, do you? We went to high school together! I sat next to you in Biology!”

“Biology?” Alex’s ears perked up. “Hey, you don’t happen to remember if I ever scribbled anything important into my book, do you?”

Jim gave him a weird look. “What?”

Stellar achievement, Turner! Alex was silently laughing at himself. This guy had to wear a shirt with his name on it just so people at his own birthday party would know who he was and yet, somehow, Alex ended up looking like the idiot.

“He’s headed for the bar again,” said Victoria.

Alex snapped out of it. “Great party, man! But I gotta go. Happy Birthday!” Then he followed her to the bar, where Miles was in the middle of ordering.

“Miles!”

Miles turned around, saw Alex and smiled bashfully. The barman was ignored and Miles beelined towards Alex, wrapped both arms around him and squeezed all the air out of his lungs. It felt so bloody good! Alex returned the hug, all but bruised his friend’s ribs by the sheer force of it. “You okay?” he asked hesitantly.

“Because we’re hugging?” wondered Miles.

“No!” Alex chuckled. He leaned back and felt Victoria tap his shoulder.

“All yours now,” she smiled. “I’m out. Night, guys! Oh, by the way, he’s staying at the Meadow Hotel, across the street.” Then she was gone.

Alex let go of Miles and grabbed his hand. “Let’s go, Miles. Party is over.”

“No,” complained Miles and tugged Alex back. For someone who was completely drunk and felt feverish, Miles had surprising amounts of strengths left and Alex had to put in some effort to drag him with him.

“Miles, come on. You might have fever!” Alex had felt the heat coming from him when they had hugged. “Trust me, you need rest.”

“I don’t want to be alone right now,” he pouted.

“I’ll stay with you,” promised Alex. As if would leave him alone in this state! And what a wonderful excuse to remain near to him, chimed a sneaky little voice in his head. Bad, Alex! He admonished himself. “Bad!”

“What’s bad?” asked Miles.

Alex cursed. “Nothing. Let’s go, Mi.”

It took a lot of tugging and willpower, but somehow Alex managed to walk with Miles across a startlingly busy street, managed to make it up the stairs with him in tow, because the little hotel had no elevator, and at long last succeeded in fishing the key out of Miles’ pants’ pocket without actually touching him too much. The last part had been the hardest bit.

“Now what?” Miles dropped onto the bed and laid back, arms stretched out. “I’m thirsty, I’m bored and that was a great party you dragged me away from!”

“It was not,” countered Alex with an eye roll as he got rid of his leather jacket.

Miles saw it and pointed a finger at him accusingly. “Leather! You little shit, you’re wearing your leather jacket!”

Well, yes. For a reason! But Miles wouldn’t understand that reason at the moment! So Alex got defensive, instead. “It was cold outside. You’re wearing your old cologne!” He’d smelled it on him when they had hugged. The things it made him want to do… Alex shivered.

“I didn’t know you’d show up! Are you cold? Oh no, did you catch the cold from me?” His face faltered. “We shouldn’t have touched. It’s dangerous when we do that. We either kiss, have sex or get sick! It always ends up being awful!” Miles sighed deeply, apparently greatly disturbed by the fact that life was such a rude companion.

Alex had to laugh. “Oh stop it! All is well. Besides, I honestly wouldn’t describe the sex and the kissing as awful. Quite the opposite,” he said as he grabbed a glass and poured water into it. He handed it to Miles. “Drink that.”

Miles took the glass but stared at Alex with his big, round eyes. He seemed stunned. “You liked the sex?”

Alex mentally cursed himself. “Well,” he admitted, “I never said I didn’t, did I?”

“Guess not,” allowed Miles, still looking confounded.

Trying to change the topic, Alex grabbed a shirt from Miles’ bag and tossed it at him. “Strip and put that on. And then climb into bed.” He walked up to him and gently placed a hand against Miles’ forehead. “You’re hot.”

Miles grinned. “I know. It’s why I wore the suit. Makes me look much taller and fitter than I am.”

“I meant feverish, Miles.” Alex was back to laughing. “You have a slight fever.” He leaned down, kissed his forehead and then made his way to the window to open it. “And you don’t need the suit to look tall and fit. You are tall and fit.”

Trying and failing to undo his tie, Miles stopped mid-struggle. “What’s with you? You’re all flirty tonight. It’s not fair. I’m sick and defenseless! And what if I don’t want to defend myself against you? I couldn’t even kiss you if I wanted to, cause I’m bloody sick!” He was pouting again. “I hate being sick!”

“I know you do.” Alex took pity on him. He looked so helpless and miserable. He took the ends of the tie out of Miles’ hands and removed the whole thing from his neck. When Alex began to undo the buttons of Miles’ shirt, meticulously, one by one, he felt his own temperature beginning to rise. There was no torture greater than to be this close, this intimate, and be unable to take this where he so desperately wanted to take it. “Up,” he croaked, his throat dry, his hands shaky.

Miles stood up and watched as Alex pulled the shirt out of his pants. While Alex fought with the buttons and his fast-slipping control, Miles’ hands went to his own belt. Alex grinned when he saw it. “You’re wearing my belt again.” Their foreheads were touching now and he felt Miles nodding softly.

“I like wearing it.”

“It’s a very nice belt,” agreed Alex.

“I like it cause it’s your belt,” whispered Miles.

When the last button was undone, Alex took a large step back. Miles dropped back to the bed and looked hazy. Alex certainly shared that feeling. One more bloody button and he’d have lost it entirely. “I’ll be…” He motioned towards the bathroom and hurried there. The air in there felt much cooler than in the other room. Wherever Miles was, it was always hot and sticky and bit foggy, too.

Alex stared at his reflection in the mirror. Miles is sick, he scolded himself. Get a grip!

“I’m underneath the covers,” called Miles. “You can come back now!”

“That’s not…” Alex returned to Miles’ bedside. “I didn’t…”

“It’s okay,” assured Miles, his voice low and hoarse. “I would have bolted. But the room was spinning and I got dizzy. You always do that to me. You were right, you know?” Miles smiled more than a little loopy. “I do need rest. I feel exhausted. Will you stay with me? Please.”

He was so bloody adorable when looked at him with that helpless expression. Alex nodded. Unable and unwilling to say no. “Of course.” He walked around the back and laid on top of the covers, to make sure that there was a very real, very efficient barrier between them – a thought that made him laugh. Miles would understand the humor of it. Miles turned to face the window, tugged one of Alex’s arms around him and Alex made no move to fight it. Instead, he scooted closer, ignored the gnawing voice in the back of his head that snootily bedeviled what he was doing, and placed his cheek against that of Miles. But not before pressing a quick kiss to it. “Try to sleep,” hushed Alex and closed his eyes as well.

When he woke up a few hours later, he felt exceptionally well rested and wonderfully content. The air was fresh and clean, the sun had already risen and Miles was half on top of him, face buried in the crook of his neck, snoring softly. His friend no longer felt feverish, which relaxed Alex even more. Holding him in place with one arm, Alex reached for his phone with the other. A bunch of unread messages, some missed calls. But nothing of importance. He put it away, rested his head against Miles’ and closed his eyes again. The world could wait a few more hours.

Miles on the other hand…well, he decided to wake up instead.

“Why are we sleeping in the same bed,” he murmured against Alex’s neck, disrupting that magnificent silence he’d enjoyed so much a moment ago.

Alex opened his eyes and prepared for impact. “You were sick, high and needy for contact. I’m weak,” he deadpanned, “I missed you, and I’m not awake enough to have yet another discussion about boundaries. Go back to sleep!” He kept his arm around him, refusing to let go.

Lucky for him, Miles made no effort to detach. “I was high? What did I take?”

“Cold meds and liquor. The good stuff.”

Miles groaned against Alex’s neck, the soft vibrations of it in return made Alex groan because that sound woke a part of him that had, until now, slumbered peacefully. And it immediately craved for attention. “How’s your cold?” asked Alex, trying to ignore his increasing state of arousal.

Miles swallowed, then breathed deeply through his nose, and finally smiled. “Better. Gone, I think.”

“Perfect. ‘Cause there are a few things you and I need to discuss.”

“Sleeping arrangements?”

“Something like that.” Alex gathered all of his resolve and moved ahead. “I told you on the phone the other day that I had that weird thought that I couldn’t really figure out or make sense of. But I could. Finally. However, I don’t know if I made the right sense of it…you know?”

“No,” admitted Miles, surprising Alex when he curled himself deeper into his arms. “Do we have to discuss this now, Al?” He sounded vastly uninterested in having any kind of conversation. Instead, his nose dug deeper into the curve where Alex’s jaw ended and his throat began.

“Miles,” he whined, “what are you doing?” He wasn’t opposed to what he was doing. But he wanted to talk first. He needed to know if he was reading the whole situation right. He needed to know for certain whether or not Miles was in love with him. If the answer was yes, then they could have sex. All the sex in the world. The whole day. And night. Every day and every night. He’d love that very much. But Alex needed to talk first! His head felt close to exploding!

But Miles didn’t know any of that as he placed a featherlight kiss on Alex’s jaw. “I’m doing a bad thing,” whispered Miles, licking the spot that he’d just kissed. “A very bad thing. Do you want me to stop?”

