#me when it crashes when I’m trying to make a gig poster like god damn give me a BREAK

[shochmonster]

84 Questions

original: https://fuckyeahsurveys.tumblr.com/post/61049002526/84-questions

Put your music player of choice on shuffle and list the first 10 songs Guns of Brixton - The Clash Holiday in Cambodia - Dead Kennedys  Chainsaw - Nick Jonas California - Joni Mitchell Make It Wit Chu - Queens of the Stone Age This Woman’s Work - Kate Bush The Bad Thing - Arctic Monkeys Between the Bars - Eliot Smith Drown - The Smashing Pumpkins Different People - No Doubt

If you could spend a week anywhere in the world, where would it be and why? Would you take anyone with you? I’d take @duoloopo to the UK. I’d like to see places other than London.

What is your preferred writing implement? (eg. Blue pen, pencil, green pen)  I use my iPad stylus the most, but I have this heavy mechanical pencil I really like for drawing. 

Favourite month and why? October. I just love the fall vibe. 

Do you have connections to any celebrities (even minor)? List them. I went to undergraduate school with Rebecca Sugar. We used to ride the bus between NYC and DC together on holidays. 

Name 3 items you could pick up from where you are. Can of seltzer, pencil case, stack of bills

What brand logo is closest to you currently? REAL Skateboards

Do you ever play board games or other non-computer games? Got any favourites? I love Small World and Munchkin. 

A musical artist you love that isn’t well known Laura Stevenson and the Cans

A musical artist you love that is well known Red Hot Chili Peppers

What is your desktop background currently? Thomas Barrow on the beach in the Season 4 Christmas Special

Last person you talked to, and through what you talked to them @duomaxwell02 with my face :O 

First colour name you can think of that isn’t in the rainbow White

What timekeeping devices are in the room you are currently in? Two wall clocks, though one is very old and doesn’t wind anymore. I also have a clock @duoloopo ‘s dad made for me. It’s on the piano. 

What kind of headphones do you use? JBL Bluetooth, noise canceling 

What musical artists have you seen perform live? Foo Fighters (3x), Incubus (3x), Red Hot Chili Peppers, Smashing Pumpkins, Beastie Boys, Audioslave, Justin Timberlake, Troy Sivan, Arctic Monkeys, The Rolling Stones, Eric Clapton, Queen (but with Roger Daughtry, not Freddy... for obvious reasons.). Probably a whole bunch of others I’m blanking on. 

Does virginity matter to you? Not really. 

What gaming consoles do you or your family own? PS4, PS2, PS1, XBox 360, N64, Gamecube, Wii, NES, SNES, various Gameboys, Nintendo DS, PSP

What pets do you have? What are their names? Two cats, Hemingway and Renji

What’s the best job you’ve ever had? I like freelance art gigs the best. As for ‘normal people jobs’, I once was a sign painter for Whole Foods. That was pretty fun, minus the work drama. 

What’s the worst job you’ve ever had? Food service. 

What magazines do you read, if any? I’ll pick up Time once in a while

Inspiration behind your URL? My classic original URL was LinkWorshiper and had been since AIM first existed. I picked it because Zelda was the first fandom I ever joined. Now I’ve changed all my handles (except on AO3) to reflect my actual name, as my literary agent thinks it’s more professional. 

Inspiration behind your blog title? Mean Girls. I always chuckle imagining Thomas and Jimmy as some Edwardian version of the Plastics. 

Favourite item of clothing? My Downton livery waistcoat. And the stiff bosomed shirt and collars I have to go with it. 

Are you friends with any exes? Nah. By the time I felt comfortable enough to possibly try, I also didn’t care enough to. 

Name at least one book you loved as a child. His Dark Materials (the trilogy by Philip Pullman). I still love them and am jazzed that he’s writing more these days. 

What’s your native language? If that language has distinct regional variations, which variation? (eg. AU English, US English) US English, mostly a northeastern dialect/accent

What email service do you use? Gmail

Is there anything hanging on the walls of the room you are currently in? So much stuff. I have a mood board full of Downtons stuff over my desk, various DA posters and memorabilia, plus some artwork I’ve done, and some of my JC Leyendecker collection. The aforementioned wall clocks, a San Francisco cable car bell, Sailor Moon and a few other little knickknacks, like my hamsa. To name a few lol. 

What’s your favourite number, and why? 212 because it’s Manhattan’s area code and also because it used to be the notation for one of my favorite ships in an old fandom. 

Earliest moment in your life you can remember? Sitting under the table and looking at my grandma, who was wearing a Cruella Deville dress she’d knit herself. Like, it had the actual Disney character on it. Pretty cool to a little guy, I guess!

What did you have for dinner yesterday? Quesadilla 

How often do you brush your teeth? Whenever they feel gross

What’s your favourite candy/chocolate? Lately, I’ve been into Junior Mints. 

Have you had other blogs on Tumblr? Do you have any other blogs currently? This blog used to have my old handle, linkworshiper. I did a small Whole Foods blog when I worked with them, but it never went anywhere. 

If you were suddenly really hungry, what would you choose to eat? Sushi

What fandoms would you consider yourself a part of? Downton Abbey, though lately I’ve been crazy busy and not as active as I once was. Casually still poking at old fandoms like Zelda and Gundam Wing to name a few. 

If you could study anything, what would it be? More art education can’t hurt. Maybe some formal history education. 

Do you use anything on your lips? (eg. Chapstick, gloss, balm, lipstick) Chapstick 

How would you describe your sense of humour? Seinfeld 

What things annoy you more than anything else? Mouth noises

What kind of position are you in at the moment? Sitting

Do you wear much jewellery? Nope

Who is the leader of your country, currently? Any other levels of government with leaders? (State, region, province, county, district, municipality, etc) Three supposedly equal branches of government, currently being run into the ground by a clown 

Last 3 blogs on your dashboard, not including any of your own @halcyondaze @mab1905 @lavender-hued-melancholy

What do you carry your money in? I try to never carry cash, but I carry a small wallet 

Do you enjoy driving? Why or why not? I like it but sometimes it feels like a chore, especially during a commute. @duoloopo thinks I’m a shit driver so she tries to drive whenever she can, which has pluses and minuses. 

Longest drive you have ever been on? Savannah GA to San Francisco, CA in a UHaul

Furthest away from home you have ever been? Germany 

How many times have you moved house? God, I don’t even know. More than ten. 

What is on the floor of the room you’re currently in, not including furniture? Cat toys, unused canvases

How many devices do you own which can access the internet? Phone, computer, iPad, various game consoles 

Is there is anything that is guaranteed to always make you happy? Thomas and Jimmy <3 <3 

Is there anything that always makes you sad? Thinking too hard about being a failure

What programs do you currently have open? I just rebooted, so only Chrome, Spotify and Photoshop

What do you associate the colour red with? This line in the Kate Bush Song Blue Symphony, which goes, ‘I associate love with red, the color of my heart when she’s dead.’ 

Last strong smell you can remember smelling? The Greek food I ordered in for dinner

Last healthy thing you ate? Roasted veggies

Do you drink tea or coffee, and how much per day? I prefer tea, and I drink coffee for energy, though sometimes I think it just makes me crash harder. 

What do you associate the colour blue with? The sky

How long is the closest ruler you can find? 12 inches

What colour pants/skirt/etc are you currently wearing? Dark blue

When was the last time you drank water? About a minute ago

How often do you clear your browser history? Rarely

Do you believe nude photos can be artistic, rather than erotic? Yes

Ever written fanfiction for anything? Oh God, yes. You can still find it under Link Worshiper on AO3, though some of my ‘classics’ have been removed since I turned them into original manuscripts 

Last formal event you attended My cousin’s wedding

If you had to move your birthday to another date, which one would you choose and why? Maybe inch my birth year up just by two so that I’d stop being called a damn millennial. At my age, I really just don’t relate to the generation even though technicalities make me a part of it. 

Would you prefer to be at a beach or in the countryside? Beach

Roughly how many people live in your town? 52,000

Do you know anyone with the same birthday as you? Leonard Nimoy :D 

Favourite place to shop? Can be a certain store or a place where there are multiple stores I haven’t really gone shopping since the pandemic. Right now, it feels like the only place to buy anything is Amazon XD

Do you have a smartphone? What kind? If you don’t, do you want one? Samsung. It’s not a Galaxy but is a new model and a fraction of the price. 

What is your least favourite colour, and why? I don’t think I dislike any colors honestly. 

How do you spell grey/gray? Grey. I’ve got too many British online associates to ever go back. 

Go to your dashboard and describe the image shown in the radar section (below the “Find blogs” link) It’s Umbrella Academy fanart of Klaus. He’s in black and white with this hands over his eyes and the background is red. It’s very graphic. 

What difference is there between how many followers you have, and the number of blogs you follow? 736

How many posts do you have? 8,859

How many posts have you liked? I can’t find the stat D: 

Do you post mainly reblogs, or your own content? Mainly reblogs but I pepper in my own content when I can. Lately, I haven’t had time to do as much fanart though, and I kind of feel like it’s not worth bothering to post my original stuff. Nobody follows my blog for that. 

Do you track any tags? No. 

What time is it currently? 7:33 PM CMT

Is there anything you should be doing right now? Waking up @duoloopo. TIME TO JUMP ON THE BED. 

tagging, if they feel like it: @abbys-little-whippersnapper​ @bumblebarrow​ @irrationalgame​ @downtoncat​ @mab1905​ @duoloopo​

and everyone who I’ve forgotten

[istheresomebodywhocanimagine]

Oh okay! Well I guess to ship me with them you need to know about me lol I'm quite short with short dark hair and really dark eyes. I love reading books and comics, watching movies and tv shows. I'm also really into sports and I can't go a day without drinking tea. A lot of my friends say the only time I talk is when I'm being sarcastic but idk haha anyways thank you so much!!

GOSH i’m so sorry this took five yrs

but i’m here now!!!

anyways ship below the cuttttt!!!!

For Queen, I ship you with Roger Taylor!

Although you’re quiet, I think that would contrast quite perfectly with Roger’s outspoken nature. Although he’s not always a talker, his tendency to speak up in most situations only highlights your contributions when you do choose to pipe in. As a result, the rest of the band thinks you’re the second funniest thing around. First is John Deacon - even he thinks so, let’s be honest.

Your sarcasm is what drew Roger to you in the first place. Both of you happened to run into each other outside of a pub at around mid-afternoon one time. 

You worked at the pub, tending bar, because as a bartender, it was always important to listen. You were good at listening - you’d rather hear other people talk and then give a good, witty piece of advice, rather than talk someone’s ear off.

Although you’d briefly seen each other before when he played gigs there, he’d never got the chance to come over and talk to you. Tending the bar was simply too hectic.

Roger had approached you when he saw you hanging up posters for upcoming shows. He thought you were quite a cute little thing when he’d first seen you months ago, short and sweet but still alluring with your dark hair/eye combo. And he was never one to shy away from a girl he felt interest in, so when he saw you, he had to come over.

“Smile? Who’s that?” he asked when he saw the poster you were currently tacking up. Although your back was to him, you faintly recognized the soft, Cornish voice that drifted into your eardrums, and you rolled your eyes playfully as you turned to face the drummer of Smile himself.

