#this is my first time drawing classic Venus; actually! I think it went well

[silvertherogue715]

MMV Week Day 3: Venus

[yikestripes]

Masquerade

Request: Can you write a Hotch x reader where the BAU team attends a ballroom party after helping a rich man from an unsub as thanks. Hotch meets the reader and they talk and dance all night. The reader is intrigued that Hotch is a profiler and at midnight she gives him her shoe and tells him to find her based only on that. Thanks!!!

here you go @lavenderblossom12 !!!! i hope you enjoy this !!! i actually had a ton of fun writing it and i usually have such a tough time writing for hotch. if it’s good maybe i’ll write a part 2 ;)

key:

(Y/H/C): your hair color

(Y/D/J): your dream job

(Y/E/C): your eye color

word count: 2.5k

“Hotchner,” Hotch answered with his usual monotone draw, narrowing his already narrow brow as he listened to whatever the caller was saying on the other end. “Well, I suppose that would be alright. Send me the location. Thanks.” He hung up and turned the phone over and over in his hands before looking to the ceiling.

“What is it, Hotch? Is everything okay?” JJ asked, concerned.

“The BAU team was invited to a masquerade party to celebrate our returning the Schaffer’s daughter,” He said, sounding unsure. He recognized the caller ID as soon as he saw the D.C area code, having spent extensive time with the family in pursuit of the most recent psychopath. They had gotten a location at the most crucial time, they had shown up right before the unsub slit the young woman’s throat. They apprehended him in a matter of minutes and were able to return the girl safely to her family. She had been the target in a war of spite between the unsub and her father, since he had personally fired him from his company 3 months later without any sort of rhyme or reason, beyond slow work ethic. He was furious and decided to get back at him by taking the most precious thing in his world; his 19 year old daughter.

“Well, that’s never happened before.” Reid said, looking confused. He hated parties, clubs, anything of the sort. The loud music made it hard for him to think and he had a tough time connecting with other people, his tangents tended to turn others off from him. Hotch remained unsure about agreeing so quickly, but decided not to press the issue. It was the right thing to do; it was, after all, partially in their honor. The team could deal with it for one night, not to mention they had been working especially hard and could use a single night to let loose and celebrate their work, especially since this case had been a win for the good guys.

It was set to take place that Saturday and although attendance was not required, it was recommended. This was to celebrate the return of a young girl and it was to thank them, so it was only right of them to go.

At least, that was the way Hotch was going to continue justifying it to himself, whether the team or anyone else understood or not. He was going to find a way to enjoy this party if it took everything in him, or even all the liquor at the open bar. Tonight was about relaxing. Every single person in his life never failed to remind him how uptight he could be, or how he could never relax. With all the things he’d seen since starting at the BAU, how could he?

He straightened his tie in the mirror of his small apartment and took a deep breath, before making his way to the ballroom where the party was being hosted. He had apparently been assigned to a table with the rest of the team, of which he was the first to arrive, and he eagerly awaited his fellow agents’ arrivals. Prentiss came shortly after Hotch, wearing a long red gown that accentuated her curves without trying to make a spectacle of herself, followed by Penelope, who was the complete opposite. Her dress was colorful and bright, just like her personality- and typical work attire. JJ wore a gown similar to Emily’s and Reid had gone with a classic all black suit. Derek was what he called “fashionably late”, sporting a suit that was similar to Reid’s, except navy blue as opposed to solid black.

It didn’t take a profiler to see what each agent’s outfit said about them; Reid didn’t want to be noticed, Morgan was impartial since he got attention no matter what he wore, and the girls’ dresses and makeup spoke more to their individual personalities. JJ was able to snag a babysitter for Henry and brought Will as a plus one, so she dressed more suited to being with someone. Classy and elegant, without attracting attention to herself. Emily was similar in the sense of class and elegance, but she didn’t bring anyone so attracting someone else was more of her goal with her dress and her overall demeanor. Hotch, on the other hand, didn’t have much of a motive for anything beyond looking nice and enjoying his time off from work and his typical worries, sporting a plain black suit with a classic red tie. Nevertheless, all the agents looked fantastic and it showed as they slowly eased deeper into the party.

Hotch excused himself from Reid as he went on about the periodic table, he wasn’t even sure how the prior conversation of the butterfly room on the second floor could possibly have any relation, but of course Reid found a way to bring something like that into a conversation. Hotch shook his head to himself as he approached, being only one of two who were at the bar, besides the bartender.

“I’ll take a Kettle One on the rocks, please.” Hotch took a long drag from the glass as soon as the bartender set it in front of him, earning him a small chuckle from the person beside him.

“Thirsty?” You asked, your eyes alight. The liquor went down his throat icy, forcing him to pause for a second before responding. He offered a small smile.

“Not quite.” He said quietly, looking down into the glass.

“Fair enough.” You took a sip from the wine in your hand as you looked across the room, throwing a lock of (Y/H/C) hair over your shoulder. Hotch took another sip himself before inching slightly closer to you.

“It’s a lovely venue.” Hotch said quietly.

“It really is. I came to a wedding that took place here about a month ago, for one of my best friends from college,” You paused to take another drag from your wine. “I gotta be honest though, I like what they did with the place now much better.” She set down the empty glass on the bar and the bartender filled you up without you saying a word. You took the glass in your hand once more, looking to Hotch.

“Is it safe to assume you’re one of the guests of honor this evening?” You asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“Yeah, how did you know?” Hotch asked.

“Well, you’re sitting at a table that is slightly apart from the other tables, and the other guests at your table who I saw you sitting with before are all glued to one another, seeming as if they’re the only ones they know here.” You said.

“Wow. I guess we do sort of stand out.” Hotch replied, taking another sip of his own drink, feeling the effect slowly loosen him up. He downed the last few swigs and offered you his hand.

“Care to dance?” Hotch was never the dancing sort, except when he went out with his ex-wife and/or coworkers. Haley enjoyed dancing enough, as did Hotch, but they never found the time to do so. However, tonight was about relaxing, and ignoring everything in him that told him not to at least try and enjoy himself. He was going to enjoy this party, he was determined to.

A blush crept up to your cheeks as you accepted his hand, entering the dance floor from the side. Hotch placed his hands on your waist, and you rested yours on his chest as you slowly swayed around the floor.

“So, tell me about yourself.” You said, smiling up at him. You had to hand it to him, he was extremely attractive, and his elusive smiles were something that clearly had to be earned, and you seemed to be doing a pretty good job so far.

“Well, uh, there really isn’t much to tell.” He said, looking around for something to trigger a memory as to what he could use to impress you.

“Come on, a handsome guy like you? I’m sure you’ve got some sort of exciting life.” Now it was Hotch’s turn to blush; he wasn’t used to hearing things like that.

“Well, I’m an FBI agent for the Behavioral Analysis Unit, so I guess that’s pretty exciting.” He shrugged as your eyes widened, fascinated.

“That’s pretty incredible, I gotta be honest.” You said, closing your dropped jaw. He smiled again, somehow making him even more attractive.

“Thanks. It’s hard work, but it pays off. What do you do?” He asked, readjusting his hands a little higher on your waist. You couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed, but ignored it.

“I’m a (Y/D/J).” You grinned. Hotch brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, as blood rushed to your cheeks.

“Wow, that sounds exciting.” He whispered. The slower song had ended and led its way to a more upbeat song, and Hotch saw JJ dragging Will and Reid out onto the dance floor, followed by Morgan, Garcia, and Prentiss, who winked in Hotch’s direction.

You dropped your hands from his shoulders and grabbed his hand, leading him in the direction of your table where you had set down your wine glass previously. You took a long gulp, and turned your attention back to Hotch.

“What do you do for the FBI?” You asked, steadying yourself on a nearby chair.

“I’m a, uh, profiler. My team and I work together to create a profile of both a victim and/or the perpetrator, and use that to help solve the case.” He said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“That’s fascinating.” You said, in awe. That sounded like the coolest job you’d ever heard, definitely something straight out of a movie.

“I’m going to grab another drink, did you need a refill?” Hotch asked, eyeing your emptying glass. You paused for a second to check yourself, and see if another could cause you to embarrass yourself. You decided that if you paced yourself, you would be fine.

“Sure, chardonnay.” You downed the rest of the contents and handed the glass to Hotch with a sweet smile. You watched as he made his way to the bar, confident. Another man approached him, and sent a small grin in your direction before turning his attention back to the man you’d spent almost half the evening with, but you didn’t even know his name. That was the funny thing about these sort of corporate parties; names were almost never necessary, you have the most incredible evening, but never ruin the memory with names and empty promises. You were interested in the fact that the man had never even mentioned anything about names, numbers, or anything of the sort. You almost always had to bring up the idea yourself, whether it was after one glass of wine or several. Most usually wanted to sleep with you, something that usually became apparent by this time of the night.

Not with this man, however. He was sweet and sure of himself, but not so sure that he thought he could sweet talk you back to his apartment. He genuinely seemed intrigued by you, and you by him.

“That’s a pretty girl you’ve been chatting up, Hotch.” Morgan appeared at Hotch’s side, ordering himself another beer.

“Isn’t she beautiful? She’s intelligent, too. And miraculously interested in our line of work,” Hotch replied with a small laugh, taking a sip from his glass.

“You think there’ll be a second date?” Morgan asked.

Hotch sorta shrugged and didn’t answer the question, just picked up your wine and his kettle and was off to find you. Luckily for him, you hadn’t wandered far, just to look at some of the paintings that were hanging up around the venue.

“Your wine, my lady.”

“Why thank you, kind sir.” You giggled as you took a short drag, sighing in content. “I hate to say it, but the evening is almost over..” You trailed off, looking toward the giant clock on the wall.

“Wow, I didn’t realize it had gotten that late.” It was nearing 12:15, and the party ended around 12:30.

“Yeah.” You took another sip of your wine as Ed Sheeran’s “Photograph” filled the room. “This is one of my favorites, shall we?” He set his glass down on the table beside yours, took your hand, and led you onto the dance floor once again. This time, he allowed his hands to sit directly on your hips as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“You look beautiful, by the way.” He said with a shy smile.

“Thank you, so do you.” You giggled. This made his entire face break out into a grin as he lifted your arm, indicating for you to do a small spin. You dressed fanned out around you as Hotch brought you close again. You’d lost your footing amid the spin, not used to spinning in such high heels and after about 3 glasses of wine. You giggled a little bit more.

Hotch licked his lips as he took in the color of your eyes, (Y/E/C), sparkling and bright. He smiled a little and looked down at your lips, which were a lovely shade of pink, slightly parted. You could instantly tell what he was thinking, and closed the gap quickly. He stiffened in surprise, and then melted into it. You pulled away breathlessly, grinning from ear to ear.

The song ended faster than you would have liked, when you got a wild idea. It was something you’d always wanted to do, something you’d only ever seen in movies. There’s a first time for everything, right?

You pulled him down a little so you could whisper in his ear while leaning on him, taking off your left shoe.

“Come find me, Mr. FBI agent.” You whispered, pressing the shoe into his hand and walking away, purse in hand, in the direction of the exit.

Hotch’s eyes widened when he finally processed what had just happened, Morgan and Prentiss quickly approaching.

“What was that?” Prentiss asked, somewhat coherently.

“I… I have to find her.” Hotch said, staring at where you had sauntered right out of the ballroom, and beyond his reach.

[oftenderweapons]

The Power Couple - maknae line

Pairing: maknae line member x reader

Wordcount: 1.0k words

Genre: (hinted/mild) smut, fluff, (JK’s a tiny bit angsty but also humour), 

Rating: suggested 18+

Hi, I’m finally back with the maknae line version. I thought I would have loved to explore how the couple would interact in more public situations, especially when under pressure because of fan, photographers and press, what kind of vibe would they emit, what they would do, whether they felt nervous etc.  TRIGGER WARNINGS: smut, only mentioned or suggested, with some mildly kinky stuff going on in Jimin’s scenario (that boy is filthy as hell), Taehyung is in Love™️, please don’t kill his vibe (and don’t bite his head off), softest angst in Jungkook’s piece, slight invasion of privacy, insecure Googie who wished he were a normal boy feat. mild exhibitionism and very loving Lowkey Kinky girlfriend. 

Enjoy!

Here you can find the hyung line

And here you can find my masterlist

Jimin

The first thing you noticed was the fans, phones out, recording and snapping pictures of you.

The second thing you noticed was the little groups of celebrities, influencers and models chatting, exchanging greetings and fashionable “bisoux”. It actually intimidated you.

“Don’t worry about those. We steer away. I’ll just say hi to a few friends. You’ll like them, they’re not that bad.” He said with a teasing grin.

You were at Paris Fashion Week, attending Chanel’s special runway, with your amazing boyfriend. He had personally styled your look, your matching apple green skirt and jacket paired with a plain white t-shirt. At your feet a very daring combination of white ankle socks and black leather loafers. On your slightly tanned skin -- thanks to your holiday together -- the palette of colours looked absolutely amazing, giving you a fashionable but also a classic look. His signature all-black look today was made of skinny black pants, a sleeveless turtleneck tucked in and, just like you, black leather loafers.

You were actually pretty glad he had that turtleneck in his luggage: explaining the bruises on his neck would have been impossible. Paris, Jimin and champagne were a deadly combination for your libido and it had been sheer luck that you had managed to exit the room this morning. You had spent the last twenty hours or so in bed, macarons delivered to your suite together with wine and chocolate covered strawberries. As if you hadn’t just spent a week in the middle of nothing, on a private island, enjoying nothing but each other, someplace where Jimin could just hang out naked all day long, being nothing but your pet, making as much noise as he wanted. And you had enjoyed listening to his every whine and scream. It had been amazing.

Coming back to civilization had made you jumpy, and seeing him back to his usual social butterfly personality slightly ticked you off. Your own personality didn’t quite fit the socialite in the spotlight, and you weren’t absolutely comfortable with the way everyone seemed focused on the two of you.

The photographers kept calling his name and he kept stopping for them, looking at you with nothing but sin in his eyes, his intentions unmistakeable. He let his fingers dance on your inner wrist, knowing how that makes your skin tingle and your nerves catch fire.

How could you possibly let that brat go unnoticed? Of course you would remember this for later, when you'd be back to your room. Still, when he stopped once more, putting his hand on your waist, you latched your thumb on one of his back belt loops, the rest of your hand spread wide on his glute and hip. The half coy, half obscene smirk on his face made you melt a little more, and you felt embarrassed that such a small thing had you actually turned on. He bit his lip. Little teasing brat.

You entered the venue after a few greetings to glossy-haired, glass-skinned demigods, wide california smiles plastered on their faces, beautiful and scary. Jimin was polite as usual, dismissing some guys with a cold, formal manner. As you sat on front row, he bent to your ear, grazing your earlobe with his plump lips. “You look beautiful. The only true queen out there.” He nuzzled in your hair. “Can I put my hand on your leg or will you drag me to the closest bathroom to eat you out?”

“You are walking on very thin ice, Jiminie.” You replied before laying your hand heavily against his knee, your fingers reaching for his inner thigh. Distracted by your touch he didn’t notice the way you leaned in. “Enjoy sitting while you still can, baby brat.” You smiled innocently, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Oh, come on, what did I do?” Your conversation went on undisturbed, no one around there understanding his native language, except for the bodyguards, who were otherwise occupied, or who were not interested in your anthem.

“I’ll make you a list once we’re in our room.” Once more he used his flirty smile on you. “And trust me, no chance of you getting away with it this time.” You continued.

Suddenly you were interrupted by a photographer, asking you for a picture. You posed with a kind smile on your face, Jimin’s arm around your shoulders. “Big smile, kitty.” You said, before the flash lit up and caught him midlaugh, cutely collapsing on your shoulder. The photograper took a few more pictures, thanking you and moving on.

He recomposed himself, drawing closer this time. You grabbed his chin with two fingers delicately. You could only imagine what everyone could think of the two of you. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?” You asked, a little roughly.

He giggled flirtatiously. You figured all the macarons must have made him sweetly poisonous. “You must love me a lot.” He put his hand on your thigh, contrary to your warnings. “But I love when you manhandle me a little.” He started kneeding on the soft flesh there. “So I really hope you’ll give me the punishment you’ve promised me later--” he stopped and exhaled sinfully, “-- mommy.”

For the rest of the show he was restless in his chair, impatient to have you again.

Taehyung

“Oh my god, Namjoon will bite my head off if we’re late.”

“Is my lipstick okay?” You asked panicked.

He came up close, staring at your lips. “You’re incredible. It’s perfect.”

“I should have bitten your head off.”

“Such a shame you love it.” He commented with an arrogant smile. He helped you up and leaned against your ear. “You love both of them.” He said, tucking himself in and fixing his clothes.

Of course he was right. Of course you were just done taking him in your mouth, trusting him enough not to mess your dress. It was an avalanche of deep blue chiffon. Tonight you were attending a charity event in a popular art gallery celebrating the opening of a new building for recreational use. Your dress resembled the dark twirls of Van Gogh’s starry skies, punctuated with small rhinestones; Taehyung had bought it for you, leaving it on your bed before you got ready for the event. When you had seen it you had felt slightly conflicted between your own pick and his choice, but seeing his own blue silk tuxedo, you gave up any hesitation, slipping into the dress -- which unsurprisingly fit you perfectly -- after letting him choose your underwear first.

“Do I look messed up?” You asked again, at which he fixed a loose strand of your hair delicately before bending down to kiss you. The kiss wasn’t chaste at all.

“I wished we had more time...” He commented, accompanying you to the ensuite and turning you towards him, fixing your makeup under your eyes and on your chin.

“Do you think they’ll notice if I get under your dress during dinner?” He grinned and tapped a humid towel around your mouth, kissing you once more.

“Depend on whether I can keep a straight face or not.” You caressed his face and caught his wrists.

“Well, then we’re fucked.” Yeah, his head game was that strong. No keeping a straight face at that. And he knew.

You laughed together at that. You looked at yourself in the mirror. “God, I need to know what lipstick she used. It’s still there. No smudge, no stain. It’s perfect.”

“That’s because you’re perfect.” He kissed your forehead. “Let’s go. They’re gonna kill us.”

“We’re not that late. Plus I’m sure we can still beat Jimin.” You grabbed your purse on the way out of the bedroom.

“Wait babe.” He said, “I--” He had been distracted. This should have gone in a very, very different way.

You stilled, waiting for him to talk. “Tonight might be difficult.” He wished he had been patient. He wished he had more time. The plan was to give you something that might keep everyone off you. Insecurity invaded him. All the men who would be seeing you tonight… The small box felt heavy in his hand. “And I--” God, he had a talk, a whole discourse. “Just, it’s not like-- I intend to do this properly, sometime in the future. This is just-- A promise thing. I want us to wear these.” He fumbled with the lock, his eyes blowing wide open as the box fell to the floor and a tinkling sound echoed in the hall.

You threw yourself at it, noticing the thick platinum band covered in blue shiny stones rolling on the floor. You saved it right before it hid under the wardrobe.

In the meantime he had clutched the box to his chest, protecting the other half of the pair with his body.

You smiled widely. Rings. Actual rings.

“It’s not like, wedding. Though I absolutely intend to. I mean, to propose. Not today.” He sounded like a broken record, his words interrupted and mechanic. “It means I love you, and you got me, and I got you. That’s all.” He looked like a lost puppy.

"Come here, darling." You say quietly.

He looks absolutely terrified, approaching you like you were about to punish him.

"I love you. And I really hope that someday we will be wearing another kind of matching rings." You kissed his scrunched brow. "Let me put this on you, yes?"

He offered you his hand.

"I don't want to promise too much. I can only promise that I'll always take care of you, protect you and be loyal to you." You slipped his band on.

"Uhm--" He fumbled with the box some more until you held it for him as his shaking hand took off the ring. The thin circlet was lined with small blue crystals, dominated by a bigger stone of the same colour. The overall blue theme was really soothing, and it was also what kept it from looking too much like a proposal ring.

"____, I promise you to give my heart to you, and to hold yours with care, I promise to stay close to you and love you as long as you allow me to." His voice was deep but slightly shaking, which made you really emotional.

You offered him your hand, helping you wear the ring.

You observed how it fit you. You knew it wasn't sheer luck. He probably had taken one of your rings for measurements.

You smiled at him and intertwined his hands. "Joon is going to kill us."

"He's a sucker for romance, he'll probably get teary eyed." He commented. Taehyung kissed your cheek. "Let's go, I've got a beautiful girlfriend to show to the world." His smile was radiant.

Jungkook

"Baby, can you please come?" He called you to the sofa. Probably he just wanted some company while he was playing games. Maybe he just wanted someone to play with.

You reached the end of the corridor leading from the bedrooms to the open space living room. "What's up Koo?"

"Look."

A gossip TV-show was talking about the two of you and your recent holiday.

"The couple was spotted in an exclusive resort in Thailand, the BTS member spoiling his partner with a sweet summer getaway. As you can see they had plenty of time for some steamy romance on the beach." The description was accompanied by a small clip of you kissing, water lapping around your calves, the whole picture absolutely innocent and appropriate, and of course the press had to spice things up, exaggerating everything about the two of you. "The sweethearts have also been caught sharing a bit more than an innocent smooch during a canoeing excursion." And of course you weren't canoeing, but rather paddle boarding, you resting your head on Jungkook's chest as you basked in the sun. These people were outright ridiculous.

"They must be desperate for a scoop." You commented, sitting beside Jungkook, as he cuddled into you. "Are you okay baby?"

"I'm just thinking what if we had been less careful?"

You kissed his head and caressed his hair softly. "But we were careful."

"I almost fucked you on the beach." He lifted his head from his chest.

"Having a hard on and pressing it against my bum while kissing my neck is hardly almost fucking, Koo." You touched his neck and shushed him back towards your bosom.

"We've been dating publicly for like a month and we've already been on the news four times."

"God, the strip club scandal was exhilarating." You reckoned.

"The whole picture was a work of art." He commented. "After the fright I kinda hoped I could meet the one who photoshopped it."

"Do you think they could send us a copy? It looked so hot," you said appreciatively.

"You looked so hot, with that cliché pink bob cut." He looked up at you from under his lashes.

"Got a new kink, baby? Stripper role play?" You smiled teasingly.

He blushed violently. "Not really. But you really looked hot with that hair." He toyed with your loose locks. "Even though I love your hair long."

"I can only wonder why." You let him in his comfort zone, still cuddling him.

"And then that time they spotted us outside the hotel."

"As if we needed an hotel to get laid." He said, half disappointed.

"And I was wearing your sweater, don't forget the kinky detail." You joked as he broke in giggles. "'Cause of course, if I'm wearing your sweater we must have done the nasty."

He started laughing even more. "Done the nasty, God that actually broke me."

"Next time we meet for lunch with my parents we'll tell them we're doing the nasty." You murmured in sarcasm.

"My mother called me that night asking me why I was taking you to an hotel when we've been sharing an apartment for almost a year." He said. "I told her we were there to meet your parents. She said she was glad I could get laid at my place."

You both exploded in laughter. His mom is great.

"Did you tell her you tried to corrupt me on a beach in Thailand?" You joked some more.

"Fuck, she'd laugh her eyes off." He kissed your breastbone innocently.

"They love making a fuss about us." You commented, combing his hair delicately.

"I don't understand why they can't let us be. If I want to take you bare against my window that's our fucking business. Wanna get naked in a private beach in the middle of nowhere, fucking let me!" He was getting upset and he sounded so absurdly cute.

"Bare against a window, uh?"

He blushed to the tip of his ears, half frustrated, half shy.

You loved his cute slip ups, when his more dominant persona jumped out.

"It's-- You know, we don't have to do it, I was just saying it as a joke." But his shy expression said otherwise.

"I don't oppose to it." You replied quietly.

He shuddered a little, but changed the topic of the conversation. "Sometimes I just wished it only the two of us. I wished we could just be two kids twenty and in love."

You already knew what he would say next. "No, I just want this strange normality with you. No other man could love me like you, you know it. And I don't want anything but you. But this."

This time you ignored all the sweet pressing of lips for an intense kiss, mouth against mouth, your hand already insinuating under his sweater.

"I promise you I'll find a more private location next time we go in holiday." He murmured, his voice covered in guilt.

"It's okay. As long as you're okay with it. We're a power couple. They can't help but watch."

"You looked incredible with that bikini, it would have been a shame if they didn't look." He kissed your jaw.

He meditated in silence for a couple seconds. You waited for him to drop his idea. "Do you think they'll see if we do the nasty in our balcony?"

You both laughed out loud. "Let's go."