Yes! “No…” His head rolled back, giving Miles more space. And boy, did he make use of that! “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop!” Fisting his fingers in Miles’ hair, Alex moaned loudly. “Feels so good!” He closed his eyes, wet his lips, and when Miles bit his earlobe, Alex arched against him. “Baby, don’t stop!”

Miles bit him again, teasing the last bit of reluctance right out of him. “First time you called me baby,” he breathed into Alex’s ear. “Say it again.”

“Baby.” Alex was melting on the spot.

Miles became more brazen, rolled on top of him, tried to get closer, but he was struggling. Something was in his way. “What the—” Grabbing the edge of the very annoying comforter and trying to push it away, Miles became impatient. “Why are you on top of this thing?” He grumbled, bothered.

It allowed Alex a chance to take a breath and assess what was happening. He snapped out of his aroused stupor, placed a hand against Miles’ chest and pushed him off of him. “Get back, you! Bad Miles!” God, that was close! If it weren’t for the comforter, who knows what they’d be doing right now! Well, he had a pretty good idea what they’d be doing right now. So had Miles, apparently, who had the guts to look rejected and angry. “Oh I could strangle you right now!”

“What? Fuck, Alex! I thought you liked it!”

“I did! That’s not the fucking point!” Alex climbed out of bed, completely ignoring the fact that he was sporting some serious wood. Anger was overcoming him. His blood pressure was rising. Being sexually frustrated made it all that much worse. “I had to listen to you over and over again telling me that we need to stay away from each other and suddenly here you are, mauling me! I had to endure weeks of separation because you were the one who wanted space and distance! You all but accused of seducing you and here you are, bloody nibbling on my earlobe! I spent the night on top of what I can only assume is a very warm comforter and it was a cold night! I was freezing for the sake of our friendship! Then I tell you I want to talk to you and instead of listening, you get all horny!” Alex was pacing up and down the room, venting, when Miles held up the comforter. “What are you doing?”

“You said you were freezing tonight. I’m offering you some warmth.” Miles was dragging his teeth along the corner of his bottom lip. Guilt was written all over his face. “I promise I’ll stay on my side and not touch you. And I’ll listen to every word you want to say. Will you please come back to bed?”

Alex closed his eyes. He buried his face in his hands. At some point he’d have to figure out a way to say no to him. But not today. He walked to the bed and climbed back into it. It was nice and warm. It also smelled of Miles, which made talking to him that much more complicated. Rolling to his side, propping his head up on one arm, Alex watched him for a moment. “What happened to your boundaries?” he asked with a much softer voice.

Miles lowered his eyes. “I haven’t seen you in weeks. I’m weak, too. I missed you just as much. And I fucking want you,” he blurted out, rolling on his back and squeezing his eyes shut. He drove his hands through his hair, disgruntled and unsatisfied. “You have no idea how much!”

Oh, he had a pretty good idea of it, actually. Alex cursed under his breath, took a hold of his friend’s shirt and roughly pulled Miles against him as he climbed on top of him. “Feel me,” demanded Alex as he pushed himself against Miles. “Feel how hard I am for you?” He took Miles’ lips in a bruising kiss. “That’s how much I want you. Every day. All the time.” Another kiss. His tongue plunged deeply into Miles’ mouth. “I want to fight it, but I can’t!”

“Me neither,” whispered his friend, digging his nails into Alex’s ass, bringing him impossibly close. “It’s too strong.” Miles kissed Alex forcefully. “It’s all I can think about.” Tongues were tangling. “Day and night.” They were breathing hard, fully rubbing against one another, frantically seeking more. “What happened to talking,” asked Miles with a heady grin, his voice husky.

“Fuck talking,” declared Alex.

“Fuck me,” said Miles.

Alex stared into his eyes. Miles leaned up, placed a provocative kiss on his lips, and smiled at him in such a trusting, loving manner that Alex’s heart almost stopped beating. “Make me yours,” urged Miles.

Those words! Alex’s eyes began to flutter. He leaned down, kissed him hard and drowned completely.

Until his phone rang. Miles chuckled against Alex’s lips, unwilling to let go. Two sets of hands fumbled around, trying to find it. “Bloody thing,” muttered Miles, simultaneously leaving marks on Alex’s throat and struggling to get hold of that phone. “Here!” He grabbed it, pulled it from underneath some pillow and smiled victoriously. Until saw the name of the caller.

Alex shut the phone off without looking, tossed it across the room and went back to Miles’ soft, pliant lips, only to find them hard and unwelcoming. He let up. “What?”

Now it was Miles’ turn to shove Alex off of him. “That was your girlfriend,” he let his friend now. “She’s probably worried about you. You should call her back.”

Out of breath, out of words, and covered by a comforter that no longer offered warmth but rather felt like the lid of a coffin, Alex closed his eyes, then let out a loud and frustrated groan. “Fuck!” His mood took a nosedive into the deep end. “FUCK!”

“You should go,” suggested Miles somberly as he reached for the shirt that Alex had somehow stripped off of him.

“Miles, no! I’m not leaving now!”

“So stay. I’ll go.”

Alex sat up, reached for Miles’ shoulder and held him back. “No! Listen to me! Damn it, Miles…this whole thing, it wasn’t supposed to happen like this! This isn’t what I came for! I swear on anything that you want me to that I had honest intentions! I came to talk. I missed you, that part is true! I wanted to see you and…” He still tugged on his shoulder. “Would you please look at me?”

When Miles did, it broke Alex’s heart. He looked so hurt. His vibrant and shiny eyes had turned dull and empty. To know that he was the reason for that made Alex feel worse than he ever had. “Baby—”

“Don’t!” Yelled Miles and shot off the bed, away from him. “Don’t you fucking dare call me that.”

“Okay. Okay,” promised Alex. He sorted his next words in his head. What was he trying to say? Should he just blurt out that he loved him? Would he even believe him? Should he ask Miles about his night with his ex? Was it any of his business? Did it have anything to do with this? Should he explain to Miles why he was still with Louise? Wouldn’t that make him lose all respect for him?

“Is there anything you want to tell me or can I leave?” asked Miles tiredly, disappointedly, by now wearing pants and shoes.

Alex snapped out of his thoughts. “Are you and Suki back together?”

Miles’ eyes widened. Then they turned away from him. “I’m leaving now. Don���t call me.”

“Shit, Miles!” Alex hurried after him. “Don’t! I didn’t mean to ask it.” Fuck, why had he asked it? He hadn’t believed that Miles’ eyes could turn even colder. “Miles!”

Bag in hand, Miles tossed Alex one last disillusioned look and then walked out of the room and let the door fall shut.

Alex dropped back onto the bed. He’d never felt so powerless, so dumb and so lonely. “But I love you, Miles.”

Two weeks later

“Say that again,” demanded Matt and placed his beer away. The Monkeys were all in Los Angeles, sitting in Matt’s backyard, enjoying burgers and fries. Until Alex had decided to drop a bombshell on them, that was. Now they just sat in awe. “You broke up with her?”

“Two weeks ago,” stressed Alex. “I’ve been meaning to tell you guys. But I’ve lost all appreciation for phones, little though I had for those to begin with. I’m not getting another hair cut,” he added, well aware of the fact that his coif was a constant topic of discussion amongst his friends. “I’m not heartbroken. I’m not lonely, or depressed because of it. It just had to be done. She’ll remain at my house in France until the end of the month and then, hopefully, we’ll be done with one another. I take all the blame. She was kind, and understanding, and tossed none more than two Prada bags and a pair of spiky boots at me.”

As his band-mates laughed, Alex nodded. “Let it all out. I deserve it.”

Jamie grabbed some fries and ate them. “Why’d you end it?”

“I don’t love her,” stated Alex and admitted what was rolling off his lips much easier these days. “I’m in love with Miles.”

Jamie spit the fries out again, coughing wildly. “I’m sorry, what?”

Nick slapped Jamie’s back, trying to help him while Matt succumbed to deep, roaring laughter. “Fucking finally,” the drummer rejoiced. “I thought you’d never get there!”

Ignoring the startled looks from Jamie and Nick, Alex faced Matt. “What?”

“Oh, come on,” said Matt, still grinning. “Back on tour, on the bus, my bunk wasn’t that far away from yours. You’ve had some pretty noisy dreams about him. So you’re dating now? Or are you skipping that dating nonsense and head straight into marriage?”

Huh. Interesting, thought Alex, as he pondered Matt’s question. He really wasn’t into the concept of marriage. Never had been. But spending the rest of his life with Miles? He sure liked that idea. There was only one problem. “Miles isn’t speaking to me at the moment. Which, naturally, is my fault.”

“Details, man. You can’t drop something like that and be all vague about the rest.” Jamie gave up on food and was listening intently to Alex and his lack of explanations.

“What details do you want,” asked Alex, irritated.

“Start at the beginning,” suggested Nick.

And he did. A few cigarettes and some beers later, all the Monkeys knew that Alex and Miles had done it last fall, knew all about their struggles to carry on from there and now shared Alex’s opinion that he was a stupid little idiot for wanting to confess his love to Miles without breaking up with his girlfriend first.

“Now what?” asked Alex as he sat back, a bit tired from talking about his heart so much.

Nick tapped his finger against his chin. “You need a grand gesture. How about a love song?”