“Ha ha. Has anyone ever told you that you’re a regular joker?” you teased, handing him the box of tacks as you tried to reshuffle the posters in your hand and find the one for another local band.

“Actually, no,” he laughed, holding the box for you as he shifted his weight to one foot, standing with his other hand casually resting in his pocket.

“Really? Personally, I’m not shocked,” you replied without missing a beat, finally finding the poster and grabbing a few tacks from the box in his hand before starting to put the poster up directly above Smile’s. 

The space left on the board was minimal, and far above your head, so when you started to struggle to reach the top, Roger chuckled before reaching over your head and nicking the tack from your fingers, then tacking it up himself.

“Thanks,” you laughed softly as you pushed a very short, stray lock of hair out of your face. Turning to face him again, you noticed he was a bit closer than before, but you had nowhere to go and didn’t really feel like backing down from his friendliness. You honestly found him attractive, and had been hoping secretly that he’d try to talk you up one day. Now, your wish was coming true.

“No problem. Say, are you going to be tending bar tomorrow night after the show?” he asked, leaning against the board and flashing you a charming smile as you rolled up the remaining posters that you’d have to tape up in the surrounding blocks.

“Tomorrow’s my night off. Why?” you asked, raising an eyebrow as you reached for the tacks in his hand. But he retracted it, refusing to let you take it, and you squinted a bit as you tried to figure out what angle he was trying to take.

“No, don’t worry, love, I’ll carry these for you. After all, you were the one who gave them to me.” He had a point, so you shrugged and started to make your way back into the bar, Roger following you into the entrance and continuing on. “How about we go out after the show? You and me, on the town. My treat.”

Your cheeks flushed a bit as you registered that Roger was asking you out. But you kept trekking into the bar, walking to the office and letting Roger in as you went to find the tape, giggling to yourself. “Are you asking me out? Do you even know my name?”

“Sure, I do, Y/N. When you see a pretty bartender, you ask for their name. Duh.” He was grinning toothily at this point, a mischievous look about him, and you raised an eyebrow before sighing playfully and snatching the tacks from his hand, replacing it with a roll of duct tape. 

“I suppose that can be arranged. But you have to help me put the rest of these up.”

That next night, you had a whirlwind of a time, and ended up crashing at Roger because of how sloshed the two of you had gotten. But he slept on the couch like a gentleman, and when you realized he wasn’t just trying to get a petty fuck out of you, you started to entertain his advances more. Then, before you knew it, you were his girlfriend.

And Roger was an angel of a boyfriend - any time you were feeling like staying in, he’d be there in a heartbeat with a cup of tea and a new book he’d bought for you.

“I saw it and thought of you,” he said cheerily, handing it to you as you sunk down into the couch with your steaming mug of tea. Blowing on the surface on the liquid, you couldn’t help but smile as you took the book from his hand, and he returned a loving smile before he seated himself next to you, getting comfortable and wrapping his arm around you. Drizzly rain pattered against the window of his flat, but the sound only relaxed you further.

Sitting your tea on the side table for a moment, you snuggled up close to him and pulled a blanket over the two of you as he watched the TV, which he’d turned to one of his favorite game shows.

A domestic scene like this was certainly not one you’d ever expected to see Roger in. As you grabbed your tea and opened the book to page one, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you felt Roger’s hand weave through your hair, just brushing through it barely and absentmindedly as he watched the game show.

When you’d first seen Roger, he was practically shirtless, on stage, beating his drums like an animal, singing his heart out, and all else. But now, he was here, cuddling with you, so serene it made your heart swell.

Just so your heart wouldn’t burst into a million pieces from how happy you currently were, you leaned up and pressed a few gentle, affectionate kisses on his jaw, then returned to your reading with a content heart as a smile crossed Roger’s face.

“What was that for?” he asked, gently tugging on your hair to get your attention. And you blushed, just a bit, overwhelmed with fondness for him, but you couldn’t be gushy right now or you might melt, so you chose the coy approach.

“Return the favor and maybe you’ll find out.”

And for BoRhap, I ship you with Gwilym Lee!

What a sweet boy. And somehow, he looks so innocently devilish doing that. 

ANYWAYS

Yes, I know, height differences. But Gwilym loves that you’re short! Your height was actually indirectly what had led him to meeting you in the first place. 

You were seated directly behind him at a rugby match, a very important one to you AND him - your favorite teams were playing, coincidentally opposite each others, and of course you got sat behind the most obnoxiously tall fan of the other team’s fanbase.

But you weren’t going to be rude about it - in fact, it seemed like he was just there to have a good time. He was drunk, but not aggressively or annoyingly so. He was just too god damn tall, and he seemed painfully unaware of that.

After about 15 minutes of watching the back of his head, you sighed, quite audibly. Your friends had left a couple minutes ago so they could go to the stadium’s bar, so you were alone with your beer you’d got on your way to your seat, and staring at the back of this guy’s head.

When you noticed that he had an empty seat next to him, you jumped at the opportunity. Even though you weren’t exactly the bold type, this game was important to you, and if that meant you had to bother a Welsh fan for a seat, you were all about it.

Tapping on his shoulder, you grabbed your beer as he turned around to look at you, a look of genuine confusion smeared across his unbelievably handsome face. He was quite a looker, and you mentally smacked yourself for getting into this situation without planning first.

“Hi,” you laughed a bit awkwardly, nodding to the seat next to him. “Is that seat taken?”

“Er, no, my mate couldn’t make it,” he replied slowly, shaking his head as the confusion slowly wore off. But there was still a trace of it left as he raised an eyebrow at you standing up and grabbing your things. “Why?”

“Want to know the truth?” you asked, tossing your coat and purse down on the bleacher floor in front of the open seat next to him. When he nodded, you took a sip of your beer before handing it to him. “Would you put that in the cupholder, please? And if I’m going to be frank, it’s because I didn’t buy a ticket to this match to watch the back of a Wales fan’s head, however nice your hair is.”

That got a laugh out of him, and he sat your beer down in the cupholder in front of him before holding out a hand and helping you over the back of the seat, only getting a mildly questioning look from his friend to his left. Once you’d successfully gotten over the chair, he turned his helping hand into a handshake, looking down at you with an amused smile as he easily towered over you.

“My name’s Gwilym. What’s yours?”

“Y/N,” you replied, shooting him a sweet smile before giving his jersey a pointed look as you dropped his hand. “Hope you guys are ready to get your shit handed to you.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that. You want to put your money where your mouth is?”

His team won. You should have known, but when he wagered a date on the game, you couldn’t say no. And when he took you on that date, he only made a few jokes about how much of a shitshow your team was that day.

And when he managed to drag you to a Wales match that wasn’t against your team a few months later, he was presented the perfect opportunity to ask you to be his girlfriend.

“I get that you’re from there, but why continue to support the team if it’s genuine garbage?” he asked laughingly, amused by the playfully sour look your face had taken on. Once again, he was reminding you of how sorely your team was performing this season. The only way to make him stop was to start pouting, after which he’d apologize profusely and promise not to be a big bully anymore.

“I came out to this match to have a good time with you, Gwil, and I’m beginning to feel a bit attacked here, truly.”

“Aw, come on, I was just teasing!” he whined, nudging you with his shoulder as you stared up at the scoreboard and refused to look at him despite the smile playing on your lips. They were doing the routine halftime kiss cam, and you watched as a cute older couple gave each other a chaste peck on the lips.

His arm then wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you into his side, and though you were faking being mad at him, you still let your head rest on his shoulder as he squeezed you a bit. “Don’t be mad at me, sweetheart. I promise I’ll buy you a beer if it makes you feel better.”

“You better,” you mumbled, still looking up at the scoreboard, and to your surprise (and admittedly, excitement), you suddenly saw a Welsh man with his arm around a young woman with dark eyes and short dark hair, who was leaning on him. 

Yep, you guessed it. It was kiss cam time.

“Gwil, look,” you murmured, pointing up to the scoreboard/jumbotron, and a blissfully unaware, smiley Gwilym looked up to the scoreboard just to be met with his own expression.

“Oh shit,” he blurted out, immediately taking on an embarrassed look as he laughed at his own obliviousness. After glancing between you and the screen, he nudged your head gently with his shoulder. “Suppose it would be a good time to ask you if you’d fancy being my girlfriend.”

“Are you joking?!” you choked out, your head flying up so that you were staring at him with a flabbergasted, ecstatic expression. “Yes, yes! God, it took you long enough!”

With that, you quickly glanced at the kiss cam before grinning widely and taking Gwilym’s face in your hands, planting a big, affectionate kiss directly on his lips. It wasn’t a sloppy kiss, and there wasn’t anything too racy about it - it was pure joy, and the way Gwilym pulled you closer for a moment while he kissed back was enough to make your heart race even faster than it already was.

When you pulled away to a few cheers around you, you gave a wide grin to the camera before looking back at Gwilym, who was absolutely pleased with himself as he kept his arm firmly around you, waving for the camera and giving your cheek a quick kiss.

As the cheers died down, you giggled and rested your head on his shoulder again, completely content with what events had just transpired. But, of course, you weren’t letting him off that easy.

“I haven’t forgot about the beer, you know.”

“Of course you haven’t, love. Wouldn’t expect any less of you.”

[helenamayhathaway]

The Bachelor(s) - Sope Fic

“Run that by me one more time, chief.”

He groans out the anger that he wants to take out by smacking Yoongi across the face. “Twenty-five guys stepping out of the limo. Fifteen roses. Nine weeks. Then you pick one guy.”

“Pick him to do what?” Yoongi says, playing dumb. He gives Yoongi a stare so intimidating that his balls shrivel back into his body. “Fuck, oh my god, I’m just kidding! Fall in love blah blah blah. I got it.”

Read Chapter 1 below the cut!! (also on AO3 and Wattpad)

{{

The Bachelor: Boys Will Be Boys SK Promo #3 (Yoongi)

Interviewer: (Excitedly and absolutely incapable of reading the room) What made you decide to enter as a contestant on the first ever season of The Bachelor: Boys Will Be Boys?

Yoongi: (Under his breath) What a ridiculous [censored] title.

Interviewer: I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that.

Yoongi: Honestly, I thought there was a cash prize.

Interviewer: You… you what?

Yoongi: I thought that like, if I came on the show and won, I’d get money. I’ve never seen the show, the original one or whatever. I thought it was a bunch of single people fighting to the death or something. And I’m like, I can definitely cut a [censored] if I need to.

Interviewer: (Dejectedly) Okay…

Yoongi: But I already signed the contract, it’s too late to turn back now.

Interviewer: (Trying to steer the conversation into a direction that won’t get him fired [he is definitely going to get fired]): So how does it feel now that instead of being a contestant, you’ve been chosen to be The Bachelor [Excited jazz hands]?

Yoongi: I still don’t win any money.

Interviewer: Just to be clear, you are aware this is a dating show, right?

Yoongi: It has been explained to me.

Interviewer: …and that twenty-five men will be vying for your love?

Yoongi: [unbelievably censored] That’s a lot of people I’m going to let down.

Interviewer: Well this is sure to be an exciting season isn’t it?

Yoongi: Do you think they’ll let me make all the other dudes do a Wipeout course? I want to weed out the weak among them.

