#then check in tomorrow night at 7 for the culmination!

[storybycorey]

The Fox Mulder Phonetic Alphabet

Finale posted tomorrow!  

We’ve made it from A-Y, and I know some of you have been waiting for the whole thing to be posted before reading, so thought I’d gather it all together in anticipation of the finale tomorrow at 7 PM!

Each of the letters up to this point have been approx. 200 words, but Z is close to 2700 words, so I promise it will be a satisfying end to our alphabet!

The Fox Mulder Phonetic Alphabet, Letters A-Y

author: @storybycorey

rating: PG-13

wordcount (so far): 4612

A is for Apple

She brings her lunch from home most days.  Well-balanced, just as he’d expect— portions of protein, fruit, and grains—while he grazes a bit less elegantly on a plethora of offerings from the upstairs vending machine.

She packs an apple once, eats it right in front of him.  Red and juicy, but not nearly as red and juicy as her lips, or at least the way he’s imagined her lips to be after nearly seven years of imagining such things.  He wonders whether, if he ever works up the nerve to kiss her, he’ll taste her on his mouth afterwards, the way you taste an apple—tart and sweet and lingering there. 

He realizes he’s staring, goes quickly back to his bag of Funyuns (Onions, Scully! They’re vegetables!). Later, when she throws her apple core in the trash, he feels a sudden urge to retrieve it, as a reminder of things he wants but probably doesn’t deserve to have.

B is for Basketball

She beats him at basketball one day. Unbelievably.  Finds him in the gym one evening after an endless day of seminars. She knows how to find him the way a dog finds its bone—even when he’s buried, even when he’s mangled and chewed-upon and disgusting.  On this day though, he’s none of those things; instead he’s just plain bored.

In her black suit and heels, she stands out like a sharp smear of ink, poignantly distinct amidst the wooden floors and the bleachers. He doesn’t expect a response to his hey Scullz, wanna go one-on-one?, but she lifts her eyebrow in challenge and slips off her blazer.  The tank top hidden beneath is tight and it’s blue (and made of a soft, shiny material his fingers ache to touch). 

He could say he lets her win, but honestly, imagining that mystery material sandwiched between his palm and her skin leaves him much too distracted to pay attention to the game.

C is for Candles

He’ll forever associate candle-light with her pale and trembling back.  With a maroon satin robe and hair that curls up sweetly in the rain (she’d never allow that now). 

Before that night, the only candles he owned were a melted-down cluster from some birthday or another, remnants of a relationship he’d rather forget. He owns an assortment now though, scented and not, but all at the ready should the opportunity arise.  His greatest want is to see the rest of her body lit by that warm, amber glow, to trail his fingertips across more than just her back, to chase the soft shadows around her curves as her breath hitches with desire.

He and the candles are prepared; they’ve been prepared for seven years now. She and her curves and her shadows? He thinks they're getting there. He hopes anyway.

D is for Dana

Her first name is a secretive, foreign thing to him these days.  Scully is Scully—strong, competent, loyal.  But Dana is an enigma.  He catches glimpses of Dana sometimes—a woman, a girl—and he wonders whether she’s fighting to break free.  It saddens him to think he may have stolen that girlish part away from her, filed her inside a metal cabinet down in a basement office like everything else that crosses his path. 

Sometimes he whispers it and it gives him a small thrill, like there’s a hidden part of her he has yet to know.  He imagines saying it intimately, with his mouth pressed to her ear, but can’t decide whether it feels terribly wrong or perfectly, undeniably right. He only know that his lips are ready, should he ever earn the chance to try.

E is for Earrings

He almost buys her earrings once. Foolish, really.  But while waiting for a watch battery to be replaced, he can’t help but browse.  The sapphires would match her eyes so stunningly.  Has he ever seen her in anything but small diamond studs or pearls?  Anything but a business suit or hotel room pajamas?  He wonders whether she likes dressing up, whether she stands before her mirror and admires herself, deciding between this evening gown or that one, holding earrings up next to her cheek.  

He stands at the counter and looks at the earrings for ten minutes, picturing the delicate arc of her neck and the auburn of her hair and those earrings sparkling between.  He’d be lying if he doesn’t also admit to imagining his tongue tracing around them and his teeth scraping against them and the moan he’s sure would slip from her throat while he plays. 

A pushy saleswoman interrupts his thoughts, asks “For your wife?  Girlfriend?”  

He shakes his head, “Neither.”

He leaves with a hard-on and a working watch, but the earrings stay behind for someone with a little more courage.

F is for Friends

They use the term friends sometimes.  Usually it’s partners, occasionally colleagues, coworkers, but really, none of those words does their relationship the slightest bit of justice.  He couldn’t define it to a stranger (should one ask) if he tried.  Hell, he can’t even define it to himself.

How do you define someone so ingrained in your bones, you taste marrow at the back of your throat each time she walks away?  Webster would be hard-pressed to condense that into a single word, he’s sure. Even best friend feels trite and inadequate where Scully’s concerned. She’s not just a friend, not just a partner, not just a lover (even in his most daring of fantasies)—she’s not just anything. 

She’s Scully, and she’s everything.  

G is for Globe

He used to play a game with Samantha.  Spin the Globe it was called.  They played it when their parents were fighting, when they wanted nothing more than to be far, far away.  He tells Scully about it once, when he can tell she can’t get out of her head.  Luckily, amidst the files and slides and mess of the office, he happens to have a globe.

“Spin it, Scully.  Close your eyes and point, and I’ll take you on an adventure wherever your finger lands.”

She rolls her eyes, but plays along, extending her French-tipped fingernail to land upon the spinning globe.  Antarctica. 

“Spin again,” he murmurs quickly, “That one didn’t count,” but she stops him with a hand curled around his like a comma.

“You found me, Mulder.  That was more extraordinary than any adventure.”

H is for Hands

Once on a stakeout, he holds her hand. 

Hours in a darkened car breed strange and wonderful things sometimes—discussions and games that only boredom can inspire.  He tells her he can read palms (he’s lying, of course, but at least it’s something to do), and she scoffs, but then surprisingly offers her hand.  It’s really too dark to see, but he tickles her palm and bullshits his way through, blathering about wealth and fate until her giggle makes his heart stand still.

“According to your palm���,” he says softly, “…true love awaits…as soon as you’re ready.”

She’s silent at first, and he worries he’s ruined things— ruined seven years’ worth of things in the span of a minute. 

But then, in a quiet voice he’s never heard before, she responds, “I’ll be ready… soon.” 

He holds her hand until their shift is over.

I is for Ice Cream

Her favorite ice cream flavor is Mint Chocolate Chip.  He knows this (even though she doesn’t know he knows this), and once, during a rough case, he brings her some. He sneaks from his room after dinner, stops at three different gas stations before finding his prize. Sylvia’s Sundries and Smokes perhaps wouldn’t have been his first choice of establishments, but beggars can’t be choosers where ice cream’s concerned.

Surprise in hand, he knocks on Scully’s door and, with flourish, whips two plastic spoons from his pocket.  The nice thing about it?  She doesn’t even pretend not to want it.  She smiles a shy little smile and invites him in.  They climb up onto her bed where they scoop big whopping spoonfuls right out of the tub.  She’s full after only a few bites but sits with him while he finishes, lays her head on his shoulder. They watch the Late Late Show until it’s late late late, until it isn’t even the same day anymore.

J is for Jacket

Her suit jackets (he supposes they’re probably technically called blazers) have shrunk over the years.  Dana Scully of the plaid and boxy, of the oversized shoulder-pads, is now Dana Scully of the sleek and fitted, of the black and stylish and sexy.   He finds himself tugging his collar from his overheated neck sometimes. More than sometimes.

He wonders when things changed, because he can’t quite place a pin on it, when she went from a woman he loves to a woman he lusts after as well. Or maybe it’s unclear because he’s always done a little of both where Scully’s concerned. 

She left a jacket (blazer, whatever) at his apartment last year and he keeps forgetting to tell her he found it.  It hangs now in his closet next to pairs of pressed dress slacks.  He catches a glimpse of it sometimes, stands there wondering how soon ‘soon’ will come.

K is for Kiss

Back in the 60s, the 70s, when the turn of the millennium seemed ridiculously far away, Fox Mulder fantasized about the future. His comic books predicted: In the year 2000, there will be flying cars, teleportation devices, vacations on the moon and Mars... 

He imagined the party awaiting him on New Year’s Eve, complete with robot wait staff and space-age hors d’oeuvres.  Never would he have guessed he’d actually spend the evening in a hospital corridor, arm in a sling, nary a party nor robot in sight.

They were wrong about more than just the robots though, dead wrong, because not a single one of those comic books predicted this:  In the year 2000, there will be Dana Scully and her flame-red hair, Dana Scully and her skeptical sighs, Dana Scully and the world not ending while she presses her lips to his for the very first time. 

To think that at one time he wanted robots and jetpacks.  It’s laughable really, to have ever wanted anything on this earth (or on the moon, or on Mars) but Dana Katherine Scully.

L is for Lists

He arrives earlier than usual one morning, finds Scully’s open notebook lying flat on the desk. The beginnings of a list, he’s sure.  Scully loves lists. Books to Read, Articles to Write, Times Mulder Has Driven Me Crazy… He hasn’t physically seen that last one, but he’s sure it exists, somewhere in her purse or briefcase, or maybe just hidden away in her head.  

A quick glance confirms his suspicions. Personal Goals.  

He’s taken aback; he’d expected something trivial. Pros and Cons of Sunflower Seeds perhaps, but this…

He stalls, waits a minute, maybe two, but in the end is much too intrigued not to peek.  

1. Call Mom more often

2. Reach out to Bill

3. Volunteer at the church

They’re all so wonderfully Scully.  He’s not sure what else he expected.  Curiosity satisfied, he’s about to turn away when:

15. Stop being afraid of my feelings

and below that:

16. Mulder

He stands stunned. He’s joked about appearing on Scully’s lists, but never like this, never as #16, never as a personal goal.  

He makes a list himself that night, condenses every one of his own goals down into just six letters.

1. Scully

2. Scully

3. Scully…

372. Scully…

1049. Scully…

He types her name until dawn has broken, until the printed ‘S’ has all but disappeared off his keyboard.

M is for Maybe

Maybe tomorrow’s the day.  He’ll toss her an innuendo, and instead of just catching it, she’ll throw one back herself.

The sun’ll come out tomorrow, isn’t that how the song goes?  Good things happen in the darkness, too, though—cemetery downpours, X-marked stretches of highway where her hair grows wavy from the rain. He and Scully manage just fine with no sun at all; they thrive in the darkness, no matter what the song says.

He packs up his things on a Friday afternoon, grabs his coat and offers his usual weekend farewell. But instead of Have a nice weekend, Mulder, she stops him, hand to his forearm, “It’s supposed to be beautiful tomorrow… Do you wanna… Maybe...”

Her cheeks are pink as she ducks her chin to her chest, and it’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

“Yeah,” he interrupts quickly, “Yeah, I do.”   He’s a bit too enthusiastic probably, but maybe tomorrows don’t actually happen that often for him on Friday afternoons.  

She smiles, cheeks still flushed, “Okay, then.  Tomorrow...”

On his way out the door he finds himself humming. Maybe the forecast for tomorrow is sunny after all, and not just because a little orphan girl told him so.

N is for No

He's scared of the word no, its finality. No, Mulder, it would never work. No, Mulder, we’re better as friends. No, Mulder, I don’t love… The word no could mean the end of everything. Of all he's seen, how absurd that two small letters could paralyze him like that. 

He walks through Violent Crimes once, overhears Scully talking to another agent from across the room. Rick Channing could be a television news anchor—hair coiffed and teeth so white they sparkle.

Mulder rolls his eyes. Scully doesn’t roll her eyes though; instead, she smiles as they talk.  She giggles.  Bile rises in his throat.

No, Mulder, I’ve fallen for someone else…

He should leave, but Channing’s next words stop him cold. “How about drinks, Dana? Maybe dinner?”  

She blushes, flustered, before scanning the room, eyes finding Mulder’s despite the way he hides halfway behind a partition.  

“Thank you, Rick, but no. I’m already…”  She smiles gently at him—him Mulder, not him Rick— “No,” she says again, then excuses herself down the hall.  

He stands there, rooted in place, decides no is the most beautiful word he’s ever heard.

O is for Opal

His birthstone is opal.  Not that he’d ever have cared, but one Christmas, he and Samantha received birthstone gifts—a topaz necklace for Sam and an opal-inlaid pocketknife for him. He still has that pocketknife, has rubbed his thumb across the smooth, cool handle countless times over the years.

Scully’s skin reminds him of that handle—the soft blue of her veins beneath translucent pink skin. She glows. He knows she’d scoff if he told her that, tell him human beings can’t glow, don’t be ridiculous. But she does—she glows just like an opal.

The pearly finish of his pocketknife is worn-down and soft by now, but her skin, he knows, is infinitely softer.  Her hand, her cheek—the safe parts of her body he’s been allowed to touch—they don’t even compare to the decades-old trinket.  He can’t imagine how much softer the more dangerous parts of her body must be.  The thought keeps him up at night, much more consistently than his nightmares do.

P is for Plum

Scully goes on kicks sometimes—bee pollen, yogurt, one month she sprinkled wheat germ into everything she got her hands on, his coffee included.

Fresh fruit is her latest. Oranges, nectarines, plums, oh, plums. There’s no neat way to eat a plum, though she tries, napkin laid out beneath her at the desk. The juice though. Drippy and sticky on her chin—his eyes try their best not to ogle, but usually fail.  

She walks around sometimes, cupping a hand to catch the drips, and once, as she reaches across his body for a book, a drop splashes directly onto his forearm.

“Sorry!” she exclaims, quickly swiping at his skin with her thumb.  How that same thumb winds up being sucked between his lips is a mystery, though probably has something to do with the way he acts sometimes before thinking. His tongue traces the sweetened ridges of her thumbprint as she chokes out a gasp, half-eaten plum forgotten.  

“No takebacks, Scully,” he mumbles as a joke, trying to laugh it off as he comes to his senses and releases her. Her cheeks stay pink for a good twenty minutes after that, and parts of him stay hard for an even better twenty beyond that.

Q is for Quest

This job of theirs, it’s more than a job.  More than a career path.  It’s a downright quest.  

He feels a bit like Don Quixote at times, Scully his faithful Sancho Panza, the two of them out there dreaming the impossible dream, fighting the unbeatable foe. There’s a sort of nobility to what they do, and he likes that.  

Sometimes though, he wonders whether the aliens are really windmills, whether the consortium is nothing but a barber’s basin balanced on his much too gullible head. Whether Scully is not Sancho, but Dulcinea— out-of-reach and much too beautiful for his files and his basement, his second-hand coffee table and his worn leather couch.  

He sometimes can’t believe she’s still here, chasing windmills, slaying bad guys, at times even taking the time to clean out his fridge. She deserves the most elegant of thrones, yet sits happily beside him on that old leather couch, Monday nights, Tuesday nights, sometimes even weekends.  It astounds him really.  

And when she nudges his knee with her own, smiles at him with that smile that makes him think soon isn’t so far away, that’s when he really believes—that being with her is not such an impossible dream after all.

R is for Rebel

Dana Scully is a rebel.  She tries to hide it, acts all prim and proper, but beneath her stern, pursed lips and buttoned-up suits, there’s a troublemaker lurking.  It’s what endeared him to her on their very first case, the way she laughed with him in the rain, the way, regardless of her orders, she listened to him and formed her own opinion.

He sees glimpses of that rebel from time to time, when she scarfs down pizza in a Motel 6 despite her no-carb diet, when she gets that gleam in her eye as they sneak onto restricted government property.

His favorite bit of rebelliousness though is her new stance on hotel-room consorting. They’ve fallen into a routine lately, of watching movies together on polyester bedspreads, of dropping off before the credits roll, of pretending I’m too tired to go back to my room is a perfectly reasonable and acceptable excuse to stay.  

Each time it happens, the morning sun finds them a bit closer together than the last— hands touching, next toes and shins, most recently her hair brushed his cheek as she snuggled against the pillow.

His rumpled, sleepy little rebel.  She’s a rebel on her own terms though, he knows this. And he’s being as patient as he can be.

S is for Sexy

She’s sexy, unbelievably so. It took him a while to admit that to himself.  For the longest time, he blamed his body’s reaction to her on their constant proximity, her perfume, the fact that he was suffering a longer-than-usual dry spell… But no, what it really comes down to is that Dana Katherine Scully is sexy as hell.

Even back in the beginning, when her suits hid her body and her hair did that swoop-y sort of thing up near the front.  Even in the middle, when she was thinner than she should’ve been, when cancer stole her color but didn’t steal her soul. And then there’s today. Today when there’s no mistaking the black lace of her lingerie each time she leans across the desk, not two but three buttons undone at her clavicle. Today when she murmurs thoughtfully, “I think you may be right, Mulder,” tongue wetting her lips as she reads aloud from his book on mystical apparitions.

What really gets him though, is that despite her hair or her lips or even her lingerie, the sexiest part of her isn’t on the outside at all; it’s what lies beneath—that intangible something that makes her Scully. That’s the part he fell in love with, shoulder pads and all.

T is for Toes

She’s got cute little toes.  She’s got cute little everything really, but her toes are especially cute, pale pink polish adorning each one.  She sits one night, curled on his couch, those cute little toes just inches from his leg.

“Wanna stretch out?” he asks, patting his thighs, and amazingly, within seconds, there are two small feet lying warm in his lap.

He gives them a tickle, but she kicks at his hand. He tries again, this time pressing a thumb to her arch. No kick, only an appreciative hum.  It’s all the encouragement he needs. He begins massaging in earnest.  

Her eyes slip shut, her head tilts back, a low groan rumbles from her throat. He massages her cute little toes for an hour, counts each contented sigh that slips from her lips (thirty-four to be exact). The movie they’d been watching fades slowly to black, and she ends things finally, with a shy, quiet chuckle and an I should probably get going.  

As she heads down the hall, he jokes from his doorway, “The masseuse is available every night, double sessions on weekends…”

She rewards him with an arched brow, murmuring, “Careful, I may just take you up on that…” before stepping onto the elevator.

U is for Umpteen

“Umpteen’s not a word, Mulder,” she tells him, eyes rolling, “It has no specified value.”  

She’s got a point of course.  They don’t have umpteen case summaries to submit; they have twelve.  But umpteen is most definitely a word.  

Umpteen’s how many times he’s forgotten his point because her lips are too distracting.  Umpteen’s how many fantasies he’s had about sliding his hands through her hair.  Umpteen’s how many times she’s walked out the door, how many times he’s kept from going after her, how many times he’s sat in his car beneath her window and longed for her with a ferocity that scares him shitless. Umpteen’s how many times he’s wanted to kiss her.  It’s also how many times he hasn’t…

He chuckles, dipping his chin, “You’re right, Scully. We’ve got twelve summaries to do, not umpteen...”

Umpteen is how many times he’s said her name, it’s how many times what he’s really wanted to say was I love you.

V is for Volume

They fight over the volume control in cars. He likes louder, she likes softer (I can’t think over the noise she says).  He usually lets her win. 

Their relationship has its own volume control, he’s realized.  There are times when it’s loud, blaring even, arguments at every turn.  Other times it’s low—murmurs in a conference room, end of the day farewells in a darkened parking garage. Mostly it’s somewhere between.  They talk and they banter and they discuss, in basements, in rental cars, in random police stations across America. 

Sometimes though, lately especially, she lowers the dial even further, turns it all the way over to the left.  Soft.  The very softest. His name on her lips those rare times he holds her. Her blush and shy murmured stop when he pays her a compliment. The slight gasp he feels more than hears when his fingertips brush over her arm, her cheek, the curve of her hip.

It makes him want to do away with loud altogether, to turn off the music and the voices and the noise and listen only to the sound of her breathing, to tell her "It's quiet now, Scully. I’m ready when you are."

W is for Wristwatch

This job has done a number on his wardrobe.  Jackets, slacks, shoes—all gone the way of the incinerator—either damaged beyond acceptable FBI standards or outright destroyed.  Scully’s hasn’t fared much better (she still pouts over a favorite pair of heels ruined two years ago). All part of the territory, he reasons.

His shattered wristwatch on a recent case was a blow though; he loved that watch.  

There’s a package on his desk the day after, wrapped so precisely, he needn’t even guess whom it’s from.  

“Scully,” he protests, but she stops him.

“Just open it, Mulder.”

It’s a watch—of course it’s a watch—a beautiful one, silver links and a detailed, intricate face. “You didn’t need—” he begins, but she interrupts him again.  

“It was my father’s,” she states matter-of-factly, but then her voice softens, “I’ve held onto it since… Here, let me.” She takes the watch, fastens it around his wrist. There are tears in her eyes.

“It looks good,” she whispers, “It brings out your… It looks nice—you’ve got nice forearms, Mulder, and this accentuates—”

He takes hold of her hand, gives it a squeeze until she meets his eyes.  “Thank you,” he tells her, “I love it.”  

There’s no way this watch lands in the incinerator. He’ll protect it with his life if he has to.

X is for X-Files

The basement office often feels more like home to him than home does.  It’s his secret hideaway, and despite the odds, he thinks it’s become hers, too.  They’ve created their own little world down here—a cozy, paranormal universe—and Scully’s as much a part of that universe as he is.

She shines like the sun, trails glittery stardust behind her like a comet. His beautiful, perplexing riddle of a partner.  It’s funny really, but despite the hundreds of files that surround them, Scully remains his biggest mystery.  She’s the very definition of an X-File.  It floors him that she chooses this life, that she’s willing to be his sun, his moon, his whole damn galaxy, day after day after day.

There was a time he couldn’t have imagined not seeking the truth.  These days though? These days he’s beginning to believe he’s been searching in all the wrong places.  