“Pff,” scoffed Matt. “A love song from Alex is the most boring gesture ever!”

“Excuse me?” Alex glared at him.

“You write love songs like other people peel potatoes. It’s nothing special when you do it. How about a hot air balloon ride? Or a romantic yacht trip?”

“How about a new drummer,” suggested Alex snidely. “Fellas, I appreciate the help. But Miles won’t even pick up the phone at the moment. I sincerely doubt he’ll join me on a yacht trip.”

“Should one of us talk to him?” suggested Jamie. “Or we invite him somewhere and you show up.”

“No. Thanks for trying to help. But this is my mess and I have to clean it up. Besides, it’ll teach me a lesson. I’m sure of it.” He wasn’t that sure of it, but that’s what his mother had told him when he’d spent the day after the Miles-fiasco with her. She had felt so bad for him that she’d actually gotten him out of doing even more garage work.

Something else occurred to him just then. Something he’d also noticed when talking to his parents. And Louise, now that he thought back to it. “Why isn’t anyone ever surprised about the fact that I’ve fallen in love with a man?”

“It’s not some random male model or whatever,” said Nick.

Matt agreed. “It’s Miles.”

“And the two of you…well, we all kind of saw it coming. We had just given up hope, cause you guys were taking so bloody long to get there,” added Jamie.

“That means,” reiterated Alex, needing as much reassurance of it as he could get, “that you also think that Miles has feelings for me?”

Matt was back to laughing, and Jamie and Nick just rolled their eyes. The drummer spoke up. “Listen up, dear and dumb friend of mine, that guy has it bad for you!”

Well, Matt had a good point – he was dumb! So Alex could only hope that he hadn’t ruined it all by being his usual self…

Spoiler for Part 15:

“You must be tripping right now,” concluded Alex, reached for the bottle of water on table next to him. And froze.

Miles noticed, saw what his friend’s eyes were focusing on and all laughter died.

“How did that get here?”

[voicesfromthelight]

Getting The Wires Crossed - A Potential Pitfall to Watch Out for in Mediumistic Group Settings

Today, I’d like to discuss an issue that has cropped up for me, once in a while, in the process of learning evidential mediumship in a group setting. Namely, I am speaking of the kind of confusion that can happen when we receive mediumistic information that is genuine and accurate, but, because of the presence of many different energies in the room, fail to recognize the correct recipient of it, sometimes even mistaking messages meant for ourselves, for ones meant for others. I call it “getting the wires crossed.” 

As I’ve mentioned before in my posts, although my connection with my spirit guides is strong, and my readings rely almost completely on their channeled communications, as a medium passing on messages between the living and the dead, I am still a work in progress. Getting the wires crossed is one challenge I have faced in my learning process. I haven’t yet figured out how to resolve this issue, and suspect it is something that mediums grow out of over time, but perhaps being aware that things like this can happen can help all of us catch little mixups like them more consistently. (It can also make for some funny stories, so, why not take this opportunity to share some of them?) I was reminded of this phenomenon last night, at a tango event, when a detail that had come through in a group setting suddenly turned out to be relevant not to a person at that circle, but to myself.

Two days earlier, after a long hiatus from participating in mediumistic message circles, I had attended one organized by The Holistic Studies Institute. This was somewhat outside of my comfort zone, as most of my readings are currently channeled at a distance, and not the result of real-time mediumship. I was excited to get back to honing my skills.

After the initial prayer and meditation, I eased into tuning into the group energy, and then turned my attention to each person in the circle. As the leaders of the circle passed on their first message to a woman sitting across from me, I saw, in my mind’s eye, the Italian island of Sicily. Knowing how clairvoyant symbolism had been working for me, lately, I understood this to either be a literal image of Sicily, or a symbol for the name Cecily (or, at the limit, Cecilia.) I would have to wait until later to confirm the relevance of this communication, as only the leaders were passing on messages during the circle itself.

As the session progressed, I began to receive more impressions of the attendants. One man received a message from one of the leaders of the circle that he would be traveling to Greece next year, and for a moment, I second-guessed myself, thinking that maybe the impression I had gotten of an island in Southern Europe was actually coming from him. Then, looking at a young woman sitting by a window, I saw a flash of silver around her throat, and a symbol of twins above her. I heard a snippet of a name that sounded like Kia, Kyle or Kai. Finally, I saw the Golden Gate Bridge - a symbol for San Francisco. There was an exceptional feeling of urgency to what I knew I needed to tell her: To pursue public speaking, and use her power of communication to align with her highest purpose - to inspire others and make the world a better place.

At the end of the circle, I went over to the young woman, and passed on what I had received. While the name didn’t have a current association with her, it turned out that the symbol of twins was a strongly evidential detail within the context of her family history. The city of San Francisco and the message about public speaking were both relevant, as well. We both felt exhilarated by the exchange, and I felt confident enough to go to the first woman to receive a message that evening, and pass on my impression of Sicily - or Cecily, as the case may have been. My communication was met with a blank stare. “OK,” I thought. That detail might only reveal its relevance later. My job was merely to pass it on. Still, I had hoped for confirmation, so,  I walked away wondering if my imagination had run away with me.

Two nights later - last night - at one of the many Argentine tango events I attend, a lovely woman asked me to dance. (In the New York milonga scene, especially in recent years, it has become more and more common for people to break out of the traditional gender roles that have held such strong sway over the tango world in the past.) I had danced with her once before, earlier in the summer, but couldn’t remember her name, so, after our tanda, I asked her to remind me. “I’m Cecily,” she said.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened. In my last post on The Macarena Incident, you may recall that while meditating on the energies of people surrounding me on the subway, I received the name “Carmen,” thinking it was associated with the man standing next to me. Instead, it turned out to be relevant to my own experience later that evening. As I made my way home last night, I was reminded of other, uncanny incidents of a similar nature. I realized that this has become a bit of a pattern for me in group settings.

Last spring, at a mediumship circle, while meditating, I received very clear impressions of two spirits - a stocky, rustically dressed man named Simon, and a slender woman with brown hair named Millicent. Not recognizing them from my own life, and thinking they were at the circle for someone else, I diligently jotted down all the details, waiting for the circle to open up for attendants to speak up. Lo and behold, when it was my turn to receive my message from the leader of the circle, he described the exact spirits I had picked up on, down to names. As it turned out, the two strangers were there for me. (The story of how Simon and “Millie” proceeded to hang around me for the next few days after crashing that party is the subject of a whole other, weird post.)

One of these kinds of incidents was especially memorable, and a great example of just how easy it can be to miss the obvious when we are caught up in the moment during a reading.

A while ago, right before my guides prompted me to start giving channeled readings professionally, I attended a message circle started by another local medium. We’ll call her Anne. It was a new group, and only Anne, myself, and one other person were in attendance. (That other person would become my first client.) Anne was eager to teach us the process of evidential mediumship, and encouraged us to trust in the impressions we were receiving. She asked me to read her. 

As I tuned into Anne’s energy, I heard the name “Sofia,” and soon, a woman with short, wavy brown hair, dressed in a fancy dress, kind of like one an opera singer would wear to a concert, appeared in my inner eye. What I was seeing, in fact, was my grandmother as a young woman. I assumed that the person coming through for Anne must have looked a lot like her, and my grandmother was appearing as a clairvoyant symbol. As I described what I was seeing, Anne recognized her aunt. The name I had received was not her aunt’s name, however, so I chalked up my error to beginner’s bumbling.

The next day, I spoke to Anne over the phone. In the context of an unrelated conversation, seemingly not remembering the name I had brought through, she mentioned that she had been woken up the previous night by a spirit loudly announcing herself as Sofia, declaring herself to be Anne’s new spirit guide. “Do you think she might be Sofia, the goddess of wisdom?” Anne wondered.

After my phone call with Anne, I went to do my daily channeling session. During it, Salvador casually informed me that Sofia was a departed soul who had been drawn to the circle because of an association with “someone else” who was present, and had decided to become Anne’s spirit guide on the spot.

Then, it hit me, and I burst out laughing. I couldn’t believe it had taken me so long to realize what was going on.

My grandmother’s birth name was Sofia.

I had always known my grandmother by the Finnish version of her name she adopted in early adulthood - Sohvi. It was plain to see now that either she had been inspired to take on a new hobby as spirit guide to Anne - whose colorful personality in many ways reminded me of her - or, simply put, she was messing with her.

I sheepishly messaged Anne to inform her that most likely, her newly-minted spirit guide was not the ancient goddess of wisdom, but a mischievous matriarch from the family of Yours Truly. Should she choose to work with her nonetheless, they had my blessing. I thought they would get along just great. In fact, my “Sohvi-mummi” is most probably the person, if any such exists, from whom I inherited my psychic tendencies. It made perfect sense.

I told my mother about this incident, who in turn, told my uncle. My uncle took it in stride, saying that a few days after her death, when he had called her old home number, my grandmother had answered the phone with her maiden name, in the voice of a little girl. (She was deeply disoriented about time towards the end of her life, waking up in her nursing home to agitated thoughts of having forgotten to take the cows to pasture - something she had not done for over 70 years.) It seemed my grandmother had a history of being skilled in inter-dimensional communication.