Interviewer: [Damn it, man, this is your first gig in the biz, you have to get some goddamn emotions out of this man] Do you think you’re going to be falling in love this season?

Yoongi: [Laughs hysterically]

Interviewer: (Facing both God and his father who told him he’d never amount to anything) Tune in this Friday for the series premier of The Bachelor: Boys Will Be Boys!

Yoongi: (Quickly so as to make his voice heard before the cut) Buy my [censored] mixtape “Agust D” you [censored] cowards!

**Notes from the director: Do not let this interview see the light of day or so help me.

}}

“You are not a pleasant man!” the interviewer says to him once he’s sure the camera is no longer rolling.

“Aw, you don’t say,” he says, mockingly. Yoongi disagrees though. He is a very pleasant person. Most of his friends consider him to be dazzling and wonderful, or at least, that is what his mind insists that they think of him. He’s just super pissed he got himself into this situation, and he’s going to be a jackass about it. The cash prize thing isn’t the true story, but it’s the impression he wants to give off. Street cred and the like. He’s a rapper and he needs a certain amount of reputation so that he can call someone a motherfucker and people will take it seriously.

It’s his fault, of course it’s his fucking fault. He submitted a headshot and a copy of his self-produced-recorded-in-the-bathroom-of-his-friend’s-studio-apartment-because-it-had-great-acoustics mixtape to every goddamn company he could find. If you throw enough bait in the ocean, surely someone will snap. He’s not a considerably patient person, so after a very crafty google search of: “how to be famous”, and a very glamorous looking email from TB BWBB SK OTC LC – he still does not know what any of these letters stand for – reached out to him for an audition, well obviously he turned himself into the bait and tripped over his own feet running to be noticed. I’m special and worthy, make me your star!

Obviously, he doesn’t have an agent because 608 people have listened to said mixtape on SoundCloud and a whopping ten copies of it have sold on iTunes, and four of those copies were bought by his mom, but she will deny it until the ends of the earth. He probably could have used an agent, or common sense, or just someone to smack him in the head before that fateful audition two months ago.

“Bach-e-lor,” he read out looking at the extremely official looking poster board sign propped up on a music stand before him at the doors of that very glamorous brothel turned home brewery turned themed café turned TV Studio. “That is an English word, I do not know what that is.” He also didn’t really care about looking it up, because he is an overwhelmingly lazy person. It cannot be overstated, Yoongi should have someone follow him around to tell him when he’s being a fucking idiot.

“Boys will be boys,” he read the next line. The person who made the sign did not think about the spacing of letters, so the second part of the sentence was all crammed together. B o y s w illbeboys. Very sexy. “Well… I am a boy,” he nodded to himself, looking down for confirmation, even though no one was there to witness his joke.

So, he just walked right fucking into that studio and pretty much fucked up his entire future in one viciously fell swoop. What’s the worst that could happen, he thought? He goes on one of those K-Pop Idol shows and he doesn’t win but he gets his name and face out there so people go buy his mixtape and then some company is like “damn you’re fine” and he gets scouted and then becomes an international superstar. What could go wrong?

He did think it was kind of weird that they asked him what his preference in men was, but he’s never breathed the air of a talent agency, so he thought maybe that’s just how these things are. Yes, of course I like fellow musicians. No, I’m not a vegan, what do I look like to you, a monster?

To say it’s been a whirlwind would be an understatement. It only really starts to be real in the two weeks leading up to Night One, where he’s having his picture taken relentlessly, shoved into various seats and interviewed by various people who don’t get paid enough. Made up like a doll, advised to wear better clothes. He feels like an idol but excluding the being excited about it part. He’s trying to maintain his sleek, bad boy composure throughout all of it, and he’d say he’s doing a fairly good job, but there are cracks in the act, surely.

Two months and an unreasonable amount of Soju as a coping mechanism later, his bags are packed and all ready to move into this unforgivingly modern mansion for the next nine weeks. The mansion is the ugly kind of modern, not the “that looks relaxing and practical!” modern. All ninety-degree angles and manufactured pleasantness which don’t quite hit the mark. He supposes that the architecture is rather prophetic for the chaos that Yoongi is about to unleash inside its walls. If he’s going to be the next bachelor, and the first gay one, then goddammit if he isn’t going to raise hell.

“You’re telling me that twenty-five people are going to live in this thing?” Yoongi asks the producer who he has actually quite lovingly decided he will refer to as “Producer Dad.” See, he’s a pleasant person. Off camera, that is.

“Has anyone even explained how this show works to you?” Producer Dad says.

“Men. Roses. Hand to hand combat? Um… that’s the gist of it. I’m sure I’ll pick it up along the way, I’m a fast learner.” He did sign his soul away to this goddamn circus, though, so fast learner or not, he needs to be less of an idiot.

“So tonight, after you have your first impressions with everyone, you’re going to hand out fifteen roses. Only fifteen people will be in the mansion after that, not twenty-five.”

“I don’t think I can remember fifteen different people’s names,” Yoongi says.

“Try your hardest.”

“At the end, once I’ve eliminated all of the contestants, do I get to keep the house?” It’s ugly, but he can always sell it and get something else.

“How is it that you have not been fired yet and replaced?”

“Between you and me, I think it’s because I’m unparalleled sexy,” Yoongi says. He might be lazy and a little bit full of himself, but he’s pretty sure the actual reason is that the powers that be want this show to fail. They don’t want a gay bachelor any more than the next “Forced Diversity” crybaby, so they chose someone who’s going to make it crash and burn so that they have an excuse to say “See! It didn’t work, so now we can’t ever do it again.” They did choose the right man, because gay? bisexual? questioning? all you can eat buffet? whatever the hell Yoongi is, he is the man for the job.

“Do I get my own bedroom? My own bathroom? My own closet? Walk in closet? This is very important.”

“I’m confused, you only have one bag?” Producer Dad says.

“You’re saying the truck hasn’t come yet?”

The Truck? Oh, Producer Dad you are in for it.

“This is going to be a long nine weeks.”

Yoongi shrugs. It’s going to be stupid and dumb, but he’s going to be living the good life. Nice bedroom which he will sleep very late into the morning in? Does the mansion come with a chef? Maybe even a bathtub? Fuck! They’re going to have a lot of trouble trying to get him to move out. He’s sure if he’s stubborn enough they’ll decide to forego the glue remover required to detach him from his bed, because it would be far easier to just stew in misery over the abyss of lost profits that this train wreck of a show is going to create than to buy industrial grade Yoongi Be Gone.

“I’ll play nice with the other boys as long as I get to advertise my mixtape every five minutes of screen time.” Something tells him that this ultimatum means he’s not going to be playing nice with the other boys.

He had been lying about the truck. It’s more just a van. As he walks up to the house, with its weirdly glamorous driveway, he sees it parked out in front, seeming to gleam in the harsh summer sun. Yoongi is not particularly good at packing, though, so a lot of the reason for why he takes up so much space is because he left all of his clothes on hangers and just threw them into an impractical number of trash bags. Producer Dad is not especially willing to help Yoongi move all of his stuff into the mansion, so he does his best impression of the cutest cat you’ve ever seen to all of the crew, but Producer Dad has spitefully told all of his Producer Siblings not to help Yoongi move in his armfuls and armfuls of clothes. And all of his personal bedding. And some audio recording equipment because what if he’s sitting in his bed avoiding the responsibilities of being a reality TV star and he comes up with the next Rap God? If this wasn’t a nine-week venture, he wouldn’t have travelled so heavy, but it is a nine-week venture so fuck it. If he’s going to be a diva then he will be the diva.

He’d like to think he unpacks all of his belongings pretty quickly. The hard part is making it up the stairs into the master bedroom. When he sees it for the first time, he gets an evil glint in his eyes. The room itself is nice, he does have his own bath and an okay closet, but what really gets him is the bed itself. He’s a struggling musician, he’s never even been in a room with a bed this big. He is realizing that the bedding he brought isn’t the right size, but still, this bed is big enough that he could starfish with room to spare. He could fit two people on here to starfish. He’s going to get used to it quite quickly. So quickly in fact that after he shoves all of his clothes in the closet, he passes out on the bed for a solid three or four hours. It’s amazing.

He is awoken when a Producer who is not Producer Dad comes screaming for him, panicked because apparently the crew thought he had run away, but actually he just sleeps like a brick. She is telling him to get changed because Tonight is the Night, and he groans because he was unconscious for so long that he blissfully forgot why it is that he gets to sleep in this nice bed. He wants to stay in this big fancy mansion just for the comfort of it, he doesn’t want to actually exert effort. Effort is disgusting.

Then he’s being put into a suit. Dragged into a trailer outside of the mansion that he’s sure will never make it on camera, where about five different people all start attacking his face all at once. His hair is done, he doesn’t know what there is to do, they put so much product in, but it looks the same now as it did before. He gets makeup slathered all over him. He’d never worn makeup before they started shooting promos for the show, but he looks damn good in it he decides as he looks at himself in the mirror. How does he still look tired, though? Probably because he doesn’t want to be here. His eyes look heavier than they felt before he took that nap. Ah, that nap. He will remember it fondly until his dying days.

“Can I just eat?” he complains after possibly four hours or possibly twenty minutes. “Give me food. Please. How humiliating would it be if you could hear my stomach growl on camera?”

Producer Dad rolls his eyes, but he relents and then Yoongi is being given what seems to him like someone’s leftovers but he’s a hungry bitch, so he doesn’t really care.

“Why do you film it so late at night?” Yoongi asks, because the sun set nearly an hour ago and now he’s just standing by, waiting for shooting to begin.

“It’s for the drama of it.”

“Yeah,” he rolls his eyes, “that makes total sense.” These entertainment types are so weird to him. They don’t seem like bad people, they just have vastly different priorities and thoughts as he does. Who would think that people walking out of a limo is more dramatic at night? These guys! Everyone is in agreement about it. Yoongi feels like a child in comparison to everyone around him.

The production quality of this show overall seems astoundingly low. The house is pretty nice and all that, but no one seems to know what they’re doing. Or maybe he just thinks that because he himself does not know what he’s doing. He shouldn’t even be here. Why the fuck is he here?

He’s not a reality star, or an idol. He’s not really an anything. He’s just some guy who got in over his head and signed up for the wrong kind of show, and now he’s here.

There is some truth to the fact that he did technically sort of a little bit kind of definitely know what he was doing. Initially, yeah, he had no clue. But it didn’t take that long for him to realize what kind of show this was. He’ll deny it to anyone who asks, make up some new, even more outrageous explanation for how he got here, but he did say yes knowing full well what he was doing.

He’s not very proud of the fact that he’s here, but it was on purpose, more or less. It’s not the way he would like to have done it, but people will know his name after tonight, or technically on Friday when this airs. The mixtape has been out for months and no one has noticed it. Months! He needs something. This is definitely not the way he thought it would happen, but this is how it is going to happen.

“Are you ready to shoot your pre thoughts?” Producer Dad asks as he beckons for the host of the show to come by. Yoongi has talked to the host like a whole two times so far, and has decided that his name is Host Uncle, because he is never content with anything that Yoongi does.

“Fuck, I mean, I guess so?”

“Please try to refrain from swearing, okay? It costs the network actual money when we have to bleep your words.”