[gayenerd]

The Band You Love To Hate By Tom Lanham of RIP  (There’s no date on this but I would say 1995 or 1996?)

Eyes wide as a barn owl's. Spines stiff with anticipation, like a hungry scorpion. The two teenage girls sit stock-still in their booth at a posh Berkeley diner, practically bursting with excitement, but without the faintest clue how to handles it. Clueless, you might call them. A few feet across the linoleum aisle--with his back to them, oblivious to all the oh-my-gawd facial expressions--sits the object of their adulation, dressed in unassuming black jeans, black T-shirt, shredded black Converse, and a beat-up black baseball jacket. But even with his once-green dreadlocks tamed to a short black business cut, Billie Joe Armstrong--yes, the snaggle-toothed MTV ragamuffin from megaplatinum neo-punkers, Green Day--is as easy to spot as Michael Bolton at a Rogaine convention. Although the kids want to leap up from their seats and race over for an autograph or a jittery hello, they don't dare. Instead, they're forced to deal with their seething emotions as if they were eating post-tonsillectomy ice cream: a lot of numb gulping and a quick pain chaser. This is the blessing of being Billie Joe Armstrong. Alas, it's also his curse. By the time you read this, the irascible little rocker will have turned 24. And exactly two years ago, he and his wacky bandmates--drummer Tré Cool and bassist Mike Dirnt--lolled around the trashy basement flat they shared, getting stoned and sneering at the idea that Dookie--their just-released "sellout" on big-time Reprise--would ever amount to more than a nice drink coaster. Fame? They were more preoccupied with their bong collection, stacks of rock 'n' roll bubblegum cards, and a thriving sea monkey tank displayed prominently on a window-sill. Most of their furniture had springs poking through--they didn't care. Armstrong regularly picked boogers from his gold-ringed nostril and then flick them onto the scary shag carpet--what did he have to worry about? Too bad he couldn't have foreseen the all-too-near future. Green Day happened to be in the right place at the right time. The three-chord slam-a-rama Dookie--a pop-edged return to decade-old punk ethics--became the surprise hit of '94, going on to sell over 11 million copies. Armstrong, accustomed to frenetic club performances, began translating the group's infectious energy to larger and larger venues. Demand continued to grow at a staggering pace; Green Day fought back. They turned a satellite MTV Video Awards performance into a "spit-cam" fest by urging the crowd to gob any camera lens it could ("[The cameramen] tried to make it look like it was cool, but it wasn't"). Last October, Armstrong and company issued their 32-minute follow up, Insomniac, almost as an afterthought, with little promotion, a visually offensive video (for "Geek Stink Breath") and--at least initially--a strict no-interview policy. Simultaneously, they ditched their high-powered Cahn-Man management team and are now virtually managing themselves. Along the way, Armstrong married his long-time sweetheart Adrienne and last March fathered a son, Joey. In typical down-to-earth fashion, the couple spent their honeymoon a few blocks from home at Berkeley's prestigious Claremont Hotel, not on some exotic island. Beginning to see the problem here? How does a street-smart kid from humble beginnings skyrocket to world-class notoriety and yet--with his music in millions of homes and his privacy suddenly a right that needs defending--still adhere to the simple ideals, the simple lifestyle that spawned him? Is "successful punk" an oxymoron? Insomniac provided few clues--it was more of the same slacker-ennui sentiment, more defeated, disenfranchised grousing set to speedy, memorable hooks. Or, as Armstrong barks in the aptly-dubbed "Walking Contradiction," "My wallet's fat and so is my head...I'm a victim of a Catch-22." And that, in essence, was the topic this tortured artist wanted to discuss at the diner. The old "be careful what you wish for" adage. The classic "problem with success is finding someone to enjoy it with you" truism. Armstrong, who takes occasional sips from a vanilla milkshake, but mostly stares morosely at the floor, seems to be dealing with superstardom in a relatively normal way. Don't be fooled by the steady stream of negative vitriol that follows; he's analyzing it, breaking it down, figuring out ways to disconnect his kinetic career. Or at least turn down the volume for awhile. 

RIP: We know what's going right. But what's going wrong? 

BILLIE JOE ARMSTRONG: Lots of things, really. Actually, when I came here today, I said I didn't wanna talk about anything good, because I don't really have anything good to talk about. Goin' on tour pretty soon--don't really wanna go. Just because I've been kinda torn. I wanna stick around at home. I don't like playing arenas, and I realized I didn't know what I was getting myself into on the last tour, but I went into it being positive and getting excited about it. But I didn't realize that I was the kind of person to whom it's too much of an event and not really a personal thing anymore. And I started to realize how much I liked being the background music to this scene at the club. And now it's.... I dunno. People expect so much. It's cool and stuff, and it can be a lot of fun, a really good experience. But when you play that many arenas.... The first time we ever played those big kinds of shows at the Shoreline (Amphitheater in Mountain View, California), there was weirdness--we were playing for a lot of f?!kin' people. And I hate to say it, but sometimes it just feels like another gig. We played every day, 50 gigs this last leg, and it just wears on ya. There's all these people, and they think "Alright. I paid my $15--you better impress the f?!kin' shit outta me right now!" And I realized that for Joey, the rock and roll touring life is not a good atmosphere for a kid. I tried to make it to where it would be, bringing lots of his toys out. But there are no familiar surroundings for him. And he likes all the attention--people come up and say hello to him every day, people who are on tour with us. But he doesn't have his own room or a home to go to every day. So, no more touring for Joey. 

RIP: Turned on Regis and Kathie Lee this morning to find their gossip columnist dishing dirt on Green Day. How Insomniac didn't do nearly as well as predicted, how it was a disappointment to the label. A failure, supposedly. 

BJA: Well, it's like, we didn't set up this record. We didn't. We didn't do any promotion beforehand, we completely quit doing interviews, and basically we just wanted to go on into it. We weren't even sure if we wanted to do a video. And then when we did a video, it got yanked from daytime rotation because people were getting grossed-out by it. So I think we did alienate a lot of people. So that was expected, that it wasn't going to sell a lot of records. 

RIP: NOFX have taken it one step further. They refuse to talk to press, make videos, pander potential singles to radio. They don't want to get any bigger. 

BJA: I dunno, maybe I'm just getting jaded or something. But I just got cable again and I can't stand anything. Six years ago you could hear something that was different and know that it was different. So it'd be "alternative" or whatever. But now it's like you get this Joan...Osborne? With the ring in her nose, waving the alternative rock flag, when she's just...not, ya know? And I'm thinking, I hate all this music that's coming out now--the past year was just hell for music. But people are buying it, so then I'm thinking, Maybe they're the ones that are good and I'm the one who sucks? I just don't know if I really wanna be involved in the rock world anymore at all. Period. I don't necessarily have anything against a big record company or people who what to join up with a big record company. It really is right for some people, but more and more, I don't think that I'm really meant to. And I hate to sound like that, because I don't like taking things for granted. I don't like to talk about my problems when there's some kid struggling in his garage somewhere saying "F?!k him! He's just taking it for granted. Shit, I wish I could do something like that, but I'm just stuck here in Biloxi, Mississippi, and I can't even get a gig." I'm so confused right now. 

RIP: It must be odd to know that, with all those millions of albums sold, drunken frat boys are probably staggering around to your music right now. Your audience grew far beyond your control. 

BJA: Oh, totally! We became what we hated. Which is, the people I despised in high school--and now--are buying our records. We initially became a trend, so there was no way I expected to sell as many records with Insomniac as with Dookie. That's one of the biggest-selling records of the decade. We get slagged by the punk rockers, and it's like, I don't blame them. If you draw that much attention to yourself, that's what you're gonna get--attention--and it's not personal anymore. 

RIP: Ever think about giving it all up? 

BJA: There isn't a day goes by in the past year and a half that I haven't thought about quitting. I went to this party on New Year's Eve, and this band Juke, and another band, the Tantrums, played in a friend of mine's backyard. And a lot of my old friends showed up, and everybody was just dancing. And I was dancing, and getting really muddy, and I was having a great time. I can't remember the last time I sat down and listened to a record from beginning to end and felt this incredible spine-chilling music. And it's because I haven't been able to go out and watch bands play at my free will. I'm not gonna live in a closet, I'm not gonna vegetate myself. 

RIP: But it has to be difficult, when tons of kids know your face. You're on your way to Michael Jackson-dom, where you have to wear a disguise in public. 

BJA: If you think about the Beatles, at that time all people had to go by were the photographs on the records and every now and then a television appearance. So when they'd come to town, people would just flip out--it became this huge public event every single time. Whereas now, everything is so saturated kids don't even have to leave their home to go to a show anymore. They can sit in the comfort of their living room, and your favorite rock star is gonna be entertaining you while you sit down and have your microwave burrito. 

RIP: The Milwaukee cops weren't pleased with aspects of Green Day's Milwaukee show last November. Why were you arrested? 

BJA: I dropped the pick and--actually, I even forgot about it--I just mooned the crowd, which is pretty harmless compared to what I've done before. And I wasn't even thinking about it--I just went out and started playing again. Then I went backstage and was hanging out with Adrienne, and this guy Jimmy who does security for us goes "Come on--there's a car waiting for you outside right now. You've gotta get out of here!" I said "What's wrong?" and he said he didn't even know. So we get in the car and all of a sudden about ten cops come walking over, fully surrounding the car. So the guy puts the cuffs on me, throws me in the car, and I get tossed in the holding tank for two, three hours. I wasn't in the bullpen--I was in with the other ones, the not-so-bad ones. They made me take all my jewelry out. And my shoestrings, so I wouldn't hang myself or something. I dunno. I just don't know how to fit into rock music anymore. I don't know what I like about it anymore. I don't like anything about it anymore, to tell you the truth. To tell you the real truth, I'm a pretty miserable person right now. I'm totally depressed, and my wife can vouch for that because she's around me. In fact, she's the only person who's really around me. I dunno, the whole thing with the mainstreaming of punk rock. I just feel lost in the whole thing...I don't really know...I don't wanna...I dunno...It's miserable, it really is. It's f?!ked up. 

RIP: For every original voice that comes along, there will be countless mad signing dashes for any and all sound-alike artists, with no thought given to the artist's longevity. Just throw the record out quickly and hope it sticks. 

BJA: The thing is, a lot of musicians have gotten so comfortable with this big so-called "Revolution in Rock Music" over the past decade. First it was like, "F?!k the corporations! F?!k the corporations!" And then people just sorta got cozy with that, and forgot that these bands are getting lost in the shuffle. And I'm talking about the ones that never get noticed at all and just get kinda bitter. The 15 minutes of fame is getting shorter and shorter. And now music is totally going backwards--the first half of this decade, there were a few things going on that were interesting. It wasn't my favorite kind of music, but it had a sensibility about it. If you think about Nirvana and Pearl Jam and that whole Seattle scene, and even the Offspring--there was this thing going on that was more honest, in a lot of ways. It wasn't like, beer, drugs and pussy, like what went on through the '80s with all the hair bands. But now what we've got is Hootie & the Blowfish.... 

RIP: Who are probably a lot like you. They seem like nice, regular guys who--through no real fault of their own--are suddenly assimilated into pop culture. 

BJA: Yeah, but that's the problem, is that they are nice regular guys. And they're totally comfortable with that, and they sort of put that out, to where they don't really have...I dunno, there's a certain amount of attitude that, say, someone like Cobain or Vedder has that they don't have. But it's becoming way not...real anymore or something. Maybe not real to me. It's just turning back into what it was in the '80s. It's like, "Hey, everyone! We're Huey Lewis and the News!" I dunno. Maybe nobody knows what the f?!k I'm talking about anymore. 

BJA: I get so irritated by people. I think I'm more bitter than I've ever been in my whole life, to tell you the honest truth. I think Insomniac is much more of a bitter record than Dookie. And I think the older people get, the more they kinda get angry. I think a lot of people feel like they get cheated by lief somehow--no-one is ever completely satisfied. There's maybe a few. But I mean, I'm in a place where I don't really wanna be. It's like, sometimes I feel like we're losing our passion for playing music. And that's the f?!ked-up thing, when you lose passion for what you love, then it's like, Is this marriage headed for divorce or what? 

RIP: Theoretically, you can fight back a couple of ways. Like Cobain, you could make a record almost calculated to offend all the bandwagon-jumpers. Or take as much time off as you'd like. Who says you can't go live on a desert island for two years? 

BJA: That'd be nice. I'm just not enjoying life right now. I'm really not. I'm so cluttered, I can't even speak. Yeah, I do feel like I'm getting old, and I'm kinda bitter about that. I'm not excited about being onstage anymore, and I was really trying to convince myself that I was. Really. Before we did this last U.S. tour, every time I did an interview--I don't know if you read the last Rolling Stone piece--I was like "Yeah! I'm excited! I wanna play these arenas!" and stuff. And then just every night, it started sucking, it felt like a routine or something. It felt almost choreographed in a lot of ways. And I was yelling "f?!k you!" to people, but I didn't know who I was yelling "f?!k you" to anymore. 

RIP: Last time we spoke, you said you went out of your way to change every single show, make each one different. 

BJA: Well, I think it's just the stress of getting up in front of all those people all the time, every day. It's like, "Do I really feel like downing another f?!cking pot of coffee and a bottle of wine before I walk onstage to do this again? Just to get myself ready to go?" You know, for all those people. And every night I always do something different and stupid. But at the same time, it'd be really cool to just say "F?!k you!" to people and like, walk off. And then they'd get it. It's like, "I'm really telling you to f?!k off this time! Time to pack up and go home." It'd just be so nice to start from scratch again. 

RIP: In many ways you can. That's the music-making system trying to program your behavior. And obviously you've broken quite a few rules already--you don't even have to be talking to me right now, actually.... 

BJA: Oh no. I really wanted to do this interview, just because the last interviews that I've done, I've been miserable, and I was pretending not to be. I really was, I was lying. Not to the reader, not to the person I was doing the interview. But I was lying to myself, convincing myself that I was really happy with how everything is going. 

RIP: So you always knew what you wanted, and now you've got it, in spades. You're having trouble figuring out what's next? 

BJA: I didn't even know what I wanted back then. I really didn't. I didn't know if I wanted to be huge, totally successful. I never knew that. I was struggling so hard even to sign that f?!king contract--when I was sitting there, I was contemplating, "Should I just run outta here right now? Am I making the biggest mistake of my life?" A lot of people say, "You're totally disillusioned with what money can do for people," but money never meant shit to me. There's something very passionate to me, very romantic, about living on the street in a lot of ways. Just because I really like my lifestyle back then. I was totally content, in retrospect. A lot of it has to do with the fame. I dunno, I'm trying to talk right now and just totally stuttering. 

RIP: It's not like you chose music--it chose you, and you can't help it. 

BJA: Yeah, it's cool when people really get it. But what a lot of people don't understand is that we're a band that's been around a lot longer than people know. And that's the thing. The difference between this and what happened between Kerplunk and Dookie--in a year, I got married, I had a kid, and I sold 11 million records worldwide. That can do something to ya, ya know? 

BJA: Sometimes I think it'd be cool to just hang out with my friends, drink beer, smoke cigarettes. The more I think about it, the more I'd be really happy with that. I don't think that we're feeling quite like a band anymore--that's one problem we have. There was this certain rock 'n' roll underdog think that we always had--we always drove for something, always drove from town to town in a small van. And you know, I f?!kin' like touring like that--it's like culture shock, really, driving around in a van, setting up my amp when I get there, and playing. That's rock 'n' roll, that's what it started out as. A bunch of sweaty pigs in some tiny f?!kin' bar having a hootenanny, that's what punk rock was to me, that's what drove me to it. I love rock music in its simples, rawest form. And I think we're the only band, really, that plays rock 'n' roll. 

RIP: Has all this put a strain on your old friendships? Do your pals treat you a little differently now? 

BJA: When I come up to friends I haven't talked to in a while, there's a weirdness. And the ones who are really close to me don't really bring up anything, but that thing is still there; it's still in the air. And sometimes I'll just not say anything the whole time we're hanging out. I'll be totally quiet, because the only thing I'll have to talk about is my band, and I get so sick of talking about my band and myself. So I'll just be quiet, since that's the only thing there is to me, except for my son and my wife. 

RIP: Pretty soon, you'll be boring everyone with slide shows--"There we are at Yosemite!" 

BJA: Ha! Adrienne was telling me the other day, "When you were in there dancing with all your friends, while the band was playing, you were so happy because you were so in your element." And I've even gone as far as saying we're not a punk band anymore. But no matter what, that's still gonna stick with me forever, because I love the music, I love the energy of a new band coming out that creates this sense of urgency about 'em. I'll never be able to kick that habit. I love hangin' out with my friends who have small fanzines--kids just writing their guts out about whatever the hell's bothering 'em, and putting it on a Xerox machine and then handing it out for a quarter apiece at shows or at a party. All I wanna do is just try and work it out. I was sitting there the other day, counting all the records that the Replacements put out, stuff like that, Dan thinking how [Paul] Westerberg totally came across to his audience and did everything, everything that the wanted to do in music. He wasn't extremely successful for it, but the guy has influenced people, and a lot of 'em don't even know that they are influenced by him. All I wanna do is just write good songs and stick to it. I wanna develop--not being experimental--but go into different styles, go across my boundaries of the two-and-a-half minute punk song with a three-and-a-half minute jazz song, or maybe get into a little bit of swing or rockabilly. 

RIP: With such staggering success, you could walk into Reprise and tell 'em you're doing an album of saxophone solos and they'd allow you that creative luxury. 

BJA: Well, I never wanna be that experimental. I don't wanna get into synthesizers and shit like that. The thing that was cool for me with Insomniac was that I think we definitely set a foundation for ourselves, because we put out our hardest record to date, totally in-your-face all the way through, and now we're able to go anywhere we want. We can do that now--we do have that going for us. That is, if people are still interested. Which is kinda weird for me to say.... 

RIP: Your craft will always remain the most important thing of all, even if you're just writing for your own amusement. 

BJA: Yeah. No matter what, I'm gonna be writing songs for the rest of my life. I mean, I already have a shitload of new songs right now. But I just wanna do some other things with it. We've sold a million of Insomniac so far. But I definitely want to be respected as a musician. Well, more as a songwriter than as a musician. I wanna be f?!kin' normal, is what I wanna be. The thing is, I've seen so many freaks and so many weirdos and crazy punk rockers and drunks and junkies. But for a lot of those people being weird is easy. It's so easy to be strange--the hard thing is to try to be normal. There's no such thing as normal, ya know. 

RIP: How's your mom feel about all this? 

BJA: She's kinda worried about me. She doesn't know what to think of everything. We have a hard time communicating with each other, just because I don't like to talk about it that much. So she feels like she has to walk on eggshells around me all the time. 

RIP: You buy her anything cool once the money started rolling in? 

BJA: Nah--she doesn't want anything. I've asked her. She's been living in the same house for over 20 years, and she's content living there. But I did give her a trip--she went to Hawaii, her and her boyfriend. And I think travelling is really good--if you paid for someone to travel, so they can go and explore and see some things they've never seen before. But I think that's probably where I get it from. I get so content with not having much. And then you get all this stuff, all this attention, and you don't really know what to do with it. You don't know how to channel it. 

RIP: Most outrageous thing you've bought for yourself? 

BJA: I got my car primered! And one thing I did do was build a home studio. So I've been recording all my friends' bands for free. I produced this band called Dead and Gone, and Social Unrest, Fetish and the Criminals. And I have this side-project called Pinhead Gunpowder--nothing's up with it right now, but we played at the beginning of '94 a few times. RIP: Sounds like you've got more than enough pressure valves to let off the steam. Still, do you worry about death? 

BJA: Yeah, I do. But I have too many reasons to stick around. One is my son and my wife. And I don't feel like I'm finished yet. I'm not done, ya know? And the beauty of it is that death is forever and your problems aren't. And that's why I'm talking about my bad shit, because you vent that, you get it off your chest and you can move on to something else. There's gotta be a positive side to all this--so you just sort of try and dig it out. Get rid of all the bad--out with the bad air, in with the good air. 

RIP: You said about Green Day that you think your "bandwagon is coming to a close and all that's gonna be left is just a band. Hopefully." So then will you start writing happy songs? 

BJA: I thought about writing a totally sarcastic song called "I'm So Goddamn Happy," just talking about how happy I am. Actually, I'd like to put out a double record--I'd like to put out tons of music. But I never wanna become an egomaniac. I just wanna keep things down to earth, so I think it's really important for us to take a long break after all this stuff. We just put out two records back to back, one year after another, and now we can sit back and work on ourselves as people again. So we don't parody ourselves. And it's so hard to be a father and a musician at the same time. If I get into one thing and I pay close attention to it, like if I'm with Joey and I start neglecting my music, then I feel like I should play more often. So I start playing my music, and then I'm going, "Am I neglecting Joey?" So it becomes hard to do everything at the same time. 

BJA: I wanna create a very mellow and sound atmosphere for him, because I don't wanna make any mistakes for him--I want him to be able to make his own mistakes. And even when it comes to swearing--I don't cuss in front of my kid. I'd rather him get it from some dirty-mouthed kid at school. Then at least I'd know, I could go "Thank God--my kid is in a real world and he's learning these things from his surroundings." That'd be a good thing. Because the best things you ever learn are the things you learn in kindergarten. 

Finally, after more than an hour worth of gut-spilling, Armstrong suddenly observes four brace-faced girls, each no more than 12 years old, idling over by the cash register. They're there on the pretext of getting change. In reality, they just want to ogle punk icon and pin-up darling Billie Joe, stare at those caterpillar eyebrows and chiselled cheekbones up close. Another oh-my-gawd event. "I gotta go--it's gettin' weird," the reluctant rocker whispers, literally leaping up from the booth. "I can feel eyeballs all over me already...." And as fast as that, he's gone. "Was that...was that...B-B-B-B-Billie Joe?" stammers one swooner. "No," says the waitress, with a subtle smile. "That was just some guy who usually eats here alone, nobody famous at all. You know, just an average guy." A little white lie to herd the young 'uns out. But nevertheless the truth.

[a-silent-symphony]

”I JUST MADE TWO ALBUMS BECAUSE I WANTED THEM” – MEETING MARKO HIETALA

Interview with Marko Hietala – mostly known as bass player and vocalist of Nightwish – while touring to promote his solo album “Pyre of The Black Heart”

I came to learn a bit more about the album he produced in Finnish as well as in English but even more to find out whether or not there is hope to see Tarot [Marco and Zachary Hietala, Janne Tolsa, Tommi Salminen] on stage one day back.

We meet in perhaps the most reknown venue for metal concerts in Switzerland, Z7 in Pratteln near Basel. While Marko’s band mates have their dinner with their friends of Oceanhoarse next door, we’re chatting in a cosy and quiet backstage room.

Speaking with Marko is an experience of its own. The quiet setting is critical here and provides another stage as he is a natural storyteller. There is hardly one word that comes not most consciously intonated in a perfectly chosen emotionality. Unfortunately, it will hardly be possible to translate neither atmospheres nor moods he puts with apparent easiness into his statements so you could experience.

“I know that sign”, mouthes Marko when he takes notice of my shirt. Tarot merch is rarely seen and even less outside of Finland. While still checking the settings of the recording, I begin that already roughly 15 years back I heard or read the first time about his idea to come up with a solo album. – “Probably, yeah. Because it’s been talked now and then on and off. I’s just been writing stuff and then it ends up to the bands that I’ve been playing with and then there is some stuff which have been saving because I figured it would be good. And also some things became so personal that I didn’t give them off. So the solo album, I’d say most of the stuff is written in close to like three years back when we started to work on it. But there are some pieces that go back all those 15 years, maybe even more. I can’t tell for certain because some thing I’ve been saving and some I connected to some newer stuff.”

Listening to “Stones”, my first association was: this is a new Tarot song. But how does Marko see this? “It could perfectly fit on one their albums.” – “Yeah, it could be.” Some other song gave me a similar impression. “Yes, sure, some of them could be,” he replies thoughtful. “But, hmmm?” His voice is very vivid. He uses it like a painter uses colours. This very conscious use of his voice tells the listener when he thinks, when it is easy to reply or how important particular word or even a single syllable is to him. As there is hardly any other noise around us his soft and warm voice fills the atmosphere. A most pleasant atmosphere, actually.