I don’t think I am the only person studying psychic development or mediumship to whom this kind of thing happens. It’s an interesting phenomenon, and can lead to some very funny situations, as you can see. However, in the long-term, it is definitely in the best interest of everyone concerned to figure out when one’s energetic wires are getting crossed, and, failing that, maybe limit one’s reading practice to private, one-on-one sessions. Often, the simplest solution to these kinds of issues is simply to ask: “Who is this for? Is this for me? Is this for so-and-so?” Alas, so far, my experience has been that this doesn’t always work. So, has this ever happened to you? If so, have you figured out how to plan for such incidents and clear up the confusion? Let me know!

P.S. Since first posting this piece, Salvador has weighed in on how to beat this issue. Here is what he said.

[themovieblogonline]

Venom 3 is NOW Venom: The Last Dance

Web-slingers and symbiote sympathizers, get ready to buckle up! Sony just dropped the bomb on the title for the next Venom flick, and it's got a certain…rhythmic quality to it. We're talkin' about Venom: The Last Dance! That's right, everyone's favorite brooding journalist with an anger management problem (who also happens to be attached to a giant alien space parasite) is getting his groove on. Now, whether this "last dance" refers to Venom finally cutting the cord with Eddie Brock or him busting a move to impress his symbiote girlfriend (unlikely, but hey, stranger things have happened) remains a mystery. Speaking of mysteries, the plot for "Venom: The Last Dance" is still shrouded in secrecy. We do know a few things. First, Tom Hardy's coming back as the lovable (well, kinda) Eddie Brock/Venom. Second, the cast is getting a spicy upgrade with Juno Temple, Chiwetel Ejiofor, and Clark Backo joining the party. Temple, bless her heart, couldn't contain her excitement and spilled the beans to Variety that filming was almost done. Sounds like things are moving smoother than a freshly extruded symbiote web (although, considering the SAG-AFTRA strike threw a wrench in things last year, that bar ain't exactly set high). Third, and most importantly, "Venom: The Last Dance" is slithering its way to theaters a little earlier than expected. Mark your calendars for October 25th, 2024, because that's when the symbiote symphony hits the big screen. So, what can we expect from "Venom: The Last Dance"? Will Eddie finally learn the Macarena? Will Venom develop a newfound appreciation for interpretive dance? Only time will tell. But one thing's for sure: it's gonna be a wild ride. Just remember, with great power comes great responsibility...and the occasional urge to chomp on a bad guy's head. Get ready for the grand finale (or maybe just another wild adventure) – “Venom: The Last Dance” slithers into theaters on October 25th, 2024! Source: Variety https://youtu.be/eYjQybza_4A?list=PLsD5qP1WqKt6Xyq1oACzo-TpR-fH_JZe_ Read the full article

[bastardsonofday]

Secrets Secrets are No Fun

Lucien Vanserra has a secret, and Azriel is hellbent on figuring it out. For better or for worse. 

Aka nobody is straight, half of them are self-loathing, and Lucien is a sex-repulsed asexual. 

ao3

Lucien Vanserra had a secret that only one person had ever known. Jes had loved him anyway, had promised him that it didn’t matter—but Lucien knew better. Lucien couldn’t tell anyone, if someone did know his whole facade would crash down around his ears and no one would believe him ever again. No one would need him. No one would want him.

Cassian almost found out. He’d gotten too close.

They were at Rita’s. Just the boys for some fun. Lucien and Cassian were wasted and had ended up in the coat closet because they were going to go back to the House of Wind. Lucien dropped a coat and bent down to pick it up. They were alone and Cassian stumbled, falling onto Lucien, knocking them both into the floor.

Cassian giggled as he sat up, looking at Lucien.

He was close. Too close.

Cassian leaned in, a hand on Lucien’s hip. The touch and the alcohol and the closeness and knowing what was about to happen- it was too much, revulsion crawled up Lucien’s skin and Lucien threw up in Cassian’s lap.

Cassian just blamed it on the alcohol. Lucien knew better.

Lucien’s head hurt worse than it ever had before. He stumbled out of his room, and down the hall. His stomach growled, and his lips were chapped and dry. Thankfully, the House of Wind hallways were soft colors and dark and gloomy. Lucien never thought he would like dark and gloomy. Autumn, Spring, everywhere he’d lived it had been bright and even in the dark it was never gloomy.

He managed to find his way to the dining room. He could tell because the minute he entered the brightness on the world dramatically increased and Lucien’s headache got worse.

He smelled coffee.

“Morning~” Feyre sang, handing Lucien a steaming cup.

“No nooo,” Lucien tried to say, but his mind didn’t want to make words, “nooo, shhhhh...”

Feyre laughed. “Need help getting to the table?”

“I’m fine.” Lucien grumbled as he found his way to the dining room table. He took a huge sip of the beverage, making him wake up because he’d just burned his mouth, and helping lessen his headache slightly.

Cassian had already woken up. He sat with his head on the table, glasses of ice water haloed around his face.

“Morning.” Lucien greeted.

Cassian made a noncommittal noise.

“Boys’ night got a little out of hand?” Mor asked. She sat in the chair next to Lucien and crossed her legs before reaching for the tea selection.

Lucien frowned. “Why are you...” His brain seemed to be angry at him, “… head hurts.” He said as an explanation of his speech was slow and his eyes were squeezed closed, “Time?”

“Noon. You’re just in time for lunch.” Nesta said sourly. She’d hoped that Lucien wouldn’t wake up at all. Lucien had half a mind to hope he wouldn’t have woken up either.

“You know, for someone who was clearly trashed last night, you seem pretty put together.” Feyre said.

Lucien shrugged as he sipped his coffee. “Practice.”

Cassian mumbled something that vaguely sounded like “fuck you.”

A new set of footsteps entered the room and Lucien shaded his eyes to slightly alleviate his pounding head. Azriel walked into the room shirtless and sweating. Of course, Lucien thought bitterly, of course Azriel would look like Prythian’s next top model the day after he got so drunk he started dancing the macarena with lesbians.

“I’m hungry!” Azriel said with a grin. He plopped down onto the chairs and clapped his hands to which both Lucien and Cassian protested. He chuckled sadistically.

Mor sniffed disdainfully. “You need a shower.”

“I’m going back out after family lunch. Speaking of which, is Rhys still asleep?” Azriel asked. He reached for some of the food set out (which Lucien had just realized was on the table).

Elain slapped his hands. Azriel retracted them.

“I let him sleep in. He stayed up pretty late.” Feyre said with a grin and a wink.

“Ew,” Lucien grumbled. Feyre laughed and slapped Lucien on the back as she sat on the other side of him. “Ow.”

“Anyway, we should start without him.”

“Lucien, what was that last night?” Elain asked suddenly. All heads turned. Except Cassian’s which stayed placed on the table between its cage of ice water. “I felt… something weird.”

Lucien flushed. “Nothing.” She couldn’t know. Elain couldn’t know. Please Mother, Lucien prayed, please make her not know.

“He threw up on me.” Cassian grumbled.

“Wow, he managed a whole sentence. That’s progress.” Azriel said as he reached over Cassian for the rice.

“You threw up on him?” Feyre said pityingly. She patted Lucien’s back soothingly.

“That explains your lack of pants!” Mor cried.

“Shhhhh…!” Cassian and Lucien hushed in unison.

“Oh yeah. Rita offered to wash them for him, and he could pick them up later. I knew I was forgetting something.” Az said before shoveling food in his mouth.

“How do you do it?” Lucien asked horrified. He looked down at his own plate and pushed it away, too nauseous to eat it. He decided to stick with coffee.

“This is Az’s usual post-drinking session. And I hate him for it.” Mor said, watching Az stuff his face.

“You’re just jealous.”

“You’re unusually talkative today.” Nesta said accusingly.

Azriel shrugged and continued to chew.

The sound of feet padding across the floor announced the High Lord’s arrival.

“It lives!” Mor cried.

“SHHHH!”

Mor chuckled.

“So, what are we talking about?” Rhys asked softly as he sat down. He reached for the pitcher of coffee and Feyre took it from him so he wouldn’t spill it all over himself.

“Did you know Lucien threw up on Cassian last night?” Feyre asked.

“So I guess everyone has to know, huh Feyre?” Lucien grumbled, growing red.

“Well yeah. Why else would Cassian come home missing pants?” Rhys mumbled.

Elain shook her head.

“That’s not something that should be a given!”

Everyone laughed and Lucien decided it was best that they all thought that he’d thrown up from alcohol poisoning.

As Azriel watched Lucien shift in his seat, rubbing his hands in a warming gesture around his mug, Az knew something was wrong. He was unsure about what exactly it was, but something was wrong. And it wasn’t snooping, Azriel rationalized, because this was his job, and it had nothing to do with Elain or Rhys or Feyre at all. Nope. This was all for the sake of his intelligence gathering.

Lucien was glad that Elain was close to Azriel. Sure, it hurt, but it also hurt because he felt guilty. So yeah, it hurt but the clear-headed part of Lucien was glad that Elain could fall in love one day with Azriel. Because then she’d be spared… Lucien. And Lucien telling her the truth. Lucien didn’t know if he could do that. He didn’t know what she would think of him if she knew the truth. Lucien couldn’t stand that rejection.

“Hey, you okay?” Feyre asked him one day over tea.