“I’ve got to get it all out now then,” he says before doing something that would not be condoned by the network or his own mother.

“I do not get paid enough for this,” Producer Dad says before Yoongi is being put on his mark and then being counted down.

“So Yoongi, you’re about to meet twenty-five men for the first time, one of them could even be your future husband! How are you feeling?” Host Uncle asks in a news reporter sort of voice that doesn’t sound natural.

“Well, I certainly am feeling emotions,” he says, though he refuses to show any actual emotions on his face.

“What kind of emotions might those be?”

“Disbelief,” he says, “did not think I would ever be here.”

Host Uncle has a fake laugh and then misinterprets the words either intentionally or unintentionally. “It’s almost like your whole life has culminated in this moment!”

“Okay,” he says apathetically. “I’m just here to promote my mixtape.”

“Cut!” Producer Dad shouts. “Yoongi, we talked about this.”

“Sure, but I ignored you.”

“Let’s try that again, but please avoid plugging your mixtape this time, okay?”

Yoongi groans loudly. One time was painful enough and now he’s got to do it again, and he really exerted as much emotion as he was capable of exerting in that first take, which is little to none. He doesn’t think he’s going to be able to top that.

They do at least five takes. Yoongi doesn’t watch reality shows, it never occurred to him just how much of what goes on the screen is rehearsed and fake. They only let him off the hook when he goes completely over the top.

“Yes of course I’m super excited!” he says with the most insincere tone known to man, but no one seems to notice it, or maybe they’re all just so thankful that the words he’s saying aren’t negative that they’re choosing to see it as a win.

“Do you think that one of these men is going to be your soulmate?”

“Well, I sure hope so,” he says before he smiles at the camera with his cheesiest, gummiest, toothpaste commercial smile.

“It’ll have to do,” Producer Dad finally says.

“The name of my autobiography,” Yoongi mutters. “Can I eat more food now?”

Producer Dad makes an exaggerated sound of frustration, throwing his hands in the air, which Yoongi takes as a yes. He goes back to the trailer where he knows that they’re storing the food, and he then proceeds to eat his emotions away. His emotions are very hungry.

A lot of people he doesn’t know are trying to tell him things. Lots of crew members who seem like perfectly nice people but they’re talking about things he doesn’t care about so he instead decides to tune them out and think about himself instead.

What’s nine weeks? He’s been on this earth for much longer than that, he’ll be able to make it through nine weeks. He’s in a big fancy house. It may be hideous but it does nevertheless have a very good bed. He thinks lovingly of that bed for the next several minutes.

From outside the trailer, he hears Producer Dad shout, “First limo is en route!” All hell breaks loose. Everyone starts scrambling like a bomb went off. Yoongi is being dabbed off and he’s not even sweating. People are fixing his everything. Then he’s being tugged back outside to stand in front of the mansion at a dramatic angle.

He remembers that he has to start acting now. Well, maybe not "acting," but he has to prepare himself to be on camera now and for the next two and a half months. The last few days of promos and pre-interviews are just the appetizer, now it’s time for him to become what he hates. Remember Yoongi, you’re only here for the plu. You just have to make it through this with as many cheeky self-plugs as you can get. People absolutely eat up reality stars. This could be great for you.

He’s actually getting nervous. He didn’t think he was going to get nervous, but he is. It’s not nerves because he’s worried about meeting all the guys, it’s nerves because the weight of everything around him is starting to fall on his shoulders and he is not strong enough not to be crushed by it.

“The limo is going to be here in five minutes, are you ready, Yoongi?”

“I am full of regret and lots of food.”

“You just have to be personable; I know you can do it. I know somewhere in there, deep, deep, deep down, you’re not an asshole.”

“I’ve yet to find that person,” Yoongi responds, smirking.

“You’re insufferable. You know what to do, right? You only have to connect with 15 guys tonight. That’s all you have to do.”

“Run that by me one more time, chief.”

He groans out the anger that he wants to take out by smacking Yoongi across the face. “Twenty-five guys stepping out of the limo. Fifteen roses. Nine weeks. Then you pick one guy.”

“Pick him to do what?” Yoongi says, playing dumb. Producer Dad gives Yoongi a stare so intimidating that his balls shrivel back into his body. “Fuck, oh my god, I’m just kidding! Fall in love blah blah blah. I got it.”

Producer Dad then turns white as a sheet as he hears something in his headpiece. “It’s here!” The camera catches the shot as everyone runs away so as not to be seen in shot. Yoongi is left standing there, the drama of the dark night finally starting to make sense to him as he watches the limo slowly make its way to the driveway right in front of him. How cliché it would be to say his fate is behind those doors, yet too true to deny.

He doesn’t know if he has ever felt so alone and transparent in his entire life. He’s standing here, made up and plasticized. Full of annoyance and nerves and stupidity. Thinking about what he would be doing if he wasn’t here. In one of those dead-end jobs that he uses to support his nonexistent music career. No one knowing his name. But soon the scene of him standing here waiting for that door to open will be seen by the whole country.

He feels fake right now, and he knows that’s because his on-camera self thus far has been fake. He isn’t this person. He’s genuinely a nice person. He definitely needs his mouth washed out with brillo pad, but he’s a good friend, a hard worker. Here he stands feeling like an action figure bent to do The Man’s will.

The minute that the door to the first limo opens, he has a very disheartening realization. Shit. He can’t be a jackass to all of these guys. It’s just not inside of him. He wants so much to be a jackass. It would be such a pleasure. But that would not be fair. It would be so awful for this to be the very first season of this show, queer representation hoorah and then to be piece of shit to everybody. These are the people he’s going to be sharing the screen with for so many weeks, and they are real people. Real people who actually came here to find love and what they got was Yoongi taking the piss. Sure, some of them might just be in it for the fame and drama of it all, not unlike himself, but they’re still human beings.

Alright, Yoongi, what are you going to do? He decides that maybe he will make nice. He’s going to be an asshole to the camera without question but to these dudes? Who came all the way out here to find love? Putting themselves into such an uncomfortable position? That wouldn’t be fair. By no means is Yoongi going to fall in love with anyone, he has some self-respect, but he won’t be a jerk. He will try his hardest not to be.

The door opens in such a way that Yoongi cannot see who’s inside. He doesn’t mean to but Yoongi looks at the camera and makes a very nervous, and probably very cute expression. This is actually about to be real.

The first person that steps out of the limo is… a guy. Korean. Wild, who would have thought? He’s wearing a suit, it could be the exact same one as the one on Yoongi. He has two arms, two legs. Silver hair, dyed. Quite a nice texture. Looks soft. Great skin care regimen. Alright, so he’s hot. Yoongi has two eyes and a dick, he knows when someone is hot.

The distance between them can’t be more than a few yards and yet the length of time that it takes for this guy to walk up to Yoongi is centuries long. He’s quite a bit taller than him, but Yoongi is not a very large person to begin with.

He stops in front of Yoongi, neither of them is doing anything that would be defined as “smiling” but it also couldn’t be defined as anything else.

“Hi,” the other man says. Yoongi takes in a deep breath as subtly as he can. So it begins.

“Hi,” Yoongi responds. Had he meant to say more? Wow, they’re both going to be good at this.

“I’m uh, this is a really weird format to meet someone for the first time isn’t it?” he says sheepishly. Time is not progressing in the way that time usually progresses. He’s not sure if he’s entered a dream or not. It’s not that it feels magical, it just doesn’t feel grounded. He’s not really here. This isn’t really happening.

“Yes,” Yoongi says. Maybe once his mouth stops being dry, he’ll graduate to more than one syllable at a time.

“It’s really nice to meet you.”

“Yeah.” Uncomfortable silence… maybe he should mention his mixtape?

“Are you nervous?” he asks.

“I’m just awkward,” he says, smiling just a little bit to show how uncomfortable he actually is. It’s not a sincere smile. It’s a mom just told me to smile for a picture but I’m eleven and I just want to get through this vacation in one-piece smile.

“Me too. I didn’t know I would be going first. It’s a lot of pressure to say something meaningful… I guess I should tell you my name,” he says. Yes, that might help, you very pretty man. “I’m Namjoon.”

“Yoongi.” Yoongi goes in for a handshake but Namjoon misreads it, so they have an awkward hug with Yoongi’s hand in his stomach. Holy shit, he went into this hoping so much to be a serious, stoic, confident rapper promoting his mixtape, and this is Bachelor One and he already wants to hide in a sewer.

“This can only get weirder from now on,” Namjoon says with actually a really cute smile, and Yoongi doesn’t know why but those words actually comfort him a little bit. “Good luck. I hope when we talk again it’ll feel a little less terrifying.” Oh that’s right, Yoongi reminds himself that after all these introductions he has to go and have one-on-one conversations with everyone and try not to get super drunk while he does it. That’s going to be the hardest part. He wishes he had warmed up with at least something to make his posture a little less straight.

He watches as Namjoon walks past him into the house, and due to the fact that Yoongi has hormones, he looks at him as he walks past and is very sad to learn that there is no ass to speak of. Twenty-four people to go whose asses will surely be more impressive.

Now it’s round two and he’s still uncomfortable but he’s done this once so now he thinks he can handle it a little bit better. Fuck, this one is cute. This one is bubblier. The instant he steps out of the limo, his face already has a smile on it. Christ, this is a good one. So was the last one. This is already hard. There’s no way he’d have been able to be an asshole to faces like these, even if he tried.

“Jimin,” he announces after a few words. Yoongi can tell that he’s going to go in for a hug because that radiates off of this guy. It’s a nice hug. They exchange a few pleasantries. It doesn’t feel natural, but it’s not awful. Jimin walks away and Yoongi is starting to think that this might not be as disgustingly fake as he thought it would be. Jimin made it a little less extremely uncomfortable. Oh, he has very much got an ass. Yoongi makes an unconscious nod before he remembers that there’s a camera on him.

As much as he would like for it not to be true, a lot of the guys run the same as the previous. This one has black hair, but this one has black hair. That one has piercings, oh those are very nice piercings, but that one has a velvet suit jacket and that really does something for Yoongi. He remembers that he has to make it through twenty-five different people, and there are too many names to remember, so he starts assigning them letters.

“Nice to meet you A, I’m Yoongi.”

“Oh, hello B, I’m Yoongi.”

“Thank you so much for saying that C, my name is Yoongi.”

He doesn’t tell any of them that they are being given letters. That would be rude.

“Jungkook.” Okay, yeah cool, your name is L now. “Jin.” Congratulations contestant number whatever, your name is Q. Yoongi skips the letter P because he feels like that would just be cruel, especially considering that Q is unbelievably handsome.

It’s been half an hour, is he nearly done? Producer Dad shows him his fingers. Four left. Thank god. He only has to meet four more people. But then he has to go talk to all of them. But then, quite a mercy, he gets to eliminate ten of them! No need to remember them anymore. He’s got to keep the first two because they’re the only ones whose names he thinks he remembers, but other than that it’ll be a crap shoot.

“Taehyung.” Oh, his voice is deep, and Yoongi decides that he likes that. Yes, very much so. He instantly forgets the name that this man just assigned himself, but V seems to suit him quit well. Goodbye V, and yes, Yoongi looks at his ass too. But he’s gotten fairly good at being subtle about it. The viewers at home will still probably be able to tell. Maybe it will make him genuine and endearing? Maybe he’ll just be called a pig.