The truth can’t be found in Bellefleur, Oregon or in Kroner, Kansas, in forests or in sewers or in fields.  The truth—the real truth— exists in ink-blue eyes and rosebud lips, in the skeptical arch of an eyebrow and the soft, shy murmur of his name.

It exists right down here in the basement office, sitting not two feet across the desk from him.

Y is for Yawn

She yawns as he speaks, but it doesn’t bother him. Things feel sleepy—dreamy— tonight.

It’s been an odd few days apart from one another, he across the pond and she…He’s not even sure what she’s been doing, doesn’t know that he wants to.  All he knows is that she’s here, now, pressed to his side and yawning, proving to him once again how fate works.

It’s hard not to babble when he feels this good; he’s drunk on the smell of her, on the heaviness of her thigh pressed to his.

“And that says a lot… a lot, a lot, a lot…” Babbling, more babbling, until he feels the smallest, sweetest weight at his shoulder, sees lashes splayed softly against warm, flushed cheeks. The perfection of the moment strikes him, of her here on his couch instead of in a hospital room, instead of in a temple, instead of anywhere else she could be at this point in her life.  

He touches her hair—he can’t bear not to—covers her with a blanket to keep away the chill.  Allowing himself one last glance, he counts slowly to ten (slowly, so slowly), before making his own sleepy way to the bedroom.

Z posted tomorrow night (9/25) at 7PM EST!

[fallinnflower]

worth it

hoshi x reader (university!au, strangers to lovers, fluff)

The first time you met Soonyoung was during the co-curricular fair during your first year of college. Soonyoung sat at a fold out table in the quad with three of his friends, music playing from a Bluetooth speaker and a big poster taped to the front of the table which simply read ‘DANCE CLUB,’ surrounded by hand-drawn emoticons. You thought it was a cute booth, and you thought he was a cute boy, but you nearly jumped out of your skin when he called out to get your attention. 

You weren’t sure what clubs you were going to join, but you didn’t think you’d make for a good dancer — you’d only ever danced by yourself in your room, and one time at a school dance. But there was Soonyoung, calling out at ‘the girl in the blue cap,’ which you suddenly realized was you, imploring you to join. You attempted to conceal yourself in your jacket as you shook your head, mumbling an apology and waving as you wove your way deeper into the crowd, cheeks blazing. 

You didn’t look back. 

The next time you interacted with Soonyoung (beyond him smiling at you when you crossed paths, which you figured he did to everyone because he was just that friendly) was in a marketing class the two of you had together. You didn’t sit anywhere near Soonyoung, and for the first quarter of the semester nothing of consequence happened between you two. 

Then there was the midterm assignment. Randomized partners, open-ended topic, all culminating in a twenty-five minute presentation given by the both of you. 

You hated the waiting most of all. Sitting, listening to your professor call out what seemed to be everyone else’s name but your own, biting down on the inside of your cheek the longer you had to wait. 

“Soonyoung and Y/N.” Your head snaps up, and suddenly Soonyoung is waving excitedly at you, motioning to the seat beside him with a big grin. With your heart beating a mile a minute you pack up your things and slip down the row to sit beside Soonyoung. 

“Hi!” He greets. You manage a quiet reply, not sure why you feel so bashful in his bright presence. “Do you have any ideas for the project?” 

“Um, well...” You pause, flipping a few pages back in your notebook. “We could always talk about social media’s impact on marketing… I know it’s simple, but maybe we could pick a specific platform and get some data about how marketing has developed there. Maybe Instagram?” You chance a look at Soonyoung out of the corner of your eye to find him still beaming at you, peering down into your notebook. His face is closer to yours than you expected, and his cheeks are bunched up in such an endearing way that you just want to pinch them. And just like that, as if you weren’t blushing enough as it is, you feel your cheeks heat up tenfold. 

Suddenly, everyone starts packing up, and you close your notebook in a hurried manner,

“So, um, I’m free every afternoon—”

“How about tomorrow then? At 7 in the library?” You nod, caught off guard at how enthusiastic Soonyoung seems to be about this project. He’s never been active in class, and, to be honest, you were expecting him to drag his feet a bit more. 

It’s 7:15, and you can’t keep yourself from biting at your lip, a mix of agitated and concerned that keeps you bouncing your knee as the minutes tick by. You’re close to just sending Soonyoung an email and ditching, but suddenly you catch sight of him jogging frantically between the shelves of books. You stand and wave to catch his attention, and he grins when he notices you, brushing his hair back from his face. 

Upon closer inspection, you realize that his hair is damp, sticking up in a multitude of different directions. 

“Hi, sorry,” he pants, somehow still looking chipper. “I let dance practice run late and I didn’t wanna come here all sweaty. But, I brought snacks to make up for it!” He drops a bag of gummy bears on the table between the two of you, eyes sparkling. You sink back into your seat, averting your gaze as a sense of guilt washes over you.

“The library has a no food policy,” you mumble, and all it takes is a glance to see that Soonyoung’s smile has dropped a bit. 

“Oh.” There’s a pause, and all you can hear is the rhythmic clicking of other students' keyboards, until suddenly there’s a crinkling sound and the bag is once again in your vision. 

“That’s fine, you just take them then! As an apology for me being late.”

When you look up, considering denying his offering, you can’t help but pause. His smile is as gummy as the candy he’s offering, his cheeks looking just as squishy and his eyes glittering with anticipation. You feel your heart skip a beat as you accept, slipping the bag into your backpack. 

“Thanks, Soonyoung,” you whisper, and he laughs. 

“You can call me Hoshi, if you want. All my friends do.” This, too, gives you pause, but you shake it off and return his smile — albeit shyly. 

“Okay, Hoshi.” You turn back to your laptop, missing the way his ears turn red, and pull up the Google Doc and Slideshow you had made for the project. 

“I went ahead and shared the project materials with you, did you get them?” 

It’s then that you realize Hoshi isn’t the best with technology. He looks a little bit like a confused grandfather as he leans in towards his screen, eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly ajar. 

“Everything okay?” You ask, and he lets out a little whine. 

“It won’t let me type anything.” You tilt your head, equally confused. You had given him editing access, hadn’t you? 

“Let me see.” Hoshi not only turns his laptop to you, but moves to the seat beside you to see what you do. You let out a little laugh as soon as you realize what it is. 

“Ah, you weren’t in editing mode.” You switch his system over, and Hoshi leans back in his seat with an embarrassed pout on his lips. To put it mildly, it’s adorable, and you’re not sure how you’re going to deal with looks like that if he’s always this bad with his laptop. 

Despite that little obstacle, Hoshi is relatively prepared. He’d found a couple of sources that he had to dig around in his bookmarks to get to again, and he seemed genuinely interested in working hard. The two of you laid out the basics of your project, throwing little notes into the doc and talking through your points. 

“I can make some infographics for the project,” you offer. “I can probably have them ready by this weekend.”

“Should we meet up on Sunday then?” He asks. “We can go to a coffee shop! My treat!” 

“Oh, no, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he interrupts, dark eyes sincere as one of his hands comes to rest reassuringly over your own. “You’ve been really helpful, and I’m not very good with technology so you’re going to end up doing a lot more than you should have to, so I want to make it up to you.” 

Well, you don’t know how you’re supposed to say no to that when he’s smiling so cutely at you and his hand is on yours — so you don’t. You just nod and agree, before you both pack up your things. Hoshi carries your bag for you until the two of you part ways at the quad, him heading down to the house he rents with a few of his friends and you back to the dorms. 

Later that night, as you’re checking your emails one last time before bed, you’re surprised to find a notification that Hoshi had made a relatively recent change to your Doc. You click to open it and can’t help but giggle at what you find. 

I forgot to give you my number at the library!! (***)-***-***!!! ヽ(´▽`)/

You can’t help but think the emoticon looks just a little bit like him, and you fall asleep with a smile still lingering on your face. Kwon Soonyoung, you think, what a guy. 

Hoshi texts you throughout the week — at first, just to ask questions about various little tech issues and what you think of the sources he’s found; you simply laugh when he asks you what font you like for the slideshow, but your best friend (who’s peeking over your shoulder) has a slightly different reaction. 

“Oh my god,” she says. “He’s just coming up with random shit now!”

“Huh?”

“He’s just finding reasons to text you,” she continues, exasperated. “Like, fonts, seriously? He just wants to talk to you!” You shake your head, texting Hoshi that you don’t have a preference. 

“No, he’s just bad with computers, that’s all. Besides, we barely know each other.” Your friend huffs. 

“You’re oblivious.”

But as time goes by, you can’t really deny that he seems to be texting you about almost nothing. But you also can’t deny that you’re enjoying talking to him, with his excessive emoticons and use of exclamation points. Even when he’s distracting you from class, his messages leave a smile on your face. 

And Hoshi is the King of Distractions. In fact, the next time you have class together, Hoshi repeatedly catches your eyes just to point at his phone to get you to check yours. You wonder how he’s been doing so well in class if he’s always like this, and so you mime back that he should take notes. 

He pouts. It’s unfairly cute. He points at the phone again and you finally give in, rolling your eyes before tapping the screen. 

Hi

You give him the most withering look of disbelief you can manage, and he only beams back at you like it’s the best thing he’s ever done in his life. You roll your eyes, but as you turn away you happen to glance at your phone again just in time to see his message before your screen fades to black. 

:D

Dork, you type back with a smile on your face. He’s just too cute to ignore. When you happen to glance up from your phone again, Hoshi is pouting more prominently than you’ve ever seen before. You try not to think it’s cute, try to keep from smiling, but you just can’t help it. It seems you just can’t help anything when it comes to him, at this rate. 

Sunday comes and you’re less prepared than you’d like to admit. After sleeping through your alarm, you’d barely managed to remember to grab your laptop and charger to show Hoshi the infographics you were meeting to talk about before running out the door with your moisturizer barely slapped on. To say you were self-conscious entering the cafe, slightly winded and with stray hairs falling into your face from where you had it pulled back, would be an understatement. 

You’re quick to find Hoshi, who is staring at you with his lips slightly parted, expression unreadable. The apologies burst from your mouth like a flood, barely pausing for a breath as you explain your morning situation. 

“But don’t worry,” you say, plopping down onto the seat and smiling brightly at him as your laptop boots up. “The infographics are done!” Hoshi stares at you for a moment, that same expression from before still on his face before he shakes his head slightly and replaces it with a familiar smile. 

“I’m sure they’re awesome,” he says, pushing his chair back. “Want anything? My treat.” It takes you a moment to decide on a pastry to go with your coffee, but his smile never once fades — he doesn’t seem even the slightest bit impatient, even as he goes to stand in line. At some point, he turns his head to try and catch your eye, and when he does he scrunches up his nose and smiles; you giggle and do your best to mimic his expression, and when you do he’s quick to turn away, but not before you see his cheeks turning pink. You wonder if he’s feeling alright.

He returns a moment later with both your coffees and two chocolate croissants on a plate. You push your laptop so he can see it and begin operating the mouse with one hand, taking your croissant in the other. 

As is your usual tendency, you fall so far into explaining your work that you forget anything else — which is why you’re shocked to see Hoshi staring so intently at you and not the screen when you finally finish your spiel with a hopeful, “So?” He blinks rapidly, turning a little red again, before nodding enthusiastically at you. 

“They look great!” He chirps, then takes a long drink of his coffee. You sigh in relief and do the same, turning your laptop back to yourself. 

“Um, Y/N?” You hear him ask, and you lift your gaze from your screen.

“Hm?” Hoshi looks very determined, and although you don’t understand why, you realize it’s a very good look on him, one that leaves you feeling flustered.

“You have some chocolate on your face.” You immediately feel yourself turn red, and begin looking to see where the napkins are.

“Where?” 

You feel a light touch on your chin, and Hoshi is suddenly leaning across the table towards you. His eyes are focused intently on your lips and it only makes you more self-conscious; your breath stalls in your chest.

“There,” he intones, his voice low as his thumb gently glides along the corner of your mouth. His gaze flicks up to meet yours, and you feel your heart skip a beat as a smile spreads across his face, “Perfect.” 

Maybe his touch lingers, or maybe you’re just imagining things, but either way Hoshi sits back in his seat and goes back to munching on his croissant with no more than a light laugh, leaving you light-headed. You duck your head slightly, staring at your keyboard as you feel your face continue to burn, and wonder if you might still be asleep and dreaming.

If you are, you consider, you don’t really want to wake up. 

Your best friend hits you with a pillow when you tell her about your café meeting with Hoshi.

“Hey!” You snap, swatting the pillow away from your face. “What was that for?” Your friend lets out a long-suffering groan and falls dramatically back onto your bed.

“I’ve failed you!” She wails, clutching the pillow to her chest. “A hot boy flirts with you and you don’t even notice!”

“I don’t know,” you say, plucking at a loose thread on your blanket. “Maybe it was nothing. It’s Hoshi, be realistic.” At the sudden quietness of your tone your friend lifts her head and fixes you with a glare.

“What exactly are you trying to say, Y/N?” You shift awkwardly beneath her gaze.

“Just… just that Hoshi is kinda out of my league, okay?” You’re not usually the type to think about leagues, but Hoshi has always seemed sort of untouchable to you, a polar opposite. He shines as bright as his nickname would imply and you tend to prefer not being noticed because it makes you anxious. The thought of Hoshi liking you feels a bit like Aphrodite liking Hephaestus, and you just can’t shake that little cloud of self-consciousness away.

“Y/N,” your friend says sternly, sitting up and forcing you to meet her eyes. “There is no reason for Kwon Soonyoung not to like you, and there is no reason you should reject him if you like him, too.” You press your lips into a thin line, frustrated that she’s making sense. Sometimes you really just want to be irrational and take the risk.

And you have a feeling that having your heart broken by Kwon Soonyoung is one hell of a risk to run.

The project goes much more smoothly than you previously expected, especially considering Hoshi’s schedule is as crazy as it is. You know that his club has an event coming up, so you try your best to keep the workload light on his end — not because you think he can’t handle it, but because he definitely seems to be pushing himself to the limit. His normally bright eyes seem duller when you catch him off guard, and the bags under his eyes are significantly heavier than before. Luckily, you’re both almost done with the whole thing after that long session in the cafe. 

That doesn’t stop Hoshi from asking you about it after class one day. You barely notice him bounding up to you until he taps you on your shoulder, his face lit up in that familiar grin. 

“Hey,” he chirps. “When should we meet to finish the project?” You can’t help but smile at him, and you lightly wave it off.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I can finish it up.” Suddenly, Hoshi stops in his tracks, gently pulling at your sleeve so that you do the same. His face is now set in a pout, which is undeniably cute but you swear you won’t fall for it this time.

“That’s not very fair,” he grumbles. You avert your gaze, nervously playing with some of your hair,

“Well, I mean, it’s just that you’re so busy—”

“And you aren’t?” He interrupts, and you look up at him. 

“I don’t run a club with a showcase coming up,” you argue, and Hoshi huffs, entirely unconvinced. After a moment, however, his expression suddenly shifts to a smile.

“How about this,” he begins. “You come to the showcase, and then afterwards we can finish the project together!” 

“Won’t you be tired?” He shakes his head immediately, the sparkle back in his eyes.

“I’d never be too tired for you.” 

You nod without even thinking, and Hoshi is excitedly bounding off before you can even consider what his words might mean.

After telling your roommate about Hoshi’s ‘compromise,’ she screams at you for a few minutes about how oblivious you are before telling you she’s going to pick out your outfit for the showcase whether you want her to or not. By the time the showcase has actually rolled around, you realize you actually do want her to figure out your outfit because suddenly you feel like you have nothing to wear.

However, she dresses you pretty simply. She shoves you into a cold shoulder style sweater you rarely ever wear and what she knows are your favorite jeans. She points to various shades of eyeshadow and has you apply it and your lip tint yourself, and as you stand in front of the mirror looking basically the same as always, you can’t help but look at her in confusion.

“Are you sure about this?” You ask, and she playfully shoves your shoulder.

“He already likes you, idiot. How you dress doesn’t really matter, I just knew you were gonna overthink it so I chose for you.” You stick your tongue out at her, annoyed at how well she knows you but grateful, nonetheless, that she’s helped you out so much. She even agrees to go to the showcase with you for moral support, since she knows you aren’t really into crowds.

The downside is that she isn’t above elbowing her way through the crowd to make sure you’re directly in front of the stage, where you and Hoshi will have a very clear view of one another. She stands beside you, squished so close that your arms brush together, and as the stage goes dark and the crowd falls silent you find yourself grabbing at her hand out of nervousness. She laughs at your antics but gives your fingers a reassuring squeeze.

A spotlight falls upon the stage, where Hoshi and the other three boys in his unit are lying on the floor in a pile, somehow still managing to look elegant. You bite down hard onto your lip the moment the music starts, and even though Hoshi isn’t the first to move you can’t seem to take your eyes off of him. This is Hoshi, you realize, so much fiercer than the tired, goofy boy you see in class. Someone has done his makeup, the eyeshadow smoked out into a dramatic wing that contrasts his pristine white clothing. 

And then suddenly you realize they’re singing. All four of them, and you swear Soonyoung’s gaze catches yours right as he begins the first chorus and you’re ready to die, you are, holy shit—

Your mind falls completely blank from then on, and you only come to again when the lights fall and the crowd erupts into applause. Your best friend yanks her hand out of your grasp to clap along with them, and you do so as well, blinking rapidly to clear your mind. She gives you a teasing look and you don’t bother to sass her; you don’t have the brain power to say anything at all.

A few more members of the dance club perform, but Hoshi doesn’t come on stage again until the fourth song. This time, he and the three other boys are dressed in all black, and you realize with sudden and extreme force that Soonyoung’s shirt is mesh. You think of all the times you’ve seen him in baggy sweaters and t-shirts, looking comfortable and cozy and overall like a great cuddler — you hadn’t ever considered he would have abs, even though you probably should have given his dancing regimen. You can feel your best friend’s elbow nudging your side, but you’re too laser-focused on Soonyoung to give her even a sliver of your attention. 

You don’t think you’ve ever been mad that a person looks sexy before. First time for everything.

When the performance ends, you’re shocked to find Hoshi’s gaze locked with yours. A shiver runs down your spine at the intensity of his gaze, and although you know you’re blushing you can’t bring yourself to look away until the lights fall once more, plunging you into darkness. You can hardly hear the applause over the thundering of your heart in your ears, and as people begin gathering their belongings and moving to the back of the auditorium space, your best friend takes hold of your arm excitedly.

“Okay, we have to go backstage!” 

That snaps you out of it.

“What? No!” You shake your head wildly, but your best friend merely continues to smile. “Most of the crew has no clue who we are, we can’t just walk backstage—”

“Well we can’t just leave after all that,” she retorts, smirking devilishly. You cover your cheeks with your hands, hoping to quell the raging blush.

“I hate you,” you grumble, squeezing your eyes shut. “Why can’t we just wait here, or—?”

“Y/N!” Your eyes snap open, and you find that your best friend is now gazing past you, towards the doors you know lead backstage. 

“Oh my God,” you breathe, barely audible, but your anxious response goes ignored as your best friend waves to Hoshi excitedly.

“Hey Hoshi! Great job tonight, is Minghao back there still?” She’s standing before he even answers her question, and you’re pretty sure she would’ve walked away regardless of if Minghao was around or not. You curse yourself for forgetting that the two are lab partners. As she walks away, you take a deep, calming breath, and fix a smile to your face. When you turn, Soonyoung is already standing in front of you, dressed in a plain black shirt and sweats with just his familiar smile on his face.

“Hey,” he greets, beaming. You feel your heart skip a beat. 

“Hi.” Why does your voice sound so small? “You did great, but I’m sure you know that already.” He laughs, eyes sparkling in excitement.

“I do, but it’s still nice to hear you say it,” he replies, looking extremely pleased as you feel the blush rising high on your cheeks once again. You find yourself rendered speechless, thinking of the intensity of his eyes when they met yours on stage. Thankfully, he’s the first to break the silence, smiling fondly down at you in your seat.

“I was gonna go for bubble tea. Do you wanna come with? My treat.” Looking up into his bright, smiling eyes, you wonder how you could ever say no.

“Sure, let me just text my roommate and let her know.”

The bubble tea place Hoshi takes you to is only a few minutes’ walk from campus, and the majority of that journey is passed in amicable silence. You keep sneaking glances at Hoshi, although each time you do it makes you flustered and you ought to be avoiding that kind of situation. True to his word, when you get to the shop he pays for both of your orders before you can say a thing. As you leave the shop, preferring to walk back towards campus while the weather is nice, you find yourself breaking the silence,

“If you keep treating me like this, I’ll never be able to repay you.” You look up at him with a pout, but he just responds with his usual good humor, gently nudging you with his elbow.

“Who said anything about repaying me?” He asks. “You deserve to be treated to things, anyways.” You let out a sigh as he sips on his drink, running a hand through your hair.

“But I feel bad. I’ve hardly done anything for you since we met.” Hoshi hums, glancing at you thoughtfully for a moment before replying.

“You could repay me by going on a date with me,” he says, so casually that you nearly choke on a tapioca pearl. Thankfully, you manage to wash it down with a sip of tea, though looking into Soonyoung’s serious, star-filled gaze makes you feel just as breathless as any coughing fit would have. 

“I—” He waits patiently on your response, standing before you on the sidewalk, the gentle breeze ruffling his hair. “Wouldn’t you still be paying, then?” 

For a moment, in the silence that falls after your response, you worry that you’ve ruined it all. And then, true to his nature, he breaks into laughter, running a hand through his hair. As his face tilts slightly towards the streetlight, you realize he’s blushing — just as nervous as you are — and can’t help but smile.

“Ah, that’s a good point,” he says, sighing. He fixes you with a playful grin, “But maybe I should just keep you in debt to me.” You laugh and playfully prod his shoulder, stepping closer to him.