Lucien nodded. “Fine. Why?”

“You seem… on edge recently. Ever since-ever since the Boys’ night-did something happen that night?”

Lucien shook his head. “No. Nothing happened. Really Feyre, I’m okay.”

“Okay… if you say so.”

Lucien squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“So, I heard you and Rhys have been working on our post-trade agreement feast with Winter.”

“Yep.”

“Are you going to be okay… with…?” She let the question hang.

Lucien took a deep breath and thought before speaking, choosing his words carefully. Rhys had asked Lucien to flirt with one of the Grand Countesses of Winter, something to do with avoiding international incidents and hopefully defusing volatile relations with charm… whatever. Lucien was used to doing this, Tamlin had asked him to flirt for political means a lot. It was part of his job as Emissary.

It made his secret easier to hide, he believed. Easier to hide and easier to deal with, if he pretended to be normal. If he pretended maybe he could be… he wanted- Jes.

Oh Jes… Jes was the only person who understood, who was okay with his secret. Jes…

“I’ll be fine. Nothing I can’t handle.” Lucien said with a shrug. And he was right. But Feyre was still worried, because she was a good friend.

“If it ever makes you uncomfortable, you know you can come straight to any of us and we’ll make sure you never have to do something like that again.” Feyre promised.

“I know, Feyre. I promise, I’m cool with flirting. I’m used to it.”

“I just-After everything that happened with Ianthe...”

Oh. So that’s what this was about. Lucien sighed kindly. “Nothing like that will ever happen again, thanks to you.”

Feyre frowned. “I’m… worried about you.”

“I know.”

Feyre leaned over and squeezed Lucien’s free hand. Lucien squeezed it back.

Azriel was forced to do something he never thought he’d do. He called Alis of the Spring Court. “I’m not quite sure how you want me to help you.” Alis said as she chose a menu for that night’s dinner.

“I just want to know about Lucien’s relationship with Ianthe.”

“Why would I know about that? And can’t you just ask him?”

“I’m not going to burden Lucien like that. And don’t shit with me like that, you know as well as I that the women of the household know everything.”

Alis frowned.

“Look, Lucien and that bitch had their own-”

“I’m worried about him, Alis. Please. Feyre always said you were the one to go to when she needed help.”

Alis glared at Azriel. “That was below the belt.”

“I know.”

Alis chewed on the inside of her lip. “Ianthe came onto him. As I’m sure you know, she liked to do that. Consensual or not.”

“How far did it go?”

“Too far.”

I see.

“Thank you, Alis.”

“Good luck with whatever you’re doing, Shadowsinger.” And with that, Alis signed off.

Azriel sat back in his chair, staring at the door to his office. Something was wrong with Lucien, and he didn’t think that was it.

“Three hundred and fifty six.” Cassian said proudly.

“No.” Rhysand argued. “That’s bullshit.”

“Three hundred and fifty six.” Cassian insisted.

“No.” Azriel said flatly.

“See! Az agrees with me. And he’s a Shadowsinger. He’d know.”

“Uh, yes. I’m not lying.”

“Cass, I know you. You haven’t had more than three hundred.”

Cassian’s mouth dropped open. “Not true! You haven’t been with me every second of every day!”

“It’s impossible, Cass.”

“Oh, it’s possible.” Lucien said.

“See!”

“But, Cassian is still lying.”

“Hey! I thought you were on my side!”

Lucien snorted. “Please.”

“How would you know that, anyway?” Cassian asked, taking a swig from his beer.

Lucien raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“You? Three hundred and fifty six?” Rhysand said incredulously.

Lucien straight out laughed. “No.”

“No? Then how do you know it can happen?” Rhysand asked.

“Maybe I’m just not one to kiss and tell.”

“Or maybe you’ve just met Helion before.” Az said with a smirk.

“Please, Helion’s number is way higher than that.” Lucien said, rolling his eyes. “And unfortunately, he is one to talk about it.”

“So what about you, Lucien? If not three hundred and fifty, then what?”

Lucien snorted. “I’m not telling.”

“So... a lot, then?” Rhysand asked, waggling his eyebrows.

“Woo! Good job, Foxy!” Cassian said, slapping Lucien’s leg.

“What’s the number?”

“You’re not going to stop asking until I answer, are you?” Lucien asked. The men nodded eagerly. “Believe it or not, I haven’t had any sexual partners since Jes.”

The Illyrians’ jaws dropped.

“None?”

“Well,” Lucien crossed his legs uncomfortably, “Ianthe. But, that was for magical reasons.”

Rhysand nodded, but said nothing.

“Really? None?” Cassian asked, eyes wide. “I-I can’t imagine none! She died so many-!” Az cleared his throat and kicked Cassian.

“Oh.” Cassian said softly, understanding. “Sorry.”

Lucien shrugged. “It’s okay, Cass. It was a long time ago.” Lucien took a moment of silence, rolling the stem of his wine glass between his fingers. A small smile lit his face. He looked back at the boys, and cleared his throat. “Anyway.” He blinked the water from his eyes, “Cass is still lying.”

Cassian’s eyes widened, good-natured laughter on his lips. “I am not! I would never!”

Elain sighed, leaning her head on Lucien’s shoulder while he read to her.

Lucien paused to take a drink of water.

“You have a pretty voice.” Elain hummed.

Lucien smiled at her. Elain shifted so she was laying more on his chest than his shoulder. “Thank you.” Lucien reopened the book and resumed reading from it.

Lucien read until he heard even breathing from Elain. He frowned, and twisted gently to see if Elain was okay. As it turned out, Elain had fallen asleep.

Lucien let out a small laugh, rousing Elain. Shit. He hadn’t wanted to do that.

“Sorry.”

Elain hummed softly. “It’s okay. I want to hear the rest of the story anyway.” Elain sat up, yawning. She was so beautiful, Lucien thought. So, so beautiful. And sweet.

Elain’s eyes fluttered open. Lucien’s breath caught. Elain smiled at him.

They were so close. Elain wondered if the fluttering in her chest was what this Mating Bond was supposed to feel like.

Elain began to lean forward, and Lucien watched as she came close to him. Her lips pressed against his, and despite what he wanted, Lucien’s stomach turned. Lucien stumbled backwards on the couch (to get way from the feeling more than Elain herself, of course), and Elain fell forward. Elain was surprised; had she done something wrong?

“I’m-I’m sorry, Elain. I-We should go to bed. It’s late.” Lucien stood swiftly, and drained everything in his glass.

“Lucien, have I… upset you? I didn’t mean to-!”

“You didn’t! Everything is fine, Elain. I just… am suddenly tired. And you were falling asleep, you should go to bed.” Lucien said as he began obsessively putting the pitcher and the glass in the sink.

“But-”

“You’re exhausted Elain, don’t stay up on my account.” Lucien insisted. He closed his book and began walking out of the room.

He left Elain alone and confused. “But… I want to stay up with you.”

“And he just… left?” Azriel asked Elain over tea. Elain nodded.

“It was so weird, Az. One minute, I think I’m going to kiss him, and the next he’s out the door.” Elain sipped from her cup.

“Hmmm… that is weird. Did he give a reason?”

“He just said that I should go to bed, that I was probably tired.”

Azriel pursed his lips, swirling the honey in his tea.

Elain cocked his head. “What are you thinking?”

“Nothing… Would you do something for me, Elain? And keep in mind you have complete and utter right to say no, as always.”

Elain crossed her legs. “What do you want me to do?”

“Could you… possibly… this is going to sound weird—kiss Lucien again, and tell me how he reacts?”

Elain was confused. “… Pardon?”

“Could you kiss Lucien for me?”

“First, that is a very odd request. Second, I… don’t know how comfortable I feel doing that.”

Azriel figured she would say that. He shrugged. “Okay. I had to ask.”

“Why did you ask?”

Azriel shifted, uncomfortable with the question. He didn’t want to lie to her, but he didn’t want to answer either. “Call it… professional curiosity.”

Elain made a face and took a sip. She thought for a moment. Was it really that bad? She did want to kiss Lucien, or at least try it. If she was going to attempt to kiss him again anyway, why not report his reaction?

“Maybe.” Elain conceded. “… Maybe.”

“Thanks. It’s a big help.”

The war room was quiet as Azriel studied the report Lucien had given him. Amren flipped through a profile on a new spy recruit. Lucien raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

“I think this new recruit has other priorities.” Amren said. She dropped the file down, and groaned, rubbing her eyes. “I hate this form.” She mumbled. “My eyes never used to hurt before.”

“Can’t relate.” Lucien said, twirling a pen between his fingers.

Amren raised an eyebrow and sighed.

“Good job, Lucien.” Azriel said, passing the report back to him. “I’m impressed. You had no trouble?”

Lucien snorted. “Please, Day Court royals will spill their guts if only for a promise of a kiss on the cheek.”

Azriel sat back in his chair. Amren was suddenly interested in the conversation. “Oh?”

“Like you didn’t already know that.”

“And did you?”

Lucien snorted. “I didn’t need to.”

“And this works for every Day Court royal?” Amren asked.

“Well, of course not every one. And shouldn’t you know this?”

Amren shrugged. “I only recently started listening to all of you. Figured now that I have to live with all of you, I may as well actually learn this spy stuff. Being second in command and all.”