The next one has brown hair. A very squishy face, which Yoongi has been told he also has. The second he steps out of the limo he can tell that this one, much like the second guy who Yoongi wants to say was called Jimin, that this guy radiates something. A very bright smile, if a little nervous. He looks very good in his suit. Everyone that has walked out of the limo has looked nice and been nice, but there’s something about this one in particular that just gets right to Yoongi’s core.

“Nice to meet you,” he says, which is a phrase that Yoongi has heard countless times before, and it’s a little disappointing that that is how this one has started the conversation.

“Hello,” he says. To be fair, Yoongi’s first line hasn’t had a lot of variety either.

"Your bio failed to mention that you were this cute," he says, and gives Yoongi a respectful once-over. Yoongi refrains from rolling his eyes. “Before I say anything else, I read on your bio that you're a rapper?”

His eyes immediately sparkle. Yes! Finally, someone is asking him about it! “I am! Yes!” Is this excitement? Is that what he feels? Excitement? Let me talk about myself please!

“That’s really cool. You may be here on this weird show now, but the next minute you’ll be an idol.”

“A man can dream, right?” Yoongi says. His squishy cheeks are about to make their debut to the camera, he can just tell.

“You look like you make a good rapper,” he says. His face becomes warm. Is this blush? He’s super pale, this guy is going to be able to tell that he’s blushing.

“I have a mixtape, you should listen to it,” Yoongi stumbles a little bit on his words. He realizes that this is the first time he’s managing to get a plug in for his mixtape, so he looks at the camera quickly and says, “Agust D, check it out.”

“How about you tell me more about it when we talk later, yeah?” he says smiling. This guy can most definitely tell that Yoongi is blushing. You can read it on his face like a book. Yoongi also suspects that he knows what he’s doing. He’s so charming. He’s cute. Everyone has been cute, literally everyone, but this one complimented not just his face but also said he looks like a good rapper. Fifteen roses to give out, this guy has already earned one.

“Two left after me, but make sure I’m the one you remember, okay?” he says. Fuck. Yoongi nods, and he turns to watch him go, but then he realizes-

“Wait, you didn’t tell me your name!”

“Silly me,” he says, smiling with his soft oh-my-god-yoongi-are-you-gay? cheeks, really bright like he’s a light source and Yoongi is a flower that needs it to grow. “Hoseok.”

Alright, Hoseok. You get to have a name instead of a letter. You’ve earned it.

Also? Very nice ass.

[moxyphinx]

2017 MDK&KK Gigs

As a disclaimer of sorts, there are bits missing or cut out, and quotes are approximate because 

my memory’s not what it used to be post transplant

I don’t feel comfortable posting some things “publicly” 

I’m not sure how much we can say about new songs, so the ones that haven’t been released or played somewhere else publicly are just titled “New Song” until Sept 25th

Also, I’m not tagging this - mainly posting as tradition and for posterity. 

Back in 2015, MDK&KK came to Seattle for a series of house gigs, and they invited Jackie (@catgranting) and me to one. You can read about the magic here. 

Since then, we’ve become friends with the amazing woman who hosts, and she and KK have kept us posted about their return to the PNW. Initially, we assumed we would just go to one of the house gigs. However, MDK&KK have both been incredibly supportive and understanding of my medical situation, and they offered to do a small Sunday afternoon gig for us and friends. We didn’t know it when we arrived, but they actually played it as a benefit gig for my treatment plan which is C R A Z Y generous, and I don’t think I’ll ever be over it.

SUNDAY AFTERNOON

We arrived and set out food and drinks for the guests. KK came out once we had pretty much set everything up, gave me a huge hug, and we chatted. He mentioned that this gig would be entirely acoustic since it went so well last time, and that Maria was more nervous than usual.

Everyone mingled for awhile. It was fun to have friends and coworkers to share this with. Our dear friend, Aisling (@disturbedporcelain) came down from Vancouver and brought her sweet cousins. We hadn’t seen her in forever, so it was lovely to catch up and special to have her there. Eventually, MDK came downstairs looking fecking beautiful in a Frida Cahlo dress. Our host’s daughter did her hair:

We made eye contact across the patio and both went in for a hug. She asked after my health, and then leaned in and asked if I had seen the episode of OB yet. I blurted out that I had cried, and that she was incredible. She talked about how she felt super overwhelmed by the response on Twitter. Jackie and Aisling came over, and we gabbed about music, nerves, life, etc.  

Around 5pm, everyone headed in to find seats. We ended up in the front row. #classic

Sing Hola Luna

After the song, Maria looked up and smiled, “Hiiii! Two songs down. We’re alright now.” It was roasting last year, but this year was quite toasty as well, and someone passed up a fan for her. “What’s that? Oh god! It goes with my outfit. I’m just going to stand and pose.” She explained the PA situation and the terror. “I guess you’re going to hear the songs the way we write them. So it’s special.” 

Sing from the Sea A Couple More Years (Cover) (Bob Dylan plays it in Hearts of Fire)

We’ve never heard them sing this before. It’s a very sweet duet, and I feel like the way they sang it was a distillation of them performing together. KK started the song first plying the guitar, then singing. MDK looked toward him, smiled, and joined in on the second line harmonizing. Throughout the song they seamlessly traded off. They are so in sync, and listen to each other intently, yet effortlessly. It’s memorizing to watch, particularly at this gig because so much of it was unplanned. 

Pride (new)

MDK: “What about ‘Pride?’”  Audience: “What about it?” MDK: “Get on to it.” 

Maria told a story about looking for books about drag for an upcoming project. They stopped in a shop called Deseret Book, and the guy at the front asked if he could help her find anything. She asked if they had any books about queer theory or drag. He quickly said no which she thought was odd, so she asked if they had any books about drag and fashion, and he was like, “No, we definitely don’t." (Meanwhile, Diane, Aisling’s cousin, is dying of laughter). He told her that they’re actually a small Mormon book store. She quickly explained that she wasn’t trying to be provocative and wasn’t from here, and he laughed, and gave them an address for another bookstore.

Last Call (new) 

MDK: “This is a song about getting stuck in a bar… It could happen.”

Bethlehem (Sing-along) 

I was shite at this to start with. Maria was like, “All you really need to know how to do it count.”  Sounds easy enough, right? Well, we also had to repeat a line and then count, which okay, still sounds easy, lol. I eventually got it. Maria also said that every time they do it it’s completely different. “What yous did that was different, was you held out the note, like 'ooooooonee,’ ‘twooooooo.’ It was very cool."

Stuck

At this point KK asked for The List™ to be passed around. Before the gig, they wrote a normal setlist, but KK also wrote a list of a bunch of random songs they don’t usually play at gigs any more. “And if we don’t know it, it’s not like they’re going to kick us out.” As The List landed in my hands, KK said, “Oh, I already know what you’re going to pick.” “Yes, you do. Stuck.” Cue laughter. I already talked about this in the 2015 post, but to reiterate, it’s my “if forced to choose” fav, and partially responsible for how we got to know them. It’s still wild to think about the fact that it might be her most well-known song due to OB. It was a staple on my hospital playlist. God, I don’t even know how to talk about this song anymore. I’m just very thankful for it, and to have been surrounded by its vibration. 

Mother

Aisling’s pick. (God, Mütter is SO good). MDK: “You didn’t put that on the list did you?” As Maria hit the chorus, she choked up. “I actually can’t sing that.” She talked about how the relationship between you and your mother, whether good or bad, is always remarkable. And she loves her mam, tried to write a song, and it turned into "the heaviest fucking song."

Have You Seen Him Twelve White Horses  Sequin (new) Colour Code (These Streets are Always Blue) (new) 

KK: "Let’s do it on the piano… for the craic.”  MDK: “This is a show that nobody will ever see again.” 

MDK: “Round Two”  *rings her bells*

Going Home Sinners Like You and Me 

KK: “I wrote this song when I was four. Lyrically, it sounds like I was four.”  MDK: “I think if I would’ve said that to the guy in the Deseret Book Shop, sinners like you and me, I think he would’ve got it. We’d’ve bonded.”

Little Bee (new) 

While KK tuned his guitar, MDK talked about us: “Jackie and Shawna have been friends of ours awhile now. We got to know them when they came to see us in Toronto, and they brought my favorite things: crisps and socks. We’ve spent lots of different mad nights with them. They had a car crash - Aisling, you were there too. And the album’s not going to be out until September, but they got a special sneak preview just for being old fans.” Jackie: “’Old.’” MDK: “And by old, I clearly just mean, you know, a long time.” Jackie: “It’s fun to hear them acoustic. ...Because they’re very not.” MDK: “They are very not.” 

KK: “Is there more?” MDK: "There’s loads more. We only played half the song.” KK: *looks at me* ”Most songs go on too long anyway, don’t they?” Me: “No.” KK: “It’s just me then.” MDK: “It’s just you."

Winners (new) Last Day (new)

MDK: “This one’s a little bit sad, but not really. (...) All we have are the days. You just have to say, all I have is today. Can I just be the best I can be today?”  We first heard this at Hugh’s Room 2015, and have been obsessed with it ever since. Aisling cried. Jackie reached out and held her hand. MDK: “We always make people cry. It would be a bad gig if no one cried.”

Fuckability  Snow White 

Definitely a song I wasn’t expecting to hear live. The vibe was more ‘La Sirena’ than ‘Charm.’ Maria talked about how she wrote a series of songs inspired by fairytales because she wanted princesses having their own agency. 

KK made a joke about a place that sold “grass” and alcohol called “High Spirits.”

Helena  O Mother (Sing-along) Sparky Personality 

Alyssa: “I was thinking Fuckability and I just read Spanky - Sparky” MDK: “Spanky - that’s all whole other can of songs.” Jackie: “Just tweak it a little bit - A spanky personality.” 

After the first verse, Maria hesitated.  KK: "The chorus.”  MDK: “What is the chorus? What are the words? … Damn ... *looks to me and Jackie* Do yous know?” Me and Jackie: “Uh… Keep the wolves and your daughters at your door.” MDK: “Thank god for fans.”

Battlefield (Pat Beneath Cover) Shipbuilding (Elvis Castello Cover)

MDK: “What do you want to do, Boogaloo.” KK: ”Where’s The List?” MDK: “Fuck The List” KK: “I love The List.” MDK: “See you’ve got a fuck The List, and a love The List, and somehow we make it work.”

Keep it to Yourself (Amy Rigby cover) 

KK: "We don’t know it, but it’s funny. We haven’t done this since like 1943.”  I didn’t even know this song was in their repertoire! It reminded me of ‘Babes’ since it’s more of story song, but with a mischievous tango edge. Maria was hilarious, playing coy and all.

You say you'd like to kill the man who broke my heart. You don't think he should be allowed to live. You say you want to shoot the dude who screwed me up. Me, I'm trying so hard to forgive. But here's his address. Here's his picture. Here's the make and model of his car. He works until 4:30. Then he hangs out at the topless bar With a girl on each arm. If he should come to harm, Just keep it to yourself.

Unbelievable 

We hung out for quite awhile afterwards, as we had promised to help clean up (shout out to my mam for doing most of it because I was too overwhelmed to do much of anything). The post-gig glow, though! Aisling and I spent some time sitting in the yard just basking in it. 