“Or,” you reply, slowly looking up to meet his gaze, hoping your confidence holds. “Maybe, once we ace this project, I could take you on a date.” Somehow, his eyes seem to sparkle even brighter once he hears your response, and the smile that splits across his face is blinding.

“Deal,” he says, softly, gaze falling to your lips. 

As you find the burst of confidence to close the gap between the two of you, you find yourself wondering if you’ll be able to wait until the project is finished to treat Soonyoung to that date. When he smiles against your lips, wrapping his arms around your waist and inadvertently pressing his cup of tea into your side, causing you to shiver and melt further into his embrace, you realize that the answer to that is no. 

And you couldn’t be happier.

[fromzerotoeuphoria]

Addressing Haru’s Emotions Towards Makoto vs Rin (Season 1, Ep 11 & 12)

(ft. my low quality first attempt at gifmaking) 

So I was innocently looking up Rin and Haru meta on Google (I’m addicted to RinHaru meta plz send help) when I came across this little thread that tried to discredit RinHaru by comparing Haru’s emotional confrontation with Rin in S01E12 vs Haru’s emotional “thank you” to Makoto in S1E11.

Oh give me a break.

{gif from google}

Disclaimer before we dive in:

Now, I know this was posted by antis back when the shipwars within the fandom were at their worst, but I still wanted to address this because I myself am new to Free! and the fandom (I discovered Free! a couple of months ago in mid-July), and being so new to the fandom, these kinds of comments hit like they’re fresh, ya know? I know for me, finding posts of people defending both Rin and RinHaru against the hate really brought me comfort as a baby in the fandom, and I know there are new people coming into the fandom who may feel the same way.

Also, although many of these tumblr posts were written years ago, I still see this kind of stuff active on the internet: on youtube, anime forums, and even kpop forums, believe it or not. So there are still people out there who think these kinds of ways and say these kinds of things, and hopefully addressing posts like these will help highlight the inaccuracies in this kind of thinking...while, again, bringing a sense of consolation to other RinHaru shippers out there.

Makoto is my lil-big squish and I appreciate the MakoHaru friendship, so in no way am I trying to undermine their relationship because it is important (and there’s no way you can deny that Haru does love Makoto at least platonically). So though I may come off strong towards these types of MH shippers, it doesn’t mean I’m talking about all MH shippers and it’s certainly not towards Makoto. I will, however, place things in a proper perspective because I see a lot of exaggerating and misrepresenting going on in order to undermine just how much Rin means to Haru (which is baffling to me because it’s so obvious and CANON just how strongly Haru cares about Rin and wants him in his life).

And YES, I’m a RinHaru shipper. There is a possibility of ship-bias, but I do my best to be fair. Plus, I love these boys.

Well, let’s get into it.

(tl;dr in bold & at end of post)

...but telling Makoto “thank you” and that he “appreciates him being here for him” is overwhelming to the point that he can’t even look at Makoto while talking and feels the need to run out of his room in the middle of the night, the night before their super important relay.

So the scene with Makoto being referenced by OP is the MakoHaru scene in S01E11 in which both Makoto and Haru are in their hotel room the night before the big tournament. They’re in their respective beds, and Haru opens up to Makoto and thanks him for always being there for him. Feeling embarrassed as well as being unable to sleep, Haru leaves and goes for a run.

Then of course, the climactic scene of the whole season: Rin and Haru’s final confrontation. No need for me to summarize it because we ALL know what goes down:

last gif brought to you straight out of a shoujo manga ;D

Comparing Haru's reactions between these two counters is erroneous because so much about them is different, and thus Haru is coming from totally different places emotionally. 

These are two different situations under completely different circumstances (with two different people who hold different places in Haru's heart. Again, different). With Makoto, you had a sweet, heartfelt moment in which Haru opens up his heart to his best friend and thanks Makoto deeply (in his Haru-like way) for always being there for him, for being someone he can always depend on and lean upon for all these years.  With Rin, you had a culmination of so much raw emotion and misunderstanding between two friends who cared about each other—but thought the other person didn’t reciprocate—finally coming to a head-on collision. This has Haru in a completely different mental and emotional state when he confronted Rin than when he was with Makoto in their hotel room. 

Haru went through a whole freakin' lot over the years, even just in Season 1 alone. He just experienced an "existential crisis" of sorts in eps 8 and 9 after Rin told him he was never going to swim with him again, and Makoto was a big part of why Haru was able to overcome that feeling of blackness and discover his enjoyment in swimming relay (Rei and Nagisa and their team-manship being the other part of the reason). Makoto has been THE constant support in Haru's life, always supporting him from the shadows and taking care of him without ever asking for anything in return. I believe that in the excitement, anticipation and emotions of the entire team's journey thus far that brought them to that hotel room for their big tournament, Haru began thinking about everything that led up to such a big moment in their lives. And he knew that the major support in his life right there in the hotel room with him, and in this poignant moment, Haru expresses his gratitude.

(Sidenote: a confession of gratitude =/= a love confession, folks. I've seen people hype up that Shimizaki called it a “confession” from Haru to Makoto, and that Utsumi agreed, and so they somehow equate it to a "confession of love" when…sorry luvs, but no. In the same statement Utsumi says, "…it is a confession to his best friend.[…] this is the first time he openly expresses his feelings of gratitude for that consistent support." It’s a confession of gratitude, not non-platonic “love.”) [x]

And Haru being Haru, he doesn’t often express himself emotionally. The hotel scene was one of the few times Haru ever verbally expressed to Makoto how deeply he appreciates him, and of course, as someone who doesn’t express their emotions or feelings on the regular, he was embarrassed. I agree that it’s totally sweet and makes you uwu because Haru expressing his emotions is uwu, and the fact that he did it to his best friend Makoto who's BEEN deserving it makes it even more UWU. I totally understand how this scene is precious to MakoHaru shippers, and it should be for it was a very sweet and heartwarming scene between the two best friends (and it was about time Haruka expressed his appreciation to Makoto).

That being said, trying to use an exaggeration of what actually happened in that scene as ammo against Haru’s feelings for Rin is just...not it. Haru didn’t leave the hotel room solely because he was embarrassed about thanking Makoto, and certainly not because:

...telling Makoto “thank you” and that he “appreciates him being here for him” is overwhelming to the point that he can’t even look at Makoto while talking and feels the need to run out of his room in the middle of the night, the night before their super important relay.

 ...as OP claims. There were other factors that played a much more significant part in Haru feeling “overwhelmed” and causing him to “feel the need to run out of his room in the middle of the night before their super important relay”—one of those factors being said super important relay.

We know Haru is nervous about the tournament and can’t sleep because of it—Makoto even calls him out on this. Then shortly after, when Haru runs into Nagisa out in the town, Nagisa and Haru go to a nearby playground and Nagisa also asks Haru if he’s can't sleep because he's nervous. Haru tries to dodge the question (he doesn’t want to admit it, very on brand for Haru), but when Nagisa admits that even he’s nervous—and has been so since they got onto the bus—Haru is shocked and asks, “You are??!” He’s surprised that he wasn’t the only one feeling nervous about the tournament, which confirms Makoto’s observation from earlier: that Haru is nervous about the tournament and can’t sleep because of it. This along with him being embarrassed are why he goes out for the run. (But honestly, it makes way more sense to the story that it was primarily because of his nervousness about the tournament that he left the hotel room, not because he was embarrassed thanking Makoto).

Also, just pointing out: Nagisa reveals one of the reasons why Haru is nervous about the tournament (and therefore one of the reasons he can’t sleep):

Nagisa: “We’ll be racing Rin-chan tomorrow. That’s probably why you’re nervous.”

I know that some shippers out there (*eyes OPs*) would love to tell themselves that it was all just Haru feeling so overwhelmed with emotion from merely telling Makoto that he appreciates him, and that Haru just couldn’t handle sharing these emotions with the one he luvvvs so he runs out into the middle of the night because it’s all just TOO OVERWHELMING...

...but, that’s just not how it actually was.

YES Haru was embarrassed from expressing his appreciation to Makoto, but he was also nervous and anxious about the tournament—and about racing against Rin. Remember, the last time he raced Rin in ep 7/8, Rin won and told Haru he’d never have to swim with him again. That left Haru in a black hole; yet on the flip side, when he had raced Rin in middle school and won, Rin said that he was quitting swimming and in turn, Haru also quit competitive swimming because he thought he hurt Rin. So in Haru's mind: "beating Rin = losing Rin, which means I get hurt BUT ALSO Rin winning = never swimming with him again/losing Rin, which still means I get hurt." So you can imagine the apprehension, anxiety and nervousness Haru is dealing with from all these different uncertainties. (@skania​ explains Haru’s internal dilemma regarding beating Rin very well in this post; seriously you guys her Free! Meta is everything I'm in love with her posts, please go check her stuff out.)

 Haru being embarrassed with Makoto does NOT mean that, as the mh shippers in the OP are insinuating, Haru doesn’t actually care about Rin because he wasn’t “overwhelmed” with emotion enough to run from the situation, but instead was “just fine” during his confrontation with Rin. 

i still can’t get over the fact that Haru gets through the entire end scene with Rin face-to-face just fine (where they’re yelling about feelings and Rin’s crying on him and everything’s so amped up between them)

Umm…did you guys just skip over this entire scene that was legitimately the most emotionally-charged scene in the entire season?

Haru literally has tears in his eyes as he finally [and “desperately”] reveals to Rin how he really feels [x]:

Did you not hear how just seconds earlier, Haru was literally shouting his feelings to Rin, and how before that he momentarily fell back into a black hole at the thought of never being able to swim with Rin again?

Did you totally miss how even Nagisa pointed out that Haru wasn’t in the condition to swim their relay at their "super important tournament" because he was so devastated about Rin? Did you not watch as Haru risked his relay race at said "super important tournament" to go look for Rin—”running with abandon”—and reconcile with him?

Did y’all not watch the same anime as the rest of us in which the whole resolution is Haru and the rest of the guys willingly getting disqualified at the super important tournament just so they could have a chance to swim relay with Rin again?

Are you guys so obsessed with your ship that you willingly blind yourselves to what’s actually going on in the anime outside of your otp?

 Like I said above, Haru was in different emotional states in these two scenes:

With Makoto, Haru is embarrassed from emotionally opening up and expressing his appreciation for Makoto—something he does not usually do—coupled with his anxiety and nervousness about the relay.

With Rin, Haru is in pure relief that after all of this time, after all of these years, Rin feels the same as him and that he’s finally able to reconcile with his friend. 

What did the OPs expect, for Haru to run away from Rin in that scene because he’s so overwhelmed with emotion? Haru ran after Rin—he was DONE running away from Rin, and with Rin running away from him. This entire episode was about their reconcilement, not them running away from each other yet again. Haru is finally free from the emotional weights of his unresolved conflict with Rin, and what OPs claim to be Haru being “just fine” is in actuality Haru being utterly relieved and happy. Throughout the season, Haru had been wanting to feel free, but it wasn't until he and Rin reconciled that he actually achieved that freedom.Can you really deny the emotion in Haru’s eyes and smile during this scene? I mean, just look at him:

Do you really think KyoAni is going to have Haru be “jUsT fInE” after he finally made things right with the friend who had been haunting him ever since elementary school?

BOTH scenes were emotional for Haru. BOTH scenes were important for Haru, and for his friends involved. BOTH interactions evoked strong emotions within Haru because he loves and cares about BOTH Makoto and Rin.

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Tl;dr: Haru was much more (expressively) emotional in the entirety of ep12—let alone in the confrontation scene with Rin—than he was in the hotel room with Makoto. No one can honestly deny that, it's all over the animation and soundtrack and directing of the entire episode. This isn't a knock to Makoto and doesn't mean Haru cares about him any less than he actually does. However, the entire season was about Haru and Rin reconciling + the power of friendship, so of course their reconcilement would be the climax of the show. In addition, throughout the whole season Haru had such powerful emotions when it came to Rin, so it makes sense that their reconcilement scene would be one of the most, dare I say the most emotional scene in the show. That's not bias, that's just merely how it is.

[justimajin]

It’s a Reverse Basket ◍ Part 12

⇝ Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

⇝ Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Angst

↳ Basketball AU, Crossdressing AU

⇝ Words: 3.9k

⇝ Summary: Basketball is your everything; your passion for it running deep and wanting nothing more then to play the sport. Problem is, the sport isn’t offered competitively to girls and with that, all your hopes immediately fizzle away… …but who ever said that was going to stop you?

⇝ Warnings: pg13 (please check out the disclaimer on the first part)

⇝ A/N: I plan for this series to have 21 parts so we’re now officially past the halfway point. Also to avoid any confusion, all the characters are in their final year of high school so it’s assumed they’re at the drinking age. 

gif credit.

⇝ Previous Parts: Moodboard Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

⇝ Next Update: Tuesday, June 2 

A low yawn passes by your lips and you stretch out your arms, letting them lazily fall against your sides. Blinking your drooping eyes, there’s an echo of voices thundering through the doors of the gym, members of your team prepared and crowding around you.

Namjoon paces in small circles, awaiting to be called into the gym. Yoongi stands next to him, eyes barely managing to stay wide and shadowy circles ringing around the edges. He remains leaning against the wall, head lolling to the side as he occasionally dips within points of unconsciousness.

A loud speaker sounds and he straightens up, staring into the small window of the gym’s corridor when the other team’s coach ushers you all in. The raging voices of the crowd jolts you, startled eyes glancing around to see the enthusiasm and anticipation nearly overtaking the court. You, Hoseok, Jungkook, Taehyung and Jimin move to stand in the centre of the court while Namjoon and Yoongi stand at the benches with the remaining players. Jungkook progresses to the front, facing the opposite’s team captain and on standby for the referee.   

Stifling back another loud yawn, you focus your teary eyes back onto the court and firmly plant your feet on the ground, instantly dispersing when you hear the familiar whistle. You rush forward when Jungkook swirls around, eyes meeting yours for a split second before the basketball makes contact with your hands.

Pounding your feet against the hard floor, you soar against the opposing members trying to snatch the ball away from you, gaze darting around. Taehyung pokes into your field of vision, your eyes latching onto his raised arms and casting the basketball over in a flash. 

He ends up passing it over to Hoseok, whose shoes squeak when he has to weave his way around the resistance before jumping high on his toes, a loud cheer radiating through the room once the ball sinks in.

A huge dimpled grin spreads across his glowing cheeks, lightly jogging over as you and Taehyung quickly congratulate him for the point. Resuming back into position, the other team strikes you as having a surge of determination when Jungkook grabs the ball again, hurriedly launching it over to Jimin who gets swiftly trapped by an entourage of members.

He desperately glances around, sweat trickling down his temples with an overflow of unease until Taehyung sweeps in behind him, setting him free by taking hold of the ball. Jungkook eagerly races across from Taehyung, the two continuously passing in between themselves until they make it to the hoop, and Jungkook earns the next point for your team.

Relief graces you, huffing back onto the court with a smile as you await for the third whistle. Jungkook again takes charge of the basketball, culminating a sudden racing spike in his members when all you need is one more point to win. It’s a fact the opposite team seems to acknowledge as well, honed on in keeping their members closest to the one with the basketball.

It happens to be Hoseok that Jungkook passes over to, who then forcefully skids against the ground in a burst of vigor to transfer the ball to Jimin. He then extends the basketball to Taehyung when he becomes targeted again, everyone flocking around the former as if he were a beacon of light.

Taehyung pushes through, harshly breathing as he furiously dribbles and avoids blockages aimed for him. His incredible speed doesn’t hold back in assisting him, nimbly racing over in your direction.

You promptly get into position, aware that Taehyung would need someone to help him immediately by aiming for a shot. It seems the opposing member standing on defense near you takes notice of this though, quickly using his form to block you away from Taehyung.

You’re suddenly alarmed by the sudden intrusion, his form towering over you relentlessly whenever you move and a small tch to escape your lips. When you dart your troubled eyes around, a certain set of hardened eyes stare back. You widen your eyes for a second, before they filter back into focus.

Harshly gritting down on your teeth, you push yourself in front of the member, leaving him frazzled and scrambling to get in front of you again. You don’t allow him to though, feet dashing over to Taehyung who spots you right away. He throws the basketball, your hands clasping onto it firmly and not even granting the opposing a member the slightest chance to grab it.

You promptly spin around, accelerating your legs to the point where you’re sprinting and dribbling at the same time. The hoop comes into view for you, a grunt leaving you when you aim high and for victory.

The basketball falls onto the ground, a glowing three emerging for your team.

Your ears go silent when a collective of screams come from behind you, your members immediately engulfing you into a group hug that although leaving you a bit suffocated, doesn’t stop your radiating smile from disappearing. When everyone parts and you wipe the lingering sweat from your forehead, Namjoon and Yoongi dash over to congratulate you.

Namjoon pats you on the back and proclaims that you did a wonderful job with that last shot, eliciting a sheepishly thank you for the compliment. You face Yoongi after that, a knowing smile on his lips that makes you want to burst from joy.

“Well played Y/N.” He raises his hand for a high five and you grin when your hands meet, but then Yoongi lingers for a moment. A deep flush suddenly emerges on your cheeks, shyly retracting your hand when you know it hasn’t been kindled from the game. 

***

“Let’s hear it for Bangtan Sondeyeon!” Namjoon exclaims, raising his glass of freshly poured orange juice. You stand up and lift your glass with a giggle, watching surrounding members do the same as a strengthening choir of voices flood the room. 

Settling back down on the picnic table, you relax into your seat. After the successful game, Namjoon had decided it would be best if the team stayed back for one more day and had a celebratory dinner together. He managed to arrange a delivery from a nearby restaurant, urging all of you to eat to your heart’s content before packing up to head back tomorrow.

It was a proposition you didn’t mind at all, especially when occasionally the conversation dips into the game, Jackson remarking that the way you had played was amazing to watch and that it was incredible how you managed to score points so quickly. Namjoon agrees with him, noting that your teamwork had gotten better and this win was one that was well earned.

“You did a really good job as captain!” Hoseok remarks, peering into Jungkook’s direction as the latter meekly shakes his head, “I’m being serious, don’t you think Jungkook was great as captain Yoongi?”

You wait for Yoongi to speak up but instead there’s a rustling sound coming from nearby. Yoongi takes a deep sigh when he settles down beside you, much to your own surprise. There’s a glass of wine in his hands, a small smile drawing on your lips when he tries to be careful not to spill it anywhere.

Yoongi grins, “I think he did an even better job than I did. He’ll make a great captain in the future.”

Jungkook shyly smiles, the praise from his captain being a little too much for him. The situation gets overblown when Taehyung raises his glass of juice – because Taehyung and alcohol is an equation that Namjoon doesn’t know how he’ll ever be able to handle – and proclaims that they should raise a toast for Jungkook’s role as captain. You all stand up, giving him a gracious commemoration that only serves for him to humbly hide within the confines of his hoodie before you all settle down again, a warm collective laugh bubbling out from your group. 

Your laughter suddenly freezes; eyes darting over to the man beside you that has an affectionate look residing deep in his eyes, his hand moving even closer to grasp onto yours. Your lips pursue, the look appearing so distinctly similar to the one he had given to you that night – a cascade of memories resurfacing that suddenly make you flustered.

Gathering some much-needed courage, you bite down the smile that threatens to emerge on you, fingers looping around his.

***

“It was possible that the strategy couldn’t have worked. He was trying his best to keep you away from Taehyung.” Yoongi mumbles, dressed in an oversized sweater and silently padding through the hallway.

You hum, arms folding behind your back, “I think it only worked because I moved faster this time around.” A light laugh escapes you, “Though it was really nice getting the final shot in the game.”

Yoongi snickers, suddenly stumbling onto his feet. You instantly move, grabbing onto his arm before he can fall down and he attempts to resume walking with you. 

“Are you sure you’re not drunk?” You wonder, puzzled by his disarranged appearance. After having dinner, the members wanted to check out the school more and see if they could get into some of the clubs that had been going on, but you had decided to head back when the lack of sleep and intense game rendered you exhausted for the day. When you initially started to leave though, Yoongi offered to drop you back to your room, though he seems to be a little under the weather as well.

“I’m not.” Yoongi informs you, his speech not slurring or surfacing up as jumbled. Instead he blinks his stale eyes, holding back a yawn, “I didn’t get enough sleep last night.”

“Oh.” Is all you can reply with, again a rush of memories convoluting your mind in which you have to hurriedly shake your head to get rid of them. Yoongi raises a brow at you, but your dorm comes into view and you pause at it.

“Well we’re here.” You softly say, turning to smile at him, “Thanks for dropping me off.”

He hums, eyes wandering around when you take your keys out and jam them into the wooden door. When you step in, it slowly falls shut until a voice breaks through.

“Y/N?”

You quickly outstretch your hand so the door stops, eyes widening when you open it up again, “Yeah?”

What happens next is like a blur. One moment you’re wondering why Yoongi had called out your name before your door closed, the natural assumption that he needed something before leaving but forgot to tell you, to the next moment when his soft lips are right on top of yours, gently caressing your bottom lip and stealing the air from your lungs.

There’s a dazed look glossed over his eyes when he parts from you, eyes still wide as saucers from the action when he dreamily smiles. 

“Sorry.” He mutters, “I just really wanted to get some sleep tonight.”

You can’t bring yourself to say anything when he turns to leave, the door closing. You don’t notice when your hand remains on top of your mouth, eyes are still frozen and a hue of red scattered across your cheeks. Your back suddenly presses against the door, sliding down as you cover your face with your hands and bite down the shy smile that’s threatening to spark on your features. 

***

At the crack of dawn, your team packs up their bags and decides to bid farewell to the school they had grown accustomed to within a mere couple of days. It’s easier said than done, especially when you and Jungkook are forced to drag Taehyung by his arms into the bus when parting from the school is the last thing dwelling on his mind. It isn’t until Namjoon tells him that he’s paid to go to the other school and not going back would be a complete waste of money that he finally obliges, a chuckle leaving your lips when Jimin comes rushing over with Hoseok being dragged, appearing to be in a similar predicament to you. 