“Winter Court tends to be more reserved in public. Autumn will do anything if you get any amount of beer in them. Summer is trickier, especially since the Ambassadors to the other Fae classes have been added to the formal gatherings. And Tarquin has been training them well not to spill anything. Dawn is just a much of a sucker for kisses as Day, but they also crumble for sweets. And Spring…” Lucien bit his bottom lip. It was always hard for him to talk about Spring. “Well, I know everything there is to know about Spring.”

Amren let out a huff. “It’s information like this, Foxy, that makes me glad you’re on our side.”

Lucien grinned, his eyes far off and his mind preoccupied. “I could say the same about you.”

Amren shrugged off the compliment. “Don’t humor me.” I know Az invites me to these things so I feel important. She thought.

“Amren is right. You’re a useful addition to my network. And a good ear to listen to.” Azriel said with a smile.

Lucien flushed. “C’mon guys, you’re embarrassing me.” He joked.

“Oh ew. If we’re talking about feelings, I’m leaving.” Amren said, standing up and stretching.

“Sit down, I’m not done.” Az said, rolling his eyes and waving a hand. Amren groaned and flopped back onto the couch.

Azriel and Lucien talked a little more, and occasionally Amren put in her two cents. The discussion circled around to the connections that sleeping with people in other Courts made, when Amren made a joke about Varian and Azriel mentioned his own experience with some Winter girls and Lucien stayed conspicuously silent. Amren hadn’t seemed to notice, and when Lucien brought up Varian’s relationship with Cresseida Amren grew defensive and snapped something back about Lucien’s “true relationship with Alis” and Lucien narrowed his eyes, angrily.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like.”

“Alis is off limits. She has done nothing but try and keep her nephews safe!”

“What’s it to you, anyway? You seem fine with us screwing with Tamlin!”

“Tamlin is a bad person!”

“Alis is his closest ally at this point!”

“She’s just trying to make a living!”

“Oh? And are you sure that’s the only reason you’re protecting her?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“A-Alis and me-That’s ridiculous! Fuck you! You know nothing about me!”

“Really, Foxy? Ridiculous? There’s a reason they call you ‘fox boy’, isn’t there?”

Lucien stood, his chair screeching backwards. “Screw you.” He growled. Lucien turned to Azriel. “Call me when you want me to work with you again.” Lucien turned to Amren. “And you? Don’t bother.” He turned and stomped out.

Amren flushed and huffed. “What crawled up his ass and died?” She grumbled.

“You should apologize.”

Amren’s eyes flashed. “I have nothing to apologize for. It was a joke. Dunno what his problem is.” She stood up and stomped out as well.

Azriel groaned and put his face in his hands. He’d have to iron out this argument—couldn’t have his two best strategists fighting like that. Lucien must have blown up like that because of the disrespect Amren had shown her. That had to be it. Azriel was sure there was no other reason, and Amren had been out of line...

Elain left Azriel’s office and Azriel mulled over the information she’d just given him. Elain had tried to kiss Lucien again, and again he had rejected her. He’d given her a flimsy excuse and she’d accepted the rejection.

But Azriel knew that there was a real, actual reason Lucien didn’t want to kiss Elain. A reason he’d thrown up when Cass had tried to kiss him. A reason for-

Oh.

Oh!

But… why was he hiding it?

Azriel did the only thing he could do. He went out to a Velaris liquor store, bought a bottle of the best Dawn Booze out there, went to Mor’s and knocked on the door.

Some time and half a bottle later, Mor and Azriel were on the roof of the House of Wind. Really, what was the point of living in the Night Court when you didn’t go out every night and stare up at the stars? They giggled and held one another while they passed the bottle back and forth. Mor had also pilfered a couple bottles of vodka from the House of Wind liquor cabinet.

Mor took a deep, happy breath. “So, why did you want to get drunk with me?” She asked. She swung an arm around Azriel.

Az frowned, rolling the bottle between his warm hands.

“Oh, so it’s work related is it?”

Az gave Mor a puzzled look.

“You always want to get drunk to get an epiphany when it’s about work.” Mor said simply.

“Well, you’re wrong this time.” Azriel stretched. “It’s not… exactly work.”

“No?”

“It’s… Hmm…” Az bit his lip. “Why haven’t you come out publicly?”

Mor’s eyes widened. “What?” She sat up, sobering.

It was the liquor that made Az roll his eyes. “I’m not an idiot, Mor. You’re gay.”

Mor stared at him for a second. Then sank back to the ground, nursing her booze. “Yeah. I am.”

“Why haven’t you come out publicly?” Az repeated.

“Because… I don’t want anyone to know.”

“Why?”

“I… I was afraid to how you would react.”

Azriel sat up, taking her hand. “Mor… you know that I love you for who you are. And if you who are changes, then I still love you. And you know…” Az pressed a kiss to her hand, “I’m not particularly straight myself.”

“You-You’re not?”

“We love you for you Mor, not who you love. And yes. I’m not straight. But Mor, will you tell us now that you know that we love you unconditionally?”

Mor stared at him. “I… I don’t know if I’m ready.” She said softly.

Azriel frowned. He hadn’t thought about that.

“Thank you, Mor.”

“I… think I should be the one thanking you.” Mor said softly. “I’m glad we got drunk tonight.”

Az smiled. “Me too.”

“Hey Az?”

“Hmm?”

“You in love with Elain now?”

“Hmmm...” Az mulled the question over. “I’m not sure. Maybe.”

“Maybe? That’s reassuring.”

“I was in love with you.”

“Oh.” Mor said in an unsurprised tone.

“You knew.”

“… Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault who you love.”

“I’m sorry I caused such turmoil in you. I’m sorry I caused such hatred.”

“You didn’t cause anything. My self-loathing… that comes from years of abuse and my worth hinging on my use as a heterosexual man’s sex slave. It had nothing to do with you.”

Az stayed silent for a time. He stood.

“I have to go.”

“Az, don’t-Don’t run away-!”

“I’m not. I’m… I’m going to figure something out, once and for all. I love you Mor, don’t forget that.” Az walked downstairs.

He searched the rooms, drinking what he had left of his wine. Finally he found the one he was looking for. Azriel knocked on the door (slightly louder than necessary). Lucien was half asleep, his hair up in a messy bun, his pajama pants were askew on his hips, and he was shirtless. Well, Az reasoned, it was kinda hot out.

“Hi. Would you kiss me?” Az asked, pushing past Lucien and into his room.

“I’m confused and you’re-” Lucien took a whiff of Az’s breath as he passed, “drunk.”

Az shrugged. “Would you?”

“No.”

Az narrowed his eyes. “Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to… and… you’re straight last I checked.”

Az snorted. “Please. No one is straight in this country. But that’s not the real answer.”

“Yes it is.”

“No! You’re lying about why you don’t want to kiss me! You won’t kiss me, you won’t kiss Elain! Who will you kiss?”

“Why do you want me to kiss anyone?” Lucien put his hands on his hips.

“Because if you did then I could know the truth! Now it’s all conjecture!” Azriel fell onto the bed, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

“The truth about what?” Lucien asked. He didn’t like where Azriel was poking around. “What do you think you know?”

Azriel stood, leaving the open bottle on Lucien’s bed and pulled Lucien close to him. Lucien’s face was red and his breath fogged in front of Azriel. Lucien pushed Azriel away from him, a micro-grimace flitting across his lips. Az frowned. “Why won’t you tell anyone that you’re sex-repulsed?”

“What.”

Az groaned. “I’m sick of repeating myself! You know exactly what I said!”

Lucien took a step back. “I’m-I’m not-”

“Yes, you are. So why are you lying to me?”

“I’m not broken.” Lucien snarled.

Azriel looked like he’d been slapped. “I never said you were.”

Azriel took a step forward. Lucien took a step back.

“I’m not broken.” Lucien repeated. Lucien’s hands were balled by his sides. “I’m not-”

“I never said you were.” Azriel whispered.

Tears shined in Lucien’s eyes, his lips were pulled downward slightly—Azriel couldn’t tell if it was a frown or a grimace or just Lucien’s ‘about to cry’ face. Azriel couldn’t know the secret. If Az knew then-then-

“You’re not broken. Lucien, are you even allosexual?” Azriel asked.

“Of-Of course I am! Wh-Of course I am! How dare you ask me that, Shadowsinger! How dare you-!”

“I’m not.”

Lucien was, for once, at a loss for words. “I don’t-”

“I’m not allosexual. I’m a-spec. I’m not quite sure what yet, I flip between labels sometimes, but...” Az trailed off with a sigh. “I’m certainly not allosexual.”

Lucien stared at Azriel. “I-I don’t understand. How can you be okay with that?”

“How can I be okay with that? How can I not? It’s who I am.”

“But you’re-” You’re like me. You’re broken.

“I’m me. And I’m fine.” Azriel said softly. “And you are too. You aren’t broken. You haven’t misled anyone or lied. You just haven’t found the right label, or aren’t ready to use the one you’ve found. But no one thinks you’re broken. No one.”

No. Lucien couldn’t. “No.”

“Lucien, if you aren’t ready that’s… that’s fine too. I just… I needed to know if I was right. Am I right?” Azriel asked.

Lucien said nothing. “I need you to leave.”