Jackie, Kieran and I debated about which of their songs is the saddest. KK said ‘Unbelievable,’ which, to me, ultimately has a comforting message like a lot of their ‘sad’ songs (’Stuck,’ ‘Last Day,’ ‘Sing from the Sea’). I think we settled on ‘Helena.’ 

Near the end of the night, we ended up in a conversation with Aisling, MDK, and KK. We talked about a bunch of stuff: queer theory, drag, gentrification, OB, traveling, their music (obvs). At some point, Jackie and I sang the bridge of ‘My Addiction’ to them. Maria said she loves that song and hummed it. We’ve put in the request for next time. (How fecking epic would it be live?!)

 As we said goodbye, MDK pulled us in for hugs and called us mighty women. "Well, that means a lot coming from another mighty woman.” 

Also, this is too pure:

SATURDAY EVENING

I hadn’t realized it was an option, but there was extra availability at their last gig, so we ended up going to this one as well. I am incredibly grateful to have had a second opportunity to see them under less stressful circumstances all ‘round (though it’s still kind of terrifying to be in the presence of people you deeply respect and admire). There's not as much about this night because I forgot to do a brain dump after. Plus this is WAY too long already. 

We had a terrible heat wave in Seattle which is totally unprepared as a city to deal with it, so the gig was moved from a home to an air-conditioned conference room in a bank. When we arrived, we got hugs from Kieran, and hung out with Aisling and her cousins. 

Right before the gig began, Maria came over to talk to our group for a hot second. She talked about Astoria, glass artists Joey Kirkpatrick and Flora C. Mace, and how the water was “perishing” in Crescent Lake.

MDK: “We’ve played in a lot of weird places, but this is our first time in a bank."

Sing Hola Luna Sing from the Sea

This audience was on the louder side, which reminded Maria of a gig in Europe in an apartment building that had a super strict noise curfew. Instead of clapping, everyone did jazz hands. She told us we should do it for the next song “just for the craic.” When we did, she doubled over laughing. 

The Mountaineers Courtship Sequin (new) Colour Code (new) Bethleham (Sing-along) Am I Choosing Right 

There was something extra magical about this song. I don’t remember what exactly, but I do remember thinking, “Wow” when it was over. It was like the first time hearing the the higher riff on “Am I choosing right” on ‘Maria Live’ - just chills. 

Pride (new) Babes

Storms are on the Ocean O Molly Dear 

MDK is such a fucking powerhouse. You can physically feel might of her voice - it pierces you. ‘O Molly Dear’ is a beast live, and she was just so in it - dancing and belting. 

12 White Horses Yes We Will Last Day (new) Lucinda  O Mother The Silence The Most Beautiful People are Broken

This song hit me in a way I totally wasn’t expecting. The added bridge - “You’re beautiful just as you are / don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t go as far as you want to” - I just - I cried. It was so powerful to be surrounded by the loving and uplifting energy that saturated the space. Their music is curative. 

Siúil a Rún (Irish)

“I’m just going to down a few lines of an Irish song for [names all the Irish people in the audience].” 

Stars Above

After this song, the woman sitting next to me leaned over and said, “Well, she made the three of us cry *pointing to herself, Aisling, and me* I was looking over and counting.” To be honest, has anyone heard this song live and not cried?

We all went outside to get some fresh air. Maria came over and said, “We have to get a picture!” My brother volunteered his phone, so here’s our only group photo of the night:

I asked MDK about her ring:

She wore it last weekend too. Diane and I kept wondering if it was supposed to be “No” or “On.” She said the people at the shop in Toronto called it the “No” ring, but she wears it so it says “On.” She was also wearing her awesome double gender ring. 

We shot the shit, and then said our goodbyes. Hugs all ‘round. 

It’s difficult process through this, and I’ve only just begun. It’s been a huge year for my family, and I’m grateful to have been healthy enough to experience these historic nights in my life. Beyond words.  

tl:dr: MDK& KK are truly angelic - some the kindest, most generous, beautiful, talented people I’ve ever met, and I’ll cry forever about it.  

[pendragonfics]

I Got Soul, but I’m Not a Soldier

Paring: Gabriel (Supernatural)/Reader

Tags: neutral reader (no gender reader/gender neutral reader), fluff, triggers - loud noises/fights

Summary: Reader is sick of keeping their feelings for Gabriel a secret, and (finally!) wants to act on them. So Dean, the charmer he is, enlists to help.

Notes: I wanted to try and write a fic where Dean was supportive of Gabriel/Reader for once and not play the part of the stereotypical 'protective father with a gun' figure you often see (in fanfic). 

Word Count: 1,217

Posting Date:  2016-06-05

Current Date: 2017-05-13

Some days, the boys would fight. It would be words; never punches. You'd come from a rough neighbourhood, and before finding the hunting life, people would always be rough around you. Treat you like a child, like a dog they'd kick in an alleyway. Dean and Sam never realised that you flinched when they slammed the Impala doors, or stomped their feet to emphasise how angry they were with the other. This was John Winchester's legacy they inherited, or what the old man had rubbed off on them. You never made a fuss of it; it was just how you've always been.

Of course, when you'd made it to the page of the story you were up to, you'd been introduced to the magical sidekicks and friends of friends; Crowley had been chained in the basement for a fortnight, Kevin often brought his Mom back for visits every time it got dicey, and naturally, the angels. When you met Gabriel, it felt like your life stopped. Everything stopped, and instead of minutes turning to hours and days, when you looked into his caramel eyes, you fell. Hard. Too hard, and now he was off playing hero with the boys and you were still pining over a celestial being.

After a hunt gone bad, you had a chance to talk to Dean.

"What do you do when you like someone?" you ask him.

Dean's sitting alone at the table, surrounded by open lore books and case files from the Men of Letters. He cocks his head, regarding you, and places his half full glass of chocolate milk down on a coaster Charlie made out of mini Legos.

"Like, with a woman? Hmmm, well, I flirt a bit, ask for their number, arrange a date," Dean starts, scratching his nose. "Try to be as upfront about how I feel as I can."

You nod, slowly.

"You in love with Sam or something?" Dean presses.

Your eyes widen, and at once, you feel as if you've swallowed a portable camp stove whole. Cheeks hot, you stutter, "Oh my God, Dean, not everyone is in love with your tall, long haired beautiful brother!" you wave your hands, and blink furiously. "Nope. Not in love with Sam."

Dean scrunches his eyes. "I know. I've seen the way you look at him, it's like he's a -,"

"Majestic being worthy of everyone's lives and attention, yet not the right flavor of cake for my tier display," you finish off, and grab Dean's chocolate milk. "Alright. I'm going to tell you...but you can't tell anyone." you tell the elder brother. "Please don't tell anyone, okay?" you caution.

The dark haired blonde who was often mistaken to sport a crop of brown hair nodded. "Swear on my car, _______. I won't tell."

For a second, you hesitate. "I like Gabriel," your voice is a damn near whisper, but judging by the way Dean's eyes widen and his lip curls into a smirk, it's like you've screamed it aloud. "Please, please, Dean, you've got to help me. I'm in deep."

He nods. "I can tell...this explains all the times when he appears that you run away from him."

"That's only because I get really nervous around him! Please, Dean, you've got to help."

He considers you for a moment, and nods. "Okay. I'll get you and Sweet-Tooth together. Trust me and my Cupid charms," he flashes you a smile that could melt an iceberg.

You smile. "Thanks, Dean," you take a sip from his glass, and passing it back to him, you add quickly, "Does your Cupid charms work on Castiel, or are you not aware of how the both of you look at each other?"

If you stayed longer, you might have caught Dean's eyes light up at the mention of the dark haired angel.

Not two days later, a plan was put into action; when Charlie was hosting a small 'hunting party' as she nicknamed the gig, you'd make clear of feelings to Gabriel, with the help of Dean. He'd been busy trying to warm up to Cas lately, and there was no way you would get in the way of those two. Thus, you were hanging out in your room.

"Knock knock," your heart began to race, and tossing your comic aside, you jumped up from the bean bag on the floor to open the door.

Behind the door stood a face your heart couldn't deny speeding up for, and for a moment, you were silent. Gabriel's hair was perfectly mussed, eyes glowing in the low-light of your dying bulb, smile kind and small. It faltered for a second, seeing your expression, but widened quickly.

"Thought I'd crash in here for a bit, sweetness," he nodded toward the living area, just as a crash sounded. "Dean-o and Sam're at it again."

For a second, you hesitate. Letting Gabriel in meant being stiff and wooden around him, tipping him off that you either hate his guts or love him to kingdom come. Refusing the almighty celestial being entry to your poster-strewn room meant...the same.

"Come in," you flinch, hearing a shout. Just before you shut the door behind Gabriel, you caught some of the argument. "Sam's onto Dean about the drinking problem?"

He nodded. "Yep. Can't stand the noise, it's just like when I fought with..."

Gabriel gets silent.

For a moment, you don't know what to do. All of this time, you never expected an angel, an archangel! to have such emotions about the same thing you do. But you should have known; the joviality of Gabriel would have been a front. Everyone had a front in this business.

Slowly, you approach Gabriel.

"Would you feel less ashamed by it if I told you I was afraid of the same thing?" you whisper. Outside, someone punches a wall, and though it's a few rooms away, you shudder. "My life...before this. So much abuse, I don't know how I managed to get out if it weren't for Sam and Dean."

Gabriel gives you a look. "Is that why you're not that good at guns?"

You shake your head. "I don't like killing things that haven't got the same opportunity to fight back as me. I don't like killing, period."

Slowly, the angel approaches you, and before you know it, he's gathered you in an embrace. "Hey. Why don't we wait this storm out...I'm sure you have movies we can watch."

You freeze. "I don't know...I'm not that great..."

He rolls his caramel eyes. "I know you like me, ________. I've known it for a while."

Your face turns into a paint pallet of colour. "Oh my gosh, I'm so embarrassed," you whisper. "I'm sorry! You probably think I'm insensitive -,"

Gabriel waves a hand, "Nope. I think you're cute. Even cuter if you'd accompany me to Charlie's dance."

At this, you take a step away from his hug, and fix your hair. "You, the all-important angel, being my date to a dance themed around our careers?" you ask, taking in the moment. How did your life get to be this? Sure, you'd had a not-normal childhood, and fell hard for an angel - the same one standing before you. It was then you decided, it wasn't too bad a life. "Sure!"

[ryukoishida]

MSG Iron-Blooded Orphans Translated Fic: In which Orga and Mika talk it out after the first awkward kiss.

Title: This is Life Author: riyancyy777 | AO3 | Lofter Translator: ryukoishida Fandom: Mobile Suit Gundam: Iron-Blooded Orphans Part: 3/6 Genre: Modern AU, high school AU, romance Rating: NSFW Character(s)/Pairing(s): Mikazuki Augus/Orga Itsuka Summary: It’s almost Christmas, and Orga wants to earn some quick money in order to buy a gift for Mikazuki. Nase refers him to a part-time gig that requires the young novelist to “sell his body”, so to speak. T/N: If you can read Chinese, please check out the original fabulous fic here!