“How do you make up your mind anyway to tell which songs goes where?” – “Well, let’s say that for instance, that “Stones”, the song came after our drummer in Tarot died and after I’m gonna be doing the solo album. So that is how this song came to be there. And there are some elements in the song that we didn’t use that much in Tarot. For instance the kind of a standard-like the riff that goes in the chorus, the whole melody line is like classic Scandinavian or Finnish folk song type of melody which I got put there just for the help of it. Because it got a nice combination as is the Mediterranean guitar or the straight Blues melody.” We laugh as he is getting into such details. “This was a … Yeah, we’re coming to the area where it was …, where this had a lot of freedom to do whatever I wanned. And this was also one of the things why I wanted new guys to play with me and arrange with me in order to find fresh angles.”

Marko Hietala has come to play with numerous well-known faces, musicians he has worked with for many a years. “Yeah, with Vili [Ollila] and Tuomas [Wäinölä] we’ve been doing this Christmas tour thing for ….” – “like 15 years?” – “Yeah, like 15, years since the guys went in the project? I was in some years earlier when they came in and they have been there ever since. Soooo,” he draws the “o” quite long to think, “maybe I have 15 years and they have 12. So long years enough.”

“Absolutely”, I agree. If you have seen Marko on stage with several of his numerous projects you will have noticed the different energies and chemistries working. This might result from the different lineups acting together which results in different chemistries working. But it could point towards differing priorities or degrees of importance to Marko, too. So has any project that outweighs the others? “Oooohhh, this solo stuff became pretty important to me. It’s been growing a band from it that we started as a solo project. We’ve been having these shows and we’ve been having a good time with the guys. So it’s become surprisingly important. But then of course I got the main thing”, laughing he goes on, “which you probably know.” A tad more rational again: “That will always take me around the world. But in the meantime, and what I do in all the off years, I think this solo stuff is probably the most likeliest thing to be something that I’ll be now continuing.” And then he automatically switches to the topic that – to be honest – interests me a little more than the rest: “With Tarot the situation is that since our drummer died we kind of it dropped into a limbo. … There is unfinished music and all that but it hasn’t been …” he pulls the “ee” sound this time to bite some seconds for wording his thoughts. “But it hasn’t been a happy thought to touch it and playing in a Rock’n’Roll band you should have more grin on your face than fry” – “True.” – “No matter how you do it on stage.”

“I see. Naturally it is very, very difficult to go with Tarot now.” – “Yeah, because we played together for so long. Over 30 years! Yeah.” His voices fades before he continues: “So it’s of in a limbo.” He takes another breath. “We have at least some ideas and we could do an album out of them if weeeee …. edited the existing drum tracks and add some drum tracks from the old ones. So weeee’d basically have the same lineup. Buuut – that would be a lot of work!”

Tarot released their last studio album (save for the remastered “Spell Of Iron”, 2011) in early 2010, “Gravity Of Light”, toured in Finland immediately and in the fall of the same year continental Europe with The Man Eating Tree. A tour supporting Pain on another tour was planned soon after that but cancelled. First Tarot dropped out because one band member is severely ill, as they explained back then and soon Pain cancelled, too. There were only very few gigs, Tarot were able to play before their drummer’s, Pecu Cinnari’s disease grew too severe. He died in September 2016.

The topic is an emotional one and I am grateful that Marko spoke of it at all. Sadness still lingers in the air so I decide to move to another topic.

When back in February this year, I met Marko for this interview and to attend his magnificent show, neither him nor me or you had any idea the world was about to go upside down soon and the entire event industry was to implode. What a perfect setting for one of Tarot’s songs?! Those songs leading us into sci fi settings, only this is real and not a scenario written by a black humoured musician prone to dark and gloomy lyrics as Marko Hietala sees himself.

The show that night was one of those you don’t forget easily. Honest to the bone, authentic, vivid, brilliant speaking of the musical expertise on stage. While many shows nowadays are reduced to sort of bringing the album version on stage as close as can be, Marko presented his album and three cover songs in live versions, each perfectly rearranged. Remarkably different from the album. New moods. New angles. And honest. Rearranged to fit the musicians on stage, providing space to show and experience their excellence.

Enjoy some visual impressions and read more in our On-Stage Review here.

Or check out the show in Z7 yourself. The video was recorded during the show that night.

[eurybia-graves]

Il Risveglio

April 7, 2020 Lorenzo de Medici x Giuliano de Medici

1473.

Florence has welcomed her first warmer spring in years. The artist’s pencil, blooming like the white lilies down the hallway of the Palazzo de Medici, leaves its petals on the canvas as the artist’s inspiration bursts into drips of honeyed rain watering the garden of art. Lorenzo has stood by the canvas for hours, watching as the artist gives birth to yet another beauty of a lady with his magical hands.

“Aphrodite,” Lorenzo mutters.

“Yes, exactly,” Sandro smiles, glancing at the ruler of Florence before returning to his work, adding one last stroke on her eyes, “this is but a draft, but it would be about Venus.”

Lorenzo smiles faintly, his blue eye glancing towards the other side of the canvas—blank, at the moment. “What would be there?”

The artist laughs. “Oh, Lorenzo. You haven’t spoken with Angelo for quite a while, have you? You do not even know of his grand project.”

“What grand project?” Lorenzo frowns, “not another essay on the ‘quality’ of touch of the Florentine women, I shall hope?”

“Ah, no!” Sandro drops his pencil, “he’s working on a play. Have we not discussed this earlier, about how classics would define, in a way, the beauty of God and the beauty of men? There it is. Angelo is working on a play about Venus and Mars.”

“Appealing idea.” Lorenzo stares into the blank on the canvas, imagining the posture of Mars in the artist’s head. “Yet you haven’t put him there yet. Why is that?”

Sandro sighed. “First of all, Angelo Poliziano is a reserved bastard who would not allow me to see his work; and, I do need a model. Speaking of which—” He glances around, making sure no one hears him, “would you be so kind as to ask your brother to come and talk to me when he has time?”

Lorenzo raises his brows, trying hard to conceal the amusement. “Giuliano? What, you are planning to ask him to be Mars?”

“I don’t see why not!” Sandro widens his eyes, “tell me, Lorenzo, name one young man in the entire Florence who is more of a Mars than Giuliano. Can you?”

No, he can’t. Lorenzo shakes his head, “what of Venus? You would need a model for her too, I suppose?”

“There is no such need.” The artist replied, “I have learned more about the bodies of women than those of men, as I have carved them in my mind.”

Lorenzo gives a knowing smile. “I’ll talk to Giuliano, and Angelo too. And you, Sandro, do not work on female anatomy so often as to exhaust yourself!”

The fresh ruler of Florence runs out of Sandro Botticelli’s workshop before the artist starts casting him out with paints. No, he would not want that on his face or clothing just ten minutes before attending to the meeting of the Signoria. He looks up at the pigeons standing at the edge of the roof of the Palazzo della Signoria, and watches as they take off into the sky and disappearing behind the grand dome of the Duomo. Brunelleschi’s work, he thought, magnificent as it appears, it would not have been without the Medici.

“Let me guess, you went to the workshop again.” Giuliano sits back lazily in his seat at the Signoria as his brother arrives belatedly. “Does Sandro never get tired of you?”

“Well,” Lorenzo smiled, “yes, I was at the workshop. But no, Sandro would not get tired of me.”

The young Medici rolls his eyes and huffs. “If I were him, I would be tired of you. What took you so long? It’s not so often an occurrence that you arrive later than I do.”

“In fact, we were talking about you.”

“What?” Giuliano interrupts, “what about me? He doesn’t want me to be a model for him, does he?”

Lorenzo smirks, “well, actually…”

“Not a chance.”

“Giuliano, please, you don’t even know what it is. There isn’t a better model than you.”

Giuliano turns around, his blue eyes reflecting a calm dancing flame that burns directly into Lorenzo’s eyes. The flame of passion, fierceness, and a desire for war. Perfection, Lorenzo thinks to himself. He recalls the time when Giuliano confronted those that are, at this very moment, sitting right across them, Jacopo and Francesco de Pazzi. He recalls the sound of swords clashing, as his brother, although trying hard to act as a diplomat like himself, could not help but answer the taunting from Jacopo de Pazzi by drawing out the blade. He recalls the way Giuliano refused to apologize to the Pazzis at the court of the Signoria, at which moment his weapon was no longer his sword, but his eyes and his silence—strong enough to kill the rampant aggressiveness of the Pazzi family, and powerful enough to prove to the members of the Signoria that he had done nothing wrong.

“Listen to me, Giuliano. We need you to be Mars,” Lorenzo speaks softly.

“Mars, you say,” the young Medici’s tone has changed, added with a slight bit of interest, “in such case, it would be slightly less tedious than I thought it should be.”

“That’s a ‘yes’, then.” Lorenzo leans back with satisfaction, “thank you, brother. We shall be expecting you at the workshop tomorrow.”

Sandro should’ve known to ask Lorenzo for help, instead of harassing Angelo every twice a day to get the script of his new play. “Sit over there, Giuliano.” The artist’s inspiration once again begins to flow, images in his head dancing with Poliziano’s words. “This shall be the part where Mars and Venus indulge in the pleasures of the flesh, do you see what I mean?”

“Pleasures of the flesh?” Giuliano laughs, whilst removing his shirt slowly, “My dear Sandro, is this why you called for ME?”

“Maybe.” Sandro shrugs, “now get on with it, take off everything you’re wearing. Giuliano, you should be in the play.”

The young Medici huffs. “I’m not an actor, Sandro! Sitting for you is already one of the hardest jobs I have ever done. And you, Lorenzo,” Giuliano points his chin at his brother as the latter walks in slowly, “you tricked me into this.”

“I did…not.” The Magnificent walked into the workshop, unprepared, eyes fixed on his brother’s torso. He has not looked at Giuliano this way since when they were children. That would be a time when Lucrezia, their mother, tried relentlessly to stop their sons from going too far in their children’s play. Yet now…he stares at his brother, admiring the curve of his body outlining the perfect shape of a god of war. He glances up, from the muscles of his limbs all the way to the blossoms on his chest that—

“Lorenzo!” Giuliano raises his voice, bringing his brother back to reality, “are you awake?”

“I—” Lorenzo shakes his head slightly, trying to regain himself. “Yes, yes, you were saying?”

“Have you been drinking? It’s noon, Lorenzo.” Giuliano says in disbelief, “I was saying, Sandro wants me to play Mars in Angelo’s play, it’s—”

“Yes.” Lorenzo nods quickly, “Yes, you should.”

Giuliano stares at him in silence for a few seconds. “Are you joking, brother?”

“Oh I certainly am not.” Lorenzo walks quickly to Sandro, snatching the script from his hands, “meet me at my room tonight, Giuliano, we should talk about this matter.”

Lorenzo leaves the workshop quickly, breathing heavily as he hears his brother protesting behind, yet he dares not look back, as he is well aware that the thin sheet of cloth covering Giuliano’s private parts would have already fallen to the ground because of the excessive and aggressive movement. He dares not look back, because if he does, he could not promise that the animal inside of his body would not break its chains. He had never been unable to contain himself, even at times when Lucrezia Tancredi bares herself completely in front of him. Lorenzo knows how to control, even to a woman like his mistress, he never lacks the gift of seduction. In fact, words have spread among the women he has been with, yet none of them anything bad. But this is Giuliano, he thinks to himself, good God, he is my brother.

God should know Lorenzo is not that kind of person who would easily back off when facing a risk. Three years ago, when he named himself head of the bank by overthrowing his father, Florence has already known that Lorenzo de Medici never gives up. For himself, though, as much as he fears the consequences, his curiosity and desire for the unknown overpowers his senses…sometimes. He mocks himself, as Giuliano walks into his room slowly, resentment in his eyes. “What now,” he asks, “are you going to teach me how to be an actor, brother?”

Lorenzo smiles sheepishly. “Take off your clothes, Giuliano. Give that pose again. Consider this a break from political matters, and let us return to the old times when we would discuss myths throughout the night.”

“Without Sandro and Angelo, even if this is their work?”

“No, no. Just us.” Lorenzo steps forward, removing the thin white shirt from his brother, his fingers incidentally brushing Giuliano’s waist. He tries hard to keep his breath even, but at the same time, he can’t stop staring at his brother’s body. “Your trousers too, Giuliano.”

He turns back, picking up the script when realizing that his hands are trembling. He clears his throat, looking through the window up into the sky, and finds a certain amount of returned calmness as the moon spills silver lining upon the statue of David in the center of the Palazzo de Medici. How long has he stood there? Lorenzo thought. If it was a commission by his grandfather, then it must’ve been there for more than forty years. Yet David has ever been so…quiet. Why was that? Lorenzo did remember that his grandmother once told him about voice of opposition when the people of Florence first saw this statue. Such a public exposure of desire and eroticism, as said, should not be considered art. Cosimo did not nip it in the bud, though. He let David stand there in the very heart of the Medici family, hidden as he may be, but always there, until one day art has come to be appreciated by the people of Florence, then he has bloomed to be the symbol of beauty.

“Be quick with it, Lorenzo.” Giuliano’s voice comes again from behind him, “What do you want me to do?”

Mars lying lazily on the bed, again, as the silk blanket covers slightly upon his lower body casually, shaping the sword of the god of war in an implicit but inescapable way. The tiredness coming from a day’s work has kept his muscles from relaxing, as his veins still shows clearly on his arms like serpents, whispering to Lorenzo and urging him to take a bite on the apple.

Lorenzo looks down on the script, his voice hoarse. “Mighty god of war, Mars. Lay down your sword, for in this realm, violence shall not be allowed. Fear not, come close, and bath your weary body in the springs of love.”

“Who but you could convince me to lay down my weapon?” Giuliano sits up, eyes fixed on Lorenzo’s, once again turning them into a pair of weapons more powerful than swords. “Touch me, Venus, I long for you.”

Even the strongest damp could not resist the pressure when a flood comes in, and when enough water has stored, there shall no longer be anything that holds. His chest has pressed eagerly against his partner’s back, hands locking tight around his waist, fearing that he would escape. He tastes fresh honey dew from kisses of passion, hunger, and lust, sweeter than anything he ever had in the past twenty-four years of his life. He moans, as he hears his partner’s whimper, knowing that the latter has submit all to deepest desires buried somewhere unknown in his heart, laying behind all that ever bothers them both. There is no bank, no politics, no war, no Signoria, no Pazzi, only them, and Florence, as she watches down on them with tenderness, sending a breeze that brings the swinging curtain down on their entwining bodies, whilst projecting the moonlight as to cast their shadows onto the wall. Lorenzo presses his lips against his brother’s neck, as tears stream down onto Giuliano’s shoulder, and then his blooming chest. Lorenzo cries, as he spills his long-waited desire inside his brother.

“Giuliano, Giuliano, I’m sorry…” His voice is broken, and his face a mess covered with tears. He dares not look at his brother as he realizes what he had done, before he feels his cheeks cupped by a familiar pair of warm hands.

“Look at me, Lorenzo.”

Lorenzo gazes up, still sniffing, as he meets his brother’s eyes, unexpectedly calm, but filled with a different type of tenderness. “My Venus,” he smiles, kissing Lorenzo’s fingers gently “of all great things in this world, none compares to your love. You have had my body, then you shall have my heart.”

“And what exactly did you two discuss last night?” Sandro stands with his arms crossed in disbelief, “Giuliano, you are doing it perfectly.”

“First, I must point out your mistake, Sandro. It wasn’t ‘pleasures of the flesh’,” Giuliano lies there lazily as he takes a bite on the apple in his hand, “but rather a mutual communication of souls, or a liberation of imprisoned desires and love.”

Sandro Botticelli stares at Giuliano for a few seconds, too surprised to know how to respond to such an un-Giuliano answer.

“What?” The young Medici spreads his arms, “Lorenzo’s idea, solely, not mine.”

“That was rather deep.” Poliziano mutters, adding the notations onto his script.

Lorenzo laughs lightly and walks out of the workshop. An emperor butterfly circles the garden for a few times, before landing precisely on a newly blossomed white lily with dew reflecting the morning sunlight. There has never been a livelier spring in Florence, he thought.

[selfcallednowhere]

February 3, 2018 Dallas, TX

They opened with "James K. Polk." This surprised me--I expected them to keep doing it during the Quiet Storm section cos that was what they did the previous two nights. I'm honestly feeling pretty burned out on this song live after seeing it a million times--seeing it done acoustically during Quiet Storm was different enough to keep me interested, but when it's just the normal arrangement I am yeh rather sick of it.

Next they played "Damn Good Times," the second song all three nights on this trip, which I very much am not sick of even though I've seen that one a bunch too. It's one of my favorite live songs, actually--it's just SO FUN. "Hey, Mr. DJ, I Thought You Said We Had a Deal" was next and also superfun, even though the presence of Curt would've made it way better.

After that Flans said that this theater was "the box that rocks," and then, gesturing at the balcony, told us that we'd be meeting our accusers one by one and then all our verdicts would be read.

After "All Time What," Flans that it was time for the "fastest-singing portion" of the show, and that they were going to try to sing together. Then John said that this show was like a re-enactment of the instore they'd done earlier in the day cos so many of the same people were there. Then Flans said that he'd gotten our verdicts and we were all guilty.

I didn't really try to think about what song has them both singing really fast and singing together when he said it, but if I had I probably would've been able to figure out what the song was: "Letterbox." I was really excited to see it again, cos it's one of my top top top favorite songs.

After "New York City," Flans said that the show was "going too fast." Then he made them turn the house lights on for a "beard assessment." He said the beards looked "shockingly natural," and ordered a "round of beards" for everyone.

John said that they were going to be playing a lot of new songs and it was "a burden" and "a weight pressing down and crushing everything." I don't understand why they kept acting like we were going to hate seeing the new songs so much--I loved it and actually wished they would play more new songs.

Then Flans said that what they were aiming for was volume, and "as Bob Dylan said, there's just too much sound." Then they played a little bit, and Flans said if you buy I Like Fun you can get "all your favorite classical themes in one set."

Then they played "Mrs. Bluebeard." John really mangled the lyrics when they played it for the first time two days prior to this, but then the next day he did a lot better and only screwed up a couple of times and I was proud of him! But this time he was back to screwing up all over the place again. I was amused because afterwards he said "That's how it goes!" NO IT ISN'T JOHN. (Yes, I of course understand that he knew that too and that was the joke.)

Next they played "Music Jail, Pt. 1 & 2" which is one of my fav Glean songs, so I'm glad that one is still in the set.

After "Particle Man" and then "The Famous Polka," Flans said that they were playing two sets, which gives plenty of time to email and text.

Then:

JL: We're playing a lot of new songs, so bear with us. JF: No one likes the new songs, John. But we've already locked the doors!

Then there was this really obnoxious and probably drunk woman screaming for "When the Lights Come On," which they were most likely going to play anyway because they'd already played it at every other show on the tour. They said they weren't gonna play it and she just kept screaming for it. Then Flans said that they were gonna play it but now they weren't because of her, and then she started yelling "BUT I LOVE YOU," which made Flans tell a story about how they played at Bonnaroo which "is like being on the surface of Mars, you want to be anywhere else, and we were getting paid," and he met someone who told him how TMBG meant so much to them "and by the way, I love '500 Miles.'" Then the obnoxious woman went back to screaming, and I guess Flans figured there was no way to get her to shut the fuck up besides playing the song, so he asked John if he wanted to play it and John said "Sure. Fuck it." So then they played it and it was COMPLETELY AWESOME like it had been the other times I'd seen it, but also I was just happy to not have to hear that woman screaming anymore, and I'm sure all the rest of the crowd and the band and well anyone else in the building actually were too.

After "Your Racist Friend" they played "Nothing's Gonna Change My Clothes," YES YES YES. Even though I'd just seen it the day before I was ecstatic, since it's one of my fav songs and I've only seen it live a handful of times.

Next came "Cyclops Rock"--I'm really happy that's one of the Mink Car songs they've brought back into the set. It's great live--SO ROCKIN'.

Afterwards, Flans asked John about the current political climate.

JL: It's awesome! JF: Who needs nightmares when you have daymares? Things are gonna be great...later.

John introduced "The Mesopotamians" by saying that when he was a kid in 3000 BC there was a TV show about them.

Then came the set break and then Quiet Storm, the first three songs of which were the same as the previous two nights: "Older" and "I Like Fun" with the contra-alto clarinet, then "Tippecanoe and Tyler Too" on accordion. Before the third Flans said they were "Tres Might Be Giants" and made Marty give a sample of what he can do with the electronic drums.

After that there was something that really upset me:

JF: How are you, John? How are you doing with that accordion? JL: I'm ok. The accordion...just have to deal with it.

This is definitely not the first time I've witnessed him complaining about how much he hates playing accordion these days and I'm sure it won't be the last, but it still really upsets me every single time because seeing him play it is pretty much my favorite thing.

Then Flans was talking about the storm sound effects--he reassured us that they are in fact not just fans blowing in mics.

Then they played MY THEME SONG. Nothing is ever going to be as special as seeing it for the first time the day before, but I was still unbelievably excited to see it again.

After that they played something they hadn't played either of the previous two days: "Meet James Ensor." So that was an unexpected surprise. I love that song, and I thought it worked really well in this format.

Then the band came back on stage. Flans introduced Dan as being "the finest guitarist in They Might Be Giants."

Next they played "Istanbul." I'm so unbelievably sick of this song live, but I do at least like the crazy jam session at the end of it. Flans jumped up on Marty's drum riser for part of it and it was silly.

Afterwards, Flans said he was sick of that acoustic music and that it "reminded him of his folkie days." Then he asked whoever was in charge of the A/C to turn it on (he was right, it was for some reason really warm even though it was chilly outside). Then he said that the next song they had to play "out of contractual obligation to our band."

The song was "Number Three," which is superfun live. It's become one of the Pink songs I've seen the most cos they've been playing it a lot the last few years, but I always really enjoy it.

Afterwards Flans said that they wanted to thank "the guy holding the beer perilously close to the end of his fingertips."

Then:

JF: This next song is from the album Glean, everybody. JL: That's right. JF: All the way back to 2015! JL: Not a song that we have to do. A song that we get to do. JF: Think about the good old days. 2015. Things seemed so...so normal then. No dystopian...hellscape.

They played "Answer," and then John put his accordion on and Dan came over to the keyboard. Flans said that he was getting on the keyboard "where he belongs," and I was like "Ummmm how does the keyboard player feel about you saying that?" But HEY if you ask me John does belong with his accordion on, not behind the keyboard.

The next song was a major show highlight for me: "Put Your Hand Inside the Puppet Head"! This is a very special song to me, it was my very first fav TMBG song (in other words the one I'd most rock out to as a 5-year-old hearing my dad play his cassette of Pink), and I still love it dearly now. I've only seen it a handful of times, so it was a big deal.

Next they played "Doctor Worm," which wasn't as big a deal since I've seen it a million times, but still really fun as always.

Flans was mentioning where the next few shows are going to be, and said if we know anyone in those places we should tell them to come to the shows.

Then:

JL: If you don't know anyone in those towns...the first letter of each city...backwards spells out...an important message. I know it seems like a random tour where you like...it's like drawing a star on the map. There really is a reason for it. JF: Our booking agent is keeping it a secret from us. JL: Yes, he hasn't told us what the message was. We haven't been able to figure it out. JF: But it appears the letters spell out some kind of swear word. JL: Yes. Something very harsh. JF: It seems to be some kind of swear word and then the words "you guys." We're not sure what it means. It's impossible to know what that message could mean. JL: Before we get off-track here. Apparently--there's a thing called the Kessler effect. [The name of the venue was The Kessler.] And I believe it originated here. What it is, is when stuff in space starts smashing into each other and...all of space is destroyed. Do you guys know about this? And I don't know why but this theater is the very first part of that chain. The Kessler effect. JF: I first heard about it when we were described as the Kessler effect of bands. JL: I mean, yeh. We've smashed into, um...Soup Dragons, I believe.

(I thought he might've been making this whole thing up, but my friend Ant, who's very knowledgeable about space stuff, informed me that no it's a real thing, it actually is when stuff in space smashes into other stuff and they break apart, and it can actually be really dangerous. The "all of space is destroyed" part I'm pretty sure he made up though!)

Then they played "The End of the Tour," which is so good live (though I do think it works best as a show closer).

Next came "Spy," lots of fun as always. At each show I'd been to John played a sample of something as part of his improv part--this time it was "Here Comes Santa Claus," which was silly. I also managed to scream during the parts when Flans was trying to get everyone in the crowd to scream, even though I was feeling almost weak from excitedly singing along with every song and screaming after they played songs I particularly loved.

Then they played "I Left My Body," which was the last I Like Fun song of the night.  I really loved all the new songs I got to see them play, but I just wish they'd played even more!

They closed out the main set with "Twisting," which was, as always, COMPLETELY KICKASS. For some reason Dan was singing the "she wants" backing vocals instead of John--I'm not sure what was up with that and I didn't like it.