Once the wheels stop and the familiar buildings emerge, you all slump out exhausted. Hoseok complains that they didn’t need to come back so early in the day, later realizing that you have classes to attend and groaning when he has to head over immediately. You, Jungkook and Taehyung wave at Jimin when he turns to the opposite side in the hallway to go back to his dorm, the three of you crashing into the small dorm with drained sighs.

Jungkook puts his military bag into his room, eyes darting around, “Are you guys hungry? We can try to grab some breakfast from the cafeteria.”

Taehyung, who was in the midst of collapsing down onto his soft sheets and indulging in some much-needed sleep, whirls around at the suggestion, a glint in his eyes as he stomps out and grabs onto your hand.

“That’s a great idea! Come on Y/N, you join us too!”

You frown, but then your stomach lets out a little rumble that has Taehyung and Jungkook laughing, lifting your hands in exasperation with a smile. “Well, I guess that was my answer.”

Making your way across the school, the scent of freshly cooked pancakes and eggs wafts through the air, the realization that you hadn’t eaten anything since leaving hitting you right away. However Taehyung pauses, eyes scanning around the area.

“I guess we’re not the only ones with the same idea…” He points at the packed cafeteria, students cluttering up any free space and scavenging all nearby tables. Jungkook lets out a sigh, peeking his head into the door with a frown.

“So what do we do now?”

“We could go back to our dorm and just make something. I can bake!” He whispers excitedly, the colour draining from Jungkook’s face immediately.

“Maybe Jimin can cook this time around…” He mumbles underneath his breath, glancing in your direction, “What do you say Y/N?”

You don’t look at him, eyes frozen in a different direction. Jungkook’s brows furrow, and when he places his hand on your shoulder as a way for you to say something, you immediately whirl around and grab onto his and Taehyung’s arm. Racing at the speed of light, it’s a complete blur when Jungkook can only catch the messy sight of red hair drawing closer.

***

Yoongi narrows his eyes, glancing around in both directions and being sure he had seen you when he makes his way over. Taking a quick peek at the overflowing cafeteria, he simply shrugs it off and assumes he didn’t, deciding to ask Namjoon if he wanted to get some breakfast instead.

It doesn’t take long to find him, heading into the gym office to see Namjoon sorting out some papers, a knock against the door pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Busy?” Yoongi asks, only to see Namjoon dart his eyes up in puzzlement. That’s when he suddenly stands up, moving to lock the door behind Yoongi to which he can only stare in confusion.

“What are you doing?”

“Sit down.”

Yoongi is taken aback, mind swiveling. He obliges, slowly settling down onto the table that Namjoon was sitting at, facing the latter who holds a stern look in his eyes.

Yoongi directs a similar stare at him, wondering why there was so much hostility radiating off of the coach. “What is it?”

“I saw you and Y/N.”

That catches him completely off guard, something in Namjoon’s face telling him that it wasn’t a mere casual encounter that he had faced. Namjoon on the other hand, is still a bit startled with the recent turn of events.

The incident that resonates in his mind is the one of yesterday, when he had decided to get some adequate sleep after a long day at the new school. He soon departs after you and Yoongi leave, opting to go into his room promptly before he gets reminded of any other maintenance he’s forgotten to take care of. However, when Namjoon weaves through the hallways and turns to head to his room, the sight before him has him blinking.

Yoongi’s standing right outside of your door, and he’s kissing you.

The whole display throws Namjoon off, eyes widening when he quickly shuffles to hide himself behind the wall. When he hears the sound of a door shutting, he watches Yoongi walk away, a giant dazed smile on his lips. As he leaves, Namjoon steps out, gawking in both your directions , confusion apparent on his features. His head is spinning by the time he gets to his room, trying to piece together what was going on.

“And?” Is all Yoongi retorts, causing Namjoon to shake his head.

“And what else?” Namjoon grits, crossing his arms, “Why are you getting involved with one of our new team players?”

“I don’t see anything wrong with it.” Yoongi narrows his eyes, oddly feeling like he was being interrogated in the moment, “Do you have a problem with it?”

Namjoon pursues his lips, appearing like he wanted to retort something to that but it was taking time coming to him.

“I just don’t want there being any issues within my team.” He acknowledges, “We still have a long way to go and our fight should be on the outside.”

Yoongi hums, knowing Namjoon well enough to figure out what was dwelling inside his mind. “Nothing like that will happen, I can assure you.”

Namjoon nods, appreciating that Yoongi was giving him a solid word about the matter. However once the animosity drops from his posture, there’s a flicker of mere puzzlement, something that Yoongi addresses.

“What?”

He stays silent for a moment before he poses the question, “So….Y/N?”

Yoongi smiles, understanding that Namjoon was simply curious. 

“Yeah…I saw something in him when he first joined our team.” Yoongi can’t hide the fondness in his voice, especially in front of Namjoon, “It reminded me of the time when I went against my parents to play basketball, that same kind of strong determination.”

“Really?” Namjoon wonders in awe, and Yoongi nods. “That’s great to hear.”

Namjoon warmly smiles at his friend, getting up to unlock the door. “Ah! You originally came here for something?”

“Breakfast.” Yoongi mutters.

“I see…We can go, I just need to grab my bag.”

Namjoon darts over and hoists it onto his arm, shuffling to lock the door. He stills for a moment when something else dwells onto his mind.

“Uh Yoongi?” He turns to face him, “Can you promise me something?”

“What?”

“Next time you decide to be that affectionate, can you at least make sure to take a look around before you do something else?”

Yoongi sighs, rolling his eyes at Namjoon with a smug smile.

***

The room has dipped into a deafening silence, all sources of light cut off.

A hesitant voice begins. 

“So………why are we hiding inside a janitor’s closet?”

When you don’t answer and hug your knees, Taehyung and Jungkook exchange a look with one another.

“Did something happen to you?” Jungkook wonders, but you still don’t answer.

“What is it Jimin?” You softly shake your head, “Hoseok?” You shake it more, “Yoongi?”

You halt at that, nervously biting down on your lip. Their expression’s light up, as if they had just hit the jackpot.

“Ahh so Yoongi it is……” Taehyung ponders, “But that’s strange, the captain seems to like you Y/N.”

A profuse layer of scarlet colours your face, eyes darting around everywhere. A hand reaches out and taps against your forehead, Taehyung scrunches up his brows when you stare at him in bewilderment. 

“Are you sick again? You seem to be running a fever…” At that, Jungkook also reaches out, placing the back of his hand against your cheek.

“Taehyung’s right Y/N, you’re burning up.”

“Maybe we should go to the nurse’s office?” Taehyung starts to get up and with all your strength, you instantly yank him back down and mumble in a meek voice.

“I-I think I like the captain…..”

“He is a great captain.” Jungkook remarks, Taehyung nodding with him in agreement.

“I like him too, he has this way of noticing our strengths and weaknesses really wel–“ 

“I-I…” You’re completely red now, fingers fiddling around with your shoelaces, “I think I like like him.”

“Like like?” Taehyung frowns, “Well sure, he is great and all but don’t you think that’s bit of an exaggeration?”

When you don’t say anything, Taehyung opens his mouth to continue. He stops when Jungkook raises his hand, an intrigued brow plucked up.

“Do you mean like….romantically?”

When you shyly nod, Taehyung and Jungkook’s eyes widen. You assume there’s no harm in telling them, not being able to control the onslaught of butterflies fluttering in your stomach and the way your heart is practically thumping against your chest inside the dark confines of the janitor’s closet.

“Are you a hundred percent sure about that?” Taehyung mutters seriously, earning a glare from Jungkook, “What?! Yoongi can be scary, okay?”

Jungkook turns to you, “When did you realize you liked him?”

“During our trip…” You mumble, deciding it would be best not to disclose details of what transpired. You always knew that you had some feelings for Yoongi, but you hadn’t expected him to reciprocate them through a kis–

You cough, using your hands to cover your cheeks, “I-I just don’t know how to face him…”

“You’ll have to eventually.” Jungkook mentions, “You can’t keep avoiding him.”

Taehyung hums, “For sure, just act like you normally do around him.”

���I don’t know….” You whisper.

“If you avoid him forever, I don’t think he’s going to like it.” Jungkook mutters, causing you to raise your head from your knees.

“What do you mean?”

“Well if Yoongi likes you too, I don’t think he’d be really happy with you avoiding him like this.”

Taehyung nods, “He might take it as a wrong signal.”

Your eyes are wide, slowly lowering your gaze down and growing silent.

“Is this the reason why we’re hiding in here?” Taehyung waves off the molding mop hanging over his head, inching himself away from it.

You nod, unravelling yourself from your tightened position and gazing at the door. You suppose it is unfair, especially when you recall the content expression Yoongi had been holding when he caught sight of you and your friends.

Getting up with a sigh, Jungkook and Taehyung are quick to follow you when they realize your resolve. Holding your breath, you open the door and steadily inch outside, darting your eyes in both directions.

Luckily by the time you three shuffle over to the cafeteria, the crowd has considerably subsidized. Jungkook hurriedly snatches up a table while you and Taehyung secure a spot in the line up. You’re too lost in thought when Taehyung taps your shoulder, whirling around to see a man with red hair and another one with framed glasses glancing over at you.

With a timid smile, you shyly wave and Yoongi’s eyes light up, making his way over to you in an instant. When him and Namjoon stand in line right behind you, Taehyung and Namjoon get occupied in a conversation with one another. You and Yoongi on the other hand remain silent, but anyone from a distance can see the bashful smile that lines both of your lips.

[onestowatch]

Lollapalooza 2021: 15 Ones to Catch (Who Aren’t Headlining)

Lollapalooza is officially one week away, and wow does that feel good to say. As one of the first music festivals to welcome us back to festival season after a far too long hibernation, the annual festival, hosted at Grant Park in Chicago, Illinois, is set to bring the musical stylings of Tyler, the Creator, Miley Cyrus, Foo Fighters, Megan Thee Stallion, and plenty more. But, unless you’ve been living under a rock, chances are that you’re already more than familiar with the artists set to headline. So why not figure out who to see while you’re waiting to scream along to Call Me If You Get Lost.

From collectives who are moving beyond the need for genres to music that is just as likely to make you cry as it is laugh, these are 15 ones to catch (who aren’t headlining) at Lollapalooza 2021.

Peach Tree Rascals

When & Where: Sunday, 2 p.m. at Bud Light Seltzer Stage

Peach Tree Rascals’ Lollapalooza set has been a very, very long time coming. The Bay Area–bred collective has been steadily making waves with their genre-bending approach to indie-pop that calls to mind a more idyllic, lovesick BROCKHAMPTON (an act you should most definitely catch as well). And despite emerging a growing fan-favorite in the last couple years, the aforementioned rascals have yet to play a show, ever. With a headline tour that was canceled due to COVID, Lollapalooza will officially be making history as the first-ever Peach Tree Rascals set.

Tate McRae

When & Where: Saturday, 5:15 p.m. at Grubhub Stage

Tate McRae’s rise through the pop stratosphere has felt meteoric. First gaining fame at the young age of 13 for being the first Canadian finalist on So You Think You Can Dance, McRae has certainly come a long way to stand as one of the most promising voices in pop. With a vocal range more than powerful enough to deliver haunting dark pop ballads like “you broke me first” one moment and stand side-by-side with Khalid on the summer bop “working” the next, there are no two ways about it. McRae is a pop star in the making and this is your chance to catch her before her inevitable headliner status.  

Marc Rebillet

When & Where: Saturday, 9:00 p.m. at Grubhub Stage

Part-time meme and full-time artist, Marc Rebillet creates music with an unmatched comedic timing. It’s a comedic genius that has led to him getting a 24-hour ban on Twitch—for taking his shirt off in the middle of a stream, an act which I’m guessing Lollapalooza will be more than forgiving of giving his penchant for performing in a bathrobe. The self-described improvisational artist creates all his songs from scratch, resulting in an experience where no two live shows are quite the same. Come for the comedy, stay for the absolute dancefloor bangers.

Dayglow

When & Where: Thursday, 3:45 p.m. at Lake Shore Stage

Dayglow is sure to bring a smile to your face and put a pep in your step. Apologies if I sounded like my grandparents there, but there’s no denying the sonic sunshine that is Dayglow’s rapturous brand of indie-pop. Paying homage to the dance-inducing melancholy of ‘80s pop duets, it’s difficult not to get swept up in the Austin, Texas–bred artist’s hypnotic vision. It’s the sort of euphoric music that feels almost tailor-made for the return of festival season—drenched in sunny rays and brimming with infectious sincerity.

Giveon

When & Where: Friday, 4:45 p.m. at T-Mobile Stage

Before his breakout moment on Justin Bieber’s “Peaches,” Giveon was already charting his path for R&B domination. With an angelic and haunting baritone, each R&B rumination carries with it a palpable weight—an emotional turmoil that is only elevated by the minimalistic soundscapes which allow the proper space for his transfixing voice to fully shine. For a crash course on Giveon, check out a compilation of his two standout EPs, When It’s All Said and Done… Take Time. Or better yet, experience the magic of Giveon live.

Ashe

When & Where: Thursday, 6:30 p.m. at Grubhub Stage

Ashe creates effortlessly timeless music, blurring the line between the nostalgic songwriting of Fleetwood Mac and a modern-day folk-pop star. The sentiment is best expressed in her critically-acclaimed debut album, Ashlyn, which demonstrates the Los Angeles artist’s peerless songwriting acumen, toeing the line between rapturous euphoria one moment and deeply affecting storytelling the next. If you need a good laugh or cry, do not miss out on Ashe.

Sir Chloe

When & Where: Sunday, 12:45 p.m. at T-Mobile Stage

Fronted by Dana Foote and comprised of Teddy O’mara on guitar, Palmer Foote on drums, and Austin Holmes on bass, Sir Chloe’s music exists in the nebulous void of haunting dark pop and heart-rending alternative garage rock. The New York–based indie rock band originally started as a college project, birthed in the music halls of Bennington College, and now they’re set to take Lollapalooza by storm. With an impressive debut album, 2020’s Party Favors, under their belt, this set feels only the beginning for the bewitching indie outfit. 

jxdn

When & Where: Sunday, 3 p.m. at Bud Light Seltzer Stage

jxdn is the latest artist to make good on pop-punk’s continued resurgence. The first signing to Travis Barker’s DTA Records, the breakout singer-songwriter has found a fan in not only the blink-182 star but in Machine Gun Kelly, who jxdn is set to tour with this fall and makes an appearance on his debut album, Tell Me About Tomorrow. With an acclaimed debut album in the books and some of pop-punk’s biggest stars behind him, jxdn is sure to deliver a Lollapalooza debut for the ages. 

AG Club

When & Where: Friday, 7:45 p.m. at Grubhub Stage

AG Club, an abbreviation of avant-garde club, is a genre-less music collective that shares a lot in common with fellow Lollapalooza must-see act, Peach Tree Rascals, including a collaborative single. But don’t get things twisted, this Bay Area collective has their own vision in store for you. With a brash, in-your-face attitude, AG Club is likely to draw comparisons to the Saturation era of BROCKHAMPTON and glory days of ASAP Mob, but with their introspective, omnivorous approach, they deftly manage to emerge as an act all their own. If you want to go where the party is, don’t miss AG Club.

Tai Verdes

When & Where: Friday, 1:45 p.m. at Bud Light Seltzer Stage

Where would we be without TikTok? I, for one, would be without my preferred form of short-form entertainment and the world be without the infectious pop-R&B stylings of one Tai Verdes. Originally working at Verizon before his breakout single, “Stuck in the Middle,” became a viral hit on TikTok, Verdes is now one of the most promising and rapidly rising acts in music today. And with his debut album, TV, the viral star proved himself no one-hit-wonder, delivering a collection of tracks that span a range of emotions and genres that we cannot wait to experience live.

Dominic Fike

When & Where: Thursday, 7:45 p.m. at Grubhub Stage

Dominic Fike is a musical chameleon. First breaking out with his unassuming radio hit “3 Nights,” to only jump into the absolute vibe that is the Kenny Beats–assisted “Phone Numbers,” and culminate it all with the genre-spanning debut album, What Could Possibly Go Wrong, Fike is an artist whose limitations seem limitless. It’s a notion that plays out in his breathtaking live show, reworking his hits with an insatiable appetite until they’re songs that exist only in that singular moment. Fike’s is set you will not want to miss.

Oliver Tree

When & Where: Thursday, 9 p.m. at Grubhub Stage

Alternative auteur Oliver Tree is nothing if not unpredictable. Flaunting his signature JNCO jeans and an impressive professional razor scooter pedigree, the inimitable artist delivers on an infectious blend of alternative, electronic, hip-hop, and pop that defies any simplistic classification. And with his debut album, Ugly Is Beautiful, now out in the wild after a much-hyped cancellation and subsequent surprise release, Tree has more than his fair share of music to pull from. Plus, given his penchant for going in and out of retirement like he’s trying to break a record only known to him, it’s probably best not to miss this set.   

RMR

When & Where: Sunday, 2:45 p.m. at Tito’s Handmade Vodka Stage

RMR originally made headlines with his breakout single, “RASCAL,” a transfixing country trap ballad that saw the rapper donning a black balaclava and Saint Laurent bulletproof vest while rapping over an interpolation of Rascal Flatts’ “Bless The Broken Road.” Since then, the anonymous rapper has been spotted hitting the town with Sharon Stone and embracing his penchant for melodic trap in the Westside Gunn, Future, Lil Baby, and Young Thung–loaded Drug Dealing Is a Lost Art. Existing at the fusion of trap country and melodic rap, RMR’s Lolla set is one you’re not likely to forget anytime soon.

Chiiild

When & Where: Sunday, 12:00 p.m. at Lake Shore Stage

Nostalgic and novel, Chiiild’s self-described brand of “synthetic soul” is nothing short of intoxicating. Setting its own sauntering pace, Chiiild’s unique take on R&B and soul takes on a cosmic energy, as if floating through a wormhole with nothing but a single cassette deck on hand. It’s a testament to the Canadian band’s all-encompassing approach that draws upon not just R&B and soul but psychedelia, jazz, indie, and pop to craft a sound that is all their own. Take a trip on Sunday, and meet us at Chiiild.

All Time Low

When & Where: Thursday, 6 p.m. at Tito’s Handmade Vodka Stage

Because teenage you wasn’t old enough to convince your parents to let you see All Time Low the first time “Dear Maria, Count Me In” was trending.

[thefakejeffreyazoff]

‘He’s our Satan’: Mega music manager Irving Azoff, still feared, still fighting

(x)PEBBLE BEACH, Calif. —  

This is not Irving Azoff’s house. Irving and his wife Shelli own houses all over, from Beverly Hills to Cabo San Lucas, but right now in the last week of October it’s too cold at the ranch in Idaho and too hot at the spread in La Quinta, so he’s renting this place — a modest midcentury six-bedroom that sold for $5 million back in 2016.

From the front door you can see all the way out, to where Arrowhead Point juts like the tail of a comma into the calm afternoon waters of Carmel Bay. More importantly, the house is literally across the street from the Pebble Beach Golf Links, where Azoff likes to play with his college buddy John Baruck, who started out in the music business around the same time Azoff did, in the late ’60s, and just retired after managing Journey through 20 years and two or three lead singers, depending how you count.

(Via LA Times) 

Azoff is 72, and this weekend he’ll be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame alongside Bruce Springsteen’s longtime manager Jon Landau. Beatles manager Brian Epstein and Rolling Stones manager Andrew Loog Oldham are already in, but Azoff and Landau are the first living managers thus honored. Azoff is not only alive — he’s still managing. As a partner in Full Stop Management — alongside Jeffrey Azoff, his oldest son and the third of his four children — he steers the careers of clients like the Eagles, Steely Dan, Bon Jovi and comedian Chelsea Handler, and consults when needed on the business of Harry Styles, Lizzo, John Mayer, Roddy Ricch, Anderson .Paak and Maroon 5. Azoff has Zoom calls at 7, 8 and 9 tomorrow morning, and only after that will he squeeze in a round.

The work never stops when you view the job the way Azoff does, as falling somewhere between consigliere and concierge. “My calls can be everything from ‘My knee buckled, I need a doctor’ to ‘My kid’s in jail,’” Azoff says. “I mean, you have no idea. The ‘My kid’s in jail’ one was a funny one, because the artist then said to me, ‘Y’know, I’ve thought about this. Maybe we should leave him there for a while.’”

Golf entered Azoff’s life the way a lot of things have — via the Eagles, whom Azoff has managed since the early ’70s. Specifically, Azoff took up golf in the company of the late Glenn Frey, the jockiest Eagle, the one the other Eagles used to call “Sportacus.” By the time the Eagles returned to the road in the ’90s they’d left their debauched ’70s lifestyles largely behind, but Azoff and Frey got hooked on the little white ball.

“Frey would insist on booking the tour around where he wanted to play golf,” Azoff says. “We made Henley crazy. Henley would call me in my room and he’d go, ‘Why the f— are we in a hotel in Hilton Head North Carolina and starting a tour in Charlotte? Is this a f— golf tour?’”

Trailed by Larry Solters, the Eagles’ preternaturally dour minister of information, Azoff makes his way down the hill from the house for dinner at the golf club’s restaurant. He’s only 5 feet, 3 inches, a diminutive Sydney Pollack in jeans and a zip-up sweater. In photos from the ’70s — when he was considerably less professorial in comportment, a hipster exec with a spring-loaded middle finger — he sports a beard and a helmet of curly hair and mischievous eyes behind his shades, and looks a little like a Muppet who might scream at Kermit over Dr. Teeth’s appearance fee.