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 -

CHAPTER III: Aftermath (Part 1)

When the traffic lights turn from red to green at the intersection, the double-decker bus with the printed image of Orga’s half naked body on the side of it gradually moves. However, before the bus is even out of their field of vision, Orga has already grabbed Mikazuki’s hand, and under the surprised gaze of pedestrians, they sprint until they reach a quieter path where they can no longer see the busy road.

As they are running and Mikazuki is staring at the other man’s back and his reddening ears, a kind of feeling that he cannot name or clarify suddenly begins to emerge in his heart.

They stop beside a vending machine along a small, deserted path. After ensuring that there’s no one else in the surrounding area, Orga finally releases Mikazuki’s hand. Short of breath from the run, Orga leans his upper body, bracing his hands against his knees as he takes in large gulps of air.

Mikazuki first lowers his head to stare at his hand, the warmth of Orga’s hand still lingering on the skin of his palm, but since the other man has let go, Mikazuki’s hand feels strangely cold and empty. His focus then returns to his companion, who seems to be displaying an uncharacteristically panicked expression on his face — something that Mikazuki thinks is inconceivable.

“Orga?” He wants to reach over and pats the other man’s back to soothe down his breathing, but as soon as the syllables of his name slip out of his mouth, Orga looks up at him, his face flushing red and his mouth slightly parted from panting. The corner of his lips is pulled downwards into a subtle curve, which makes those lips that others have always commented as “sexy” seem unusually lovely.

That expression is an exact replica of the one on the poster, the only difference being that this time he can actually observe Orga’s eyes. His brightened, golden irises appear to be a bit hazy from the intense running, and within those eyes is a look of awkwardness and embarrassment that Mikazuki has never seen before. That strange, perplexing emotion resurfaces and slithers along and up his spine.

Mikazuki’s hand freezes in mid-air.

“I’m sorry, Mika…” Orga’s breathing is still uneven, and so he can only continue in bits and pieces, “Please… that thing you just saw… just… forget about it!”

“Uh…” A troubled expression emerges on Mikazuki’s face. Usually, whatever Orga has asked him to do, he’d try his best to achieve it; however, this time… “I’m sorry, Orga. It seems… I can’t do it.”

“…Eh?” Orga’s mouth widens, speechless.

“That side of Orga… is difficult to forget…” Mikazuki admits in a frank tone, his gaze lowering to the ground.

To be honest, he should be long used to seeing Orga’s naked body — inside the football team’s locker room, whenever they visit the public baths together, in their shared, non-air-conditioned apartment during the hottest summer days. It had been nothing out of the ordinary during those times, but this is something entirely different.

No matter what, he cannot wash away the image of Orga on that advertisement poster from his mind. Is he broken somewhere inside?

Orga’s face displays a hint of despair as he squeezes his eyes close and turns his head away.

“That sort of outrageous and undignified appearance… You must be… pretty damn disappointed, huh?”

“Not at all.” The dark-haired youngster shakes his head fiercely, and his gaze returns to his companion’s face. “It’s just…” He cannot find any fitting words or phrases.

During times like this, he especially admires the way Orga can use such a variety of sentences and adjectives to describe one lively and fascinating story after another, being able to accurately express his characters’ emotions with the most appropriate wording.

Yet it’s impossible for him to even properly describe his current feelings.

“It’s just…” Mikazuki repeats once more, and then pauses. He stares at Orga’s face from the side as he anxiously entangles himself in a game of hide-and-seek with the perfect adjective in his head.

At this moment, Orga turns towards him, his cheeks still tinting red and his topaz irises staring straight at him with deep concern.

Mikazuki gives up on logic and reasoning, just simply reaches out with both of his hands and cradles the other man’s face before pressing his lips against Orga’s.

The moment Mikazuki’s lips touches his own, Orga’s brain crashes for the second time that day.

“That side of Orga is very adorable!” As if he’s stolen Orga’s ability to poetically express himself through the kiss, Mikazuki finally finds the descriptive phrase he’s been searching for, but the way he phrases it is still the typical Mikazuki-style: concise and sharp.

As for the man who’s had his ability stolen, his power to speak has also been lost.

Orga’s memory after that becomes a bit blurry; he has no idea how he got on the public transit, walked up the stairs, and entered their residence.

When they finally return to the small apartment that let them both feel at ease, Orga steps into his bedroom, shuts the door behind him, and gradually slides down onto the floor with his back against the door and his head in his hands. His tall stature curls into a tight ball of nerves, his face burrowed between his knees.

And then he soundlessly screams.

‘Dear— God —!’

-

Having maintained his cocoon position in the darkened room for god knows how long, Orga hears someone knocking on his door.

Knocking is merely a polite gesture, and since the door is unlocked, it’s pushed open immediately.

Mikazuki sticks his head in to look around, and notices that the light in the bedroom is not on, either.

“Already asleep?” He murmurs to himself, but realizes that the bed is empty. “Eh? Orga?” He blindly searches for the light switch by the door and flicks it on. Only then does he discover the tall young man curled up in one corner of the room, as if he’s pretending to be a silkworm readying himself for metamorphosis.

“Ah… Mika?” The sudden onslaught of brightness momentarily blinds him, and Orga raises his arm to shield his eyes while glancing towards the doorway at his roommate. “You haven’t gone to bed yet?”

It’s probably past midnight now, isn’t it? He looks at the clock, which indicates that it’s fifteen minutes to twelve o’clock.

“You didn’t come out of your room, and I got a bit worried, so I just want to check up on you before going to sleep.” Mikazuki appears to have already washed up, donned in his pajamas and his hair still a bit wet from the shower.

“Uh… It’s nothing, just… I just wanted to calm myself down a bit…” The silver-haired young man rests his head on his knees again and stares at the wall before him. A moment later, he starts, his voice a little coarse, “You know… Mikazuki…”

“What?”

“That… Just now… Was that a joke?” He doesn’t dare look at him, his gaze still firmly focused on a specific spot on the wall as he asks.

“Just now?” Mikazuki blanks out for a second, and then suddenly says, “Oh, you mean when I kissed you?”

For whatever reason, Mikazuki’s easy and casual tone makes Orga feel a slight pang inside, but he nods forcefully regardless.

“It wasn’t a joke,” the dark-haired youth says in a calm yet undeniable voice, and steps into the room. He walks to where Orga is and kneels down before him, “I can’t quite describe it, but Orga, you looked really lovely then.”

The lanky youth who’s just been praised as ‘lovely’ suddenly raises his head, his cheeks quickly tinted red. Slightly frowning, he returns his gaze to the face of the boy before him.

“When Orga looked at me that way, my brain just stopped functioning,” Mikazuki continues, not a trace of hesitation in his blue eyes, “so I just naturally went for the kiss. Is… is that not okay?” When the question comes out, he finally shows a hint of confusion. Things like kissing should only be done between a boy and a girl — Mikazuki still has some common sense in that regard, at least.

Orga’s throat makes a noise, and then he’s hiding his face against his arm while stuttering in a muffled voice. “T-This…”

“But even now, I still have that same feeling…” The young man’s clear voice seems more subdued and hoarser than usual as he leans forward, both hands flanking the sides of Orga’s legs. He shuffles closer, his face nearing Orga’s forehead. “Hey Orga, is there something wrong with me?”

As if an electrifying current has run through his spine, Orga feels his breathing stutter, and when he looks up once more, his gaze meets with Mikazuki’s intensely blue ones. His hair still smells of the lavender shampoo he uses, and his breath has a waft of mint from the toothpaste; the pleasant combination of these scents is enough to intoxicate Orga.

“I’m the one… who has something wrong,” he croaks, lifting his left hand and placing it on Mikazuki’s cheek. There’s only a thin layer of breath between their lips, “I’m really… getting out of line…”

Mikazuki doesn’t wait for him to continue.  

Unlike the mere close-mouthed kiss that they shared on the street from before, his lips are slightly parted as his tongue darts out to lick Mikazuki’s lower lip. Mikazuki understands the implication immediately and opens his mouth in return, allowing the other man to invade the insides with his tongue, suck on his lip, lick against his teeth, his upper jaw, or letting their tongues tangle to invite the other to do the same.

It’s not difficult for Mikazuki, who can quickly learn anything as long as he puts his mind to it, to naturally master such a modest skill. Soon, he’s able to regain the initiative of the kiss; he even presses Orga’s back against the wall behind him.

He doesn’t notice when he has his hands on Orga’s knees as he nudges his legs apart so that it opens up a small gap for his lithe frame to slip in between when he shifts forward. Their bodies lightly brush against each other’s due to their delicate movements; they can both sense each other’s hearts beating and thrumming hard and fast through the contact of their skin.

Settling close, Mikazuki’s hand slides along Orga’s slender legs through the material of his pants until he reaches Orga’s upper thigh.

This movement is going slightly beyond Orga’s limit, and he struggles to grab hold of Mikazuki’s wrist, forcing himself to turn his head away from the kiss and gasping out, “W-wait, Mika.”

“Wait for what?” The passionate kisses paint a shade of pink across Mikazuki’s snowy-white skin. He stares innocently at Orga’s reddened lips, kiss-swollen and wet, before he leans his body forward again, wanting to continue what they’ve been doing.

“B-Before we do something like this, we should… um… should, that’s right, we should first calm down,” he mumbles incoherently, his hands braced on Mikazuki’s shoulders to make sure he remains at arm’s length.

“…Impossible.” Mikazuki attempts to adjust his breathing, but his body is like a wind-up string on a bow, and so he won’t be able to comply with Orga’s request.

“Let me finish first…” the silver-haired youth steadfastly grips onto the other man’s shoulders and ducks his head, “I still…”

“Do you not like this, Orga?” he freezes, and his gaze drops down in dismay.

“No, that’s not it,” Orga shakes his head in chagrin. Speaking of body reactions, his current situation isn’t any better, but… “I don’t know… how I should face you if we were to keep going with this.”

“Why?” Mikazuki’s eyes widen, glancing at him with a perplexed expression.

“That advertisement — that sort of ridiculous and shameful appearance… I didn’t plan on letting you see that side of me at all…” Orga retrieves one of his hands and covers his face, his gaze straying away from Mikazuki’s face. He can’t possibly look directly into the other man’s eyes while he’s saying these words. “That… image was the photographer’s deliberate intent to evoke the audiences’ feelings. So, if you wanted… to do that now… um… there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s my fault.”

“Orga…”

“However, if this is merely your momentary desire…” his shoulders become taut and rigid as he bites his lip, desperate fingers seizing his own hair, “after that, I have absolutely no idea… what kind of an expression I should confront you with in the end…”

Mikazuki’s mouth opens, but no words come out. He hasn’t even considered this kind of question before, let alone being able to give a reply.

He shuffles back and sits on his heels, allowing his lust-addled brain to calm down a little.  

The atmosphere in the room becomes stiflingly heavy.

The first to interrupt this silence is the clock’s clang signifying midnight.

“It’s already Christmas, huh?” Orga lifts his head to glance at the clock on the wall, and feeling a sense of guilt, he returns his gaze back to Mikazuki, who remains seated on the floor, his head lowered in deep thought. It’s all because of his immaturity that causes Mikazuki to fall into such a dilemma. “Sorry, Mika,” he apologizes in a pained tone. Under normal circumstances, he would already be ruffling his hair or enveloping him in an embrace, but now, he’s afraid to initiate the simplest of physical contacts. “I’ve screwed up this Christmas eve. I’m really sorry. You should go back to your room and sleep.”