They started the first encore with "Let Me Tell You About My Operation." This is my current favorite Flansong, so I love seeing it live.

Flans said that the next song was their new single, which I was confused by because they'd already played "I Left My Body" (which wasn't a single exactly, but the closest thing the album had). But he was just joking--it was actually "Why Does the Sun Shine?", which is of course very much not a new song. John informed us that things that are a gas on the sun included Fiestaware, which he held up his red mug when he said (holding tea instead of coffee this time, I noticed, as evidenced by the string and tag sticking over the edge). He paused for a long time before the list of things that the heat and light of the sun are caused by the nuclear reaction between, but finally it was "Stuff! Things! Items! And objects!" He is so silly!

The first song of the second encore was "Wicked Little Critta," and they closed the show the same way they did the night before: with "Birdhouse in Your Soul." A perfect close to a perfect night.

John continued on his "stripey shirts, nothing but stripey shirts" streak, so he was 3/3 on this particular show trip for me. This time it was a black and white stripey t-shirt that I don't think I've ever seen him wear before.

[kumkaniudaku]

Moonshine

A/N: I’m inspired by @justanotherloveaffair and her ability to write beautiful smut. This is my attempt to emulate the master. Enjoy some Sunday filth. 

Warnings: SMUT 

Word Count: 4k

Audio from Beyonce’s Coachella set kept your attention as your younger sister, Tiana, applied a light dusting of contour to the perimeter of your face.

“Get that double chin, girl,” you instructed. “I still have five pounds of hungry weight to get rid of before I can get to the baby weight.”

“Hush, T! You look good. Now you finally have an ass and some to hold up your jeans.”

Tiana dodged your playful attempt to her arm before she returned to your makeup. Despite the self-deprecating jokes, with some help from your husband and personal trainer, you’d learned to love your new body. You were far from the slim figure you sported in throughout your early years, but you appreciated the changes that came from bringing two humans into the world.

“May I ask why you and Chadwick are getting dressed separately? Is something wrong? Do I need to call Daddy?”

You chuckled at her rapid-fire questioning and shook your head, “No, TiTi, nothing is wrong. We’re, um, setting the mood.”

“Gross. I didn’t wanna be part of y’all’s freaky escapades.”

“Too late. You’re an accomplice to the murder of this pu-”

“Lalalalalala! I can’t hear you,” Tiana exclaimed, dropping the fan brush she was using to walking away and search for the setting spray in her kit. “I can’t even believe I’m asking this, but what mood are you setting?”

“I suggested we spice things up, you know. A little role play ain’t ever hurt nobody.”

“Please, spare me the graphic details.”

Rolling your eyes, you caught a glimpse of the message from “Ashy” flash across your screen. Like Micah when she’s promised ice cream, you jittered in your seat. The thought of your plan leading to some passionate, no kids around sex was the most exciting thing to happen in your life in months.

“It’s not super graphic,” you explained. “It’s only a little ‘pretend we don’t know each other double then go home and fuck like college students’ role play.”

Tiana’s dramatic gag made you double over in laughter. “Mama always said you ain’t listen. I bet he just sent you something nasty.”

“See, I wasn’t gonna say anything, but since you did, let’s see what we got from Daddy.” 

“Don’t ever call him that around me again.”

“Anyway,” you giggled, “He said, ‘We’re excited to see you later.’”

“We? Who is we?”

The attached images sent in invisible ink kept your mouth closed, mainly to stifle the moan tickling the back of your throat. Looking over your shoulder, Tiana caught a glimpse of what had you so preoccupied.

“Oh my God, do not open that while I’m standing here! This is like hearing mom and dad have sex that one time!”

“Are you comparing your brother-in-law and me to senior citizens? I’m offended.”

“Then you’ll just have to be offended. You’re old now, and Chadwick feels like my blood brother. I never want to hear about y'all's sex life.”

A long pause as she applied your lashes kept the room silent until you decided to speak. “You wanna know how it turns out, don’t you?”

“Girl, yes! If it works, I’m definitely stealing that idea for Nate and me!”

                                 ______________

Getting dressed for an event was always a long production for you, but nothing could compare to preparing yourself for the red carpet at Diddy’s annual white party. The lavish event almost always featured a day party with Hollywood’s elite in attendance. This year, the hip-hop mogul decided to switch things up. Instead of a day party, the event was moved to the evening to accompany the theme for the year, the Roaring 20s.

Standing in the mirror, you looked at your ass over your shoulder while twisting your hips. The custom Valdrin Sahiti gown fit your curves in all the right places while providing ample room to twerk and bounce as you saw fit. The bright lights in the hotel suite made the dress twinkle like a brand new diamond, adding to your confidence. Your face was beat, your wig and headpiece were secure, and your shoes were the perfect balance of stylish and comfortable. The only thing missing was your man.

An hour-long drive to the mansion that inspired the Great Gatsby gave your mind time to wander to what would happen during the evening. It felt like you were preparing for an actual first date, except it was with the man that had been in your life longer than most people. Still, the thought of “meeting him for the first time” kicked up nervous energy that you hadn’t felt since your wedding day. For Chadwick, a glass of whiskey and a three-way conversation with both brothers before leaving the suite he was using to get dressed calmed his nerves enough to convince him that carrying a flask to a party full of alcohol was a good idea. By the time the chartered car pulled in front of the opulent venue hosting the event, Chadwick was loose and ready for a good time.

Red carpet pictures for both of you were filled with questions from reporters about where the other one was. Deciding that it would be too weird to discuss your intentions to role play throughout the party, smiles and waves spoke for you. You were sure there would be a headline that all but confirmed your divorce, but it didn’t matter. They would see you making googly eyes at your man on the way out and change their tune while you raced back to the hotel to get what your body folded into a human pretzel.

Stepping inside the mansion opened up a world like no other. A host of famous faces covered in expensive fabrics moved and mingled in the expansive space, freeing themselves from whatever problems they had before coming inside.

“Tasha, girl, you look good,” you heard from behind you as you leaned over a railing to search for Chadwick for what felt like the hundredth time. Turning around brought you face to face with Jemele Hill and her boyfriend.

“Me? Girl, you! How you been?”

“Working and pissing off these old white men. The usual,” she laughed. “How are things with you and the family? I see you pulled up here alone.”

“The family is good. The kids are great, and Chadwick is doing well.” Your decision to ignore the latter portion of her sentence was not lost on Jemele.

“Oh, so you just gon’ not say anything about the last part, huh?”

“He’s here. Between you and me, we’re playing a little game. Consider it foreplay.”

“Oh, really,” she asked, looking over your shoulder with a smirk. “Looks like the other player is ready to get the game started.”

“Wha-” A warm hand on the small of your back and the scent of his familiar cologne alerted you to the presence you’d been looking for since the party began.

Jemele offered a silent smirk and nod before walking away to greet other party goers. After taking a deep breath, you turned to face Chadwick for the first time all night.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met,” He greeted with a broad smile and a confident aura that took your breath away. Running his fingers down your arm to reach your hand, he lifted your knuckles to his mouth to brush his lips across them. “I’m Chadwick.”

“I-I, uh, I’m...I have no idea who I am right now. Damn, you look good, baby.”

“Co, you ruined it,” he laughed, pulling you close to peck your lips.

“I’m sorry! Dammit, I was supposed to say my name, huh?”

“That’s usually how those conversations go.”

“But these conversations have never involved a man as fine as you. Turn around so I can see you.”

Taking a step back, Chadwick allowed you to hoop and holler as he gave you the full scope of his outfit. Using Quick from Harlem Nights as a style reference, Chadwick dazzled in an updated version of the classic choice. The white blazer and shirt contrasted his brown skin beautifully, complementing the black bowtie, pants, and shoes that went with the look. A red rose on his lapel, and an ornate pocket square tied the look together. You almost felt underdressed standing beside him.

“What you smilin’ at, girl?”

“You look so good! Is this the day my husband outdresses me at an event?”

“It might be,” he chuckled. “You look amazing, Sunshine. I saw you when you walked in, and I couldn’t even focus on the conversation I was having.”

“So, I make you lose focus? I’ll keep that in mind.”

Chadwick’s eyes twinkled with mischief before he spun your body around to direct you through the crowd.

Returning his hand to the small of your back, he leaned over to whisper in your ear, “Enjoy it now. You’ll be the one losing focus when we get back to the hotel tonight.”

A high pitched squeal of excitement left your lips, making him laugh. For the remainder of the night, no matter what was taking place at the moment, whenever your eyes would land on your man, anticipation made your body hot to the touch.

You watched him move around the room like he owned the place, waiting for the signal to head to the door. Every dance resulting in your ass being pressed to his crotch was torture, and he knew it. Inconspicuous nods to the door only made him want to stay longer to draw out your excitement for what was waiting for you on the other side of room 1405. But, as the party continued and the shots of “moonshine” were passed around, you noticed Chadwick morphe into a version of himself that you hadn’t seen since both of you were much younger.

The more the alcohol was introduced to his body, the more loose and carefree he became. Carefree turned into uncharacteristically loud and handsy, making you worry about what was to come.

Pulling him aside, you cupped his face in your hands to get a look at his eyes. Sure enough, Chadwick’s drooping lips did little to hide his red eyes.

“Babe, you’re drunk,” you deadpanned. “Let’s go. I’m not babysitting you through a hangover in the morning.”

“I’m fine, Sunshine! We’re having fun, right?” His arms circled your waist as he dipped his head to kiss random places along your jaw.

Alcohol mixed with his natural scent, creating the smell that you hoped would be intertwining with yours in a moment of sensual passion. It was clear that the only action you would see tonight was a 200-pound man smothering you under his weight for ten hours.

“You’re having too much fun. It’s time to tell your friends goodbye.”

“You look so cute when you’re mad at me.”

“You haven’t seen mad yet, Aaron. For the last time, let’s go. You’re one shot away from stumbling out of here and embarrassing yourself. These shoes are too cute to be dragging your heavy ass.”

“Those shoes are cute, baby. Did I buy those?”

“Get yo’ ass outta here, nigga,” you scolded Chadwick through gritted teeth, adding a hit to his arm with your clutch.

You sent a silent prayer to God, asking him to grant your inebriated spouse the strength to pull it together long enough to make it out of the building with no major mishaps. Channeling the sober actor deep inside, Chadwick made a clean exit, but not without sneaking one last shot when you weren’t watching. The last shot would prove to be the dagger.

Riding back to The Peninsula hotel was a task as both of fought to prevent Chadwick from ending up on TMZ the next morning.

“Drink the water, Chadwick,” you whispered through pursed lips. “If you throw up in this car or on me, I am going to call your parents.”

“I’m trying, Co. I feel like I gotta -.” His sentence was cut short by a loud dry heave, startling the driver.

“Is everything okay back there? I can stop if you need me to.”

“He’s fine!” Your answer was a little too cheery and obviously a lie. “Please, no matter what you do, do not stop this car. Get us back to the hotel as quickly as you can and pull up to the back entrance. I can handle it from there.”

Chadwick managed to hold in the consequences of his rapid alcohol consumption until he reached the hotel room. The moment his expensive oxfords hit the plush carpet of the hotel suite, the race to find a nearby receptacle was on. From the small kitchenette, you watched with an annoyed stare while he hurled into the first trash can he could locate.

“Baby, help,” he whined from his spot on the couch. His body sagged against the couch to match his disheveled appearance and crestfallen expression. His eyes, round as saucers and pleading for your attention, were almost too hard to ignore.

“Hell no. I told you to slow down, and you didn’t. Suffer. I’m taking a shower and going to bed.”

Over his shenanigans, you retired to the bathroom to take off your wig and wash off the night before stretching across the bed naked to mourn what could have been. The idea to masturbate the pain away was fleeting, leaving you to scroll through social media feeds until you were tired.

Chadwick followed your lead soon after and took a shower to forget about the evening’s events. He knew he shouldn’t have gone that hard, but when the drinks are flowing and the vibe is right, it was hard to turn down a shot or ten.

After allowing the shower water to wash away his sins and begin his descent to sobriety, Chadwick entered the bedroom with his shoulders slumped.

“I never want to drink like that again, baby. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry to me,” you answered without turning to look at him. “Be sorry to yourself. You knew your old ass didn’t need that much liquor.”

“Shit, if I didn’t know then, I sure as hell know now.” Ignoring your condescending “mhmm,” Chadwick chose to take advantage of your position on the bed and rest his head on your bare ass. He hummed a sigh of approval as he wrapped his arms around your waist and nuzzled his face your supple skin. “This is the only thing that makes sense right now.” 

“Yeah, well, don’t get comfortable. When this tutorial is over, I’m getting dressed for bed.”

“Give me five minutes, sweetheart. The room feels like it’s spinning.”

A Jackie Aina holiday look tutorial played in the background, becoming the only sound in the room for several minutes. While you clung to the YouTuber’s every word, Chadwick drifted in and out of sleep with his face pressed into your behind. The concoction of Ace of Spades and whatever was in the house Moonshine was still influencing his decisions, and trying to convince him to do the unthinkable. There were a few trends he promised he would get himself into, but the alcohol was in control.

He started with a quick kiss to the cheek he was laying on to test the waters. A small peck didn’t kill him or garner your attention, so he decided to up the ante. With a hand gripping the left cheek, he ran a tongue across the right side before sealing it with a kiss.

“What are you doing, boy?”

“I have no idea. Just go with it.”

“Aaron, if you don’t - oooh!”

In an unexpected turn of events, Chadwick’s hands spread your cheeks to make room for his face. Your breath hitched when his tongue came in contact with your rim, surprising you while sending a tingle from the tip of your toes to the top of your head. He’d done a lot to your body with his mouth, but this was a first.

You’d heard the stories from your girls about their significant others venturing into uncharted territory, and told yourself it was something that you wanted to experience without forcing the issue with your husband. Now, with your body writhing in pleasure against your man’s face, you finally had a story for the group chat in the morning.

Chadwick was lost in his own world, alternating between different pressures and speeds as he used his hands to jiggle your ass for his amusement. His tongue swirled in time with his long index and middle fingers pumping in and out of your center. You saw stars, and with the assortment of liquors in his system acting as a low budget Heart Shaped Herb, he showed no signs of letting up.

“It’s too much,” you whined between whimpers. The slurping behind you and the wetness leaking from your core added to your sense of euphoria, making the current activities overwhelming.

Chadwick chuckled at your attempt to tap out and continued to give your rim his undivided attention. His tongue flicked between your puckered hole and your perineum, drawing breathless moans from your throat. The more you voiced your approval, the more he met your cries of pleasure with groans of his own.

Feeling your walls contracting around his fingers, he took the opportunity to attack your clit with his mouth. Chadwick sucked and licked without regard for your mild convulsions under the weight of his arms. Pushing your right leg up gave him a better angle to suck the rest of your consciousness from your pussy. He was a man on a mission for your pleasure and his. As far as he was concerned, he could and would taste you until the sun took its place in the sky the next morning.

You came with a silent scream followed by an ear-splitting groan before your muscles released to leave you in a pliant heap. The way your chest heaved in search of oxygen to replace what was lost during your mind-boggling orgasm. You needed five minutes and a water break before you could engage in any more activities. Chadwick only needed a split second to shimmy out of his briefs before he was flipping you onto your back and pulling you to the end edge of the bed.

You yelped in surprise and readied yourself for whatever he had in store. Chadwick’s eyes were blown wide with lust, a far cry from what you witnessed at the party. Lifting your legs, he used one hand to keep your ankles together and the other to stroke himself.

“C’mere, girl,” he growled into your ear before aligning his tip with your entrance. He stared at your pussy in awe of the way the head of his dick glistened the more he rubbed the sensitive area along the seam created by the position of your legs. Still, he wasn’t satisfied.

Letting go of your ankles, he pushed your legs until they were parallel to the bed on both sides. He wanted you wide open for him, and you knew what to do next. Braving through the sting of the position, you took control of your legs to keep them open. As your hands gripped your thighs, he slid into you in one fluid motion.

Chadwick’s jaw dropped to let out a moan that you couldn’t distinguish from yours if you tried. Leaning over, he thrust his tongue deep into your mouth to accompany his deep strokes. The way his chest hair teased your taut nipples and the coarse hair of his beard rubbed against your face as he sucked on your neck felt like sensory overload. You hoped the slow swivel of his waist to hit every spot within you would continue until both of you collapsed in satisfaction.

Instead, after he’d suck every inch skin he could get his mouth on, Chadwick began a relentless pace. His hips snapped to yours rapidly, his shaft disappearing and emerging drenched in your juices each time. His hands pressed your waist into the bed as he threw his head back and let out a string of praises and primal grunts.

“Look at this pretty ass pussy,” he husked with his eyes fixated below your waist. “Who this pretty pussy belong to?”

“You! It’s yours!”

“And what’s my name, gorgeous? Say my name.” He slowed his pace again to suck your bottom lip into his mouth, not releasing until it was swollen and red from the contact. It felt like he’d taken your common sense with him, leaving you wide-eyed without a clue on how to make your mouth say words. “What’s my name, baby?”

“Fuck,” you squealed as he returned to his quick thrusts. “You fuck me so good, Daddy! Shit!”

“Let me see if you can take all of it, Co. Turn around for me.”

You didn’t have time to comprehend the instructions before you were flipped onto your stomach and repositioned at the edge of the bed.

Your feet could barely hit the ground before he spread your legs with his knee and pulled your hips back to meet his body. He stilled for a moment to kiss a trail up your spine and to your ear.

“Can you take it,” he whispered into your ear while nuzzling his nose into your temple.

You responded with a nod and a breathy ‘yes,’ receiving praise and a gentle kiss to your ear.

With the pads of his thumbs buried in the small of your back, he resumed his long, deep strokes. The bed quaked in time with his rhythm, creaking under the power of his movement.

You reached for any available fabric to keep you steady as you tried to form a coherent thought. For as long as you’d be intimate with Chadwick, you’d never allowed him to do all the work during sex. Though he’d dominated the encounter thus far, you had to contribute to the group effort.

Mustering up some strength, you met his strokes at the halfway point, earning a pleased moan. His hand came down hard on your thigh as he increased his pace, daring you to keep up. The burn of his skin colliding with yours triggered an animalistic nature in you that was rarely explored.  

“That’s right, baby, use me. Give me all that shit.”

Chadwick didn’t verbalize his reaction past a few grunts of effort, prompting you to twist your body to look back at him. When he pulled his eyes from his work to look at you, the fire in his eyes was one you hadn’t seen in a while.

Even in the dark, you could make out a primal desire smoldering behind the eyes that always looked at you with love and admiration. Releasing his bottom lip from his top row of teeth, he reached to your face and gripped your chin.

“Look at me.” His movements never stuttered despite the momentary shift of focus.

Obscene smacking and expletives filled the atmosphere already thick with the musk of sex. Chadwick’s grip in your chin forced you to maintain intense eye contact through the onset of another orgasm.

“Kiss me,” you rasped. “Kiss me right now!”

He obliged with no hesitation, pressing his palm into your back to flatten you against the bed before connecting his mouth to yours with a string of his saliva. Under normal circumstances, the thought of someone else’s spit entering your mouth in this manner was a hard boundary. Fortunately, these weren’t normal circumstances. You welcomed the lewd fluid swap with your tongue outstretched. His lips came crashing against yours seconds later, excited to nibble and lick to his heart’s content. Together, your tongues explored each other’s mouths and absorbed moans to eliminate some of the noise in the room. Chadwick’s left hand moved from your waist to fondle your breasts while he kissed your shoulder blade.

“You gon’ cum for me, baby girl? I wanna feel you all over this dick.”

“Mhmm! Yesyesyesyes!”

“Good. Tell everybody on this floor who got you this wet.”

“You, Aaron!”

“That’s right,” he smiled against your shoulder. “Tell everybody who’s making you feel like this, Queen.”

“Fuck,” you gasped as the first wave of your release came crashing down “You, baby!”

Knowing and feeling how close you were to his desired goal, Chadwick straightened his body and pulled your arms behind your back for leverage. With your arms crossed in the middle of your back, your body shook through a gushing orgasm, soaking your legs and his to match the tears rolling down your face.

The strength of your release, the pulsing contractions of your walls surrounding him, and the waning effects of the alcohol contributed to your husband’s pursuit of his own orgasm.

“I’m ‘bout to cum, T. Can I c-”

“Do it on my face, Daddy.”

His eyes searched yours for any sign of reluctance or a joke but found none. He couldn’t believe that you of all people would make such a request. He was intrigued and ready to live out a dark fantasy from his late teens.

He pulled out of your pussy and jerked himself until you were situated on your knees in front of him. Pushing his hands away, you took over.

Your hands twisted in alternating directions as your mouth focused on the head of his dick.

“Got damn, Co, just like that,” he groaned with his hands palming the back of your disheveled cornrows. “Fuck, let me finish.”

Your hands relinquished control to slide up and down his thighs while you braced yourself. Chadwick pumped at his shaft vigorously, moaning and rasping incoherent phrases until he was at his peak.

His release came complete with a booming grunt and his toes curling beneath him as ropes of thick cum sputtered across the smooth plain of your cheeks and mouth. You thought you’d feel disgusting, but the more he came, the more you felt like the most powerful woman in the world.

His massive head tapped against your lips until he was sure there was nothing left to give you. Immediately, your tongue jetted from your mouth to taste all that you could reach.

“Mmm, you taste so good, Daddy,” you purred, still covered in his cum.

Cupping your face, he pulled you to your feet while enthralling you in a kiss so passionate you could feel your knees buckling below you.

After what felt like an extra ten minutes of kissing, Chadwick left to fetch a warm towel to clean both of you up.

“Damn, Lil Bow Wow, who knew you were down to get this nasty?”

“Did you just call me Bow Wow,” you laughed. “How rude! I was going for Queen Latifah in set it off.”

“Right now you’re Skin Diamond, and I’m not mad at it. This was definitely top five between us. I’m willing to give it the number one spot.”

“Oooh! Wanna see if we can...top it? You’re not too tired, are you?” You pulled your bottom lip into your mouth, hoping that he would agree to one more round before you were forced into quiet sex when the kids were asleep.

He quirked an eyebrow at you with a smug smile, “Is that a challenge? You must be trynna make another baby.”

“Woah, no! That is not what I said! Put me down!” Your squeals and giggles fell on deaf ears as Chadwick hoisted you over his shoulder to carry you to the hotel balcony.

“Nah, you were talkin’ real tough, CoCo! We ‘bout to make a baby on this balcony. Hell, we at least gon’ get some good practice in!”

                               ______________

TAGS: @njadont @k-michaelis  @wakandanmoonchild  @idilly  @texasbama @afraiddreamingandloving  @inxan-ity  @daytimeheroicsonly  @onyour-right @brianabreeze  @sisterwifeudaku  @ironsquad @killmongerdispussy @90sinspiredgirl  @willowtree77785901  @maynardqueen101  @heyauntieeee@halfrican-heat  @purple-apricots  @lalapalooza718 @blue-ishx @profilia @ljstraightnochaser  @girl-wtf-lmao  @dramaqueenamby  @royallyprincesslilly@melaninmarvel  @thiccdaddy-mbaku  @lavitabella87 @purplehairgawdess@unholyxcumbucket  @airis-paris14  @uhlxis @oshasimone @maliadestiny@drsunshine97  @cozyshack2 @zxddy-panther @queentearra @skysynclair19 @retro-melanin @mermaidchansons @misspooh @melanisticroyalty @babygirlofwakanda @wakanda-4evr @sarahboseman  @karensraisns@blackmissmarvel @wakandankings  @kaykay4454fan @ororowrites@awkwardlyabstract @mixedmelanin  @brownsugarcocoabutterwildflowers@sunflowerpsalms  @panthergoddessbast @justanotherloveaffair @jaeee-http @iliketowrite1996 @blackpantherismyish @thompettiedatheaux @msincognito67 @reignsxjackson @yaachtynoboat711 @syreanne  @ilcb7@minim236 @yoyolovesbucky

[ranwing]

Kadam Fic: Learning to Fly (11/?)

Title: Learning to Fly Series: A New Direction (was Season Four Remix) Pairing(s), Characters(s): Kadam, Kurt Hummel, Adam Crawford, Burt Hummel, Rachel Berry, Santana Lopez, Carmen Tibideaux, Cassandra July, Artie Abrams, Tina Cohen-Chang, Elliot “Starchild” Gilbert, Dani, Adam’s Apples, Original Characters Rating: PG13 (rating may change) Genre(s): canon divergence. Parts: 11/? Summary: As another school year starts at NYADA, Kurt seemed to have it all. The respect of his teachers, a group of wonderful friends and best of all, getting to live with the man that he’d come to love. So of course the universe would throw a few curve balls in his direction.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten

Read on AO3

“Come on!” Analisa giggled as their group all but ran down the street, urging the others to pick up their pace.