His father was a pharmacist and his mother was a bookkeeper. He grew up in Danville, Ill., booked his first shows in high school to pay for college, dropped out of college to run a small Midwestern concert-booking empire and manage local acts such as folk singer Dan Fogelberg and heartland rock band REO Speedwagon. Los Angeles soon beckoned. He met the Eagles while working for David Geffen and Elliot Roberts’ management company and followed the band out the door when they left the Geffen fold; they became the cornerstone of his empire. “I got my swagger from Glenn Frey and Don Henley,” he says. “No doubt about it.”

Azoff never took to pot or coke. The Eagles lived life in the fast lane; he was the designated driver. “Artists,” he once observed, “like knowing the guy flying the plane is sober.” This didn’t stop him from trashing his share of hotel rooms, frequently with guitarist Joe Walsh — whose solo career Azoff shepherded before Walsh joined the Eagles, and who was very much not sober at this time — as an accomplice.

“This was a different age,” Walsh says of his time as the band’s premier lodging-deconstructionist. “We could do anything we wanted, so we did. And Irving’s role was to keep us out of prison, basically.” He recalls a pleasant evening in Chicago in the company of John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd, which culminated in Walsh laying waste to a suite at the Astor Towers hotel that turned out to be the owner’s private apartment. “We had to check out with a lawyer and a construction foreman,” Walsh remembers. “But Irving took care of it. Without Irving, I’d still be in Chicago.”

Azoff became even more infamous for the pit bull brio he brought to business negotiations on behalf of the Eagles and others, including Stevie Nicks and Boz Scaggs. He didn’t seem to care if people liked him, and his artists loved him for that. Steely Dan co-founder Walter Becker said they’d hired Azoff because he “impressed us with his taste for the jugular … and his bizarre spirit.” Jimmy Buffett’s wife grabbed him outside a show at Madison Square Garden, pushed him into the back of a limo and said, You have to manage Jimmy, although Buffett already had a manager at the time.

His outsized reputation as an advocate not just willing but eager to scorch earth on behalf of his clients became an advertisement for his services, a phenomenon that continues to this day. In August 2018, Azoff’s then-client Travis Scott released “Astroworld,” which debuted at No. 1 on the Billboard 200 chart, and occupied that slot again the following week, causing Nicki Minaj’s album “Queen” to debut at No. 2. On her Beats One show “Queen Radio,” Minaj accused Scott of gaming Billboard’s chart methodology to keep her out of the top slot and singled his manager out by name: “C—sucker of the Day award,” she said, “goes to Irving Azoff.” Azoff says he reacted as only Azoff would: “I said, ‘I’m really unhappy about that. I want to be c—sucker of the year.’” In 2019, Minaj hired Azoff as her new manager.

Most of the best things anyone’s ever said about Azoff are statements a man of less-bizarre spirit would take as an insult. When the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inducted the Eagles in 1998, Don Henley stood onstage and said of Azoff, “He may be Satan, but he’s our Satan.”

An N95-masked Azoff takes a seat on a patio with a view of hallowed ground — the first hole of the Pebble Beach course, a dogleg-right par 4 with a priceless view of the bay. He cheerfully admits that he and his partners at Full Stop are “obviously, as a management business, kind of losing our ass” this year due to COVID-19. In another reality, the Eagles would have played Wembley Stadium in August before heading off to Australia or the Far East. Styles would have just finished 34 dates in the U.S., Canada and Mexico. As it stands Azoff is hearing encouraging things about treatments and vaccines and new testing machines, and is reasonably confident that technology will soon make it possible for certified-COVID-free fans to again enjoy carefree evenings of live music together; he doesn’t expect much to happen in the meantime.

“What are you gonna do,” Azoff says, “take an act that used to sell 15,000 seats and tell them to play to 4,000 in the [same] arena? The vibe would be horrible, and production costs will stay the same.”

He knows of at least six companies trying to monetize new concert-esque experiences — pay-per-view shows from houses and soundstages, drive-in events and so on. But he’s not convinced anybody wants to sit in their parked car to watch a band play. More to the point, he’s not convinced it’s rock ’n’ roll.

“Fallon and Kimmel, all these virtual performances — people are sick of that,” he says. “Your production values from home aren’t that good. And they’re destroying the mystique. I mean, Justin Bieber jumping around on ‘Saturday Night Live’ the other night without a band, and then he had Chance the Rapper come out? It made him look to me, mortal. I didn’t feel any magic. So we’ve kinda been turning that stuff down to just wait it out.”

In the meantime, he says, Full Stop is picking up new clients during the pandemic. Artists with time on their hands, he believes, “have taken a hard look at their careers— so we’ve grown. No revenues,” he adds with a chuckle, “but people are saying, ‘We need you, we need to plan our lives.’”

“IN HIGH SCHOOL,” Jeffrey Azoff says, “I wanted to be a professional golfer, which has obviously eluded me.” He never expected to take up his father’s profession. “But my dad has always loved his job so much. There’s no way that doesn’t rub off on you.”

The younger Azoff got his first industry job at 21, as a “glorified intern” working for Maroon 5’s then-manager Jordan Feldstein. After a week of filing and fetching coffee, he called his father and complained that he was bored. According to Jeffrey, Irving responded, “Listen carefully, because I’m going to say this one time. You have a phone and you have my last name. If you can’t figure it out, you’re not my son.”

“Direct quote,” Jeffrey says. “It’s one of my favorite things he’s ever said to me. And it’s the spirit of the music business, by the way. There are no rules to this. Just figure it out.”

Over dinner I keep asking Irving how he got the temerity, as a kid barely out of college, to plunge into the shark-infested waters of the ‘70s record industry in Los Angeles. He just shrugs.

“I never felt the music business was that competitive,” he says. “It’s just not that f—ing hard. I don’t think there’s that many smart people in our business.”

It’s been written, I say, that once you landed in California and sized up the competition, you called John Baruck back in Illinois and said —

“We can take this town,” Azoff says, finishing the sentence. “Where’d you get that? John told that story to [Apple senior vice president] Eddy Cue on the golf course three days ago. It’s true. I called John up and said, ‘OK, get your ass out here. We can take this town.’”

In the ensuing years, Azoff has occupied nearly every high-level position the music industry has to offer, surfing waves of industry consolidation. He’s been the president of a major label, MCA; the CEO of Ticketmaster; and executive chairman of Live Nation Entertainment, the behemoth formed from Ticketmaster’s merger with Live Nation. In 2013 he and Cablevision Systems Corp. CEO and New York Knicks owner James Dolan formed a partnership, Azoff MSG Entertainment; Azoff ran the Forum in Inglewood for Dolan after MSG purchased it in 2012.

Earlier this year Dolan sold the Forum for $400 million to former Microsoft CEO and Clippers owner Steve Ballmer, who’s since announced plans to build a new stadium on a site just one mile away. Despite the apocalyptic parking scenario that looms for the area — two stadiums and a concert arena on a one-mile stretch of South Prairie Boulevard — Azoff is confident that the Forum will live on as a live-music venue. “People are going, ‘They’re going to tear it down’ — they’re not going to tear it down,” Azoff says. “It’s going to be in great hands. I have many of the artists we represent booked in the Forum, waiting for the restart based on COVID.”

The holdings of the Azoff Co. — formed when Dolan sold his interest in Azoff MSG back to Azoff two years ago — include Full Stop, the performance-rights organization Global Music Rights and the Oak View Group, which is developing arenas in Seattle and Belmont, N.Y., and a 15,000-seat venue on the University of Texas campus in Austin. Azoff describes himself as increasingly focused on “diversification, and building assets for the family that aren’t just dependent on commissions, shall we say.”

But as both a manager and a co-founder of a lobbying group, the Music Artists Coalition, he’s also devoting more time and energy to a broad range of artists’-rights issues, from health insurance to royalty rates to copyright reversion to this year’s Assembly Bill 5, which threatened musicians’ independent-contractor status until it was amended in September. (“That was us,” Azoff says, somewhat grandly. “I got to the governor, the governor signed it — Newsom was great on it.”) He describes his advocacy for artists — even those he doesn’t manage — as a “war on all fronts,” and estimates there are 21 major issues on which “we’ve sort of appointed ourselves as guardians.”

He does not continue to manage artists because he needs the money, he says. (As the singer-songwriter and Azoff client J.D. Souther famously put it, “Irving’s 15% of everybody turned out to be more than everyone’s 85% of themselves.”) Everything he’s doing now — building clout through the Azoff Co., even accepting the Hall of Fame honor — is ultimately about positioning himself to better fight these fights. “I’d rather work on [these things] than anything else,” he says. “But if I didn’t have the power base in the management business, I couldn’t be effective.”

The recorded music industry, having fully transitioned to a digital-first business, is once again making money hand over fist, he points out, but even less of that money is trickling down to artists. That imbalance long predates Big Tech’s involvement in the field, but the failure of music-driven tech companies to properly compensate musicians is clearly the largest burr under Azoff’s saddle.

“These people, when they start out — whether it’s Facebook, Snapchat, TikTok, whatever — they resist paying for music until you go beat the f— out of them. And then of course, none of them pay fair market value and they get away with it. Your company’s worth $30 billion and you can’t spend 20 grand for a song that becomes a phenomenon on your channel? Even when they pay, artists don’t get enough. Writers don’t get enough. Music, as a commodity, is more important than it’s ever been, and more unfairly monetized for the creators. And that’s what creates an opportunity for people like me.”

AZOFF’S FIRM NO longer handles Travis Scott, by the way. “Travis is unmanageable,” Azoff says, nonchalantly and without rancor. “We’re involved in his touring as an advisor to Live Nation, but he’s calling his own shots these days.”

I ask if, in the age of the viral hit and the bedroom producer, he finds himself running into more artists who assume they don’t need a manager. Ehh, Azoff says, like it’s always been that way. “There’s a lot of headstrong artists,” he says. “I haven’t seen one that’s better off without a manager than with,” he says, and laughs a little Dennis the Menace laugh.

We’re back at the house. Azoff takes a seat on the living-room couch; Larry Solters sits across from him, his back to the sea. Azoff recalls another big client. Declines to name him. Says he was never happy, even after Azoff and his people got him everything on his wish list. “He hit me with a couple bad emails. Just really disrespectful s—. I sent him an email back that said, ‘Lucky for me, you need me more than I need you. Goodbye.’”

He will confirm having resigned the accounts of noted divas Mariah Carey and Axl Rose. Reports that he once attempted to manage Kanye West have been greatly exaggerated, he says, although they’ve spoken about business. “Robert [Kardashian] was a good friend of mine. The kids all went to school together,” Azoff says. “What I always said to Kanye was, you’re unmanageable, but we can give you advice.

“A lot of people could have made a dynasty on the people we used to manage,” Azoff says, “let alone the ones we kept.”

But he still works with many artists who joined him in the ’70s — with Henley, with Steely Dan’s Donald Fagen and with Joe Walsh. Walsh has been sober for more than 25 years; it was Azoff, along with Henley and Frey, who talked him into rehab before the Eagles’ 1994 reunion tour. “Irving never passed judgment on me,” Walsh says. “And from that meeting on, he made sure I had what I needed to stay sober.” If he hadn’t, Walsh says, there’s no chance we’d be having this conversation. “All the guys I ran with are dead. Keith Moon’s dead. John Entwistle’s dead. Everybody’s dead, and I’m here. That’s profound to me.”

The first client Azoff lost was Minnie Riperton — in 1979, to breast cancer when she was only 31. Then Warren Zevon, to cancer, in 2003. Fogelberg, to cancer, four years later.

“And then Glenn,” says Azoff, referring to the Eagles co-founder who died in 2016. “I miss Glenn a lot. And now Eddie.”

Van Halen, that is. I ask Azoff if he can tell me a story that sums up what kind of guy Eddie Van Halen was; he tells me a beautiful one, then says he’d prefer not to see it in print. It makes perfect Azoffian sense — profane trash talk on the record, tenderness on background.

I ask if he’s been moved to contemplate his own mortality, as his boomer-aged clients approach an actuarial event horizon. Of course the answer turns out to involve keeping pace with an Eagle.

“Henley and I are having a race,” he says. “Neither one of us has given in. Neither one of us is going to retire.”

Henley was born in July 1947; Azoff came along that December. Does Don plan to keep going, I ask, until the wheels fall off?

“I don’t know,” Azoff says.

Do you ever talk about it?

“Yeah! He’ll call me up and he’ll go, ‘I really feel s— today.’ And I say, ‘Well, you should, Grandpa. You’re an old man. You ready to throw in the towel? Nope? OK.’”

Azoff says, “I contend that what keeps us all young is staying in the business. I’ve had more people tell me, ‘My father, he quit working, and then his health started failing,’ and all that. Every single — I mean, every single rock star I know is basically doing it to try and stay young. And I think it works. I really think it works.

“I have this friend,” Azoff says. “Calls me once a week, he’s sending me tapes, it’s his next big record. Paul Anka! He’s 80 years old. OK? And my other friend, Frankie Valli …”

“Do you know how old Frankie Valli is?” Solters says. “Eighty-six. And he still performs.”

“Not during COVID,” Azoff says. “I told the motherf—, ‘You’re not going out.’”

[austinpanda]

Dad Letter 082221

22 August, 2021

Dear Dad--

Happy what for you will be Sunday! Perhaps I should just say happy weekend. It’s Saturday morning here in the trailer and it seems like we’re going to catch some of Hurricane Henri sometime about Monday or Tuesday. I am excited by this! I’ve mentioned how our single-wide leaked like a sieve from the windows along its west wall. Well, in response to our maintenance request, they sent a dude around to come fix it. I believe caulk, or otherwise some big tube of silicone sealant in a dispensing gun (pew! pew!) was employed. We still have our original leak; water always comes in through the top of our back door. The dude put the magic caulk on that thing too, but it’s like original sin...it’s just always gonna be there. It’s the leak where the previous tenants installed plastic hooks on the door, to hang towels on, to catch the leaks.

I spent some time on the internet yesterday and got myself some medical benefits! I now have medical, dental, and vision coverages. I don’t know when they start, but I’m going to search for a dentist some more today. I tried the area’s largest family dentistry, a place with (I’m guessing) maybe 20 dentists working in it, and their website says they have no available appointments. This seems unlikely, but not impossible. I think there’s a problem with the scheduling website, or else they’re having a surge of business before school starts, or something else temporary. Either way, I’ll find a dentist. The dental pain which I’ve come to live with and treat with Ibuprofen every day may soon be a thing of the past.

I don’t suppose I can avoid mentioning that I’m still having problems with depression. I have a few online friends who’ve been super helpful while I seem to be in this downswing, and I��m hoping to get rid of it, and return to my usual sarcastic-yet-ebullient self soon. (You don’t need to suggest exercising, I can actually hear you thinking it from here. Got to admit, I kind of wish I owned a weight bench.) I believe at least some of the depression stems from having no circle of friends. I have, at best, a very tiny triangle of friends. The three components of the friend triad would be: husband, cats and coworkers, and Mr. and Mr. plant scientist guy. I was going to go with Zach to plant scientist guy’s home today to eat, but instead I’m going to stay home and eat worms and feel sorry for myself. (Zach suggested I might like some “me” time, and I’m not keen to inflict myself upon anyone just now anyway.) Also I have lots of work shirts to iron.

I’m actually looking forward to work tomorrow, just a little bit, even though it’s my Monday. My boss has suggested in advance that I do 6 of the 7 audits tomorrow, and I don’t think I’ve ever done 6 in a day before. I especially haven’t attempted to do 6 on a Sunday, since we always audit the previous day’s stuff, which means I’d be auditing a Saturday, typically a busy time. I’m confident that I can do it, however. I can do each of those 6 audits in about an hour, and that gives me a whole two extra hours for “shit happens.” I like knowing how to do all that stuff. There’s a good chance I’ll get through all 6 audits without having any questions, or any problems I can’t solve myself.

And it’s going to be September soon! That always gets me excited, since that’s when I start my two month scary movie marathon, beginning with Night of the Demon, from 1957. I’ve reached a point where, as soon as I hear that movie begin, I relax a bit, because I know summer is over. Also, a lot of my favorite movies are in that genre, including a bunch of British ones, and a bunch with extremely unconvincing monsters. But that’s when I watched The Thing From Another World (1951), and The Fog, and the original Amityville Horror, and The Changeling, with George C. Scott. Good stuff! And, of course, the two months culminate on Halloween, when I watch a couple I saved for last, and we eat all the candy we bought, because children generally know better than to come to a trailer park during the time of plague resurgence in search of things to put in their mouths, that they KNOW FOR CERTAIN was just handled by a stranger.

Actually, I think the way they do Halloween now is: everyone buys candy and drives to church, and everyone else brings their kids, and the kids just visit each car for candy, one after the other. It doesn’t sound like it provides as much walking as the traditional way of trick-or-treating, and it seems to reduce the possibility of criminal mischief to near zero. (I’m just thinking you can’t TP someone’s house when you’re gathering candy in the church parking lot.) But it preserves some of the elements of the old fashioned style. Halloween is a great holiday, mostly because I like watching the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown special. I’m one of the few people that loves every second of that TV special, even the WW1 parts where Snoopy gets shot down behind enemy lines by the Red Baron. That show has some great jazz music in it.

I received something kind of cool in the mail today, a 16 x 100 inch roll of dichroic film. What the shit is that, you ask? Well, you see it in holiday decorations a lot. It’s a colored film that changes color depending on the angle from which you’re viewing it. It’ll also do stuff like: light passing through it is blue, but light bouncing off it is bright orange. It’s just a film you can use to tint plastic and windows that make pretty colors. I have tinted two windows in our metal living tube with it! I’ll include the pictures. It sticks on with soapy water, and is supposed to peel right off when it comes time to move out and take all my disco shit with me. I’m considering putting a couple of small patches of it on my car, just because it’s so pretty. I’ll include a pic of the dichroic film. By now, as you’ve probably concluded, they use that dichroic glass in certain disco lights.

I have a few things happening, but it’s a slow period. I have already put some of the dichroic film on the bathroom window and the window in the back door, which we never open. As predicted, it is pretty as fuck! I want to cover my car windows with it, but I checked, and I’m pretty sure that would be illegal in Maine. Auto window tint has to allow at least 30% of light to pass through (no worries, and with disco colors!) and it has to be non-reflective (shit! Mine is super reflective!) Just taking a picture of some balled-up leftover bits of the dichroic film is pretty. Anything you can scrunch up into a ball and take a beautiful picture of it MUST be special.

I was afraid, for a period, that I had done something to kill my ability to read books for fun! I know I’ve been anhedonic lately, but I’m pretty sure that I haven’t smoked enough drugs to make myself illiterate. Then, as an experiment, I picked up a Jack Reacher book, and read all 450 pages in about a day. I am pleased to report that I have neither smoked myself illiterate, nor forgotten how to enjoy a good page-turner. This pleases me!

More next week! All my love to you both!

[thoughtslikeaminefield]

Leaving Heaven

CHAPTER THREE

PLEASE HEED WARNINGS

Summary: Tazi is a bounty hunter of mostly human things. She isn’t firmly seated in the supernatural world, but she’s familiar enough that she’s recruited by an old friend of John Winchester’s to capture and deliver a brief acquaintance of her own.

Characters: Demon Dean Winchester x original female character - Taziana (Tazi) Smith, original male character - Mike Clemons, Sam Winchester

Chapter Warnings: this is not your mother’s Dean Winchester, sexual intimidation, dub-con, rough foreplay, choking, making out with a Knight of Hell culminating in coming fully-clothed against a brick wall, mentions of past rape (nothing descriptive), commiserating over childhood trauma

AN: This chapter contains dialogue from Supernatural episode 10.2. All recognizable elements herein belong to their respective owners. The rest belongs to me.

I’m from the midwest -- Omaha, in fact -- so don’t be offended by me joking about Jan from Ohio and don’t @ me that there is no B&B in the Old Market. M’s Pub is, however, a legacy restaurant in the Old Market.

thank you @itmighthavebeenintentional​ and @cracksinthewalls​ for reading and inputting and holding my hand xox

c.1 | c.2 | c.3 | c.4 | c.5 | c.6 

I get to Omaha late at night/early in the morning and check into a bed and breakfast near Dean’s alleged location. As I collapse onto the bed, Mike rings my phone for the fifth time since I left him and Crowley at the club in Denver.

He wants to apologize, and I don’t want to accept it. I just want to find Dean and get my money.

I answer his call anyway.

“Tazi, I’m sorry this is such a mess,” he says.

“Mikey, I’m not doing this right now,” I answer, lighting a cigarette then reaching for my whiskey. “I got a big day tomorrow -- today, whatever -- and I don’t wanna think about why in fuck you’re working with the King of Hell.”

“Well... keep me posted,” Mike says.

I will because Mike and I are family. Regardless of his motivations or obstacles, I’d still be right where I am -- hunting an unkillable demon who just happens to be the deadliest supernatural hunter in recent history. 