“Orga,” Mikazuki lifts his head, his face returning to his usual impassiveness, but his irises contain a different array of colours, “I want you, Orga, and it’s not just a momentary desire either.”

“Eh…?” The silver-haired youth’s body stiffens.

“I’ve always wanted you — always. But I’ve been so stupid and never realized,” his eyes are half-masted, the shadows of his lashes darkening the blue of his irises, “You’ve always been by my side, smiling at me, satisfying my every whim, and forgiving me even when I’ve done stupid things… And so it becomes natural to feel that Orga belongs to me and I thought that I understand everything about you.”

Orga wants to say something, but discovers that his voice has stopped working again.

“So, the moment I saw that photo… at first, I was really shocked, and then I was a bit… pissed off?” He tilts his head slightly to the side, trying to think of a more appropriate word.

“Pissed off… huh?” Orga lowers his head and heaves a sigh, “of course, that sort of shameful appearance has disappointed you, hasn’t it?”

“No way! It’s because… no one has ever seen that side of Orga before, and I wasn’t the first to get to see you that way, even though I’m the one closest to you…” As he’s telling him this, Mikazuki gradually relaxes his fingers from the fist he’s formed. “After that, my brain started acting very strangely…” He puts his hand on the floor and braces himself as he leans forward, quietly approaching Orga.

“I… want you, Orga,” he murmurs once more, one hand placed on the young man’s knee, “If I’ve realized this sooner, I would’ve been the first person to see that side of Orga…” At this point, his tone has become that of a child’s whiny complaint.

But with every sentence and every word culminating into heat that gathers in Orga’s abdomen, his breathing quickens and becomes uneven.

“Hey, Orga…” Mikazuki’s voice is coming from somewhere too close, his hands are already braced against the other man’s chest, the blue in his eyes darkening from desire, “…can we?”

Orga breathes in deeply, burying his face in his palms.

‘I’m such an idiot!’ he scolds himself silently.

When he pulls his hands away from his face, he sees Mikazuki staring at him, his face uncharacteristically nervous. He wants to say something, yet every time he tries to open his mouth, nothing intelligible will come out. Seeing as Mikazuki grows more and more uneasy almost to the point of looking like he’s in despair, Orga finally clenches his jaw and points a finger at the bed adjacent to them.

“L-let’s get on the bed,” his face reddens and says, abashed, “the floor is too hard…”

-

T/L: Legit nsfw content for next chapter yippee!

[z-exie]

There are people who just don’t get what the hype is about with superhero movies and it’s simple: they tell a good story.

Except for the first Hulk movie. Wtf with that one.

In context of the Ironman, Captain America, Thor, Spiderman, Antman, and upcoming Black Panther, Captain Marvel franchises, all of storylines were strong enough to stand alone while coming together to tell a wonderful action and heartfelt tale about camaraderie and choosing between what’s truly right and wrong at any cost. This is the basic storyline you’ll find in elementary literature like, oh I don’t know, comic books!

Side note: Is Dr. Strange going to be a franchise?

What Marvel has done here is complicated this storyline a bit so that it’s better suited for adult audiences while keeping the imagery and action colorful enough to keep the attention span of a kid. Albeit, Endgame was a little PG13, but whatever.

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While this storyline that Marvel calls “Phase I” is riddled with superheroes like War Machine, Black Widow, Hawkeye, Falcon, Vision, Scarlet Witch, and The Winter Soldier, the story as a whole seems to revolve around Ironman, Captain America, and Thor.

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Tony Stark – Ironman

This dude sets it off, but not on purpose. Ironman, played by Robert Downey Jr., was created as a means of escape when he got kidnapped by some dudes so they can get access to his warheads—the commodity that made him a billionaire. Tony’s character took on the persona of a narcissistic “genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist” who, according to Captain America, “wouldn’t make the sacrifice play” when it came down to it.

Rogers was right, but then he was wrong. So wrong!

Damn! Damn! Damn!

The Ironman franchise goes on to introduce Black Widow, War Machine, and Pepper Potts. As this particular storyline progressed it became more about how tortured Tony Stark was becoming about his unknown destiny. Ever since The Avengers (2012), the monkey of Thano’s army led by Loki (Tom Hiddleson) had been on Stark’s back which was why he created an army of centurions (Ironman 3 and Age of Ultron). Tony was also torn by the carnage that The Avengers left behind (Spiderman Homecoming offers a great perspective of this) and sided with the Sokovia Accords (Captain America Civil War) that required all superheroes to register their superpowers so that the government can regulate them. In other words, Tony was starting to give a damn. So throughout this 11-year period, Tony Stark went from a narcissistic billionaire playboy who made his fortune from warheads to a family man who made the ultimate sacrifice play to save the world.

Before biting the big one, Tony Stark went back in time on a time heist mission with the remaining Avengers and was able to reconcile with his father. This gave him a final peace within himself for a proper ending to his character. It was sad, but it was also beautiful.

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Steve Rogers – Captain America

Played by Chris Evans, Captain America went from being a puny little dude who the army didn’t even want to an enhanced soldier who became as symbolic as the American Flag. So when he went against the Sokovia Accords, he was committing the ultimate treason against his country. But even then, it seemed righteous. His beard was supposed to reveal his “dark” side I guess, but it was like “woo-hoo!” Still, Steve Rogers seems to be the compass for leadership here, so the pendulum of his character’s evolvement doesn’t swing too far to the left or right but it swings, believe that!

Seriously, it’s like Captain America can do no wrong. Throughout the 11 years, his character’s transformation basically went from good to honorable to worthy enough to wield Thor’s hammer. I mean…

In the Captain America franchise, Falcon (Anthony Mackie), the Winter Soldier (Sebastian Stan), Spiderman (Tom Holland), Antman (Paul Rudd), and Black Panther (Chadwick Boseman) is introduced to the team. The Scarlett Witch (Elizabeth Olsen) and Quicksilver (Aaron Taylor-Johnson) was introduced in Age of Ultron.

In the Endgame, Steve Rogers also had to fight himself. He knew what his own strengths and his weaknesses were: his best friend and the love of his life—and used one of them against himself. It wasn’t brawn. It was wit that won himself over.

Rogers goes back in time only to realize his life is really…back in time when he crashed into the ice. He’s been trying to convince everyone to move on from the whole Thanos (Josh Brolin) apocalypse when he never moved on from his own personal apocalypse where he was the one who disappeared from the world. After returning the Infinity Stones to their rightful timeline, he then returned himself to his own rightful timeline. After living a full life, he came back as an old man to pass the Captain America mantle on to his boy, Sam Wilson (Falcon).

He’s back and he’s black!

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Sam Wilson – Falcon – Captain America

Wait a minute: A Black Captain America?

Yes! The Falcon (Anthony Mackie) is now Captain America, folks! There should’ve been a roar of applause in all of the black theaters because just think about it… Captain America…of the United States…is black. If Marvel does a fraction of what they did with Black Panther’s storyline in terms of embracing black culture and society…ya’ll don’t hear me!

Black. Captain America.

It’s like being able to tell some fictitious stories of what might happen in a world where the leader of a free world that was built on racism and bigotry was led by a black man.

I’m here for it, baby! Cut the check and take my money!

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Thor Odinson, Ruler of Asgard

Oh my god, Chris Hemsworth’s character is the most colorful of them all in Endgame and I enjoyed every scene he was in! Talk about character development.

Screenwriting 101 teaches us that every character should start one way and end the total opposite, more or less. Marvel totally did that with Thor. I mean, he was the sexiest, most confident, and strongest Avenger. By all purposes of this fictional story, he’s a god! So to end Phase I with him being overweight, drunken, and insecure is hilarious! Although, you can’t blame the dude. It seems that he of all the Avengers lost the most. His entire family got murdered, but not before getting his butt kicked by his sister who gauged his eye out, his entire planet was annihilated, and anyone who was left was handled by Thanos—or so we thought until Endgame. Apparently, some Asgardians were left. Plothole, but whatev’s.

In the Thor franchise, Valkyrie (Tessa Thompson) and a new kind of Hulk (Mark Ruffalo) is introduced.

In Endgame, Thor goes back in time, retrieves his hammer and accidentally receives much needed counsel from his mother. Who doesn’t want their mommy when they’re down and out? I mean, if you can’t confide in your mother when you’re fat and travel back in time, who can you talk to?

It’s clear that Thor’s storyline isn’t over since he’s boarded the Guardians of the Galaxy’s ship. However, the arc of his storyline in Phase I is satisfying nonetheless. We all want to see more of Fat Thor so this is going to be great!

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Natasha Romanoff – Black Widow

I would be remiss if I didn’t talk about Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson). I just don’t really think she’s gone. Probably because I know there’s a Black Widow movie in the works. Here’s the thing though: There’s been so many Black Widowish movies out like Red Sparrow and Peppermint, one wonders how Marvel is going to make her standalone movie…stand out. For one, Marvel fans already know this character, but not really. I’m thinking this could be a prequel for us to find out what actually may have happened in Budapest with her and Hawkeye. We’ll no doubt get more insight to Nat “having red in her ledger” (Avengers) and her flashback in Age of Ultron. There could also be a flashback/time jump in her movie too, I’m speculating. Just as sure as War Machine could be in Black Panther movies, Pepper Potts (Gwyneth Paltrow) could also make an appearance in her new Ironman suit in the Black Widow movie. Tony Stark will live on in the Marvel for sure! Also, am I tripping or…

Is Black Widow in the New Spiderman Movie?

What Does it All Mean?

So what have we learned here? Ironman had to see his daddy. Thor had to see his mother, and Captain American had to face himself. Even superheroes have to get right with who they are and where they come from before winning the game. Did it take 11 years to say that? Perhaps. Sometimes, it take people an entire lifetime to get it.

What’s the Fate of the Other Avengers after Endgame?

There’s so many more sub storylines to dissect like Nebula’s (Karen Gillan) daddy, sister, and self-issues—all which played a crucial part in the Endgame plot. There’s Hawkeye’s (Jeremy Renner) whole rouge ninja gig and him adopting an Asian kid. What’s up with that? Bucky’s a.k.a. The Winter Soldier’s (James Buchanan) relationship with Wakanda as The White Wolf (Infinity War), and what happened with Captain Marvel (Brie Larson) to make her cut her hair? Last, but never least, Mr. Bruce Banner finally embracing all of who he is, the good, the bad, and the green, but really, who’s willing to read much more of this? I totally get appealing to people’s attention spans and I thank you guys for skimming through this article. I hope I offered a new perspective in terms of storytelling.

The Mystery Kid at the Funeral

I found out that’s the kid in Iron Man 3 who he gifted with all that stuff in the garage, if you didn’t know that already. Ok. That’s it for now.

Guess I’ll see you after Spiderman Far From Home if it’s good enough!

Written by Zorina Frey

Written by Zorina Frey

Avengers Endgame: What Does it All Meannn? What did we just spend 11 years of our money on? There are people who just don’t get what the hype is about with superhero movies and it’s simple: they tell a good story.