Kurt laughed as he followed in her wake, holding Rachel’s hand as they rushed along. “It’s not like they’re going to lock us out,” he reminded his friend.

Jamie came up from behind them, his arm about Katya’s shoulders so that his girlfriend didn’t fall behind. “Oh, don’t try to play it so cool, Hummel,” he teased. “You want to see those sets as much as the rest of us.”

Kurt couldn’t deny that. With just a short three weeks before they went into tech, the excitement over their impending opening night was taking hold of the entire cast. Even with the increased rehearsal times taking up what little time outside of class they had, they were relishing the hard work because they were now starting to see all their efforts coming to fruition. Seeing the stage and sets would really cement just how close they were.

“Oh my God!” Rachel squealed as they approached the theater and saw the poster proclaiming the limited run of NYADA’s benefit production. The poster bore the classic illustration of young Cossette from the Castle on a Cloud number. In lieu of featuring the lead actors, the poster listed the faculty involving in staging the show since all were well known in the industry and sure to pull in a crowd. Rachel was positively quivering with excitement.

Katya was calmer, at least on the surface, looking at the façade of the theater with an admiring eye. “It’s so beautiful,” she marveled happily, running a hand over some of the decorative tilework.

Jamie stepped up to her and wrapped his arms about her body to pull her close. “I can’t believe that we’re actually going to be performing here,” he chimed in, looking up at the marque. “I feel like we’re dreaming.”

Analisa laughed brightly and took Kurt’s other arm, resting her head on his shoulder. “This is real,” she sighed happily. “It’s really happening.”

Kurt gently kissed the tops of both his girl’s heads. “Come on,” he urged. “Let’s get a look at those sets.”

They walked to the closed stage door and Jamie knocked on it politely. The door unlocked and a stocky older man in a security uniform poked his head out. “Yeah?” he asked questioningly. “You kids with NYADA?”

They all held up their freshly minted theater ID cards that would grant them admission to the stage area. “Yes sir,” Rachel answered politely. “We know that there’s no rehearsal scheduled, but we just wanted to see the stage area. If that’s okay.”

The guard shook his head in mock annoyance. “It’s been a damn parade with you kids coming in all day. All right… come on.” He held the door open for them.

They hurried past, not wanting to strain his good will. “Thank you so much,” Kurt said sincerely as they stepped inside.

“It’s okay,” the guard assured them, a tolerant smile on his face. He’d seen enough young performers during his years at the theater and could appreciate their excitement. “There are a bunch working on the sets right now, so don’t get in their way. Take a look around and let me know when you’re ready to leave.”

“We will,” Analisa said happily. “Thanks again.”

“Have fun, kids,” he urged with a smile.

The five students walked through the backstage area and looked about, checking out the dressing rooms with long lines of makeup tables with lighted mirrors and racks to hold costumes for the actors. Kurt couldn’t resist sitting down in one of the chairs, mentally picturing himself getting ready for a performance and feeling his stomach flip with excitement. He began to picture where everything would go…. Adam’s picture would need to be in a place where he could easily see it, and his makeup kit would be at his right so that he would have no problem finding things. His friend classmates would be clustered as they prepared for the show with the air buzzing with excitement… It was perfect.

Rachel leaned over his shoulder so that they shared the reflection in the mirror, her hand pressed gently to his arm. “It never gets old, does it?” she asked softly, her dark eyes shining. “The excitement of a new show, I mean. All the hard work getting us to this point makes it worthwhile.”

He shook his head, smiling. “No, it definitely doesn’t,” he agreed. “Even back in high school, there was always that trilled before a performance. I think that I love the preparation as much as I do the actual show.”

She nodded, resting her head against his. “I know you do. I’m still learning to,” she claimed. “And I don’t think that I could be more thrilled right now, even if I had a major role. Just being part of this show… getting to be in this theater…”

He reached up to squeeze her hand.

“Hey guy,” Analisa chirped happily from the door. “Come on! They’re working on the sets now.”

Rachel stepped back to let Kurt rise from his seat, holding his hand as they rejoined the rest of the group. Jamie was studying the lights and rigging, pointing out just how complex a system this theater boasted. It was far more advanced than even the largest performance stage in NYADA. The technical team would be able to do pretty much anything they wanted, creating all sorts for interesting lighting effects for whatever their production required. Kurt could only imagine what they would be able to do for scenes like the barricade battle.

“Oh… wow…” Katya breathed when she got her first look at the elaborate set taking form on the stage.

Kurt looked and felt his mouth drawing into a wide grin. It appeared that this was the set for the Saint Michele scenes, showing the worn, weather-beaten frontage of the slums they were supposed to represent. Somehow the set builders managed to create the illusion of a town square framed by several two-story buildings. There were balconies and walkways that would allow the actors to work on multiple levels, giving the audience the impression of a slum teeming with the destitute and desperate. There were signs for businesses, including the café where the Friends of the ABC would meet, a few streetlamps and even a workable street cart.

Rachel’s eyes were shining and her smile brilliant as she looked over the set. Someone decided at that moment to test the electrical elements and the windows within the buildings began to glow with what would look like soft candle light to the audience. The streetlamps began to flicker with what looked like gas flames. The shadows cast on the buildings was beautiful but deepened the realistic sense of poverty they were meant to portray.

“This is fantastic,” she gasped in amazement. “I can’t believe they built all this so quickly.”

“They’ve been working on the sets for months,” Kurt reminded her. “They’ve been working as hard as we’ve been. And for as long.”

Rachel nodded, raising her head so she could see the balconies and signages. “It’s funny, but I’ve never given a whole lot of thought about what the technical teams do,” she admitted. “Of about how much work they put into it. I could never have imagined that our sets would look like this.”

Kurt nodded, admiring the way the creative way the designers seemed to fill the stage. Unlike the original Broadway production, they didn’t have the luxury of a turntable stage to work with, so the set builders had to be more creative. Kurt saw that they could use the sheer size of the stage, easily the largest he had ever stood on, to show the passage of distance and time. The stage was easily big enough to contain multiple set pieces that could be moved about on tracks and wheels, and quite a few elements could be used for multiple scenes.

Analisa walked across the stage from one end to the other, sizing it up. “I can’t believe that we’re actually going to be performing here,” she marveled. “This is…” She shook her head, at a loss for words.

Kurt totally understood what she was feeling. They’d all performed in some fairly sizable venues before, but this was completely on another level for all of them. Kurt compared this stage to the one for the Garrison Festival and it felt like he was standing in another world altogether. He was having a hard time wrapping his mind around the fact that this was real and actually happening to him.

“Guy… you’ve got to see this,” Jamie called out from the edge of the stage. He motioned them over and urged, “Take a look.”

Kurt and Rachel stepped forward to join him and Katya and Kurt felt his jaw drop open in shock. With the curtains drawn back, they could easily see the entire theater. Kurt eyes were wide with wonder as he looked about, amazed by the sheer scope of the place.

The first things that struck Kurt were the seats. There were just so many of them, upholstered in peacock blue velvet. He started to count them but quickly gave up because of the sheer number. From the stage and with the house lights on, they could easily see the size of each section; orchestra, mezzanine, and balcony. He knew that he shouldn’t have been surprised as they’d all looked up information on the theater and knew that the main stage boasted over two thousand seats. But seeing it in person from the stage and realizing that in just a matter of weeks all those seats were going to be filled with people watching them… he felt his knees start to tremble.

He forced himself to look away from the ocean of seats, least his nerves get the better of him and send him running from the theater. The space itself was astonishingly beautiful, probably one of the most stunningly elegant venues he’d ever stood in. Done in a Moorish revival style, the fanciful woodwork designs made the entire theater look like something out of some sort of fantasy. He looked up at the ceiling, seeing the intricate design of stars and geometric patterns supporting an elaborate hanging chandelier.

This was not a basic auditorium. This was a stage that demanded excellence in every way and it was now striking the group that this was far beyond any of them as individual performers. This was far beyond even NYADA. This was about a spot in a shared history of theater that they needed to rise up to. Whatever they accomplished in this venue would hold a significant place in their careers and could be an important mark in the rich history of this beautiful theater.

It wasn’t as if they didn’t know why they were at NYADA. However much they felt they needed to learn or enjoyed their classes, this was all about preparing them for a professional career. To be able to stand on stages like this and be able to handle the pressure. This challenge would help give them the strength and the confidence to step into that phase of their lives.

Kurt looked to Rachel, who had the same dazed expression that he was sure was on his own face. Part of him was glad to see that his friend was just as taken aback by the grandeur of the theater that they would be performing in. This was so different from the time when they’d stood upon the Gershwin Theater stage, because that moment had been all about dreams and fantasies about the future. This was reality and it was terrifying.

And if Rachel, with her legendary confidence was overwhelmed by what they were facing, what hope was there for him? For any of them?

The five of them stood in silence, looking over the empty theater and imagining the seats filled with and appreciative audience. They pictured friends and family seated in the front rows, cheering their performances. The weight of the awaiting task struck them all and they huddled close together for mutual support.

Hours later found Rachel and Kurt in his dorm room, taking a moment to relax and have a snack before they were due at rehearsal. Kurt look to his friend, who was sitting cross-legged on his bed with a thoughtful expression on her face.

“Are you okay?” he asked, offering a box of brownies that had come in his last care package from Carole. “You’ve been awfully quiet since we left the theater.”

“Just thinking,” she admitted, accepting a piece but not bringing it to her mouth. She sat there holding it in her hand, looking deep in thought and a little lost.

“Anything I can help with?” he asked, taking a bite and washing it down with a sip of tea.

She didn’t answer immediately, taking her time to consider what she needed to say. It was rare that Kurt saw her so introspective, so he gave her the room to gather her thoughts. It was several minutes before she spoke up.

“When we were at the theater, I couldn’t help thinking about Funny Girl,” she said carefully.

Kurt offered her a gentle, supportive smile. “That doesn’t surprise me,” he acknowledged. He was aware of just how much that missed opportunity still haunted her.

She smiled, grateful for his understanding. “Back when I was rejected, that was without question the worst moment of my life. I know that it sounds positively childish, because I know that a lot of people have been through so much worse. But it felt like my world was ending.”

Kurt nodded, remembering the funk of self-pity that she’d sunk into those first days before she was able to claw her way back to some semblance of normalcy. Accepting failure, this failure in particular, had come very hard for her. Admittedly, his patience with her at that time had been somewhat limited given how easy a road she’d had up until that moment. After all the time’s he’d been rejected, often in favor of her, watching her orgy of self-pity had been hard to swallow.

She sighed and took a bite of her brownie. “When we were standing on that stage and looking out over the theater… well, it made me realize how lucky I’d really been. To not get Fanny, I mean.”

He raised an eyebrow in surprise. That had not been the respond he was expecting.

She saw his expression and couldn’t help from smiling. “I guess you weren’t expecting to hear that coming from me,” she chuckled ironically.

Kurt shook his head. “No, definitely not that. If there’s anything you’ve ever been confident about, it’s been performing.”

She shrugged, swallowing the last of her treat. “I just understand now that I really wasn’t ready. Not for auditioning, not for handling rejection or criticism… how would I have been able to face an audience like that by myself?”

Rachel looked down into the depths of her teacup. “You know me as well as I do about how I would have behaved. I would have totally ignored the rest of the cast and the tech team,” she admitted. “It would only have seen them as being there to showcase myself. And I probably would have flamed out pretty quickly.”

Kurt couldn’t find fault with anything she was saying. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t thought those very same things, but it was a shock to hear it coming from Rachel herself.

She nodded, as if satisfied with her answer. “I’ve been dreaming of playing parts like Fanny and Eponine my whole life. It was everything that I ever wanted and missing out on that chance… I’m not going to lie. It nearly broke me. But I understand now that sometimes just wanting something really badly isn’t enough. I understand that I needed to go through that process, and not get it, so I could see just what I’m getting into.”

“Hopefully, one day I’ll really be ready for it,” she said with determination. “I know that right now, I’m not. Being in the chorus for our show… I get that this is what I need. Facing a huge audience like we’re going to by myself… I just wouldn’t have been able to handle it. So I understand that losing Fanny was really the best thing for me in the end. I’m just sorry it took me so long to see it and that I made it so hard on you.

It’s okay,” he assured her gently, moving closer and placing his arm about her. “I know how difficult that was for you, and I’m so proud of how far you’ve come since then. Admitting that you’re not ready for something is never easy, but I know that you’ll get your moment.”

“I just hope that when it comes that I’ll really be ready for it,” she said with a sigh. “What happens if I can’t?”

He just smiled. “You’ll do what you’ve always done. You might struggle, but you will shine.”

She rested her head against his shoulder, taking comfort in his presence. “I don’t know what I would have done without you,” she said softly. “You’ve always been such an inspiration for me. I wish that I had half your strength.”

Kurt signed, not wanting to examine his own fears too closely at the moment. If Rachel was afraid of failing when her moment of stardom arrived, what did that say about his fear that his moment might never come at all?

“Sometimes I don’t feel so strong,” he admitted reluctantly, knowing that his friend deserved his honesty. “I’m not going to lie to myself. I know that I’m not going to get the kind of chances that you will. I’m not as easy to fit into roles, and…

“Now you stop it right there,” Rachel interrupted, looking up at her friend with a stern expression. “I know that you’ve gotten shafted in a lot of ways. Quite a few times because of me, but look how far you’ve come! You’re in the one of the best schools in the country…”

“That I had to audition twice for,” he reminded her.

Sher gave him an impatient stare. “So what?” she demanded. What does it matter how many times you had to try? You made it! There are thousands of people out there who’ve tried multiple times that never made it as far as you have. I might have gotten in first, but I had my head so far up my own ass that I nearly threw it all away.

“And look what you’ve done since! You’re a standout at NYADA. You’ve already performed on a professional stage,” Rachel reminded him. “Maybe you won’t hit it big on your first attempt. Or your second, or your third. I didn’t either, and you didn’t let me wallow. You’ve been proving how amazing you are since the moment I first met you and I don’t think there’s anything you can’t do. You don’t just have the talent… you’ve got the strength and the determination that I wish I had.”

Kurt couldn’t help from smiling at her full-throated show of support. “You’re not going to let me give up ever. Are you?”

She grinned, giving him a playful poke in the ribs that caused him to laugh. “Nope. So suck it up, mister. I’m going to need a suitable escort when I’m accepting my first Tony… someone that matches my talent and success and you’re obviously it. There’s no way that I’m walking it there without the biggest star next to me on my arm.”

* * *

If anyone was delusional enough to think that their teachers would be taking it a little easier on them with tech week rapidly approaching, they at least weren’t foolish enough to complain when that didn’t come to pass. If anything, the challenges became steeper, the pressure on them to excel pushing them to the point of breaking at times. Adequate sleep became a distant memory as their every waking moment was filled with work, whether for their classes or the show.

And it came as no surprise to anyone that Madam Tibideaux was the most difficult of the lot. She swept into the classroom in an elegant swirl of silk and brocade, dressed in rich tones of green and blue as if to herald the slowly approaching spring and followed by her favorite pianist, who would provide the music to accompany the students.

“Good morning all,” she greeted with a calm smile on her face.

They answered back politely from their seats and waited for her to take her place at the front of the room. She pulled her lesson plan folder out of her briefcase and opened it to review her own notes for the day’s session.

“I know that for most of you tech week is rapidly approaching and you’ve been working very hard outside your classes. But I’d be remiss as your teacher if we let that interfere with our lesson plans,” she pronounced, chuckling at the mild groans coming from her class. “Still, I think that we should try something a little different today that you should enjoy.

“By now, all of you should have a better understanding of who you are as artists. You’ve had a chance to learn and grow at NYADA and hopefully have begun to discover what you are truly capable of. For some of you, that probably means a real shift in what you’ve come to expect of yourselves. So today, you’re going to show me what you’ve learned is your greatest attribute as a performer in a single song performance.

“What I’m looking for is a deeper understanding of the material you’ve chosen and your connection to it,” she explained them. “And to shake things up a little bit, I’m giving you the freedom to pick a song from any genre you’d like. In fact, I’m encouraging you to look beyond musical theater so that you’re not tempted to emulate a specific character. Whatever genre you feel lets you encapsulate who you believe you’ve become as an artist, I want to see you and your personal emotional journey. This is going to test your musical knowledge as well as your ability to interpret your choices and I’m hoping to see some interesting things this morning.

“So… let us begin, shall we? Mr. Michalec, if you don’t mind…”

Kurt saw that they would not be going in alphabetical order, which meant that they could be called up at any moment and had best be prepared because few things enraged their teacher more than being delayed by someone else’s tardiness. Picking a song that reflected who he was as a performer was a challenging prospect, and he wanted to make sure that he picked something that fully displayed his abilities.

As several of his classmates went up before he was called, Kurt thought quickly about what his best attributes were and what songs would best reflect them. He considered what sheet music he had with him and thought that he had a very appropriate choice.

When Rachel was called before him, he paid close attention to his friend, wanting to see what she had in mind. She stepped to the front of the classroom and handed her sheet music to the pianist before turning to face her classmates. When the music began to play, she turned her mental focus inward.

“Don’t want to be second best. Don’t want to stand in line. Don’t want to fall behind,” she sang softly, making it clear that she was willing to acknowledge her shortcomings in a very public manner. “Don’t want to get caught out. Don’t want do without. Oh, and the lesson I must learn is that I’ve got to wait my turn?”

She restrained her normal tendency to belt, making her performance more introspective than they usually saw from her. “Looks like I got to be hot and cold,” she admitted. “I got to be taught and told. Got to be good as gold.

“But perfectly… honestly… Oh, I think it would be good for me,” she proposed, her voice carrying through the classroom sweetly and gently. “’Cause it’s a hindrance to my health, if I’m a stranger to myself.”

Kurt felt himself smiling, glad to see Rachel putting on such a vulnerable display. Admitting to mistakes was never easy, especially in front of people who’d seen you when you did so. Everyone in that room had seen Rachel’s rise and crashing fall so confessing her flaws like this had to be difficult for her.

“Oh, miniature disasters and minor catastrophes bring me to my knees,” Rachel admitted. “Well, I must be my own master. Or a miniature disaster will be… oh… it will be the death of me.”

Admitting that she was entirely at fault for the misfortunes that had befallen her had to difficult, he thought. But it showed how much she’d grown that she was able to do that, and prove that she had come such a long way since she nearly flamed out.

She looked gently vulnerable standing before her classmates, laying her frailties bare. To see someone who normally displayed overwhelming confidence so emotionally exposed was heartbreaking. Kurt believed that even Rachel’s worst detractors would be moved by her performance.

“And I’ll find out the answers when I know what to ask,” she promised. “But I speak a different language, and everybody’s talking too fast.

“Well, I’ve got to run a little faster,” Rachel sang, finally allowing some of the power that she’d been so adeptly restraining to show. “Or a miniature disaster will be. Oh well, I need to know I’ll last… If a miniature disaster hits me…. It will be the death of me.”

Madam Tibideaux gave a nod of approval. “Lovely, Ms. Berry,” she complimented. “That was probably one of the most emotionally sincere performances I’ve seen from you.”

“Thank you, Madam,” Rachel said sincerely, offering her teacher a small smile.

“You had a clear connection with that song and it certainly came out in your voice, which is what we were aiming for.” Their teacher paused, appearing thoughtful for a moment.

“If there was one flaw, it is that your voice still comes across as a bit too polished, which can sometimes make the sentiment feel artificial,” she said carefully. “I’d like to see you try to relax a bit more. I think the emotional resonance would be stronger if you let a slightly rawer edge come out in your tone.”

Rachel nodded, accepting the criticism with good grace. “I’ll definitely try that. I just find it hard to relax that much.”

Their teacher nodded understandingly. “It’s going to take a bit of practice,” she acknowledged. “Because you’re going to be unlearning some of the habits you’re gotten into, but it will help you with playing many characters. Especially with a lot of the more modern musicals. Being able to adapt your voice to a wide variety of styles is going to be vital to making yourself a marketable prospect. You have to keep in mind not to allow your chosen style of singing to interfere with the character you’re seeking to play.”

Rachel nodded, making it clear that she was paying attention before taking her seat so the next student could perform.

“You were great!” he whispered.

“Just once,” she muttered, just loud enough for Kurt to hear. “Just once I’d like to get feedback from her that didn’t point out what I didn’t do.”

Kurt chuckled, giving her a playful nudge. “Like that’s ever going to happen.”

She offered him a soft smile. “Hey, I can dream. Can’t I?”

After their classmate had received his critiques, which in Kurt’s opinion was harsher than the feedback Rachel had been given, Madam Tibideaux summoned Kurt to take his place at the front of the room.

“Mr. Hummel? If you’re ready,” she invited. “I hope that you’ve got something interesting in mind.”

Kurt handed his sheet music to the pianist before turning to face his teacher. When the music began, he took a breath, hoping that he made the right choice.

“Feeling broken, barely holding on,” Kurt sang, his voice slipping neatly into the lower end of his range so that he could start in the song’s original key. “But there’s something so strong, somewhere inside of me. And I am down, but I’ll get up again. Don’t count me out just yet.

“I’ve been brought down to my knees,” he stated, thinking back to all the times when life had just seemed too hard to stand. “And I’ve been pushed way past the point of breaking. But I can take it. I’ll be back on my feet. This is far from over. You haven’t seen the last of me.”

How many times did he think it would be easier to just give up? How often should he have been expected to just shake off the cruelties that life foisted upon him? Losing his mother, nearly losing his father. Growing up in a town that hated him for just being and finding himself the target of whatever petty torments his peers felt like inflicting.

“They can say that I won’t stay around,” he claimed, remembering the dark moment when ending it all seemed like more than just an idle consideration. He wondered if anyone really knew just how close he’d come to that irreversible decision. How much of the reason that he was standing there was only because he didn’t want to prove the naysayers right. Maybe sometimes that was all that he needed to keep going.

“But I’m gonna stand my ground! You’re not gonna stop me!” he proclaimed. “You don’t know me, you don’t know who I am. Don’t count me out so fast.”

All of the things that nearly broke him only made him stronger. The mornings that found him crawling out of a dumpster before class. The nights when he had to shower off urine thrown at him before his father got home and found him. The numerous times when he had to content himself to being in the background, and when Blaine’s infidelity shattered his heart. Any one of them could have destroyed him, but they only made him more determined.

“I’ve been brought down to my knees. And I’ve been pushed way past the point of breaking! But I can take it! I’ll be back, back on my feet,” he warned. “This is far from over. You haven’t seen the last of me.”

He heard the key change in the music and looked up at his classmates with a stare of fierce determination. “There will be no fade out! This is not the end!” he warned, his voice sliding neatly into his mid-range. “I’m down now but I’ll be standing tall again! Times are hard, but I was built tough. I’m gonna show you all what I’m made of!”

“I’ve been brought down to my knees. And I’ve been pushed way past the point of breaking! But I can take it! I’ll be back on my feet,” he proclaimed confidently. “This is far from over. I am far from over! You haven’t seen the last of me!

“No, no! I’m not going anywhere! I’m staying right here! Oh no, you won’t see me begging. I’m not taking my bow, can’t stop me! It’s not the end, you haven’t seen the last of me. Oh no! You haven’t seen the last of me! You haven’t seen the last of me…”

His voice trailed off as the music, leaving him standing to face his teacher’s judgement. Madam Tibideaux considered her student thoughtfully, his expression inscrutable as she considered his efforts. This was the part he hated, because he knew that she would miss absolutely nothing and would not hesitate to call him out on any mistakes in front of the rest of the class. But this is what he needed, he mentally reminded himself.

“Well, yet again you’ve shown your adeptness in selecting material,” his teacher granted graciously. “That was an ideal choice for you and it was clear that you not only have a lot of affection for this song, but feel a deep personal connection to its message. That came out very clearly in your performance.”

So far, so good, he mentally sighed. He’d succeeded in the major focus of the lesson so that was a bit of a relief. Now for the nitpicking on technique that he knew was coming.

“You made very good use of your lower and middle range,” Madam Tibideaux said appraisingly. “And I did like the measured use of power at certain points, because this would have been an easy song to over sing. Balancing restraint and power is always a challenge that we have to consider in presenting a song to its best potential. But I do think that you missed a chance to make use of the whole of your range. The song might have benefited from some points done in a higher octave since that’s one of the chief elements that make you such a unique singer.”