“Lucien-”

“I need you to leave.” Lucien repeated. Lucien expelled heat from himself, making the air shimmer around him like an aura.

“I’m sorry for pushing.” Azriel said with a nod, sobering up. “But when you want someone to know, you can tell me.”

Never. Thought Lucien as Azriel left the room in a hurry. Lucien walked over to his bed, and felt something cylindrical and cold. Lucien groped around and picked up the object. A bottle of Dawn wine with about an eighth left. Lucien pressed it to his lips, and downed it all in one gulp.

Never. No one else could ever know.

The knock on Azriel’s door was light and hesitant. Using his shadows Az could tell it was Lucien on the other side. “Come in,” Az said. He finished up his paperwork and started filing them to clear his desk.

Lucien walked in carefully. He looked uncomfortable, and he shifted from foot to foot.

“You can sit if you want.” Azriel offered. Lucien sat wordlessly. He played with his hair nervously.

“Do you want water?” Azriel asked. He stood and walked over to his pitcher of water on one of the shelves in his office.

“When I told Jes how I felt, she told me the label I was looking for was sex-repulsed asexual.” Lucien began, jumping into it. The words came out in a rush, and then Lucien dammed them up again. He stared at Azriel, waiting.

Azriel sat back down. He leaned over, looking at Lucien directly and kindly. “I’m listening.”

[secretradiobrooklyn]

SECRET RADIO | Sept.12.20

Secret Radio Brooklyn | 9.12.20 | Broadcast from the print shop (Hear it here.)

1. Fela Kuti - It’s Highlife Time

Such a cheery introduction to a night at the Afro Spot. There’s an elegance and restraint and Western-facing showmanship that is the exact opposite of what Fela Kuti’s music came to be, but it seems completely sincere — just a different stage of an incredibly productive life. 

2. Ros Serey Sothea - Jam 5 Kai Thiet (Wait 5 More Months) 

The guitar tones, really all the tones of this song, are so perfect, and the structure is both immaculately pop-shaped and full of gnarly rock distortion.

3. Sylvie Vartan - L’oiseau

Such a piercing chorus! It almost sounds like she’s making a birdcall, and we’ve been really appreciating bird sounds this summer in the woods.

4. Singer Nahounou and T.P. Poly Rythmo de Cotonou Benin - Gbabouo

This is a 1978 T.P. track, so they’re in their prime, with Papillon providing those amazingly beautiful guitar waterfalls. I don’t know anything about Singer Nahounou, but his vocal phrasing is a lot more like the Zimbabwean style of Hallelujah Chicken Run Band than any of the Beninese musicians they more often play with. Someone says it has “a strong Ivory Coast influence,” but I don’t know what that means. I do know that this song makes me dance, and as it goes on you can hear the musicians really stretching out and playing with the essential elements of the groove, all led by the unstoppable Bentho Gustave on bass.

5. Teddy Afro - Atse Tewodros

I don’t know if you’ve had the experience of being halfway through a feast at an Ethiopian restaurant and suddenly realizing that you’ve been loving the music the entire time. For us, that restaurant was Meskerem on South Grand, and the band was Teddy Afro. The best part, though, might be this video, in which a collection of beautiful people do the shoulder dance seemingly all over Ethiopia, in grassy fields and castle walls and city streets, in pairs and trios and teams. It’s completely mesmerizing. Meanwhile, the footage of Teddy Afro’s live show sweeps across a crowd of tens of thousands of ecstatic fans. It’s a glimpse into several worlds I know nothing about — but the music certainly seems to speak a universal language of optimism and hope. Anyone who can tell me whether I’m completely mistaken about that, please do.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rRC6C8bRkQQ&list=RDmAHeyKUKMBE&index=3

6. Francis Bebey - New Track

The way this song gradually coheres from thumb piano to futuristic space jam is a clinic. I could listen to Francis Bebey talk all night.

7. Manu Dibango - Groovy Flute

Our respect to Manu Dibango, who passed on March 24 of this year. He is responsible for giving the world Soul Makossa, which we in the US know as mama say mama sa mamakusa thanks to Michael Jackson and Quincy Jones. But MJ didn’t have Groovy Flute.

8. Chantal Goya - D’Abord, Dis Moi Ton Nom

This is from the Godard film Masculin Féminin. If you like this, you’re going to love the WBFF movies broadcast coming soon!

9. Brigitte Bardot - Tu Veux ou Tu Veux Pas

Sleepy Kitty does a version of this song on a 7”. This could be a great song for teaching first-year French — “You want it or you don’t” — including frank attitudes about hooking up.

10. Newen Afrobeat - Upside Down live

Chilean Fela disciples Newen Afrobeat bring their own approach to Fela Kuti’s Upside Down. You can hear how the political urgency of the original translates directly to citizens of a country on the other side of the world. I recently read one of the singers, Macarena, describe the band as a collective that exists to make music and get the word out about the Mapuche people and their mistreatment in Chile.

Like their masterpiece, Opposite People, this is another song that is enhanced by watching the performance. It’s enough to get you dancing just watching the singer wind her way around the stage. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=embxt0jQ8f4

11. Antoine Dougbé & T.P. Orchestre - Kovito Gbe de Towe

The arrangement of this song is just stunning to me. The little guitar licks that steal their way between the downbeats, the sick drums, the sudden disco, the arresting tone of voice, the backing vocals, the phasing guitar solo, the breakdown, and those final percussive call-and-response vocals — this track is just flat out the tops. Currently our favorite artist… which means Dougbé, who wrote the song but didn’t sing it, Melome Clement, who arranged it, Papillon on guitar (I think), the incredibly tight drums, the horn section that cuts like a knife, and this whole period of T.P. Orchestre. 

Serge Gainsbourg - Aux Armes Et Caetera 

When this recording appeared there was a freakin uproar among the French, who were scandalized that anyone would translate the French national anthem into (gasp!) reggae form.

12. Van Goose - Last Bus

Credit due to Jen Meller for telling us long ago that Van Goose was a band to be listening for. We saw them for the first time at Underwater Sunshine in Manhattan and danced so hard that when we heard their next gig was New Year’s Eve, our plans were settled. I get so lost inside this song!

 13. Stereo Total - Ringo I Love You

The first two songs that Paige heard of this band were I Love You Ono and Ringo I Love You — as far as we know, they specialize in Beatles-related songs (which is to say we know almost nothing about this band). Both of those songs are perfect expressions of themselves. 

14. 張小鳳 (Zhang Xiao Feng) - 我深深地愛上你 (Eight Days a Week)

We know nothing about this band — this track is the result of supposing that a certain thing must exist, and then finding confirmation of its existence. What a strange chordal relation to the original it has.

Harvey Danger - Authenticity

20 years ago this week King James Version came out, which was a really really big day in a really big time in my life. One fine detail I just noticed is that I lived about a mile north of Pike Street 20 years ago, and I live about a mile south of Park Slope today. Which I don’t think me-then would have hated. Anyway I’m still enjoying every damn day, modern horrorshow notwithstanding!

15. Ben Blackwell - Bury My Body at Elmwood

So many times every year where we realize how much we miss Bob Reuter — his radio show, his photographs, his writing, and more than anything the man himself — and this is a song we first heard via Bob’s Scratchy Records. 

16. Jacqueline Taïeb - 7 heures du matin

This song kind of encapsulates a lot of what I want this collection of songs to be — a crashing together of cultures that ties back to the universal elements of rock n roll. Jacqueline Taïeb is flat out the coolest.

17. Liev Tuk - Rom Sue Sue (Dance Soul Soul) 

Another entry in our James Brown shockwave studies. This is a Cambodian track from the ’60s, so presumably made around the interaction of French and American soldiers with Cambodian citizens… probably mostly in bars near bases? That’s what I picture happening, but I don’t actually know anything about it. I will say that I think Liev brings his own thing to the track, a real animal grandeur.

18. Soumitra & Mousumi Chatterjee - Urbashi Soundtrack - Jogi Jogi 

We’ve been trying to learn more about Bengali culture and language from our young neighbors in our building in Kensington. We’re kind of hoping that someone in the building recognizes this song — though it’s equally possible they would look at us like we were crazy. This is a soundtrack to a movie billed as a “thriller” — dig that ’80s keyboard movie-soundtrack solo — and Paige and I have already spent quite a bit of time theorizing, based purely on the music, what sort of movie we’ll encounter when we find it.  Also, this is a new earworm you won’t be able to shake. I’d say I’m sorry but I’m not!

19. The Fall - Shoulder Pads

The Fall is one of our very favorite bands — actually, T.P. Orchestre is the first real contender for other favorite band in years — but I’m very aware of the fact that I have pretty much always approached these songs as broadcasts from an alien culture. The decisions that Mark E. Smith made, song after song, are so completely mysterious and thrilling to me, as is the way the band composed, and for the most part they’re talking about British cultural winds that have almost nothing to do with my world. Anytime we play a song by The Fall I feel like I’m in danger of losing myself to only Fall songs for the next month. Tie me to the mast!