“You owe me -- big,” I reply before disconnecting the call.

~~~~~~~

Women prepare for battle every day. After a few hours’ sleep, I’m up and preparing for mine.

My armor is my favorite leather pants and tank top, thigh-high boots that give me an extra three inches in height, motorcycle jacket with plenty of pockets, the sides of my hair braided away from my face like an Amazon, dark, glossy lipstick, eyes painted black as night, chain metal bracelets, necklaces, earrings. My karambit knives are always easily accessed.

Bulletproof.

I take my Americano bulletproof, too, in the dining room of the b&b with all midwestern eyes on me. It’s 7 AM; I don’t think Jan from Ohio is used to seeing an on-duty bounty hunter this early even on a Friday.

This has been my uniform since I was 13 years old. To the untrained eye, I look ready, willing, and able.

But I don’t need anyone to understand. I don't need anyone to agree with how I protect my body and spirit -- no matter how modern society codes it.

I’m not into small talk, either, and now sure as hell isn’t the time to try my hand at making friends with civvies. I have a job to do and I’m going in armed to the teeth, skin buzzing with nerves and espresso, ready to take my bounty.

I head over to Dean’s shitty motel to scout him out before I meet Sam. I could’ve stayed at the same hotel, given myself more time to pinpoint him, but then he probably would’ve smelled me or some shit.

I fucking hate this guy.

Instead, I’m huddled against a dumpster outside with my delicious, steaming coffee, as a woman slinks out of his door. She’s barefoot, tangled hair pulled into a mess of a bun, mascara smeared, strappy sandals dangling from her fingertips.

She crosses the street with her phone tucked into her neck as she fumbles with her keys.

“...fucking wild, sis,” she says, her voice ragged. “Details later, but... dude can fuck.”

I feel my eyes roll to the back of my skull until I think they’ll stay there forever.

I recover, though, and am able to take a bracing sip of my beverage -- just before I’m yanked to standing.

“You don’t blend, sweetheart,” Dean murmurs against my ear as he knocks my coffee cup clean from my hands.

His heavy arms band my own around my middle and his teeth latch onto the exposed crux of my shoulder and neck as he guides me toward an alley.

“You’re like a black widow.” He walks me backward, further into the alley, his thick thighs brushing between and against mine until my shoulder blades connect with a brick wall. “Sleek and deadly beacon of come hither.”

I grit my teeth as he chuckles then nips at the shell of my ear, his breath hot and damp, washing my skin. I hate that my body likes this -- likes him and rough things, likes the bass and grate of his voice.

But I hate predators more.

“You think I was tryna draw you out?” I sneer as his mouth moves over my skin. “I’m just lookin’ for a decent cuppa coffee.”

“‘Course you were tryna draw me out,” he laughs lightly, separating my hands, dragging them outward by the wrists until I’m spread-eagle against the wall, pinned with his heft. “You want me bad.”

I know exactly how to get out of this. I’ve been in this situation more than I care to recount. But I’m frozen, my brain spiraling with what to do next.

Also? I’m wet. So wet. And I fucking hate it.

Dean smirks as he slowly ducks in to take my mouth with his. And I let him. He’s hard and solid under the denim of his pants. I can’t help but undulate against him as he moans into it, twisting our tongues in a crazed dance.

What in the fuck am I doing?

Kissing him back - that’s what.

This isn’t good, but it’s so good.

As Dean pushes one hand up into my hair and wraps the other around the back of one of my thighs, he stands up straight and tall, lifting me a bit. He’s so into it that- 

Does he really not realize he’s just given me an advantage?

He grinds into my center as I simultaneously wrap my hands around his throat and hoist my legs around his middle and squeeze.

And, God, his eyes roll back and he groans, slamming his palms against the wall on either side of my head. I can feel his cock pulse as he thrusts against me.

Shit, I could come from this - this demon, hulking and hot, heavy breaths and sighs at my fucking mercy.

“Fuck, yes,” he chokes through my grip. His eyes flick open, jet black and shining. “Harder.”

So I squeeze harder, I grind harder as he hovers over me. He pushes in and out against the wall like he’s doing push-ups for Satan with his forehead against mine. I get myself off, humping against him, choking him out.

Jesus.

“Dean!” a vaguely familiar voice calls from the hazy periphery of lust enveloping us.

Dean and I each let go at the same time. I drop into a crouch and Dean does the exact opposite because he’s a cocky prick and apparently kamikaze as a demon.

“Sammy!” He swaggers to face his brother with a jovial grin splitting his face. “You met my girl Tazi?” Dean taunts his cautiously hedging sibling.

Sam is huge; like bigger than Dean. He looks like he just mainlined nine seasons of The Walking Dead, and his right arm is in a sling.

I begin to wonder how much of a hindrance he’ll be instead of help.

Dean grins as he swings his searing gaze from Sam to me. When his eyes meet mine again, there’s a terrifying edge there.

It hits me especially hard that I was just pressed against the wall and coming from a blood-thirsty psychopath who could’ve snapped my neck on contact.

Dean pops his tongue into the side of his cheek and nods slowly, dragging his gaze back to Sam. “What a coincidence you’re both here, huh?”

Dean’s making no attempt to start a fight or end one. He’s enjoying every second of watching his brother and me squirm.

I have got to get my shit together, so I focus on the brothers.

The heat between these two is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. They seem to want to meld together, destined to do so, through oceans of bad blood and heartache. They are not meant to be separated.

“Who winged you?” Dean asks Sam, unmoving, steadily keeping an eye on his brother.

“Does it matter?” Sam replies.

“Not really,” Dean answers, sincerely. “I told ya to let me go.”

“You know I can't do that,” Sam answers, jutting his chin in the face of the demonic being at the heart of his brother.

“By the way,” Sam continues. “Your, uh, pal Crowley... sold you out.”

Dean chuckles and tosses me another chilling look. “Sounds like him.”

As Dean takes a step toward me, I hold my ground and toss my chin up with Sam’s.

“Dean, hold on a second,” Sam pleads. “You don't have to do this. Look, we know how to cure demons. You remember that?”

Dean purses his lips and narrows his eyes, turning back just enough to keep both Sam and me in his line of sight, most of his attention on me.

“Little Latin, lotta blood -- rings a bell,” he answers with very little interest. “D’you ever stop to think that if I wanted to be cured, I wouldn't’ve bailed?”

“That was Crowley,” Sam answers, darting his gaze to my own.

Dean’s smirk breaks into a frightening grin. “It really wasn't.”

Sam starts to lose his patience or his tenacity, or maybe he’s just fucking exhausted. His voice is wrecked and his posture is exasperation personified as he tells Dean that none of the details matter, that they’ll fix it all.

I’m just about to insert myself, to try to distract the demon when Dean turns to ice.

“Will we?” he asks with venom. “'Cause right now, I'm doing all I can not to come over there and rip your throat out... with my teeth.”

My breath leaves my lungs and I see Sam’s throat convulse.

“I'm givin’ you a chance, Sam,” Dean warns. “You should take it.”

That infamous Winchester bravery rears its head as Sam answers, “I'm gonna have to pass.”

“Well, I'm not walkin’ outta this alley with you,” Dean answers, head tilted and mocking.

I look to Sam, try to communicate to him that I can help. We can get him out of here together, I try to tell him. Sam is hyper-focused on his brother, though.

“So, what’re you gonna do?” Dean further antagonizes Sam. “You gonna kill me?”

“No,” Sam promises - promises like it means anything to this demon.

“Why?” Dean continues. “You don't know what I've done. I might have it comin’. Right, Tazi?”

Both brothers turn their attention to me, and I growl.

“Shotgun Willie’s in Colorado last week,” I mutter.

Sam tenses up, but I can see in his eyes that he knew it was Dean who decimated that club; this is just confirmation.

“Well, I don’t care,” Sam says, steeling himself. “Because you’re my brother. And I'm here to take you home.”

Just as I’m about to get a leg up on Dean, I see a wave of panic cross Sam’s face. Then I feel Dean’s fist connect with my jaw, and everything goes black.

~~~~~~~

“Hey,” Sam says. “You scared me.”

He’s arched over me, trying to offer a smile but it’s more of a grimace than anything.

Up close, Sam doesn’t look much like his brother, but he reminds me of Dean when he was younger. He has the kind of eyes and posture that says he’s ready for anything.

I push myself to sit with my back against the dumpster where this whole scene began. I work my jaw a bit and wince.

“Your boy’s got quite the left hook,” I groan as Sam helps me up.

“Yeah, we’re lucky he didn’t give you the right,” Sam mutters, glancing around the alley.

“Where’d he go?” I ask, heading out of the alley.

Sam follows me, telling me that Dean “disappeared up a fire escape.” He shakes his head as we fall into step on the cobblestone sidewalk.

“You thirsty?” I ask, massaging my jaw. “I could use a drink.”

“Yeah,” Sam answers with a huffed laugh.

He’s still wound tight and cagey -- but his brother’s a demon, so...

We make our way to M’s and are seated pretty quickly for a Friday afternoon.

“Thank you,” Sam says to the hostess, without even noticing that she’s trying to flirt with him -- then again, demon brother, jacked arm.

“Hey, uhh...” I halt the hostess before she can leave us alone. “You probably don’t take orders, but can we get a couple whiskeys pronto?”

I motion to my quickly swelling face with a pained expression. Her eyes go wide as she nods before making a beeline for the bar.

Sam and I both sigh with relief as he settles into a seat and I drape my jacket over the back of my own chair. We each scan the restaurant for any kind of danger -- second nature to us both -- as I reach into the breast pocket of my vest to retrieve a couple of pain pills.

Before I can swallow the pills dry, a young man is there with two whiskeys, two glasses of water, and an ice pack.

“Thanks...” I give him a wry smile. “Had a little kerfuffle in the alley with a Knight of Hell -- you know how it is.”

I grin, and our server, whose nametag reads ‘Javier’, politely laughs at my absurd statement before proceeding to tell us the specials of the day.

“I’ll, uhh, have the soup,” I say, sliding my menu across the table to Javier.

Sam repeats my order for himself and adds two beers and two more whiskeys.

Javier winks at Sam as he scoops up our menus then heads to the ordering station.

“You’re on fire today, kid,” I say as I finish my first whiskey.

And Sam blushes.

That pinkening of his cheeks makes my heart twist in my chest.

“How...” I pause, watching Sam finish his own whiskey. “How are two such good boys- men... How did you and Dean wind up being the world’s deadliest hunters?”

Sam swallows the burning liquid then looks me in the eye.

“Our dad,” he answers. “He was a marine in Vietnam.”

He looks down into his empty whiskey glass. Neither of us has touched our water.

“He came back, met our mom, fell in love... got married and had us,” he continues. “Then a demon burned our mom alive on the ceiling of my nursery when I was six months old and Dad...”

Sam shakes his head again, and the only word I can think of to describe the expression marring his face is resentment.

“He went hunting and took us with him,” Sam finishes.

Javier sets our drinks and soups in front of us and, being the pro he is, leaves us alone.

“You were a baby,” I reply dumbly.

I was abused and abandoned as a child. I was passed around by relatives, taken advantage of. I sustained injuries, rapes, threats to my life.

And yet, I feel sorrow for what the Winchester brothers have endured.

Sam nods thoughtfully. “I was,” he replies. “But he trained us.”

Sam assures me that John Winchester equipped them with the tools and skills necessary to do their jobs. He taught them hand-to-hand combat, weaponry, lore...

“Yet here you are,” I gesture to his bum arm playfully.

Sam chuckles a little. “Well, Dean was always the one-”

Sam stops himself and eyes me cautiously.

I draw a breath. “The one?” I encourage him to continue, unsure whether I want to hear more about Dean specifically right now.

“Dean was always the good soldier,” Sam forges on with renewed intensity. “He did what Dad said -- exactly what Dad said.”

I remain quiet as Sam tells me how Dean was the best at everything. Dean was the heart of the family and he kept Sam safe. Dean was his hero.

Having to watch his big brother reduced to the base of a vile demon must be shattering Sam’s heart in his chest cavity.

“He raised me,” Sam continues. “We lived out of the Impala and hotel rooms, but Dean did his best to make us a home wherever we were.”

Sam’s voice trails off. “Sorry, I’m overwhelming you.”

I blink rapidly, realizing I’m staring. I feel cold all of a sudden like a realization is coming but hasn’t yet hit me.

“Don’t apologize,” I reply, downing my whiskey. “Sounds familiar.”

“I did a little research on you, too,” Sam smiles almost apologetically. “Foster system?”

I nod.

I like him better the more I get to know him. I like him and I respect him and his choices. And I want to help him.

“Dean’s the best hunter I’ve ever known,” Sam replies, raw and bare. “He’s smart and savvy in a way I’ll never be, and I just-”

“Hey,” I interrupt his tangent, reaching for his hand. “Let’s not go down this path of woulda, coulda, shoulda. Focus on what we need to do to catch this demon and get your brother back.”

Sam holds my eyes with recognition and appreciation. “Thank you.” His smile is shy. “Wasn’t sure what to think of someone from Crowley’s camp.”

“Oh, I am not from Crowley’s Camp,” I argue, waving Javier over. “I just met the little creep.”

Sam and I commiserate for a moment over finishing our beers so Javier can get us another round before I fully change the subject.

“I met him years ago, did you know that?” I ask.

Sam doesn’t appear surprised by this news, but he shakes his head. “Dean?” he asks, and I nod.

“He was with some kid named Lee, I was a stripper, I beat ‘em at poker,” I laugh. “It’s a good memory.”

“You beat Dean at poker?!?” Sam laughs out loud with utter delight and it makes me feel warm all over.

“I did!” I laugh. “And he was so sweet and good.”

Tears inexplicably prick my eyes, and it’s Sam’s turn to reach for my hand.

Hearing the story of how Sam and Dean grew up has given me hope that Dean isn’t done for. His humanity -- the bravery and ardor that drives a man like Dean Winchester -- isn’t gone forever.

Ten years ago in the same situation, I would’ve told every single one of these men, including and especially Dean to get fucked and I’d walk away. But I’ve learned a lot about myself and the world. I’d like to think I’m a better person for it.

“He deserves a fighting chance,” I continue, twining fingers with his. “And so do you.”

Sam nods solemnly. “You’re kind of a badass, you know that?” he asks with a grin.

“We’ll see,” I reply. “Now, let’s see how cold this soup is.”

Sam and I talk next steps, we make calls to our respective networks, we drink more beer. By the time we decide to break and sleep on it for the night, we’ve cycled through three servers and we still don’t know where Dean is.

“Listen, get some rest and we’ll hit it hard tomorrow,” Sam sighs, and I agree.

He looks even more exhausted than he did when I met him in the alley 12 hours ago. “We both need it,” I tell him. “We’ll find your brother, Sam.”

Sam smiles and nods before we go our separate ways

Back at my B&B, I climb the stairs to my room, key in and go through my nightly routine before swallowing three ibuprofen and downing a glass of water. I climb into bed and quickly fall asleep.

I’m awoken at 5:30 AM by the phone on my nightstand.

“The fuck,” I mumble and fumble and finally get a grasp on the receiver, bringing it to my ear. “‘Lo?”

“Good morning, Ms. Smith. This is your 5:30 wake-up call,” the perky voice on the other end of the line says. “Please let us know if-”

Before she can continue, I hang up. I didn’t fucking order a wake-up call. I groan, pushing myself to sit. I might as well get up.

I smell fresh, rich coffee and it perks my senses a bit. “Damn, these bitches get up early ‘round here,” I keep talking to myself as I swing my legs out from under the covers.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, in the dim morning light filtering through the lace curtains, I see a large, white paper cup with a black lid.

Steam curls lazily from the spouted opening.

I lean forward and find a small piece of paper with a simple message:

To replace yesterday’s - best coffee in town! ❤️Dean

My stomach drops as I reach for my phone to call Sam Winchester.

chapter four

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Fic Masterlist

If you like what you’ve read, please let me know and/or buy me a coffee!

[earformusic]

10 Songs to Make You Feel Like You're Starring in a Coming-of-Age Indie Film

From The Perks of Being a Wallflower to The Edge of Seventeen, coming-of-age indie films have swept my generation by storm. Recently, it’s become a trend for us Gen Z kids to wish we were starring in one of these iconic films, whether it be because we want to be the main character or we just want to romanticize our lives a bit more. So, I’ve handpicked 10 of my favorite songs to make you feel like you’re the main character you’ve always wanted to be.

1. Grouplove - Tongue Tied

We’re starting off with a throwback that never gets old. If you think you haven’t heard this song, chances are you probably have without even realizing it. Although “Tongue Tied” was released back in 2011, this song has proved itself to be a timeless mix of rock and electropop that’s perfect for singing in your car as you drive down the highway at night with your best friends. Hitting number one on the Billboard Alternative Songs chart a year after its release, Grouplove proved the true magic this song holds despite its prior negative reviews. With an indie influence as well as elements of synthpop and post punk, “Tongue Tied” will have you feeling like the main character as soon as you hit play.

2. BØRNS - Electric Love

The American singer and songwriter BØRNS began his career off with a bang, releasing the critically acclaimed hit “Electric Love”. The poetic lyrics coupled with a heavy glam rock sound will make you feel as if you’re on the top of the world. The music video featuring colorful animations and whimsical dancers perfectly showcases BØRNS as the “main character”. “Electric Love” has such a bright, fun sound that hearing it will immediately make you want to get up and dance. On top of all of this, BØRNS has such a unique voice that definitely stands out. 

3. fun. (feat. Janelle Monáe) - We Are Young

Once again, we have another timeless throwback song. I remember this song constantly playing on the radio when I was younger, and its catchy lyrics getting stuck in my head for days. The perfection of this song speaks for itself, considering the massive achievements it brought the group (including a Grammy award for Song of the Year in 2012). “We Are Young” is the culmination of teenage youth shoved into a 4 minute and 10 second indie pop anthem, with the lyrics describing an unforgettable night out with your friends. Listening to this song, especially with some of your best friends, is perfect for making you feel as if you’re truly living in the moment.

4. M83 - Midnight City

“Midnight City” is a track that’s perfect for playing in the car on a late night drive. The lyrics of the song are a tribute to city nightlife, indicated by the title itself. This is one song that doesn’t need as many lyrics to articulate its message, but the hollow echoes of the lyrics given resonate with the listener. The song’s transcendent sound and memorable riff make it one that you won’t want to miss. You also can’t talk about this song without mentioning the standout saxophone solo that ends the track. I firmly believe that this is one of those songs that’s better listened to than explained, as the song speaks for itself. 

5. Young the Giant - Cough Syrup

As soon as I heard this song come up on my Spotify shuffle, I immediately added it to my playlist. The mix of an indie rock sound with meaningful lyrics caught my attention, and I couldn’t stop listening to the song for weeks. The lyrics of “Cough Syrup” perfectly depict the cliché struggle many coming-of-age indie film protagonists face: the feeling of being lost and aching to get out of your mundane town and lifestyle. However, this common story troupe doesn’t only apply to fictional characters but to many teenagers out there as well (I may or may not be speaking from personal experience). This song by the alternative rock band has the perfect balance of symbolic lyrics and a catchy chorus that you will be humming for hours.

6. Supergrass - Alright

“Alright” is a song that can speak to teenagers everywhere. Lyrics such as “But we are young, we get by” relate back to the simple yet complicated nature of the average teenage experience. Watching the music video, which showcases the British alternative rock band Supergrass joyfully messing around and having fun, will make you wish you could be there and hang out with them as well. The upbeat vibe and joyful piano tune make this song perfect to play on a sunny day.

7. Lonely God - Marlboro Nights

If you frequent the app TikTok, chances are you probably recognize this song from there. Though this indie pop single was released back in 2018, the popular social media app brought it back into the limelight during July 2019. From there, the song reached high spots on the Spotify Viral 50 Charts. The lyrics speak of a love story that many teenagers can probably relate to, especially the opening lyric “I don't want to go to school tomorrow I can't study thinking about you” that immediately leaves an impression on the listener. “Marlboro Nights” is another song which lacks in lyrical amount however holds itself up with a catchy rhythm and lyrics.

8. Bruno Major - Places We Won’t Walk

We’re now taking a sadder turn with this soft R&B track by the British singer and songwriter Bruno Major. Listening to this song, I can picture it playing in the background as the film hits its climax, and the protagonist finally experiences the sad reality of their situation, whether it be losing the love of their life or a close friend. This is arguably the saddest song on this list, however, I feel like it serves to show that being the main character doesn’t always equate to happiness as every person experiences their own highs and lows. Bruno Major’s soothing vocals along with the soft piano in the background make for such a beautiful song. 

9. Wallows - Do Not Wait

Throughout Wallows’ debut album Nothing Happens, they touch on topics such as youth and nostalgia, and the indie rock/bedroom pop song “Do Not Wait” is no exception. The lyrics show how, especially during your teen years, everything feels so world-crushing and the smallest mistake can feel like it’s the end of the world. But in reality nothing happened, and everything is going to turn out okay despite those prior feelings. “Do Not Wait” was the perfect ending to an album full of stories about the teenage experience. When listening to this song, the bridge and outro really stuck up to me, specifically the part where the band member and lyricist of the song Dylan Minnette seems to be speaking to his past self. This shows how the whole song is written from the perspective of his older self talking to his younger self, while simultaneously showing his own personal self growth over the years.

10. Lorde - Ribs

You can’t bring up songs that make you feel like the protagonist in a coming-of-age indie film without mentioning the showstopper that is “Ribs” by Lorde. This song is the perfect description of the bittersweet feeling of never wanting to grow up that all of us experience at least once in our lifetime. Raw and honest lyrics such as “This dream isn't feeling sweet / We're reeling through the midnight streets / And I've never felt more alone / It feels so scary, getting old” give the song a relatable aspect that can appeal to all teenagers. The longing and sadness in the lyrics mixed with Lorde’s unique voice and an upbeat electronica sound make this song so unique. If you are looking for the perfect song to listen to as you dance outside in the rain at night with some of your best friends, or even for those 3 am existential crises, this is the song for you!

Now we’ve finally come to the end of this list, and I hope you found at least one song that makes you feel like you’re the main character. But just know, even if you may not feel like it, you are always the main character of your own life. Life may not always feel as romanticized as films make it out to be, but you always have the ability to romanticize your own life as much as you can: so do it!

If you’d like to check out a playlist with these songs and others that fit this same theme, here’s a link to my Spotify playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3jhAQfVQpVmbabQEzG1gGF?si=rP0gfaVAS56RXUXn8aHgbw

[aion-rsa]

DC FanDome: Schedule, Date, Time, and How to Watch

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

Fans hoping for major DC news in lieu of an actual San Diego Comic-Con are definitely going to get just that at DC FanDome, a digital event designed to be watched at home like a real con.