Kurt nodded, not able to fault his teacher on her reasoning. He had been shying away from his upper range lately in a lot of classwork exercises and it had been only a matter of time before she called him out on it. Just because he was training his voice to take advantage of conventional tenor roles didn’t mean that she didn’t want him to develop all of his talents.

He considered her critique of his performance and realized that he needed to show her that he wasn’t dismissing that aspect of his talents at his private session with her that morning. Many students found being alone with her in a classroom intimidating, but Kurt was looking forward to trying something new. Worse comes to worse, she would help him refocus on the direction she felt would serve him best.

“I was thinking about what you said in class,” he acknowledged as he handed his sheet music to the pianist. “I didn’t realize that I’d neglected my upper register that much lately.”

“We have been focusing on your lower and middle range to strengthen your control and projection the past few weeks,” Madam Tibideaux granted with a gentle smile. “But I don’t want to lose sight of the rest of your abilities. Granted, there aren’t very many roles written that would utilize that aspect of your register currently, but we don’t know what might exist in the future. You have a very unique talent and I want to make sure that you develop it to its fullest potential.

“So… let’s see what you have to show me,” she urged, nodding to the pianist to begin.

Kurt mentally centered himself and closed his eyes, letting the gentle music washing over him. This would be something quite different than Madam Tibideaux has heard from him before and he wanted to give it his best effort.

“When the dark wood fell before me, and all the paths were overgrown,” he sang softly, his voice slipping neatly into his upper register. “When the priests of pride say there is no other way, I tilled the sorrows of stone.”

Kurt looked to his teacher, his voice lilting gently and sweetly on the swell of the music. “I did not believe because I could not see,” he claimed. “Though you came to me in the night. When the dawn seemed forever lost, you showed me your love in the light of the stars.

“Cast your eyes to the ocean. Cast your soul to the sea,” he urged, feeding a bit of power into his high notes. “When the dark night seems endless, please remember me.”

He could feel his teacher’s gaze upon him, her dark eyes catching every element of his performance. His voice, his breathing, his expression… he left nothing to chance and wanted to give his teacher what she expected of him.

“Then the mountain rose before me, by the deep well of desire,” he sang, going into the highest notes of his range. For once, they felt well supported and didn’t sound thin or weak. “From the fountain of forgiveness, beyond the ice and the fire.”

Madam Tibideaux was making notes, her pen scratching on the pad in her hands.

Kurt tuned out whatever he thought she might be writing about him, focusing on engaging his head voice in a way that sounded like notes on a spring breeze. “Though we share this humble path, alone,” he breathed, engaging his diaphram to support the notes. “How fragile is the heart. Oh, give these clay feet wings to fly. To touch the face of the stars.

“Breathe life into this feeble heart. Lift this mortal veil of fear. Take these crumbled hopes, etched with tears. We’ll rise above these earthly cares.”

The pianist began to play with more volume as she brought the music to its climax and Kurt tried to bring more power into his voice. This was the most difficult challenge for him, pushing his voice to its limit.

“Cast your eyes to the ocean,” he urged, letting his voice free like a dove taking flight. “Cast your soul to the sea. When the dark night seems endless, please remember me… please remember me…”

His teacher didn’t launch immediately into her critique, taking a moment to consider what he’d just offered her. When she finally smiled, he let out a sigh of relief.

“That,” she said, pointing at him with her pen. “That is exactly what I wanted to see from you. That was everything I knew you were capable of.” She shook her head in befuddlement. “Why are you so afraid of that… that gift?”

Kurt blinked, not having expected a question like that.

“I...”

She looked at her student with a frank expression. “I’ve taught so many students in my career. Some of the most talented vocalists in the world, but I have never met someone capable of so much and so intimidated by it. You don’t just have talent. You have a genuine gift as a performer! Why are you holding yourself back? Because there is no one in this school who could have sung that song the way you just did.”

Kurt’s intake of breath went hard into his chest, her words taking him by shock. He wasn’t afraid. Was he? Not of his voice, which he had always seen as one of his most important assets. He was even more surprised when his teacher turned to the pianist and asked her to leave.

“Megan, can you take a break and give us a few minutes?” she requested. “Mr. Hummel and I need to have a chat.”

“Of course,” the other woman said agreeably. “I’ll be back in five or so.”

Once the door closed behind her, Madam Tibideaux took Kurt’s hand and guided him to a seat. “Talk to me,” she urged gently, sitting down next to him. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Kurt looked down at his feet, feeling the heat of an embarrassed flush coming onto his face. “Madam… I…”

She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, her grip gentle and firm.

He inhaled deeply, not wanting to make a fool of himself. “Back in school… before I came to New York, I knew that I was talented,” he acknowledged, hoping that he didn’t sound too arrogant. “But it never got me very much. In our choir, I never was chosen for a lead or solo when it mattered. You saw my application. The one solo I had was because the guy I liked at the time was trying to win me over. I never got one because anyone thought that I actually deserved it. I know that I was one of the best singers in my group, but I always was passed over in favor in guys who… well, who sounded like guys. Singing like this… I just get so tired of being told that I sound like a girl.”

He looked at her, daring to speak frankly. “The only times I ever seemed to get rewarded was when I sang like everyone else. Even my NYADA audition… I had to sing in my lower range to get it. My first audition didn’t work so why kind of a message was I supposed to get? It’s not that I’m afraid of my voice, but I know that my only shot of having any kind of career is to make myself as conventional as possible.”

Madam Tibideaux watched him carefully, her normally flinty gaze softening. “If that was the lesson that you look from your admission, then I deeply regret that. The feedback I gave you that day when you first auditioned was sincere. I meant every word of it. And the song you sang and the way you sang it had absolutely no bearing on why I had to reject you. Nor was your song choice and the way you sang it at Winter Showcase the reason why I admitted you, beyond its excellence. The only reason I had to reject you the first time was your lack of performance experience, nothing else. I knew that you had talent. What I needed you to prove to me was that you were able to take a blow, get up again and keep trying.”

She lifted her free hand and patted his chest over his heart. “That, you proved to me. You proved your strength and your heart. And you know that you have that strength judging by the song you performed this morning. There are hundreds of talented people that don’t get nearly as far as you already have because they don’t have a fraction of the courage you have in you. That is what separates you from ninety percent of the other students in this school. And that is going to the reason that you succeed in life.”

The smile she offered was just enough teeth to be dangerous. “Of course, having a three-octave range isn’t going to hurt, will it?”

Kurt couldn’t help from laughing. “No, I guess not,” he granted. “I just am so tired being laughed at the way I’d been for daring to think that I could handle a part.”

“Do you see me laughing?” his teacher demanded gently, granting him a rare smile. “The one thing I will never do is lie about my opinion about your talent or your prospects. I’m not going to paint a rosy picture and tell you that it’s going to be easy, but I’m also not going to shoot you down before you even try.”

She patted his hand and released it to stand before him. “I’m very glad that you proved me right, Mr. Hummel. That you had the strength and the courage to keep trying. And that you are everything that I hoped you would be.”

Kurt looked up and watched as she walked across the room, her robes swirling softly about her feet. “I think that we’re about done today,” she proclaimed. “I want you to think about what we discussed and keep it in mind going forward. You’re going to find many obstacles in your career, Mr. Hummel. Don’t be one of them yourself. That was a lesson that I needed to learn myself when I was in your place.”

He nodded in understanding. “I will, Madam,” he assured her.

Her smile softened. “Good. Now one last thing…” She went to her bag and pulled out an envelope of fine heavy stationary embossed with the NYADA logo. “If you’re going to work in the next day or so, I’d appreciate it if you could bring Ms. Wright her tickets for the opening night of our production and the benefit gala. And my letter to thank her for her exceedingly lavish donation.”

“Isabelle did that?” Kurt asked in surprise, to which his teacher nodded and chuckled.

“Yes, she did. And very, very generously,” Madam Tibideaux confirmed. “She mentioned believing very much in NYADA’s mission. And the mission of a particular student.”

Kurt felt his cheeks burning but accepted the envelope. “I’ll make sure she gets it,” he promised. “I’ll run it over this afternoon.”

“Good. Good,” his teacher said agreeably. “Then I will see you at class later this week. And Mr. Hummel… make sure that you’re prepared to work your upper register a bit more. Let’s not allow that gift of yours to go to waste.”

Kurt nodded, finally allowing himself to smile. “I’ve got a few songs in mind to try out,” he offered, and she nodded in approval.

“Then we’ll see what you’re really capable of,” she warned with a twinkle in her eye.

He couldn’t help from laughing, wondering if she thought that she had been taking it easy on him thus far.

* * *

The offices of Vogue were their usual display of highly fashionable chaos, with editors, writers and designers running in and out. Kurt loved being there, enjoying being in the thick of things. Whether it was setting up for meetings with VIP guests, copywriting articles or answering the phone and running interference for Isabelle, he had a lot of fun working and felt like he fit in a way that he rarely did elsewhere.

Isabelle’s door was open and he heard her and Chase inside talking avidly about some project they were working on. “Isabelle? Do you have a minute?” Kurt called out to her, placing his jacket and bag at his desk.

She poked her head out, her long curly hair pulled into a lose tail at the back of her head. “Kurt? I thought you weren’t due in until tomorrow morning.”

“I was just bringing over your tickets from Madam Tibideaux,” he answered, holding up the envelope.

His boss’s smile brightened. “Oh good! Why don’t you come in here? I’ve got something to show you.”

Kurt grinned and stepped into her office. “You didn’t tell me that you were donating to NYADA. I mean, that’s amazing that you did,” he commented.

She reached up to take his arm. “I just wanted to surprise you,” she explained. “I know how much NYADA means to you and we wanted to support you there. It’s all for a good cause and I’m happy to do it.”

“That’s still really generous of you,” Kurt insisted.

She laughed and gave him a quick squeeze. “Sweetie, I’m so happy to! You’re one of ours and while I’m still lamenting your career choices, we want you to achieve everything you’ve dreamed of. I can’t wait to see you on that big stage, showing off what you can do so everyone sees what we’ve seen all along.”

Kurt felt his throat tightening, momentarily overwhelmed by her confidence in him. No matter where his career took him, he knew that he would always owe a great deal to Isabelle who had supported him nearly from the moment he first set foot in New York.

Chase was working on a dressed manikin by the window and looked up at their approach. “Well, I guess the cat is out of the bag,” he mused teasingly. He stepped back so Kurt could see. “So… what do you think?”

“What’s this?” Kurt asked curiously, eyeing the men’s formal wear on the dress form. “I thought that we’re doing swimsuits for the next issue.”

Isabelle just smiled. “This is for you, sweetheart,” she explained. “We wanted to surprise you with your outfit for the gala.”

“Are you kidding?” Kurt gasped, looking over the outfit displayed. It was an elegant tuxedo done up in classic European lines that would suit his figure ideally. At first, it looked simple with its crisp white shirt and neat back bowtie, but Kurt could see a contrasting pattern in the weave of the jacket that looked like snake scales when the light shifted.

“Of course,” Chase insisted, giving his younger colleague a smile. “There are going to be agents and producers at the gala and we wanted to give you a look that makes you stand out, but for the right reasons. This way you look elegant, but with a little bit of a youthful edge.”

“You’re going to look amazing in this,” Isabelle assured him. “After all, you’re going to be representing Vogue as well as NYADA.”

Kurt looked over the tuxedo again and saw that Isabelle and Chase really understood him and what he’d needed. There was a nod to convention with the classic cut of the suit and its elegant black color, but the patterning of the jacket was a display that he wasn’t a generic player. It was perfect.

He felt his eyes watering because he was so emotionally overwhelmed by this show of support from two people that he respected. They didn’t have to do this, he knew. Supporting his acting career was clearly outside of what he should expect from his employer, but they still did so with astonishing grace and generosity. He didn’t quite know what to say.

“Thank you,” he said, wiping at his eyes. “That sounds so inadequate but thank you so much!”

Isabelle hugged him. “Oh, honey… it’s our pleasure! You know we love you. And you are going to be stunning.”

Kurt nodded and sniffled. He gave her a quick kiss to her cheek. “I’d love to stay, but I really need to get back to school,” he said quietly. “More rehearsals tonight.”

Isabelle gave him another hug. “We’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Kurt looked over to Chase. “I’ll be in bright and early. And I’ll stop by the bakery to pick up breakfast,” he offered, remembering that his friend loved the pastries from the place he could stop off at near the dorm.

Chase smiled brightly. “Sounds great, Kurt. Have a good night, superstar.”

Kurt left the office feeling a little overwhelmed, wondering just how his life had gotten to this point. There were so many people that seemed to have so much faith in him, so the fact that he still harbored doubts about his prospects bothered him. When would he finally prove his worth to himself? Why did he keep letting his doubts and fears get the better of him?

He thought about what Madam Tibideaux had spoken about and knew that this would be his greatest challenge. Whatever else the world had to throw at him, if he didn’t get his head into the game he knew that he wouldn’t stand a chance.

He knew what he was afraid of, but how much would he need to accomplish before he started letting it go. It was long past time that he let Why was he still letting what happened in high school have such a hold over him? What was it going to take before he finally let it go?

Madam Tibideaux was right. He had a lot of thinking to do.

* * *

Rachel knew that it was silly to go so far out of her way for cupcakes since there were perfectly good bakeries in Brooklyn. But the last time Kurt had brought dessert to the loft she had fallen totally in love with the light, sweet desserts from this little shop in the East Village. The vanilla cake with matcha icing lingered in her memories and if she was going to spend precious calories on a treat, it had better be a totally mind-tingling, toe-curling one.

Walking out of the bakery with the precious white box in her arms, filled with six delectable cupcakes, (and one in a paper bag for snacking on the way home), she turned to head towards the subway. They had a rare night off from rehearsals, and she had every intention of spending it on the sofa in front of the television. A little pampering, a few cupcakes that she might be convinced to share with Santana and Tina and some junk television sounded like a perfect way to spend a relaxing evening.

She was nearing Washington Square Park when she saw a familiar figure walking up the block towards her wearing a battered leather jacket and carrying a Whole Foods shopping bag in each hand. She was momentarily surprised to see Elliot’s roommate, but then remembered that their apartment wasn’t that far away.

“Hi Neil,” she greeted brightly, wanting to be friendly.

He looked up and pulled his earbuds out of his ears. “Oh, hi Rachel. What are you doing here?” he asked. “You’re quite a bit away from NYADA.”

She held up her bag. “Cupcake run. I’ve got the night off and needed supplies for a suitable binge. Doing some grocery shopping?” she asked, nodded towards his bags.

He grinned and nodded. “I totally forgot that it was my turn to make dinner tonight so I needed to pick up a few things. You do not want to be around my roommates when they’re hungry.”

Rachel found herself really liking his smile. He wasn’t a stunningly handsome man, but his smile just lit up his whole face and made his eyes sparkle. And that jacket was doing some very nice things for his shoulders.

“Well, I won’t keep you,” she said, giving him a warm smile. “Say hi to Elliot and Dani for me.”

“Will do,” Neil agreed, and Rachel turned to head back up the block. She had gotten maybe fifteen feet away when she heard him calling out her name.

“Hey Rachel! Listen… I know that you’re really busy with rehearsals and all,” he said. “But if you’ve got some free time… maybe we can meet for a cup of coffee?”

She looked up at him and smiled. “I’d like that,” she said agreeably.

Neil looked like he wanted to get his phone out but was hampered by his shopping bags. “Is it okay if I get your number from Kurt?” he asked.

She nodded. “Sure. And I’m sure that Dani will be happy to pass along yours when I see her.”

“Great!” he said, smiling at her again. Maybe he was more handsome than she thought at first.

“I’ll talk to you soon,” she promised.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“Good.” She smiled again before forcing herself to continue on her way. And if she felt his eyes lingering on her as she walked… Well, that wasn’t a bad thing at all.

* * *

“So you two have a coffee date?” Kurt asked as they walked through the halls of NYADA. Rachel had apparently been so excited about her pending assignation that she arrived early for the day and met Kurt directly after breakfast.

She shrugged. “It’s just a casual get together,” she insisted. “I ran into him and he was just being polite.”

“Sure… because he asks every cute girl that he runs into on the street for coffee,” Kurt teased archly. “Not just the ones he saw in tall boots and a corset.”

“I don’t know why I’m feeling like this,” Rachel admitted. “You’d think that I’ve never gone out to coffee with a guy before.”

Kurt gave her a playful nudge of his shoulder. “Maybe because he’s a really nice guy. It’s awhile since you’ve had one of those. I mean, your last guy made some questionable employment choices and I’m as aware of my brother’s shortcomings as anyone,” he said frankly. “Neil could be good for you.”

“I just don’t know what we’re going to talk about,” she confessed, a trifle worried. “He doesn’t do theater. At all. And while I do have years of therapy under my belt, that’s probably not the best thing to bring up on a first date.”

Kurt laughed. “No, probably not,” he agreed. “Look… talk about the weather or the fact that the Mets are going to suck again this year. You’ll find something to talk about.”

She nodded, knowing that she was probably overthinking things. “It’s weird… I think this is the first guy that I’m remotely interested in that’s not a performer of some kind,” she reminded.

“Well, maybe that’s what you need right now,” Kurt advised.

“Maybe. We’ll see what happens. I mean, I’m not running out to pick out a wedding dress just yet,” she promised with a laugh.

“I should hope not! After all, I’m counting on being your date to the Tonys,” he teased.

She smiled and gave him a hug. “Well, I’d better get to class. I’ve got Scene Interpretation this morning.”

“Ohhh… that sounds like fun,” Kurt teased. He gave her a quick kiss on her cheek. “Try to stay awake.”

He began to walk down the hall, then remembered something and turned back around. “Before I forget… Friday night I’m taking you, Analisa and Katya to Vogue to pick you dresses for the gala.”

Rachel positively beamed at the prospect of going shopping in the legendary Vogue fault. “Have I mentioned how much I love you lately?” she asked.

“You just love me for my day job,” he teased back. “See you later!”

* * *

Alexa Carmody watched as the student left her office, closing the door behind him and felt the sudden urge to just sweep all the papers off her desk. Either that or curl up in a corner and start screaming in frustration. This was not what she needed now.

Taking a deep cleansing breath, she knew that she didn’t have time to wallow in self-pity. She knew what had to be done. But first…

She picked up her desk phone and dialed up the one person who could give her the assurance that she needed. “Carmen, do you have a moment?” she asked. “I need to run something by you.”

* * *

“Let’s go, people!” Ms. July snapped, banging her dance stick on the floor in time to the music. “Keep up with the beat!”

Kurt grunted as his partner literally flung herself into his arms in order to keep up and he felt his muscles strain as he fought to keep her in position. With a mighty heave, he lifted her up and straightened his arms so that she could arch properly over him. Keeping in line with the other dancers, Kurt turned and with as much control as he could manage lowered his partner to the floor and balanced her as she turned a neat pirouette.

The rest of the chorography was challenging in its speed and complexity but thankfully there were no more lifts. Kurt kept up with the pace, keeping mindful about his form because he didn’t want to give Ms. July anything to complain over. He mentally counted off all the steps, keeping in formation with the group until they came to the end.

Ms. July walked down the line of dancers, taking in their positioning and making changes if she saw something not to her satisfaction.  There were no insults or harshly worded comments. Not with the students that she had already judged were worthy of her time and effort. There were just firm, precise corrections. Kurt felt her hand on the back of his neck as she tilted his head just a bit to get his posture more to her liking. Once she had made her way through all of her students, she stood back and looked them over one more time.

“That was good,” she finally complimented, nodding in approval. “More than decent. I’d say that all of you would be able to handle professional chorus choreography at this point. Nothing too complicated, but still… good job.”

Kurt couldn’t help from smiling and heard the sighs and nervous laughs of relief coming from his classmates. Given how sparingly she granted any kind of compliment, they could not expect anything better.

Ms. July grinned dangerously at her students. “What that means for now is that things are about to get a lot tougher. Because now that I’m convinced that you have some genuine potential to be more than stage fillers, I’m going to push you to become real dancers.

“And no, I’m not going to take it at all easy on you just because of the show,” she warned, enjoying their groans of dismay. “If anything, that’s reason for me to be harder on you. This is where the rubber hits the road, people. Some of you are going to be looking for professional work shortly. And this production is the next best thing. If you all can’t prove that you’re up to the challenge, boys and girls, then you’re in the wrong school.”

Kurt nodded, understanding just what she was telling them. Several in the class, including himself, He had already had a taste of a professional stage and was looking to get it again. This is what they wanted to do with their lives and they needed to be willing to put in the work to be prepared.

Once she dismissed them with a command to shower, Kurt turned to retrieve his belongings. He had just enough time to grab a shower and lunch before his Diction class, and then he had rehearsals in the late afternoon. Tossing his athletic bag over his shoulder, he was about to the follow the others into the changing room when he saw one of Professor Carmody’s assistants enter the room.

The young woman spotted him and hurried over, cradling her clipboard in her arms. “Oh Kurt, thank God you’re still here. Do you have a minute?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said cautiously, wondering what this was about.

“I won’t keep you long. but Professor Carmody really needs to see you in her office before rehearsals this afternoon,” she advised. “Are you free anytime soon?”

Kurt felt his mouth dry in confusion and worry, wondering what this was about.

“I’ve got a class at two, but I can see her before that,” he proposed. “I just need to grab a shower first.”

“That’ll be great,” she said, offering a quick smile. “She’s in her office now so stop by when you’re ready. The sooner, the better.”

He nodded, realizing that he was going to have to skip lunch if he didn’t want to miss his class afterwards. “Any idea what it’s about?” he asked, trying to hide his anxiousness. Being summoned like this was rarely a good thing in his experience.

She shrugged. “No clue. She’s kind of frazzled so I’d get down there as soon as you can.”

Kurt nodded, biting his lower lip nervously. “I’ll be down there in about ten minutes.”

He hurried into the changing room and washed as quickly as he could before changing into clean clothes. As he walked down to Professor Carmondy’s office, his mind was racing over all the possible reasons that she could be calling him to her office so abruptly. Being summoned unexpectantly to a professor’s office rarely meant anything good, but for the life of him he couldn’t imaging that he’d done anything to be in any kind of trouble over. He hadn’t missed a single rehearsal and had been working hard. All of the feedback he’d gotten so far had been very positive, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

Professor Carmody answered the door at his knock, smiling when she saw him. “Kurt, come on in,” she urged, holding the door open and ushering him inside. “I’ve got a situation that I need to discuss with you.”

No, that didn’t sound good at all, Kurt thought worriedly and felt his stomach lurch. But he obediently followed her and took the seat offered to him. Fighting down the feeling of panic, he waited for her to take her seat behind the cluttered desk and face him.

“It never fails… with any production, you always get unexpected challenges,” she advised him with a rueful smile. “No matter how carefully you plan things or try to account for all contingencies, something ends up not working the way you’d hoped. But you always have to be ready to adjust and make changes when necessary.”

She looked at him appraisingly, taking a long moment before just jumping in. “Wade’s dropped out of the show. He got an offer for a film role and he’s leaving NYADA this week.”

Kurt inhaled sharply. “But it’s only a few weeks until opening night. Can he do that?” he couldn’t help from demanding. How could he put in all that work and just quit a few weeks before opening night?

Professor Carmody shrugged. “It’s not unexpected with theater students,” she explained. “Especially seniors. They start looking for work and sometimes they get an offer that they feel they can’t turn down. From what he told me, he’s a replacement for someone else and had to jump if he wanted the part. It was a choice between a professional role or a week-long run of a school production. While it’s inconvenient for us, I can’t exactly blame him.”

Kurt had to admit that if he were in the same situation he didn’t know which he would choose, and he found himself sympathizing with the older student.

“If it’s any consolation, Wade feels terrible about this,” Professor Carmody granted. “It wasn’t an easy choice for him to make, but fortunately it’s still enough in advance of our opening that we have time to make the changes we need to for the production going forward.”

She looked at him frankly. “I’m pulling you from the chorus. Starting today, you’re the principal for Enjolras.”

Kurt found himself staring at her dumbly, not quite sure he was hearing her right. “But… I’m only a sophomore,” he reminded her, wondering if this was some kind of mistake.

“Yes, and you are Wade’s understudy,” she reminded him. “Since he’s no longer going to be in this production, I need you to step up and take over the role.”