20.  T.P. Orchestre & Bentho Gustave - Agnon Djidjo (Tu as bon caractère)

This is the final track on Le Disque d’Or, and the melody just feels so full of importance, like something absolutely vital is being transmitted. When we were trying to keep track of songs, I referred to this song as “Benin’s Phil Collins.” Obviously not much overlap, but I do feel like the chorus has PC’s paranoid urgency. As far as Paige can tell, the lyrics are “Je suis heureux de vivre pres de toi jusqu’au le fin du monde,” which would be “I’m happy to be with you til the end of time.” We don’t know if those are the lyrics, but they certainly work for me.

21. Joanna Kulig & Marcin Masecki - Dwa Serduszka

If you haven’t seen the film Cold War, we can’t recommend it highly enough. Also, you should know that it’s devastatingly sad. But right from the opening scene, the music alone is a revelation, and the main actors are enough to make you understand that we’re only seeing a fraction of the world’s charismatic actors in the English-speaking context, o yo yo.

22. Blossom Dearie - Manhattan 

Paige has always loved this song, especially because Blossom Dearie is the piano player as well, which is something we think about with Nat King Cole but not necessarily with a singer like her. And now this song seems like a description of the empty streets of Manhattan, and it being such a strange time. Mott Street is different right now — but it’s still New York, and these buildings have been there so long, through World War II, September 11, a lunatic for pres, and now COVID-19. Sadness and optimism: “The great big city’s a wondrous toy.” 

Orchestre de la Paillotte - Kadia Blues

A Guinean band created to promote Guinean music.

23. Scott Walker - Duchess

A pandemic discovery for Paige. I always meant to get into Scott Walker. I was in a band in Chicago and the guy whose house we practiced at loved Scott Walker. He kinda looked like Scott Walker. He was living in the ‘60s. He had a word processor. I didn’t get into Scott Walker then, nor 10 years later, but over the last year his music landed, at some point between now and the beginning of the pandemic. 

24. Inga - Silver Moon 

So weird that this song has been translated from English into German… but they use phrases in English that do not exist in the original. I really want to know more about the circumstances of this translation and arrangement. Inga was a German pop star with excellent eye makeup game.

25. Avolonto Honore - Na Do Sê Kpon Wê

The word “elegiac” exists for occasions such as this. The song feels so sincere, whether with regret, loss, love, or bitter experience. It also sounds like the voice of a father to his son, at whatever age. He sounds wise. 

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The Handshake Is Dead – Long Live The Curtsy

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The handshake has a long and curious history as far as greetings go. Most historians place the first instance back in the 5th century BCE in Greece, where it was used to demonstrate that one was not carrying a weapon. When used in a commerce context in public markets, it was often combined with another new fad sweeping early civilization – waving (to demonstrate you weren’t holding a weapon in the other hand, either).

Handshakes were, in effect, a very early form of customer authentication.

From Greece, they traveled the world – first to Rome, where they were modified into something more akin to a mutual forearm grab to make sure the other person didn’t have a dagger up his or her sleeve. We’re going to guess Caesar forgot to make the greeting rounds on the Ides of March, and that history might have turned out a good deal differently if he had. From Rome, the practice moved on to the medieval knights. They adopted the practice of grabbing hands as a greeting and introduced the rigorous shaking part, as an attempt to knock loose any weapons another knight might be trying to sneak.

But despite a rather successful 2,500-year run, the handshake might be on its way out, another casualty of COVID-19. Speaking to journalist Kate Linebaugh on The Journal podcast earlier this week, Director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases Anthony Fauci noted that he believes it’s time to retire the handshake to the dustbin of history in the name of protecting human health.

“When you gradually come back, you don’t jump into it with both feet,” Dr. Fauci said. “You say, what are the things you could still do and still approach normal? One of them is absolute compulsive handwashing. The other is, you don’t ever shake anybody’s hands. In fact, I don’t think we should ever shake hands ever again, to be honest with you. Not only would it be good to prevent coronavirus disease; it probably would decrease instances of influenza dramatically in this country.”

No more handshakes? How will we know our business associates and new acquaintances aren’t carrying daggers or attempting to cheat in jousting competitions?

Okay, maybe we don’t technically need the handshake anymore – but assuming we’ll want some kind of standard greeting when this is over, we’ll likely have to replace it. And that might be a little trickier than you think. A quick survey of the world’s greeting traditions indicates that quite a few of them have the same defect as a handshake, and will probably go to the discard pile along with it.

As it turns out, the entire world of human greetings seems to have been designed to thwart Dr. Anthony Fauci.

The double-cheek kiss, popular in Europe and the Middle East, is clearly much worse than the handshake – as is the Slavic tradition of greeting people with kisses directly on the mouth. Pretty much all of the greetings that involve putting your mouth on someone else are probably off the table moving forward. Maori tribesmen in New Zealand greet each other by rubbing noses, while Kenyan men tap foreheads – again, no and no. Ugandan men bump shoulders, which is better insofar as one is not breathing directly into someone else’s face, but it’s still too much contact.

Los Angelenos are getting somewhat closer, with a tendency to skip the cheeks (or the lips) and go with the classic double air kisses. That, however, has the dual problems of pushing viruses into the air and looking absolutely ridiculous. The Tibetan tradition of sticking one’s tongue out in greeting is a slight improvement in terms of how silly one looks while doing it, but is still sub-ideal from a virus-spreading standpoint – and in a world where everyone is wearing masks over their faces while in public, it really doesn’t work, since no one can see your tongue.

In fact, when scouring the world’s classic greetings for possible replacements for the handshake, only two made the cut. The first is the most obvious: bowing. It’s easy to do from a socially acceptable four feet away, it has been popular for roughly 1,000 years longer than handshaking has – and it seems now may be the time it will finally end its millennia-long rivalry with the handshake, and just about everything else.

And honestly, bowing is fine from a public health standpoint, but it’s a bit boring. We would instead recommend adopting the curtsy as the new universal form of human greeting. Yes, we know that historically, curtsying is the female equivalent of bowing, and that it typically involves picking up the edges of one’s gown. We have two replies to that: First of all, people have been working from home for two months, and who knows what they are going to leave their house wearing.

Second, do you know what item of clothing was made to be curtsied in?  

The bathrobe.

And do you know what item of clothing your co-workers have all been wearing for the last three to five weeks, and might very well forget to take off when they leave the house in two months? 

Yup, the bathrobe.

We rest our case.

And if not the curtsy, on the off chance that we don’t redesign our societal sartorial preferences about daytime bathrobe wearing, then what?

Well, there is the standard military salute – though we suspect that might feel weird to people, and besides, soldiers probably should get to keep their unique thing. 

For a variation on that idea, we think the Vulcan “live long and prosper” salute has a lot of merit. But it might take some practice, as making a V with your fingers takes some motor coordination – and there is the small problem of billions of die-hard Star Wars fans who will likely refuse to see anything derived from Star Trek as a sign of goodwill. 

Fist bumps and high-fives are probably out for the same reason that handshakes are – but elementary school children nationwide have spent the last few months perfecting what is known as the “air-five” or the “air-bump,” where hands/fists are brought within inches of each other to simulate the slap/bump experience without actually touching. That, however, still requires being closer than six feet from someone, and in the worst-case scenario, it could end with misjudged distance and someone getting punched in the face.

For a really outside-the-box idea, PYMNTS believes the video below offers the best possible option for society to consider.  

Yes, that is the video for the Macarena.  

Hear us out. We think this is the greeting innovation that society didn’t know it needed. 

First, you can do every part of the Macarena from a respectable six feet away. Second, if everyone starts doing the dance in the presence of every new person they meet, we can promise no one will ever get within six feet of another stranger ever again. So not only does it respect social distancing, it re-enforces it. Third, we think it would be very difficult to hide a weapon on one’s person while doing all the steps of the Macarena. Fourth, we’re all going to be inside for a while, so we’ll have plenty of time to perfect our greeting dances. 

Admittedly, our staff – like yours – has been working from home for a while now, so perhaps our finger is less on the pulse of this subject than it could be. But our data tell us that consumers have been changing quite a lot in the last 22 days. They’ve rewritten their lives around a very new paradigm, and done so very fast. They’re cooking instead of ordering out, they’ve refocused much of their spending around necessities and they are worried. Worried about their jobs, worried about their economic future and worried about their health – so worried, in fact, that most say the only thing that will convince them it’s time to go back to normal is the development of a vaccine. A vaccine, experts estimate, that is more than a year away from going to market.

Which means instead of going back to normal, what seems more likely right now is that the world will be building a new normal. A new normal for shopping, for healthcare, for entertainment and for socializing. A new world where there might not be handshakes.

But that is not necessarily bad news – and many of the innovators PYMNTS has interviewed over the last several weeks think there is good reason to suspect that the new shopping, new healthcare, new entertainment and new socializing could well be better than the old versions.

And if the handshake is actually replaced by the Macarena?

We defy anyone to tell us that is not a dramatically improved world. 

——————————

PYMNTS LIVE FIRESIDE CHAT: WEDNESDAY, APRIL 22, 2020 | 12:00 PM (ET)

 FIs have traditionally approached resilience from a technology standpoint, but ‘Black Swan’ events like the COVID-19 pandemic expose what can go wrong when FIs don’t prepare for the unexpected. Vincent Caldeira, Chief Technologist, FSI, APAC for Red Hat joins PYMNTS CEO Karen Webster to explore how preparedness is impacting FIs’ ability to do business during COVID-19, and the lessons being learned.

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