Originally set up as one epic night of panels and reveals, DC announced that it will be splitting FanDome into two separate and distinct events: Hall of Heroes, which will be held in late August, and WatchVerse in mid-September.

The August date still holds most of the big-ticket items. It’s billed by DC as “an epic world designed personally by Jim Lee featuring special programming, panels and exclusive reveals from a wide variety of films, TV series, games, comics and more.” Functionally, it’s the Hall H of FanDome.

This DC FanDome trailer gives fans a good glimpse at what they can expect from the event:

Here’s everything else you need to know about DC FanDome:

DC FanDome Date and Time

The first DC FanDome event, Hall of Heroes, kicks off on Saturday, Aug. 22 at 1 pm ET. Sign up to watch here!

DC FanDome Schedule

Here’s a rundown of all the panels happening during DC FanDome: Hall of Heroes. The panel descriptions below are courtesy of DC. All times are ET:

1:00 PM – Wonder Woman 1984 Panel

“Wonder Woman 1984 stars Gal Gadot, Chris Pine, Kristen Wiig and Pedro Pascal, and director/co-writer/producer Patty Jenkins join forces with Brazilian hosts Érico Borgo and Aline Diniz to celebrate the fans in a big way. They will answer questions from fans from all over the world, talk fan art and cosplay, and reveal an all-new sneak peek at the upcoming film — plus a few more surprises!”

1:25 PM – WB Games Montreal Announcement

“Gamers! You won’t want to miss this first look at an exciting new game, and Q&A with its developers.”

1:45 PM – The Sandman Universe: Enter the Dreaming Panel

“Neil Gaiman, Dirk Maggs, G. Willow Wilson and Michael Sheen discuss the legacy of The Sandman comic book series and how it has been expanded with new stories, adapted into new mediums, and enthralled audiences around the world.”

2:15 PM – Multiverse 101 Panel

“Get schooled in this engaging refresher course on the creation of the Multiverse with DC Chief Creative Officer/Publisher Jim Lee, Warner Bros. Pictures President of DC-Based Film Production Walter Hamada, and Berlanti Productions founder/DCTV mega-producer Greg Berlanti.”

2:40 PM – Flash Movie Panel

“This 101-style conversation with The Flash filmmakers Andy Muschietti and Barbara Muschietti, star Ezra Miller and screenwriter Christina Hodson will give fans a speedy rundown on the first-ever Flash feature film.”

2:50 PM – Beyond Batman Short

“The Batman of Swinging Sixties culture clashes with the Batman of the far-flung future when Batman Beyond and his mentor, Old Bruce Wayne, intercept a broadcast of the 1966 Batman TV show!”

2:55 PM – The Suicide Squad Panel

“What else would you expect from The Suicide Squad but the ultimate elimination game? First up, writer/director James Gunn takes on fan questions, then brings out Task Force X for a fast-paced, no-holds-barred Squad Showdown that tests every team member’s Squad knowledge — and survival skills!”

3:40 PM – BAWSE Females of Color within the DCU Panel

“What’s a BAWSE? Find out here as some of the hottest actresses across DC television and film sit down with celebrity DJ D-Nice and Grammy-winning singer/actress Estelle to discuss how they use their confidence and vulnerability to navigate their careers in Hollywood. Panelists include Meagan Good (SHAZAM!), Javicia Leslie (Batwoman), Candice Patton (The Flash), Tala Ashe (DC’s Legends of Tomorrow), Nafessa Williams and Chantal Thuy (Black Lightning), and Anna Diop and Damaris Lewis (Titans). Catch the entire full-length conversation at McDuffie’s Dakota in the DC WatchVerse.”

4:00 PM – Legacy of the Bat Panel

“Calling all Batman fans! Don’t miss this discussion on the wide scope of the Batman universe, including the Batman Family of characters. Key talent from comics, TV, and games will provide insight into the world of Caped Crusader.”

4:30 PM – Joker: Put on a Happy Face

“Featuring interviews with filmmakers and industry legends, discover the origins and evolution of The Joker, and learn why the Clown Prince of Crime is universally hailed as the greatest comic book Super-Villain of all time.”

4:45 PM – Surprise DC Comics Panel

TBA

5:10 PM – I’m Batman: The Voices Behind the Cowl Panel

“Everyone has their favorite Batman. But for audiences around the world, their favorite Batman has a local sound. It’s time to meet the voices behind the cowl. Hear what it’s like to be one of the many global vocal actors portraying the Dark Knight when the Super Dubbers, who lend their talents to the Caped Crusader on screens big and small all over the world, come together for the first time ever.”

5:30 PM – The Snyder Cut of Justice League Panel

“Zack Snyder fields questions from fans and a few surprise guests as he discusses his eagerly awaited upcoming cut of the 2017 feature film and the movement that made it happen.”

5:54 PM – The Flash TV Panel

“Executive producer Eric Wallace joins cast members Grant Gustin, Candice Patton, Danielle Panabaker, Carlos Valdes, Danielle Nicolet, Kayla Compton, and Brandon McKnight to discuss all things Flash with Entertainment Weekly’s Chancellor Agard. Team Flash will break down both parts of season six and look ahead at what is to come with an exclusive trailer for season seven. Fans will also get a look at the exclusive black-and-white noir episode ‘Kiss Kiss Breach Breach,’ which will be available on The Flash season six Blu-ray and DVD on August 25.”

6:10 PM – Black Adam Panel

“Star of the first-ever Black Adam feature film Dwayne Johnson sets the stage for the story and tone of the new movie with a fans-first Q&A…and a few surprises.”

6:30 PM – CNN Heroes: Real Life Heroes in the Age of the Coronavirus

“While DC features iconic fictional Super Heroes recognized around the world, CNN Heroes shines a light on real-life, everyday people making a difference in their communities. Now, as the global Covid-19 pandemic has turned all of our worlds upside down, CNN’s Anderson Cooper introduces you to the frontline workers, advocates, neighbors, and friendly strangers who are coming together to help us through this crisis.”

6:50 PM – Titans TV Panel

“’Titans are back, b*tches!’ That phrase kicked off an explosive second season of Titans that culminated with the long-awaited emergence of Nightwing as their leader and the tragic death of one of their own. And as a new mysterious threat looms, season three promises to be the biggest yet! Join executive producer Greg Walker and series stars Brenton Thwaites, Anna Diop, Teagan Croft, Ryan Potter, Conor Leslie, Curran Walters, Joshua Orpin, Damaris Lewis, with Alan Ritchson and Minka Kelly for a preview of the new season as well as a discussion on the ‘Fan Favorite Moments’ of the first two seasons.”

7:05 PM – Aquaman Panel

“Aquaman director James Wan and King Orm himself, Patrick Wilson, take a deep dive into the world of Atlantis that Wan created, revealing their favorite behind-the-scenes moments from the largest DC movie ever!”

7:15 PM – “Ask Harley Quinn”

“She has gone toe-to-toe with Batman and the Justice League, and taken down The Joker and the toughest villains of Gotham City, but at DC FanDome, Harley Quinn faces her toughest challenge yet — answering burning questions from DC’s biggest fans in her own tell it as it is, no-BS style. If you love the Harley Quinn animated series, this is one you cannot f—king miss!”

7:20 PM – Wonder Woman 80th Anniversary Celebration Panel

“As an Amazon and a god, Wonder Woman is truly timeless. So, it’s hard to believe she’s turning 80! Join Wonder Woman 1984 director Patty Jenkins and star Gal Gadot, along with a very special guest, as they reflect on the character’s influence on them personally, and look forward to the 2021 celebrations!”

7:25 – Tomorrow’s Superheroes with Jim Lee

“DC Chief Creative Officer/Publisher Jim Lee joins Bing Chen, founder of the global non-profit collective Gold House, to discuss the important contributions of Asian artists and writers in comics and comic book–inspired entertainment.”

7:40 PM – SHAZAM! Panel

“Zac Levi and the cast can’t tell you s#&t! Sworn to secrecy on the new script for their upcoming movie, Zac and a few of his SHAZAM! castmates talk with the Philippines’ #1 DC fan, Gino Quillamor, about what the next movie might be about, while commenting on everything from panels to the other Zack’s cut — and even have a few surprise guests drop in!”

8:10 PM – Suicide Squad: Kill the Justice League Panel

“Will Arnett hosts the highly anticipated video game reveal from Rocksteady Studios, creators of the Batman: Arkham franchise.”

8:30 PM – The Batman Panel

“The Batman filmmaker Matt Reeves joins host and self-professed fangirl Aisha Tyler for a discussion of the upcoming film…with a surprise (or two) for the fans!”

You can check out the full DC FanDome schedule here.

DC FanDome Live Stream

While DC FanDome is free for all to enjoy, you will need to create an account on DCFanDome.com in order to watch the event. You’ll then be able to access each panel via the DC FanDome program scheduler.

Following the conclusion of The Batman panel at the end of Hall of Heroes, the Fandome schedule will then cycle back through two more times, giving you three shots to watch in a 24-hour period.

DC FanDome: WatchVerse Date and Time

DC will host a second, on-demand FanDome event called WatchVerse on Saturday, Sept. 12 at 1 pm ET. While viewers will be able to access all content in any order they please, the event will only be available for 24 hours.

This event will include the previously announced panel on the expansion of “DC’s Watchmen Universe” discussion with Damon Lindelof and Tom King talking Rorschach, a Joker War panel with Batman writer James Tynion IV and Batgirl scribe Cecil Castellucci, a Three Jokers panel with Geoff Johns and Jason Fabok, a panel on John Ridley’s exciting upcoming The Other History of the DC Universe, and more.

The post DC FanDome: Schedule, Date, Time, and How to Watch appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/34jSTev

[essythewolf]

Fictober Day 7

Prompt: “No worries, we still have time.”

Fanfiction - Enderal

Playing catch up right now due to work but it’s all good. Enjoy!

Fogville lived up to its name. A thick stream of fog encompassed the entire town and surrounding area that she could hardly see three feet in front of her. Thankfully the Myrad she rode easily navigated the grey soup to its tower nearby without incident. She gave the great, four-eyed beast a gentle pat on its snout before climbing the rocky hill to town.

Master Firespark said that key to the Living Temple was hidden away here. A key to an ancient Pyrean Temple was hidden away in an abandoned ghost town. Well, the Enderaleans didn’t need to make sense.

The closer she got, the more she could see the gate that loomed ahead. Large doors sat haphazardly on their hinges in splinters. On her way up she passed siege equipment; broken battering rams littered the town’s approach. What happened here?

She passed underneath the broken gates and recoiled by a stench wafting further in. Death. Like a mix of rotting meat that has sat too long in the sun and unwashed bodies put together. She found the source of the smell around one of the bends. A body lay face down but the corpse did not look human. Its skin was grey and covered in pustules, long gnarled fingers still curled around a savage looking axe. When she turned the corpse over with her foot she recoiled again. It’s face was scrunched with many wrinkles and a sagging mouth. Red, beady eyes stared blankly into the sky, its pupil so dilated she only saw black pin pricks at its center. She quickly moved on, keeping her bow on hand just in case there were more.

She rounded another bend and up the hill. The houses looked more and more intact the further she went. And more lofty. FInally she came upon a clearing, pillars surrounded a well and at the far end was the largest building in the area, most likely the town hall. Two figures stood in the clearing. She recognized one wearing a blue coat. He turned to her, hands flashed to the hilts of his daggers then relaxed when he realized who it was.

“Ah, there she is. Told you she’d get here no problem.”

“Blasted, blistering blazes! What took you so long? We’ve been waiting for ages.” The other figure clad in green robes turned to her. His long beard twitched with annoyance.

Jespar raised an eyebrow at the old mage. “But you only just-”

“Nevermind you! Come here.” Master Firespark gestured to both of them to come closer. He explained to them what they needed to find. A red orb, similar in likeness to a ruby, was hidden in one of the buildings. They were to find it, then travel north into a crystal forest where the temple would be. Lea perked up at the opportunity to see such a wonder but Firespark waved it off.

“It’s nothing to revel over. You’re more likely to go blind in that forest with all the snow and light.”

When he’d finished he trumped off, legs moving with purpose. Or impatience. Most likely both, Lea thought.

“So…” she turned to Jespar.

“So,” he shrugged, “Why don’t you check the town hall? I’ll look around here and the buildings further out.”

“Sure,” she paused, “were you expecting something else when you saw me?”

He grimaced, “Did you see the Arp on your way in?”

“Arp?” Her eyebrows knitted in confusion, “You mean that...grey creature?”

He nodded, “Yeah, ugly things. They tend to flock to places like this. I’d keep your guard up around here just in case.”

“Duly noted.” Before they could part ways however, she tugged on his coat and asked, “So, know anything about this place?”

Jespar went on a lengthy explanation of the town’s bloody history. He claimed to be fascinated by Fogville’s circumstances and looked pleased with himself when he finished the story. Mad townsfolk, disappearing travelers, bloody rituals and sacrifices. Even a reference to an infamous serial killer. It all culminated on a full-scale siege of the town by the Keepers of Ark. She was surprised by the depth of knowledge he possessed. It was that same surprise when he explained how the ‘sea of eventualities’ worked when he first introduced her to Master Firespark. He was no mage or scholar but he knew the in and outs of the Order, the Arcanists, and much of the history surrounding Enderal.

“The perks of growing up a noble. It’s one good habit that I’ve kept up at least.”

“Reading?”

“Being well-informed.” He stroked at his chin. “It’s kept me alive on more than one occasion. Now let’s find that key.”

***********

Finding the key was easy. There were more Arps inside the town hall but she easily dispatched them with her bow. Clumsy creatures charged in front of her as easy targets. The orb, now safely tucked in her satchel, was locked in a vault that was easy to pick. She silently thanked Meagar Ironford for his lessons on locks.

The hard part was getting caught in a storm on their way up the crystal forest. They had to cross Fogstone Bridge that led them towards the Frostcliff Mountains then take a path left at the Tavern and Myrad Tower up the ways. Snow fell just as they cleared the bridge but the higher they climbed the more intense it got. Lea sidled closer and closer to Jespar until she latched onto his belt to keep from getting blown away. Even the cover of trees did nothing to spare them from the sudden gusts of icy wind.

“Tavern should be close! Stay close to me okay?!” Jespar hooked one arm around Lea’s small frame and guided her through the snow storm. Lea huddled as close to him as she could get without impeding his steps.

Ahead, they could make out winking, yellow lights of the Frostcliff Tavern. He hauled her along, half-lifting, half-dragging, until the front doors were in arms reach. One of the maids ushered them inside and slammed the door behind them. The howling wind was replaced with buzzing talk and a bard fitting away on a lute next to a huge fireplace.

“By Malphas, what are you two thinking, wandering out there in a storm?!” She helped the two dust the thick layer of snow that caked on to their leathers.

Jespar slowly undid himself from Lea. His fingers had curled around her side so stiffly, she wasn’t sure he’d be able to pry them off of her. Blazes, she was freezing. Both of them shivered violently but Jespar was handling it better than she was. He flexed his fingers and thanked the maid for letting them in.

“I-I d-don’t think I-I l-like th-the snow any-ny-more.” She tried to set her jaw but her teeth still clacked together.

The maid snorted beside her, “Aye lass. It’s pretty enough but just as deadly as the wildlife. Exposure kills more than the wolves.”

Jespar laughed, even if it came out huffed and winded. The maid led them to a table close the large fireplace. Mulled wine and hot stew. Enough to warm their bones and ride out the snow storm.

“You think Firespark is out there?” Lea asked. She kept her goblet close to her chest, swirling its contents and watched the little whirlpools she made.

Jespar sipped from his own and glanced out the nearby window. Snow fell sideways outside but the din of the tavern set him in a stupor.

“I’m sure he’s fine. He’s old but I don’t think a snow storm is going to slow Old Bushybeard down.” He grinned at her. “He’s probably already there, safe from the storm and tapping his foot waiting for us to show up.”

“Sounds about right,” she giggled into her wine.

They settled into comfortable silence. Lea carefully sipped her wine, letting the warmth spread from her fingertips to her toes. Jespar pulled out his pipe and lit it. The smoke added to the haze within and Lea found it hard to keep her head up.

She liked this. The warmth, the wine, being normal. In that moment, She wasn’t the Prophetess anymore. Just Lea. She looked at Jespar; his eyes half-lidded, smoke trailing from his lips as his head dipped in time with the bard’s lute. She watched the light from the fireplace color his silver locks orange and yellow and the way the shadows danced on his face. She envied him. How easy he made everything look. And how good he looked doing it. Heat rose to her cheeks that was not relevant to her wine and she turned away to look out a window. She let her mind wander instead to seeing the crystal forest and the Living Temple. She doubted she’d go blind at the sight. There was another brief lapse in song then bard played a ballad she liked. “The Winter Sky”. Seemed fitting right now.

The snow stopped falling but the light faded outside.

“Helloooo? Is my fair lady there?”

“Wh-what?”

Sea blue eyes crinkled with amusement. “You look ready to drop. I’ll go ahead and get us a room for the night. We can start fresh tomorrow morning.”

She stared down into her now-empty goblet, flushed with embarrassment. Sleep sounded nice...and terrifying. “Uh. The storm is letting up. Shouldn’t we go before Firespark comes looking for us?”

Jespar motioned for her to follow and led her to the barkeep’s counter, “No worries, we still have time. And getting you into bed won’t be that hard anyway.” He winked at her.

She coughed and looked everywhere else that wasn’t his face, “Gods, you’re terrible. Keep this up and you’re sleeping on the floor treasure hunter.”

[keefwho]

October 29 - 2022

9:33 AM

It’s frustrating when someone clearly expects certain behaviors from me, especially when they are outdated. I never considered that even close friends can end up dumbing me down into a static character and holding onto that idea of me long after I change. And then they think something is “wrong” because I’m not fitting into the mold they made for me. Then we grow apart and the only thing that will stop it is if they understand and accept that I’m changing. All I want is some patience and less guilting. 

3:32 PM

I found a really weird looking spot on my armpit today, straight up it looks like it needs to get checked out and dealt with. I’m a little worried about it because skin cancer isn’t usually as bad as other cancers but it’s still a big deal. AND it means I gotta go allll the way to the doctor. I’m giving it 2 days to see what it does. It’s possible it’s an injury I don’t remember getting or something else that will go away. Its likely even. I hate having to wait and see. I’ve had a couple cancer scares in the past when I was a more unrealistic hypochondriac. I’m not trying to jump to that conclusion but this time it REALLY looks concerning. 

Right now I’m at the very beginning stage where I’m kinda freaking out and I don’t know what to do with myself right now. I know soon I’ll calm down and find a way to take my mind off of it. 

5:54 PM

Trying really hard not to get too far into my own head right now. I have nothing to be worried about but I just feel bad. I think this is the culmination of a day where I haven’t wanted to do anything at all and can’t think properly. I’ve felt awful. Very bored and kinda dreadful. Now Im panicking about nothing really, but whats new. I’ll feel better, thats all I can hope for. This just happens sometimes.

7:46 PM

I tummy hurted and I don’t know what caused it as usual. I hate when nights are basically ruined like this. It’s also happened the past few weekends. I thought maybe it’s having a drink Friday night but this starts Friday morning. 

8:31 PM

I wish I knew why I got so miserable sometimes. Why I don’t feel like doing anything at all. Like my life is meaningless or I have no potential. 

9:18 PM

I feel shitty and I’m trying to convince myself that I’m fine. I just fee fatigued but it’s probably because of how hard I worked out early. Also I’ve been bored and sluggish all day. My head feels kinda bad but I’ve felt like this before and it’s been nothing. I keep checking my temperature about every 30 minutes and it’s maybe .5 above normal MAX, which is actually a little strange because it tends to be very consistent. But it might all be in my head.

Why does this happen to me. I just want to get in VRchat and socialize, or chill and relax on my own. Instead I’m cuddled up panicking trying to take my mind off of things with a Twitch stream and BOTW. Constantly thinking about how fucked in the head I am and all the things I’m missing out on. I feel awful about myself. Other people aren’t like this. 

The horrific truth is that one day I’ll get sick, it’s basically unavoidable. I need to stop being so afraid of it. It’s just a short period of misery and then I’m back to normal. I always try to imagine what my life would be like if I wasn’t thinking about getting sick all the time. There are so many moments I could enjoy more and things I could feel comfortable doing. 

11:35 PM

The good thing about tonight is my fear level was pretty low the whole time. I more-so felt cautious and just wanted to relax. Hopefully tomorrow will be better. I don’t want another boring, melancholic day that ends with anxiety. 

12:25 PM

It’s easy to forget that the world is so much bigger than my room. There are hundreds of people in my area every day that don’t have the worries I do. They have bigger things to worry about. And when I actually have bigger things to worry about, I can usually put my daily fears aside. I really do make my own problems. 

[hmss113ovenson]

FEBRUARY

Wednesday, 02/02/2022  - Asynchronous 

 As I opened my eyes, I got off my bed with a deep breath. Immediately, I gargled and picked up the kettle to heat water for my energen. In my asynchronous class, we read a short story about this girl who settled for less, after then, another asynchronous class after another. We have 4 classes every Monday and Wednesday and our last subject would be ma’am rf’s where it is also asynchronous however we met as a class to continue planning on our upcoming culminating, and the meeting ended. I put my laptop on sleep mode and my life outside my room began; I played with my dogs and finished my undone laundry. And as the moon rises, my eyes start to stutter.

Thursday, 02/03/2022 

What happened this day, I cannot vividly remember what had happened on this day. The feeling of forgetting my memories day by day is sad as I cannot recall if I had happy moments, sad moments, or little moments that I wish I had written a journal on that day.