He felt himself blinking in surprise, not quite sure of what to say. She couldn’t be serious…

Professor Carmody sighed a bit impatiently, running a hand to smooth down her hair. “Kurt, the students I picked to be understudies were chosen because I was confident that they would be able to jump in at a moment’s notice,” she explained, not bothering to hide the rebuke in her tone. “You are one of the standout performers in your class and if I wasn’t committed to casting the featured roles with graduating students, you would be a clear candidate to have the role outright.

“Now you’ve been working well and you are at least as good in the role as Wade was. I’ve spoken with Madam Tibideaux and she agrees that you’re capable of handling the part. What I need is your assurance that you are up to the job because we are running out of time and if I need to pull someone else to play Enjolras, I need to know now.”

“No… no, I can do this,” Kurt assured her, still feeling shocked at this sudden change. He was trying to mentally process what was happening and wasn’t sure that he was managing so well. It probably wouldn’t hit him until later.

Professor Carmody smiled. “That’s good, Kurt. I want you to remember that I wouldn’t have cast you as an understudy if I wasn’t confident that you were capable of handling it, so don’t worry so much. It’ll be fine. And fortunately, we’ve got enough notice for you to get comfortable before opening night.

“Now I’m going to need you to meet with the costume team so Wade’s costumes can be tailored for you so can you be down in the shop tomorrow morning before class? Thankfully you’re close to the same size but let’s not leave that for the last minute. The costumers have enough to worry about.”

Kurt nodded, feeling his chest tighten at the realization of just what was happening.

Professor Carmody made a tired sigh when she realized that she had another issue to concern herself with. “Oh crap… now I need to find an understudy for you.” She looked at him plaintively. “Please do me a favor and don’t get sick for the next few weeks. Or break a leg. Or get hit by a bus.”

Kurt couldn’t help from laughing at the elegant woman’s hangdog expression. “I won’t, he promised, feeling the anxiousness starting to be replaced with excitement. This was really happening…

“Then I’ll see you this afternoon,” she promised. “Five o’clock. Don’t be late because I’m going to be working your ass off today.”

Well, that wasn’t anything new, he thought though he didn’t dare voice that opinion. “I never am,” he reminded her, feeling a bit of confidence starting to take root. “Thank you so much for this chance. I won’t let you down.”

She just smiled at his promise. “I know you won’t, Kurt. Thank you for being willing to take this on.”

He closed the office door behind him, wanting to get away and find some privacy before the buzzing in his head overwhelmed him. This couldn’t be happening. Things like this didn’t happen to him. But apparently it just did. He was so confused.

Thankfully he arrived at his Diction class early and there was no one in the room. Getting out his phone, he called the one person that he knew would be able to make sense of this.

“Please don’t be busy,” he muttered as he listened to the ringing on the other end of the line, hoping that Adam would be free and would answer. After a few tense seconds, he heard the call being answers.

“Hello sweetheart,” Adam greeted, and Kurt could almost hear the smile in the other man’s voice. Kurt nearly sobbed in relief.

“I hope I’m not bothering you,” he answered. “I know that you’re usually busy and I was going to call you after the show, but…”

“I’m never too busy to talk to you, darling,” Adam assured him with a gentle chuckle. “I’m just out with the lads doing a few errands. What’s going on? How are things at school?”

“Insane,” Kurt responded with a sigh. He slumped into a chair and wondering why everything outside of that room seemed to be going on so normally when he was on the verge of self-combustion.

“Well, you must be so busy with rehearsals,” Adam said knowingly. “And I’m sure that the teachers aren’t making it easy on you. They never do.”

That got Kurt to laugh a little. “Ms. July is certainly putting us through our paces, and Madam Tibideaux has decided that now is a good time to twist me into mental knots.”

“So, the usual again,” Adam chuckled. “You sound a bit frazzled, love. Is everything okay?”

“I’m not sure,” Kurt mused.

He could positively feel Adam’s mood shift, growing more serious at even the hint that something might be right. “I’m just stepping away from the others,” he told Kurt. “Now tell me… what’s going on?”

Kurt bit his lower lip, trying to think of a way to say what he needed to without sounding absolutely insane. It still sounded crazy even after having a few minutes to sink in. “The student that I’m understudying for… he quit the show,” Kurt said. No, it still sounded crazy.

Adam didn’t answer back at first. “Does that mean what I think it means?” he asked, a quiver of excitement in his voice.

Kurt sighed. “I just found out. I’m going to be Enjolras.”

Adam laughed brightly. “Seriously? Oh darling, that’s wonderful!” he exclaimed. “I’m so happy for you! You’re going to be absolutely amazing!”

“I think that the news is still sinking in,” Kurt admitted, feeling his body relax a bit. Adam’s encouragement always cleared the muddle in his brain. “But it’s crazy. I mean, I’m the only principal who’s not a junior or senior.”

“That just shows how much faith your director has in you,” Adam insisted. “They don’t cast anyone as an understudy if they don’t feel they could handle the part if needed.”

“That’s exactly what she told me,” Kurt said, smiling a little in spite of himself.

“Well, while I hope that nothing is bad for that other fellow, this is a lucky break for you and I know that you’re more than ready to handle it.”

Kurt couldn’t help from smiling at the confidence that his boyfriend had in him. “Thanks. I kind of needed to hear that after a little bit of a freak out,” he admitted. “I think my brain short circuited when she told me.”

“It’s going to be fine, sweetheart. Now, have you told your father yet? Because I can’t wait to hear what his reaction was,” Adam teased.

“No, not yet. You’re the first one I told. I literally just found out five minutes ago.”

Adam fell silent for a moment. “Oh, sweetheart… I wish that I was there to hug you right now.”

Kurt felt his eyes tearing. “I wish you were too. I kind of need it because the world seems completely off the tracks.”

“No, it’s not,” Adam assured him. “The world is just giving you what you deserve. And what you can handle.”

“I hope so, otherwise we’re in trouble,” Kurt sighed. “Well, I’ll let you go now. I’d better call Dad.”

“I’ll call you tonight after the show,” Adam promised.

“Okay. Love you,” Kurt answered, finally feeling like the spinning in his brain was coming to a halt. It felt like he’d just gotten off a ride at an amusement park and still hadn’t quite gotten his feet under him yet.

“I love you too,” Adam said gently. “Good luck at rehearsal tonight.”

Kurt hung up the call, feeling momentarily better. He dialed his father’s personal cell phone, hoping that he wasn’t in a meeting or on the House floor at the moment. To his disappointment, he got the voice mail prompt telling him to leave a message.

“Hi Dad,” Kurt greeted, forcing himself to speak calmly so he wouldn’t worry his father. “Just got some really big news about the show next month, so give me a call when you have a chance. I’ll be out of class at three and then free until rehearsals at five. Talk to you later. And don’t worry… it’s good news.”

Kurt put his phone away, knowing that his father would be absolutely thrilled once Kurt gave him the news. But there was one more person that he needed to tell, and her reaction was one that he couldn’t be sure of. Rachel’s behavior had been so good the past few months and she’d been really supportive of him. But this news was going to change things a bit. How she was going to handle the news that he was stepping into a major role while she was in the chorus was going to be a pretty big challenge to her new outlook in life.

Kurt wasn’t a praying man, but he couldn’t resist hoping that something out there would keep this from exploding in his face. He sent Rachel a quick text, asking her to meet him for coffee after her workshop. She texted back a confirmation and a trio of heart emojis, which brought a smile to his face.

He made it through his Diction class, somehow able to focus enough that the hour wasn’t a total waste for him. They were working on different American regional accents, which turned out to be a lot more difficult than any in the class expected and the challenge was enough to keep Kurt’s attention engaged. As he walked out of the school, his cell phone rang and he wasn’t surprised to see that his father was calling back so quickly.

“Hi Dad,” Kurt greeted brightly. “Hope that I wasn’t interrupting anything important.”

“Nah… With Congressman Gendron’s non-stop yammering, it gave me an excuse to leave the committee meeting on time for once,” Burt chuckled. “So what’s going on? It sounded important.”

“Well, hold on to what’s left of your hair,” Kurt teased.

“Hey! Watch it, sport.”

Kurt laughed, feeling the relief of tension being released. “The role that I’m understudying for in the show… the guy who was playing the part dropped out. He got a professional job so now the part is mine.” Kurt felt himself starting to grin, the idea no longer sounding so insane. “I’m going to be Enjolras for the whole production.”

“Are you kidding? Kurt, that’s fantastic!” Burt exclaimed with a laugh. “That’s the guy who dies, right?”

“Most of them die, Dad,” Kurt chuckled. “But I do get a big dramatic death scene. And a bunch of songs. It’s a really amazing part.”

“I’m so happy for you, son,” Burt insisted. “Really, I’m so proud and I can’t wait to see the show. Carole’s going to be thrilled. I’m going to call her right now.”

“Well, the opening night should be interesting,” Kurt mused happily. While his father took personal advantage of his position in government, being a Congressman was enough to score tickets for the opening night performance, rather than having to wait for the following night for friends and family of the cast. “Is Finn flying directly to New York?”

“He’s going to come to Washington first and we’ll all fly up together,” Burt advised. “I’ve got our hotel booked so we’re all set. I know that you’re going to be busy until opening night but if we can drag you out to dinner the night before…”

“I’ll try,” Kurt promised, knowing that the odds were that he wouldn’t be seeing his father until after the curtain call. But knowing that his family would be there meant the world to him. It was just a shame that they wouldn’t be able to get tickets for all their friends for opening night.

“I’ll talk to you soon,” Burt promised. “And Kurt… I really am proud of you.”

Kurt smiled and wiped at his eyes. “Thanks Dad. Can’t wait to see you.”

“Have fun at rehearsal,” his father urged before hanging up.

Kurt tucked his phone into his pocket, knowing now that he’d have to hurry if he was going to beat Rachel to the coffee shop. Maybe he’d better get some cookies too to sweeten her mood before he told her the news.

* * *

“So, what’s going on?” Rachel asked as she sipped her latte. “Not that I’m not grateful for an impromptu coffee date because I definitely needed the break before rehearsals.”

Kurt inhaled deeply before answering, mentally pleading that she didn’t disappoint him by reverting to her old habits. “Professor Carmody called me into her office after my dance class,” he said carefully.

She looked up in surprise. “You’re not in any kind of trouble, are you?” she asked in concern.

“Well, that was my first instinct,” he admitted. “I was kind of freaking out that maybe I did something wrong. But it wasn’t me. Wade dropped out of the show.”

“What?” Rachel demanded, her eyes widening in shock. “Why would he do that? We open in just a couple of weeks!”

Kurt shrugged. “That was exactly what I said. But he’s a senior and he got an offer for a professional job that he felt he couldn’t pass up,” he explained. “Professor Carmody told me that things like this happen all the time, but that’s not the craziest part. I’m going to be Enjolras now.”

There. He said it. Now he just had to wait for the fallout.

Rachel fell into stunned silence, staring at him in astonishment with her jaw dropping open and Kurt couldn’t help from wondering if he was going to have to deal with her feeling slighted over not getting a similar opportunity. But once she’d absorbed what he had told her, her mouth drew into a delighted smile.

“Are you kidding me?” she exclaimed, her dark eyes sparkling brightly. “Seriously? You’re the principal now?”

Kurt nodded. “I’m still trying to wrap my mind around it. It’s crazy.”

“Why would you think that?” she asked. “We know how talented you are. I personally think that you should have gotten the part outright and you would have if we were seniors.

She cocked her head curiously. “Why are you so surprised about this? I mean, you were an understudy for a reason!”

“I know,” he granted. “It’s just… I never expected to have to actually step in.”

She clapped her hands, looking as pleased for him as she would be for herself. “I’m so thrilled for you! You really deserve this and you’re going to be absolutely amazing.”

Kurt couldn’t help from smiling at her support. “I’m not going to lie, but I was a little nervous about telling you,” he admitted. “Not that you haven’t been totally supportive. I just didn’t want you to be upset because I know how much you would love playing Eponine.”

She couldn’t help from laughing. “I’m jealous as hell!” she admitted, grinning. “But I’m so happy for you. I really am. And I can’t wait to see you really play Enjolras.”

Before Kurt could react, she jumped from her seat and rushed to hug him. “This is so amazing!” she proclaimed. “Oh, I can’t wait to tell everyone when I get home!

“And we’re going on tomorrow night after rehearsal to celebrate!” Rachel insisted. “No arguments!”

“Who am I to argue?” Kurt laughed, hugging her back. Now that the news was out, it finally was making some kind of sense to him.

Rachel finally released him and sat down again, grinning from ear to ear. “This is so amazing,” she insisted. “Come on… tell me everything now.”

Kurt took a sip of his coffee and leaned forward. They had enough time before they needed to get back to the school.

* * *

The fates apparently decided that they’d taken it easy enough on Kurt and rather than having his first rehearsal with just the actors playing the Friends of the ABC so he could ease into his new role as principal, he was also going to be dealing with Jean Valjean, Javert, Eponine and a good portion of the chorus for the battlement scenes. A few of the older actors were turning appraising stares to him, giving Kurt the impression that Wade had told at least a few of them about the change.

Professor Carmody would expect him to be warmed up and ready to work when she arrived so he turned out the curious looks and focused on his vocal exercises. He needed to be totally on his game that night, and ready to prove that he was able to jump into the part and be as good as Wade. Any faltering now could be disastrous.

When Professor Carmody arrived at precisely five o’clock with several of her assistants trailing in her wake, she appeared much calmer now that the casting issue had been settled. “Good afternoon everyone,” she greeted. “I’m glad to see everyone here on time because we have a lot to get through today.

“Before we start, I have an announcement to make,” she said firmly. “Some of you may already be aware that Wade Thomsen is unfortunately leaving our production. He’s taking on a professional role and while we will very much miss his presence, this is a wonderful opportunity for him and we wish him all the best in this next stage of his career.”

Wade smiled ruefully as several of his friends in the cast patted him on the back and offered their own congratulations. He turned to Kurt and gave him a quick nod of encouragement.

Professor Carmody waited for the group to quiet down before going on. “Kurt Hummel, who’s been understudying the role of Enjolras has very kindly agreed to take over the part going forward. I know that all of you will help him settle into his role and he’ll help us make this production the best NYADA has ever staged.”

There were a few gasps of surprise coming from the other players, and Kurt felt some of the other understudies patting him on the back to congratulate him on his ascension.

“So… let’s get started,” she commanded, taking her seat in the theater. “Kurt, we’re going to take it slow so you can get comfortable with the blocking. Wade will help you with the staging. What I want to see from you is taking command here and being confident in the role.

“Everyone, take your places.”

Kurt hurried up onto the stage, taking his place in front of the boxes set up as their barricade. Wade handed him a prop rifle and gave him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry,” he assured Kurt. “You got this.”

Kurt nodded, letting his expression settle into Enjolras’s fierce stare. He looked to the seats where the chorus was waiting for their scene and Rachel grinned, giving him a thumbs up for support. Nodding that he got her message, Kurt shifted his focus to the task at hand. The music began to play and Professor Carmody called out “Action!”

The actors playing the various rebels began to run about the stage, and in it all, Kurt kept calm like the eye of a storm as he directed their efforts.

“Here upon these stones we will build our barricade,” he ordered, forcing as much command into his tone as he could manage. “In the heart of the city we claim as our own. Each man to his duty and don’t be afraid. Wait! I will need a report on the strength of the foe.”

The actor playing Javert stepped forward, pushing his way through the revolutionaries. “I can find out the truth,” he informed Kurt. “I know their ways. Fought their wars. Served my time in the days of my youth.”

No one complained that they went through the scene several times until Kurt was comfortable with it. He was surprised that it wasn��t taking him long to adjust. He’d been shadowing Wade long enough that he basically knew what he needed to for the scene and he’d always picked up choreography quickly. But it felt completely different now. Knowing that the role was his changed how the other performers were playing off him. They were no longer just going through the motions but actively working with him. To his surprise, it felt absolutely wonderful.

After their fourth run though, the actors playing Jean Valjean and Javert came over to him. “You’re doing great Kurt,” Sean insisted, the sunny grin looking totally unlike Jean Valjean’s normally dower stare. “That last run through especially. Your voice is amazing.”

“Thanks,” Kurt said sincerely. “I’m not going to lie… I was a little nervous before we started.”

Javert’s player, Drew, patted him on the shoulder. “Well, you’d never know going by the way you sing. I think you’re going to be just fine.”

Kurt smiled, grateful for their support. Wade came over with a big smile on his face.

“I told you that you could handle it!” he exclaimed, patting Kurt on the back. He looked to the others with a grin. “Didn’t I tell you how good he’s going to be.”

Drew laughed, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, you sure told us. He almost makes up for you leaving us high and dry.”

Sean nodded and looked to Kurt. “To be honest, I was a little anxious about how you would handle things,” he admitted. “Just because you haven’t had the chance to play it out the way the rest of us have. But you really know your stuff. I think that everything is going to work out of us.”

As the evening went on, Kurt found himself growing increasingly confident that he really could do this. Wade hovered nearby, offering advice and Professor Carmody issued corrections and changes as she felt need. By the time they called it quits for the evening, Kurt was absolutely exhausted and mentally drained but thrilled that he seemed to be holding his own.

“All right everyone, I think that’s enough for the day,” Professor Carmody granted to the relief of her players. “Good work everyone.

“Wade, thanks for helping out tonight,” she said sincerely. “And Kurt… nice job. This was exactly what I wanted to see out of you.”

Kurt smiled in relief, happily accepting a few pats on the back from his castmates, who were understandably relieved that he was getting up to speed so quickly.

Rachel came rushing up to him, her fact absolutely beaming despite her exhaustion and threw herself into Kurt’s arms.

“I told you that you could do it!” she exclaimed happily.

“Yes, you did,” Kurt granted with a tired smile. “I should listen to you more.”

“Yes, you should!” she teased, sticking her tongue out at him.

Wade chuckled and came over to Kurt. “Well, the least I can do is take you out for a drink to make up for dumping this on you,” he insisted.

“I can definitely use one after the day I just had,” Kurt agreed. He’d been put through the mental and physical wringer and felt more than a little beat up. Grabbing his jacket and messenger bag, he told Rachel that he’d see her tomorrow and followed the older man out of the building to one of the nicer Irish pubs near the school.

“I feel like I owe you a bit of an apology for you getting ambushed like this,” Wade admitted as he sipped at his beer.

“Professor Carmody said that it was something you really had to jump on.”

The older actor nodded with a somewhat regretful look on his handsome face. “I actually auditioned for this role at the beginning of the semester. When I didn’t get it, I just kind of forgot about it until I got the call the other day,” he explained. “They guy they cast didn’t work out and they needed an immediate answer if I would take the part. They start filming in two weeks.”

Kurt nodded understandingly. “I get it,” he insisted gently. “Something like that would be really hard to turn down.”

Wade smiled, thankful for Kurt’s understanding. “I felt like shit dropping out of the show like this, but it was the right thing to do,” he insisted. “I’ve got to think about my career going forward and this was just too good an opportunity to pass up.

“And I’ll be honest… knowing that you were ready to jump in for me? That really eases my guilt a lot. I’m glad that I’m not screwing up the show.”

Kurt was glad that he had been up to the task. “What would you have done if I wasn’t ready?” he couldn’t help from asking.

Wade considered the question carefully, turning a frank look to the younger man. “I still would have dropped out,” he admitted. “I would have felt terrible, but I just couldn’t say no to this opportunity. At least now I know that I’m not screwing up the show and I’ll sleep better at night.”

Kurt took a sip of his ale, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before he answered. On one hand, he wanted to be angry that Wade would have left the show regardless of having appropriate backup to fill in. But he did appreciate that the other man needed to do what was right for him. Their shared profession was nothing if not a mercenary one and Kurt was not blind to what Wade leaving would mean for him.

“Given that I would never have gotten the chance to play a major role this year, I really can’t complain,” Kurt admitted. “I do understand and I really can’t blame you. I don’t know what I would have done if I were in that position.”

Wade sighed. “It’s hard sometimes,” he admitted. “It’s feast or famine. Sometimes there’re no roles to be found and your career is stuck in reverse and other times it seems like everyone wants you. But in all seriousness, I’m really glad that you’re going to have this chance. You’re a very talented actor and I think you’re going to be fantastic.”

Kurt took advantage of sipping at his drink to think of a response. “I’m not to lie… I was terrified that first run through. Even though I’d been working alongside you, it’s one thing to be an understudy. Being asked to take over the part is pretty daunting.”

“I know it is,” Wade acknowledged understandingly. “But you can do this. And I can’t wait to hear from everyone how well the show goes. Don’t worry so much. You’re going to be able to handle it.”

Kurt smiled gratefully, glad for all the support he’d received. Whatever fears he had about being able to handle the responsibility of such an important role were starting to ease and he was regaining the sense of excitement that he’d felt when he first started rehearsals. Madam Tibideaux was right about him being his own worst obstacle at times and he needed to make sure that he didn’t continue to do that. He would have enough things trying to hold him back. A lack of confidence in himself as a performer and a man could not be one of them.

Returning to his quiet dorm room and waiting for Adam’s call gave Kurt time to think. He thumbed through his script, reading over his scenes and the myriad of notes that he’d been jotting down over the past few months. All the attention that he’d been paying since the start of rehearsals would serve him well going forward. It was a steep challenge, but he knew that he needed to rise to the occasion. There were a lot of people depending on him.

Nearly more importantly, he needed to do this for himself. If he was going to have the career he wanted, then he would need to handle whatever role came his way. Kurt had dreamed of parts like this his entire life and he was smart enough to appreciate just what a rare opportunity he was being given.

No matter what, he was going to meet this challenge and prove to the world that he did have what it took.

* * *

Rachel's solo: "Miniature Disasters" - KT Tunstall

Kurt's solos: "You Haven't Seen The Last of Me" - Cher                       "Dante's Prayer" - Loreena McKennitt

[tnystrk-exe]

Reckless and Impulsive 7

Tony Stark X Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 End

You wandered around the party’s venue, staggering slightly. Tony had gone missing a couple two hours ago. So, you drank to fill the time.

“Sorry, sorry,” you apologized, almost tripping on someone’s foot that was sat on the couch.

“You don’t need to apologize.” The random man took your hand and pulled you down onto his lap, “I may have a better idea of what you can do with that mouth instead of apologizing.”

“I think not,” you replied quickly, attempting to get out of his hold.

“Come on play with me for a while, sugar.” He pressed a sloppy kiss on your cheek.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Rhodey pulled you out of the man’s grasp. He made a signal for the guy to be removed. “Hey sweetie,” he kissed the top of your head, “You feeling okay? Do you want to go?”

“What about Tony?”

“I already saw leave with someone.”

“Okay,” you nodded, “let’s go.”

Rhodey helped you walk out, “At least you’re easier to manage than Tony. How much did you have?”

“I lost Tony a while ago. So, I drank,” you shrugged, “I had a good bit.”

He helped you into his car and got in the drivers side. “You’re staying at Tony’s tonight too or do you just want to go home?”

“Wanna go with you and Tony,” you mumbled, resting your head on his shoulder. “I love my boys.”

“Yeah, we are pretty great. Aren’t we?”

“The best.”

“And when we get home, you’re going to take a shower and eat before you go to sleep.”

“Food sounds amazing.”

You dozed off on his shoulder, not waking up until the car jolted to a stop.

“But you’re more amazing than food,” you completed sleepily.

He laughed, “Thanks YN.” Rhodey helped you into the home, pulling away from you to unlock the door, “Go take a shower. I’m going to look for food. Dont do that thing that Tony does and get into the liquor.”

“Yes, dad,” you sassed, walking off to complete your orders. After the shower you quickly realize you forgot to stop by Tony’s room to grab your clothes. Wrapping a towel snuggly around your body, you raced to his room hoping Rhodey was too preoccupied to notice. Closing Tony’s door you start rummaging the drawers for the clothes you left a while back.

“Well, that’s a sight,” Tony said, nonchalantly sipping on a bottle of rum, “Your clothes are in the drawer in the walk in, the very top one. Maybe not the shirt, but just take one of mine.”

“Thanks, Tones,” you gave him a small smile displayed the blush as you closed the walk ins door. He was exactly right. You pulled on the shorts and one of his shirts with a science pun on it. “I’m clean, that creep’s hands don’t feel like they’re still on me, I’m hungry, and I’m kinda drunk. Calming down, I think,” you said as you went to lay face down on his bed.

“Never mind, I like this view sight better,” he joked, “Want some? Wait what creep?”

You sat up and took the bottle, “Just some dude. Saying we should play and I can do other things with my mouth.”

“Who?” He asked, in an eerily calm tone. It hadn’t been that long since the Starks and Tony was choosing most small fights, but now this was something important to him.