Friday, 02/04/2022 - Reminisce 

 On this day, I woke up really early– but not for academic reasons. Today we travel from Naga to Legazpi to go for a little “liwaliw”. Today as we travel my auntie (with the same age as mine), we did a little reminiscing of our little past when they used to go here every Christmas, summer, and whenever they can. A lot of vivid memories from when we were little, it's just beautiful looking back and thinking that, that little me there wouldn't know that I am thinking about her. That's what we did the rest of the afternoon; “reminiscing”. And when the night arrived I started to check my laptop once again to finish that proposal that's due on Monday. 

Saturday, 02/05/2022 - Breath 

 Today I breathe as we get ready for a very exciting activity! Swimmingggg. It's a swimming dayyyyy… when was the last time? I don't even know what water feels like, haha. There’s so much food I love it here! It was a long day, a very happy day. 

Sunday, 02/06/2022 - Knock off

Today is the day we go home but nevertheless, a lot had happened this day as well. I woke up a little late, nine something in the morning, and aaa waking up with a smile on my face feels so good. Not thinking about academics feels so refreshing even though tomorrow is again another day to face my laptop the whole day. Still, anyway, that's okay I guess. Today is going home day but before we get home, we visit a lot of places where I've been, where we've been before and I am happy for those places that are still functioning and innovating and renovating. It didn't die when the pandemic struck the world and that is a relief, at least.

Monday, 02/07/2022 - Beginning 

 Today, as usual, is a new week, another week to sit on the chair for hours. I woke up hearing the call of meca in messenger because it was already past 7:30. Good thing I heard meca’s call at 7:46 am, not bad I guess. The two last subjects were synchronous because we had to cope with the lessons that we missed last week. After the day, we had dinner at a Korean restaurant— I forgot the name. Anyway, after dinner, we went to starbucks to end the night. 

Thursday, 02/17/2022 - Trying 

 It's always like this when you're almost there and almost giving as well but won't give up because you're almost there– today I woke up very early in the morning. I messaged one of my subject teachers to ask if I'm still allowed  to take the quiz that I missed last tuesday because of my unwell condition lately, thankfully she still allowed me to take the quiz. Today, I was able to attend only one of my synchronous classes in the afternoon only due to this challenging event that I am facing right now. Nonetheless, I was still able to respond to the messages of some of my classmates regarding our grouping and gave them updates on the committee I was assigned to because I was too scared that I would become a dumbbell to them. After writing this journal, I will start writing my PC1 in my HMSS113 subject since I didn't have the time to finish it in the past few days because I've been sleeping due to tiredness. I've made it this far, and so, I won't give up right now; I won't let myself down and pass my very last sem in high school.

Wednesday, 02/23/2022 

Idk I just received an email with survey for the upcoming limited blended learning? Right now I don't really know what to feel about this because I'm clearly just waiting for the day that finally ends this school year. Maybe I'm a little excited as well because after years, we're finally going to school again, but still I don't really know. Today I woke up at 7 in the morning and it was asynchronous until– actually we didn't have any synchronous class today. I have quite a missing list and I wanted to finish them all today, but what I'm editing is eating all my time to finish and answer my other tasks from other subjects and I am frustingly wanting to finish this video already. I've been editing this  for 2 days now. Right now it's currently 5:19 pm, and we don't have any internet connection since 3pm i think and i am so stressed about it, the fact that i can't edit the video yet, i can't answer my other requirements, oh my. I have some realization right now (same time as 5:24). I want to be part of this blended learning already. I'm so tired of facing this laptop or cellphone every single day and needing to check my messenger, email, google classroom, or any other social media that has been part of my everyday life.

February 25, 2022 - Productive 

 I've had so much fun today (in a way) I've been super productive since early in the morning. And at 1 pm I tried to finish some of my school work as much as I could. After academics, I finished the book that I was reading entitled “Ugly Love” by Colleen Hoover; I gave the book 1 out of 5 hehe I didn’t really like it. 

Saturday, 02/26/2022 

Nothing I've done nothing today but eat :(( i'm really sad since I actually have a plan today (i listed the things I need to do yesterday) turns out I cannot do anything because when I woke up it was brownout and it was super hot! I planned to finish all of my missing requirements but wasn't able to do so. As much as possible I try to avoid my very long time habit of doing things at night or more like at midnight– I'm trying to be productive every day in the daytime so that i'm able to improve myself on certain things such as finishing my requirements on time, making my bed, feeding my dog, taking a bath in the morning and so many other things that I want to be upside down. It’s 10:15 pm right now, I’m rearranging some of my school stuff on my computer.

Sunday, 02/27/2022 

Hi? Today I woke up at 10 am because my grandmother and I ate at mama sara for lunch. I ordered cordonsilog, and I think hers was humbadobosilog? Not really sure about the name. We went home after that, I spent the rest of the afternoon reading “November 9: A Novel'' by Colleen Hoover– as you can see i'm on my COHO phase right now trying to read all her books after I didn't really do anything, I just cooked my dinner then proceed to my new current read which is “Confess” by Colleen Hoover and im 50% done with it. 

Monday, 02/28/2022 

 Today is the last day of February, can you imagine? Anyway, I woke up at 7 in the morning and waited for my first class to start, HMSS113– which I loved the lesson because i'm really a fan of reading memoirs, nonfiction, real-life etcetera than fiction, I mean do read fiction like what i'm reading right now the confess one but I don't know I like the other genre more. After the discussion, I went out of my room with my dog to feed her, and after feeding her, I provided myself too for lunch– well, advanced lunch and after, while I wait for our next class, which is APPL114, I’ll try to finish this current read of mine. It's already 11:50 as of the moment of writing this. And btw I did finish the book. After I finished the book, I saw my Instagram full of messages from our group– my friends, we’re four actually, all girls. We were talking about my 18th birthday in April and that before my birthday we still need to go out and that's on the 3rd week of march I guess. We ate chowking for dinner, and after that, I washed the dishes and returned to my room to do the night routine.

[strangcrdoctor]

∞Okay last one for the night because I am really tired and very ready for bed but I’ve gotta get in my Avengers commentary because I have to start off tomorrow on a clean slate and ready to go. Thus, here we are.

1. In lieu of only post Infinity War MCU canon, Loki’s rhetoric at the very beginning of The Avengers sounds a fucking lot like Maw’s. In the initial scenes when he’s fresh off the Tesseract Express his words and way of speaking sound nothing like his own. Even comparing his speeches at the outset of the movie versus the one he makes in Stuttgart, the tones and focuses of them are very different. (IE the first speech focuses on the “powers at be” versus the Stuttgart speech focusing on Loki’s personal opinions of humanity which are more and more developed throughout the film.) But it struck me that these first scenes are precisely on-cue for someone tortured and brainwashed by, say, The Black Order. 2. Given I literally just watched the first Captain America yesterday, I find Cap’s “old fashioned” comment about the stars and stripes on his uniform to be both sad and interesting. Especially given the context that comparatively Cap hasn’t been “up” for very long, one particular comment made to him by Schmidt literally moments before he went into the ice stands out. Schmidt says that through the Tesseract he glimpsed the future, and that there were no flags. In the America and world Steve wakes up to, compared to the world of the 1940s that claim of Schmidt’s could very suddenly appear to be true, which would be understandably uncomfortable for someone like Steve who is usually determined and quick on his feet but at such a staggering disadvantage because of the gap between his mindset and that of his contemporaries which are more varied than he necessarily knows how to quantify right at the outset. Watching his progress throughout the MCU in light of that is interesting, but that one moment of introspection about the utility of the “stars and stripes” is a uniquely postmodern comment coming from a pre-modern/modern man. 3. Okay so this intrigues me now that we have the Guardians and pretty much the entire universe in play in the MCU, but what “greater worlds,” exactly, was the Tesseract supposed to unveil? True the Tesseract is the space stone and verifiably can open portals to everywhere and anywhere in the universe, but Loki specifically makes the claim that the Tesseract can open up access to “greater worlds,” and I’m honestly still not entirely sure what precise reference this was supposed to be making. Because Thanos barely might have arguably needed the Tesseract to get to the planet the Soul Stone was on, but even so that’s a connection that still somehow feels like a stretch. So my question is, what if they meaning the Black Order or Thanos or possibly even Loki needed the Tesseract to get at something else? Somewhere else? Then again, this particular slip might just be Whedon’s doing and not necessarily be reflective of the culmination of the MCU up to this point so IDK. 4. I’m not going to lie, I’ve found it fascinating from day one that The Avengers very openly plays with godhood, to the point that I’m genuinely not sure if they’re reifying it in the MCU or tinkering with it. I mean obviously in the later movies this theme is less stressed because the tinkering patently takes precedence, but it’s still cool to me that there are both scripted and visual imagery that tie in multicultural interpretations of godhood. Fury mentions the burial rites of the Pharaohs within the first ten minutes of the film, Loki commits a human sacrifice on a Babylonian bull altar straight from Gilgamesh era in Stuttgart, Cap makes a comment about how his singular god does and does not dress after Natasha herself labels Thor and Loki as gods, and Fury unashamedly labels Thor as a god when they release the Tesseract to his custody. And while a bit ham-fisted, the correlation between theism and the bleeding-edge demand to acknowledge the reality of the universe is still pretty neat guys. 5. The old man in Stuttgart because no FUCK. If any of y’all think that my Germanist ass won’t get misty-eyed and choked-up during this scene, you’re wrong. 6. Okay so I’ll premise this by saying that I haven’t cross-checked the official script because frankly... yeah frankly I don’t want to be wrong and I really can’t hear anything but what I believe to be my interpretation of the line even though I know what the other fan alternatives have been. But when Thor and Loki are arguing on the mountaintop, when Loki says that he, “Was and should be ---,” my hearing of it instead of having been “Was and should be king,” is “Was and should be killed.” And while I’ll bow to whatever official record claims otherwise, I like my hearing better so there. (Also... there’s zero hint of Hiddleston’s palate producing a “g” sound in that sentence but I’ll put my inner linguist away and leave it at that.) 7. In light of that scene, though, when Loki and Thor are arguing is one of the first moments when Loki actually sounds like himself after the Stuttgart scene? Prior to that point the only times we see Loki is when he’s marshaling his human troops and getting policed by those lording over him. In all of those initial scenes Loki feels... very un-Loki to me. Not because Loki isn’t a bastard (hint: he is), but because his motivations and justifications are vague and not seemingly personally motivated, which is what Loki is to a fault. Post-Stuttgart, however, and the personal element seems to return for him because of some reason or another. (IE I have theories but you can read your own into it.) 8. Let it never be said that Thor is a dull bulb. Yeah it’s still sort of unclear how Thor got to Earth (though nothing is unclear about why Thor is pissed), but Thor does walk in with more than enough information to be frankly a little surprising. Bless Heimdall and all that, but seriously the fact that Thor knows about the Chitauri but doesn’t know other things casts an interesting focus on what he was told by Odin and Heimdall before going. Most importantly, though, even from conversing with Loki for a few minutes, Thor is attentive enough to pick up on some of what Loki isn’t saying. Such as, just who showed Loki how to use the Tesseract and all the things Loki claims to be motivated by. Equally interestingly, Loki specifically refuses to answer that question. 9. I feel bad for Fury for sleeping in a den of vipers for so long - though I do like the build-up from the first Avengers into the following issues with HYDRA corruption - but in ways more important to the immediate issue in the first Avengers, Fury might be a shady bitch but he is not an idiot. Because while everyone else was having pissing contests and not trusting one another, Fury was not trusting the person that deserved to be trusted the least, which isn’t just good leadership, but is good spycraft. 10. As established later in the MCU, it’s exceedingly clever that even in the first Avengers there are scenes when even without a “wielder” present, the Mind Stone - as-yet unidentified as such in the MCU - can be seen manipulating those in its vicinity such as in the lab where the biggest catfight in the history of the MCU breaks out. I mean. Until CA:CW... 11. Steve Rogers, poor cinnamon roll, unexpectedly served at dinner instead of breakfast, who cracks jokes about technology he really isn’t that bad at as “seeming to run on some kind of electricity.” Bless. Though really that internal console, while doing complicated shit, is definitely not any more or less visually complicated than the interior of a radio relay which Steve definitely dealt with in his day but kudos for the humor bb, A+. 12. Still one of the strongest and most harrowing lines ever said in the MCU in my opinion: “We are NOT soldiers.” Know why? Because they aren’t. Hell, the only ones among them that are soldiers - and some by slim and emergency-driven margins - are Steve, Bucky, Rhodey, and Sam. The rest of them are brilliant, gifted, and tortured civilians trying to do the right thing. And to Tony Stark above all else, that means something. That means that they didn’t get training to deal with this shit. They didn’t choose for this to be their lives, necessarily. And above all, they don’t deserve to die. And even though Tony knows Coulson is a SHIELD agent, Tony still considers him a person before a disposable “soldier.” 13. Mother-fucking Marvel give me an entire series devoted to my Hawk Guy I need him. You have so much to work with and yet you’re so good at squandering him. I hate it. 14. In light of how bad NYC got fucked up, it’s honestly no wonder Jessica Jones has a drinking problem because I would too even without the personal loss, experimentation, and emotional maladjustment. 15. IN WHAT FUCKING POST-9/11 WORLD DO BUSINESS BUILDINGS NOT HAVE VERY STRICT EVACUATION PLANS. SERIOUSLY. I am a little mad that there are morons ogling out of office building windows when frankly that shit wouldn’t fly. Even on fucking 9/11 that shit didn’t fly and if you think NYC is less paranoid because 9/11 was a decade prior to this movie coming out, you’re wrong. Everyone remembers, and city evacuation ordinances will sure as hell never forget either. Come on Marvel. 16. As a point of interest my grandmother - who also went to see The Avengers with me when it was in theaters but not at the midnight showing like my mom - was 84 at the time and still sat through the whole thing with a bucket full of popcorn to herself, and her favorite moment to this day is when the Hulk tosses Loki around like a rag doll. She’s 90 now, and the Hulk is still her favorite character. 17. Mother-Fuckin Nick Fury will cock-block your nuclear strike with a bazooka because he thinks you’re that dumb. Do not test Nick Fury’s willingness to be Extra (TM) . You will lose. 18. Real talk, though, I’m really curious about whether the Chitauri actually are a hive mind race or, is it their technology that runs of a hive mind link? Because the armor at least on the giant toothy space whale monstrosities does not look organic - it looks implanted. The Chitauri foot soldiers also seem to have a unique biologically based interface with their weapons, armor, and technology in general, which begs the question of whether their biometric matrix is just somehow more inclined toward shared-existence technologies, or whether they self-engineered themselves into a corner by relying on said technologies too much. Seriously guys I have questions and why won’t Marvel give me answers. 19. As a final send-off, this is the first time Tony has ever driven an Acura in the MCU and I refuse to believe it’s not because of the Avengers “A” aesthetic. Tony is canonically an Audi man. Fight me on this.

Okay I’m seriously done for now it’s 1 AM and I need to sleep I have 4 more movies to get through tomorrow. I’ll be up and around and at my shit again in the morn.∞

[jafreitag]

Grateful Dead Monthly: Nassau Coliseum – Uniondale, NY 5/6/81

[Apologies for the lateness. These posts should be on/near the date of the show, and I’m twelve days after.]

On Wednesday, May 6, 1981, the Grateful Dead played a show at Nassau Coliseum in Uniondale, New York.

We’ve covered the venue before. Home of the NHL’s Islanders. Phish has played there, most notably to begin the fabled Island Tour, and the Dead played there as early as 1973.

This show was the first of a three-night run. Originally scheduled for 5/7-9, the opener was moved up a day. The band appeared on NBC’s “The Tomorrow Show” with Tom Snyder (remember him?) the next day. Here’s the video – interviews and four acoustic songs:

The show is well-regarded, to say the least. The Taper’s Compendium calls it “one of the strongest and most exciting shows of the Dead’s career.” And the fluff continues:

“The big jam in the second set is widely regarded as legendary, and deservedly so. But the whole show packs a wallop; the band meets the always exuberant Nassau crowd head on – and simply blows them away! There was lots of wild playing by Garcia in the 80s. Sometimes, though, he’d become isolated in his pursuits and would overrun his bandmates, creating an intense but polarized sound; the result belonged in a sports bar. But at this show, the band was able to lock in and meet his ‘high’ energy level. And Garcia, for his part, contributes more of an ear for what else is going one.

No warm-ups in the first set. A hot Alabama > Greatest Story combo sets the pace to open the show. Garcia and Lesh sound refreshed but positively tense as they pounce upon each song. Cassidy roars. Rooster goes over the top with scorching solos from Myland, Weir, and Garcia, while Lesh pounds the blues beat deep into our chests. Let It Grow unleashes some of Garcia’s most nearly out-of-control-but highly inventive-playing ever. Deal rocks very hard as Garcia joins Weir in some fierce strumming to close out the set. Phew!

As He’s Gone begins, Weir dedicates it solemnly to hunger striker Bobby Sands of the Irish Republican Army, who’d just died in prison (only shortly before the British finally acceded to his demands). There’s thus an extra measure of sadness in this version, culminating in some harrowing howls of grief by Garcia at the end.

As the singing fades, Garcia plucks the picking pattern that often follows this song. Weir, though, breaks form by adding some deliciously spooky feedback that distinguishes the moments as something different. Garcia takes notice, hangs with Weir a bit to intensify this feeling, and then suddenly double-times a run, clearly now fired-up. This new ale has a similar taste to Cape Cod 10/27/79, and at the same exact spot in the show; only the doorway is quite different here. Garcia starts leaning in, faster and faster, nose-diving into his guitar.  The musical pile surges ahead with him, neck to neck, until out springs a genuine Caution Jam, blitzed to the max by Garcia and Weir’s telltale strumming. Nassau is ablaze! After several minutes of this, a variation occurs, courtesy of Weir and Lesh, who pick up the pace, hurtling into the Unknown [not a song, just a feel]. Lesh spontaneously drowns out the music in a fit of fun. The smoke clears to reveal a jazzy jam that squeaky clean and crisp – for the moment. But you can feel the explosive Caution energy still lingering, lurking, waiting to strike in some guise. Garcia tweaks first: faster and faster his notes spiral, gaining in confidence, unaware of the shadow hot on his trail: The Loch Lesh Monster!

Garcia looks casually over his shoulder, sensing something too late! Lesh goes GU-GOOO, blindsiding him and the others, forcing a meltdown, everyone playing sluggish but intense. Weir comes up with some extraordinarily creative chords: Weir-d sounding. Garcia lays down one of those vaguely familiar melodies from his repertoire of, oh, five hundred songs or so, the jam takes a clearer path now – more friendly, but still with that edge sniffin’ around.

Suddenly everyone stops except Garcia. He keeps plugging away, trying to pinpoint his aim, round and round on the guitar, just missing one note, and then round and round again almost – faster he goes, getting closer. The band sneaks in. Wait! Garcia hangs on a holding pattern of many notes, but with no resolution – he just holds it steadily. The others lock in and form a tight counterrhythm. Garcia hovers a bit longer and then nails the releasing note to [lo and] behold! Spanish Jam, albeit a slick variation of it. Now all linked up, Garcia pours it on, a little nervous as he jumbles all these notes together. His bandmates tear into it, feeling the heat, certainly now anchoring their expressions. They jam the heck out of this, before Garcia softens his notes and guides the band downward, carefully into Drums.”

Whoa. The Dead for a Year blog also has a glowing writeup. And here’s LMA reviewer ice9freak, under the subject “Simply killer.” Speak, man:

“The first set has plenty of sparkle, with exemplary versions of Jack-A-Roe, Dire Wolf, and Let it Grow. This version of Let it Grow is particularly inspired and serves as a premonition of the huge jamming that’s unleashed in set two. After the boys take a breather, Minglewood opens the second set. I know what you’re thinking: not the most exciting choice. Don’t be fooled—the band is taking its time. High Time follows, and it’s a very strong version, perhaps the best since the fertile ’69-’70 period of this tune’s history. Garcia’s vocals find that plaintive, soulful zone that delivers chills. Sailor>Saint follows and I dare anyone to point me toward a hotter version. Bobby flat out kills the vocals and the build-up in Saint is pure joy. If this version doesn’t get your euphoria flowing, consult your local witchdoctor or gypsy woman immediately. Before He’s Gone, Weir dedicates the performance to IRA hunger striker Bobby Sands who died on May 5. This He’s Gone is superbly played, but the jamming that follows is what sets this show apart. A freewheeling Caution Jam bleeds into Spanish Jam. Jerry is in incredible form, and at points you can hear the band straining to keep up with him. Anything else I might say about these two jams would do them a disservice. I’ll just say that if you haven’t heard them yet, you need to. Right now.”

And hear them, you shall. 5/6/81 ultimately became Dick’s Picks #13. Dick Latavala was a huge fan of this show. According to LMA poster light into ashes, this was “one of Dick’s favorite shows from the ‘80s. The second-set jam always blew him away, and to him it was not only one of the best jams of the ‘80s, it was one of the best jams ever. He also really dug the first set.” Check it out.

And transport to the Barry Glassberg front-of-the-freaking-board audience recording on the LMA HERE.

Quick programming note…

The blog is sorta on hiatus. I’m burned out, guys. What’s our tag line? We write, you listen? Well, too few people read what I write, and even fewer listen to what I post. The GDC crew is too busy with real life to discuss a May Phish show – Bethel ’09 was mentioned, but there wasn’t much enthusiasm. I have a draft of the next posts for The Classical (Felix Mendelssohn) and Jazz Is… (Sun Ra) in the works, but I can’t be bothered to finish them. I have Friday playlists in the works, but I can’t be bothered to finish them, either. Who wants to read my wiki-lite recaps of classical and jazz music? And who TF wants me to DJ three hours of their weekend? Not even my best friend. Her playlists for her friends are way better, tbh.

ECM and I will keep on keeping on with GD posts – we have our process, and a slice of an audience, so it works. The rest? Tbd.

JF

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