“Down boy,” you set the bottle down on the bedside, “Rhodey helped me. Your security isn’t lax on these things. It’s just hard to spot in all the moving bodies. It’s handled.”

“Let me help.”

“Fine,” you made him lay down and cuddled yourself into his side, “You’re helping.”

“This is hardly helping. I’m the one that put you in that position. I left, what if Rhodey didn’t make it to the party after all?”

“It is helping,” you shifted so that you could rest your head on his chest and look at him, “You can’t feel guilty about this, okay? Nothing happened. It was just a minor bump in. Rhodey, you, and me, we’re all okay.”

He didn’t answer opting to just glare at the wall.

You sighed and got up from the bed, making Tony follow after. “Let’s go see how our favorite Rhodey is doing.”

Rhodey was singing along to the song on the radio as he was cooking. “How’d you find a station playing Rocking Robin?” You laughed.

“Do you have a problem with it?” He smiled taking your hands as he started to spin you around to the song.

The two of you were dancing happily, giggling like little kids. Tony finally cut in, “May I have this dance? Usually they are my date.”

“Go right ahead,” Rhodey pulled away from you. Tony immediately went to Rhodey and started dancing the next song with him. You sang along to Johnny B Good. Everything seemed lighter, nostalgic.

You watched them laughing softly before taking over the cooking. Their song ended as you were setting up food onto the plates. “Time to eat boys.”

“Wait, wait,” Tony grabbed you as the next song started, “You really think I was going to pass up the chance with my girl.”

Your song with him was slower than the past two but it worked. Tony slowly moved the two of you along, his head resting on his shoulder. He sang along quiet enough where you could think you imagined it.

“For I can’t help, falling in love with you,” he finished, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I can’t wait to be your kids godfather,” Rhodey pipped up as he ate.

You and Tony pulled away quickly after that. “So it’s time to eat right!”

Both of you sat down next to Rhodey. “Thanks, Rhodes.” Tony cuffed him playfully.

“Anytime. So, what are the odds of having one named after me?”

“Rhodey!” The two of you yelled, much to his amusement.

“What’s your middle name?” You asked.

“Rupert.”

“Really?” You scrunched your nose, “You’d have better like with James or Rhodes. Maybe Rhodes, it’s not like we ever call you James.”

“So you’ll name one after me?” He asked excitedly.

“I don’t see why not.”

“Hey, what about me I’m cooler anyway?” Tony looked offended that he wasn’t being taken into consideration.

“They’re going to have your last name,” Rhodey said in a fake frustrated tone, “Isn’t that enough?”

“No!”

“Come on you two, let’s get our plates and go watch a movie. So we can stop talking about my future hypothetical kids and who their father is.”

The three of you gathered your plates and moved into the living room. Tony set up Ferris Bueller’s day Off and you guys continued to eat in comfortable silence.

“I’m heading to bed,” Rhodes took the plates to the kitchen. “Goodnight!” He called out.

“Goodnight!” The two of you called out.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t draw all over you again.”

“Come on, let’s head to my room so we don’t make too much noise for him.”

“I don’t wanna get up,” You whined, slouching further into the couch.

He got up rolling his eyes, “Just ask if you want to be carried.”

“Tony can you please carry me?” You added a small pout for good measure.

He scooped you up into his arms easily, “You’re lucky I’m fond of you.”

You yawned, resting your head on his shoulder, “Love you too, Tone.”

He walked to his room and set you down on his bed softly. “Be my valentine?”

“Really?”

“I mean Valentine’s is up in what thirty minutes? Come on be the first Valentine I actually care about. I know, I’m not in a good state right now and I probably won’t be anytime soon. So, will you just be mine for the next thirty minutes.”

“A no strings attached valentine? You’re gonna have to make this really good, I haven’t had a real valentine.”

“Is that a yes?”

“I’d love to be your valentine.”

“I planned ahead and I have gifts.” He went to his closet and came out with a gift bag.

“Tony, you know you don’t have to get me anything.”

“I don’t have to, but I want to. Come on open it!”

You opened the gift bag to reveal three presents, “Tony, you really shouldn’t have.” You took out the smallest box and unwrapped it carefully, it was a simple bracelet with a heart charm that was surely the most expensive thing you owned. “I love it.” He helped you put it on. The next was a slightly bigger box that, it turned out to be a newer Polaroid camera with tons of film. He knew how upset you were when your old one ceased to function. Next was a simple bear, “Classic! I really love it all, thank you, Tony.”

“Anything for you sweetheart!” He pressed a kiss to your cheek.

You loaded up the camera, “C’mere.” The two of you posed for a couple of pictures. Smiles, silly, scary, you kissing his cheek, you kissing his, whatever you two thought about at the moment.

It was simple to see how easily it was for you two to switch into a more romantic tone. Though it didn’t particularly surprise either of you. Neither of you had kept it on the inside how you felt. Maybe you would be together for more than thirty minutes if some things didn’t happen or, maybe, you just weren’t meant to be together.

“You know, I really love you. Like I think in the honest and true way.”

“I think, I do too.”

“I’m a real mess, YN. I know it. You know it. I don’t want you to have to deal with that. Look, we can wait. When we’re older if the feeling is still there, if I’m in better control. We can try. That doesn’t mean we have to put things on hold. If life goes on without the both of us together, we should let it.”

“You’re right. Just know I’m still here for you,” you ran your hand through his hair, “In any of those situations.”

“Of course, I do. I can always depend on you.” He kissed the corner of your mouth.

“You know, there’s a minute left on the clock.”

“Not if we unplug it.”

“You’re the one who taught me leave them wanting more you joked.”

You were pulled onto someone’s lap for the second time for the day. The only thing was this time it wasn’t unwelcome. “My genius, it’s a gift and a curse.”

“And your need to talk all the time is taking up all the time.” You leaned in and caught his lips in the first kiss that wasn’t for a joke or a badly timed drunken decision. It was right and good, exactly the type of kids the both of you were waiting for.

Tony looked dazed when the two of you pulled away. “You definitely left me wanting more,” he joked, pulling you to lay down with him.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, honey.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, dear.”

Tag: @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @skeletoresinthebasement @nerissa98 @mala-firebringer @lanilovespsychos @the-blue-haired-boy @firedolphin04 @kasiarella @princess76179 @geeksareunique @random-fandom-lady @thevanishedillusion @jessicaguerreiro07 @125bluemachine125 @charlotte-of-the-enterprise

[immersedinm]

In support of their recent EP release Wild Rivers is currently burning up the highways and byways of the states. Most recently, they were sweeping throughout the south, and Atlanta was fortunate they made a stop at Eddie’s Attic last Thursday evening. Having played the venue before, they seemed relaxed prior to the show as they were spotted happily chatting to excited ticket holders of the sold out show.

A few weeks ago, I shared their tune “Howling” before realizing they might make the long trek to Atlanta. I simply knew it was a winner. When I heard they were making Atlanta a part of their tour, they were kind enough to answer a few questions to help us get to know them a little better.

Wild Rivers is a Toronto based band with seamless guitar, steady percussion and stunning vocal harmonies, all fused together with earnest songwriting. The group began with Devan Glover and Khalid Yassein, and they were voted Toronto’s best new artist in 2015. Since then, they added Ben Labenski (drums), and Andrew Oliver (bass, guitar). Although at their performance in Atlanta, the drummer was someone else (did not catch his name) filling in for Ben. He was talented, but not sure if he was a permanent change or filling in.

1. How did you all meet? What is the story behind the name, Wild Rivers?

Devan Glover-

“A few of us met in college, and through mutual friends. A music career was something we’d all dreamed of pursuing, so after graduation we started to take it more seriously, and that summer we got into the studio to record our first album. We all got together to work out arrangements for the songs, and have been playing together ever since. It all kind of developed from there.” 

“As for the name, honestly it came from hours and hours of playing word association in the car. On long drives, we’d spitball combinations of words that we liked, writing down the ones that sounded cool and resonated in some way. “Wild Rivers” was in the running, and one day we stumbled upon a poem by Gregory Orr that we related to, titled The River (see it here). Thematically, The River resonated with us because it’s about taking a plunge into the unknown. At the time, this was exactly what we were doing, diving into a new career path and experiencing the uncertainty that comes with graduating college and having to figure your life out. The poem mentioned ‘Wild Rivers’ a lot, so that’s how we settled on the name.”

2. When I listen to your music, I feel like it has the roots of folk/rock/country music I have grown up with all my life living in the American south, but you breathe a freshness to it which makes it unique. Who are your musical influences and how does that impact your sound?  

Devan–

“We all grew up listening to lots of classic singer/songwriter, folk and rock music –  James Taylor, Fleetwood Mac, The Eagles, The Beatles. We draw a lot of inspiration from artists in that era – particularly when it comes to songs with a heavy lyrical focus and lots of vocal harmony. We also look to a lot of current folk/rock artists for inspiration – The Lumineers, Bahamas, Half Moon Run to name a few – but individually, our musical tastes span across many genres. I think this works to our advantage, because it allows us to incorporate certain aspects of different genres into our own music, and hopefully create something unique. When you think about it, the best bands have never been bound to a certain genre. Fleetwood Mac has songs ranging from country to pop to folk to rock. John Mayer started as a singer/songwriter, went on to put out a country blues album, and is now sampling hip hop beats in his newer music. We try to operate under the mentality that the best song always wins, no matter if it necessarily “fits” within a certain genre.”

  3. This isn’t your first big tour, what do you look forward to the most this time around? What have you learned about being on the road and staying fresh for each show?

Khalid Yassein-

“We’ve never been to the West Coast, so that’s going to be a huge highlight. We’ve had a lot of people asking for us to come out so it’ll be cool to finally play some shows out there! We’re planning on doing lots of hiking and exploring on days off. We’ve gotten a lot better at managing our sleep and exercising  when we’re on tour. We’re also always looking for healthy food and it’s fun to find new little spots. We’ve been at it long enough now that we know what works and what’s not sustainable. It’s all about balance.” 

  4. What is your songwriting style or music making process? Does the music follow the lyrics or the other way around? Is it collaborative writing or do one or two of you develop a song and then bring it to the band to complete?

Khalid-

“We go about it a lot of ways. On our first record, I  wrote a lot of the songs, almost always with music first and then building lyrics and ideas on that. Devan and I co-wrote a few on that album, which is cool because Devan is mostly lyrics first. On our new EP we co-wrote a lot with each other, as well as with a few songwriters out of Nashville which was a pretty awesome experience. You get a new feel when you step out of your comfort zone with new writing situations, it’s fun! “

  5. When y’all are on the road, what other bands are you listening to?

Khalid-

“We love all kinds of music. A lot of old classics, today we were going through the Beatles discography start to finish. Right now we’re into a rapper called Noname out of Chicago who’s incredible. And in the Americana world we’re really into new records from Rayland Baxter and Ruston Kelly. We like to mix it up for long drives.”  

They gave me a few new sounds and if you know me, you know I have already tapped into them on Spotify.

Wild Rivers at Eddie’s Attic

As we were waiting for Wild Rivers to begin, Eddie’s Attic filled up quickly with a buzz of excitement. It was a sold out show, with very little standing room. I enjoyed chatting it up with people who were there. Two pretty girls were standing behind me, and I couldn’t help overhear their strategy to try and find two empty seats. I made every effort to help them, but it wasn’t possible that night. When I explained about my blog and why I was there, they asked if the band members were friendly and nice. I explained that they were incredibly open and made an effort to answer my questions as well as chat with me before the show. Some bands don’t do that! The girls were big fans trekking miles and miles to see Wild Rivers on a Thursday night, and they actually breathed a sigh of relief to hear the band was genuine.

Certainly talent, creativity, and presence helps, but sometimes it is the extra effort to chat with fans that can make all the difference. Wild Rivers seemed polished and practiced, with no stumbles or fumbles that I could tell. They were hitting all the right notes and truly fantastic.

Wild Rivers-L-R  Khalid Yassein, Devan Glover, and Andrew Oliver

  I really tried to capture Khalid’s dreamy sincere eyes, but I didn’t bring my obnoxious lenses. Others were swooning along side me…It is a forceful combo of crazy smooth talent + good looks. He has something to say and expresses moods and emotions in a way that connects.

Wild Rivers had quiet solo moments with an acoustic guitar, as well as powerful full band, hand-clap inspiring tunes. They mixed up their songs nicely and at moments, I wished I could stand up and sway to the ever changing tempos, but didn’t want to block the view of others.

Andrew’s guitar added a depth to the songs and gave them an edge, which without, would have left them lacking. The drum and guitar complete their sound and help them to expand the possibilities.

  Some bands chat between songs and some bands don’t. Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. In this case Khalid did most of the talking and it worked well. You could hear a pin drop. He gave some background to his songwriting and the premise for the lyrics. I felt the purpose behind the music, which only made me appreciate it more.

Devan has an incredible voice which puts this band on another level. I kind of expected sweet chirping blue birds to land on her outstretched hands at times. Yep, the range and control was enviable and jaw dropping. She made it seem so effortless. And yes, a woman from the audience yelled out at the end of one song, “You’ve got some pipes girl!” after she belted out a deeper tone.

  I captured a snippet of Wild Rivers performing their latest hit, “I Won’t Be Back”, from their recent EP release titled, Eighty Eight.

  I was able to nab the set list after the show, and the guy sitting next to me was reminded, and jumped up to get another one for his wife (who is also from Toronto!). She is holding it as her friends gather around. They were my pick for super fans (pictured at the foot of my blog homepage) and all went home smiling!

Here is my set list up close. Note-there is a new tune on the list, “Moving Target”. Listening, I could hear the continued growth of this band and recognize the influences of the multiple genres they described in the questions above. 

They have a host of shows from here till the first of December. Don’t miss them while they are still playing intimate venues. Check out if they are coming near you by clicking here. Wild Rivers Shows

As summer begins to loosen up its grip on us all, it was nice to begin fall with a show which proved to be really tremendous.

Wild Rivers-Interview and Photos From Their Recent Atlanta Show In support of their recent EP release Wild Rivers is currently burning up the highways and byways of the states.

[streetdancerproject]

My Last DJ Set for The Jam Cellar Is a History of The Jam Cellar

Last Tuesday, I put together a playlist that told the Jam Cellar's story as I have experienced it over the past 15 years.

Chant of the Groove, Fats Waller: Typically after announcements, we open the second half of the night with a line dance or a jam. I had songs for the Shim Sham and the Big Apple at the ready, but I didn’t want to turn my set into a line dance-a-polooza. I opted for the Tranky Do with the song that Jam Cellar instructors have preferred as an alternative to the Dipsy Doodle by Ella Fitzgerald.

Also, The Tranky Do was always more of a Jam Cellar thing. Way back in the early 00’s when Mike Faltesek was living here, he decided to piece together the original choreography. Up until that point, people were doing a version taught by Frankie Manning. Falty had noticed that the version in the Spirit Moves documentary seemed a little different and went on a mission to find any and all evidence of it on film. Eventually he was able to piece it together from a variety of film sources mostly featuring Al Minns and Leon James. This is a video of him alongside Frida Segerdahl the weekend they taught it at a workshop he organized and called “The Toe Jam” at the old Jam Cellar location. (This demo was not at the Jam Cellar though)

Well, Git It!, Tommy Dorsey. As I said before, we usually do a jam or a line dance after announcement, but I did both because I had to play this song, and there was no way people would not jam to it. The much faster version of this song was the one used in the landmark Mad Dog routine, of which all the original JC founders were a part of. That's a pretty lengthy story by itself, but fortunately, I have written about it previously as part of my history of the modern Lindy Hop scene.

The Primordial Ooze

This section of songs served as a quick tour of the musical landscape leading up to the founding of The Jam Cellar.

C Jam Blues, Lincoln Center Orchestra. I’m so confident that this is probably the most played song ever in the modern Lindy Hop scene, that I’m not even going to bother researching it.

Swing Lover, Indigo Swing. Icons of the neo-swing era from the late 1990s. The irony is that this can be technically considered vintage music now. Also, yes, I did cut out that weird spoken word bit at the beginning.

Watch The Birdie, Gene Krupa. On the short list of iconic Hollywood style songs. Another version was featured in the much less famous Hellzapoppin clip.

Alright, O.K., You Win / Everyday (I Have the Blues), Barbara Morrison. Another overplayed classic representing the groove period, but still a great live album recorded at another legendary Lindy Hop venue in San Francisco: The 9:20 Special.

Inspiration

The next set paid homage to the modern musicians that have greatly influenced and supported The Jam Cellar.

Sweet Eileen, Blue Sky 5. Craig Gildner has been a long time stalwart of the DC scene and a friend to The Jam Cellar since before the beginning.

Massachusetts (Live), Gordon Webster. Before starting her own band, JC co-founder Naomi Uyama was featured on a number of live Gordon Webster recordings.

Black Coffee, The Careless Lovers. Friend of the Jam Cellar, Mike Faltesek, went on to play and lead several bands of his own.

Someone’s Rockin My Dreamboat, The Boilermaker Jazz Band. The Jam Cellar has benefited greatly from its relationship with The Boilermakers. They were the band that opened the first night at the new location in the Columbia Heights neighborhood from the actual cellar location in Vienna, Virginia. More importantly, there's no way to quantify how the collective knowledge and understanding of Rich Strong, Marc Kotishon, Ernest McCarty, Jennifer McNulty, and especially Paul Cosentino has filtered throughout the world by way of the international instructors of the Jam Cellar, but it is incredibly significant. In regards to this specific song, I remember The Boilermakers first trying to figure it out at one of their gigs in DC because they heard it from an old Bugs Bunny cartoon.

Meschiya Lake and the Little Big Horns. This represents the contributions of the vibrant New Orleans music scene to the Lindy Hop community. JC co-founder Andy Reid currently resides and plays music there on the regular.

Storming the Air Waves

About 10 years ago, I was invited to guest DJ on the live streaming radio channel that Yehoodi.com sponsored. I turned around and asked if we could feature all the DJs of The Jam Cellar. A total of 10 DJs submitted their favorite songs which we turned into a 4 hour radio show.

Dinah, Cab Calloway  & His Orchestra. The file I got for this song got corrupted, so it cuts out the last few seconds, but I had to play it because Dinah is supposed to be The Jam Cellar’s theme song . . .  

Opening JC Theme, The Hot Club de Jam Cellar.  . . .which is why they re-worked it into this version. It has the distinction of actually being recorded live at The Jam Cellar in one of the spare rooms with a band completely made up of JC staff.

Spinnin’ The Webb Chick Webb & His Orchestra.

Yacht Club Swing, Fats Waller. The live version. Not to be confused with the not as good studio version.

Sister Kate, Muggsy Spanier.

Dark Eyes, Fats Waller. These last few songs are a sampling of what we submitted for the show. Dark Eyes for some reason was the most popular song amongst the DJs. It’s such a moody and unusual song for a swing dance, but that’s part of the reason why I think people love it.

Live! By The Jam Cellar

The next couple of songs were used in signature performances by Jam Cellar instructors.

Jump through the Window, Roy Eldridge. A lot of people like to hate on this song because it inspires everyone to do the claps. However, can you think of another performance that has introduced such an indelible mark on a song that it's hard to imagine the song without them almost a decade later?  Usually the music influences the dance, but this is a case where it goes the opposite way. People who have never seen this performance do the claps at the breaks to this day. Embrace the claps.

I Could Write A Book (Live(1963/Copenhagen)), Sarah Vaughan. Not as famous as the last one, but one of my favorites from Naomi and her soon to be (at the time) husband Peter. I'm also going to take partial credit for this because I gave Naomi this song (along with a ton of other music) when she moved away. (Although I'm actually not sure if she realizes that.) My favorite part is seeing Ernest from the Boilermakers just grooving up there on stage. I normally hate it when musicians camp out on stage during performances, but considering the history between Ernest, Naomi and the rest of The Jam Cellar, I'm a fan.

The Finale

I actually planned my whole set to lead up into this last stretch of songs.

Just Kiddin’ Around, Artie Shaw & His Orchestra. Except this one. Honestly, I just threw this one in at the last second to eat some time, but it is one of my own personal favorite dance songs.

On Revival Day, Laverne Baker. A local favorite. Generally I try to avoid drawing religious parallels to the dance scene because at the end of the day, they’re not really the same thing even if some people feel that way. In relation to this song at least, I like the themes it invokes about the hopefulness and joyfulness of being together. That's not very surprising since it invokes a lot of strong imagery of life in black churches and black culture in general from which Lindy Hop is very indebted to.

No Regrets, Billie Holiday. My favorite Billie Holiday song. Shout out to Mike Marcotte for introducing it to me too long ago. The lyrics are spot on for this occasion.

Shiny Stockings, Count Basie & His Orchestra. When I started putting this playlist together, this was the first song that I put on it, and I knew it also had to be the last one played. If Jumping at The Woodside is Lindy Hop’s national anthem, then Shiny Stockings is its national hymn.

The Encore

Just One Look, Doris Troy. I was totally unprepared for an encore, so I had to scramble. I probably should have seen this coming, but I overestimated lindy hoppers’ collective ability to figure out a social cue. I defaulted to one of my favorite “end of the night, everyone go home” songs.

Dinah, James P. Johnson. Of course someone said that we should swing the eff out to end this. I thought about Woodside or Lindy Hoppers Delight, but this song has a very specific story attached to it.

At the end of the night of one of the first times I DJ’d at The Jam Cellar, I was messing around, playing random songs as the JC crew cleaned up. I decided to play a really hot song that I had found recently, and what came next felt like a lost clip from Hellzapoppin.

Everyone dropped their brooms and trash bags and started a solo jam. This was 2003, solo jazz was not a thing in the Lindy Hop scene, but the Jam Cellar was at the bleeding edge of the community’s understanding of the dance. This was mostly due to the fact that several of the world’s best dancers were living in DC at the time.

I'm sure it is a gross exaggeration to say this was the greatest solo jam I have ever witnessed, especially after seeing some of the best since then. There is no video. Just my increasingly nostalgic memory. 

The song ended, people exchanged high 5’s and they finished closing up. Soon, some of them would be headlining workshops and winning major competitions all over the world. Some of them were already at that point. Others decided to follow different life paths that. But at that moment, it was just a Tuesday night.

This is actually not the song I played that night. It was a  version of Charleston by a band led by Sidney Bechet, but it is on the same James P. Johnson compilation CD as this version of Dinah. These two songs are closely associated to me by sheer organizational chance. Plus it seemed more appropriate with Dinah being the Jam Cellar's theme song, even if few people remember that.

Epilogue

I suppose at it’s worse, The Jam Cellar allowed people to be a little too self indulgent like I am being here. It’s one of the pitfalls of having a nearly unrestrained creative sandbox. However, at its best, it was a place where people could come together to inspire and be inspired; to challenge and be challenged. Sometimes it was through creative performances, other times it may have been with difficult conversations, but most of the time it was with 2-3 minute dances.

The future of The Jam Cellar is uncertain. On Tuesday, they announced a summer break. The website was recently updated with a banner calling it an "indefinite break." To be honest, even if it doesn't come back, I won't miss it. I don’t miss trekking out to Vienna, Virginia to a basement in a strip mall. And I don’t even think I’ll miss the mansion/sauna in the heart of a changing nation's capital. To me The Jam Cellar wasn’t just a location.  

I did the math, and I can confidently say that I’ve spent over 90% of my Tuesday nights at some form of The Jam Cellar over the past 15 years. I've seen people who were moving away break down into tears knowing that they may never return. We've celebrated engagements and consoled divorcees. The room was packed as people took turns telling their favorite Frankie Manning stories the Tuesday after he passed away.

What all these experiences have in common is that they are about people. Folks. Community. I will miss is having a place to go every Tuesday night, knowing that I’ll see people that I want to be with. People who understand some of the fundamental principles of the dance that have not changed since it was born on the dance floors in Harlem almost 100 years ago. While there is plenty of room for individual creativity, you should not lose sight of your partner or the people around you. That's the main thing of value that we should take away from The Jam Cellar that should be carried over into the next chapter of whatever happens next.

[booklust]

Futurelit Vol 5: Grace Byron

This time around, I had the absolute pleasure of chatting with Grace Byron, the Brooklyn-based columnist, writer and filmmaker and all-around brilliant, benevolent creative spirit whose recent book release party for NB Carrie Bradshaw (read it here via Epigraph Mag!) at Babycastles solidified my love for her and her work. 

This interview was the first time I had the opportunity to conduct a classic interview over the phone instead of over text chat, or as I like to call it for reasons I’d gladly explain to you over a glass of wine, “The Tony Hawk Method.”

This resulted in a truly gorgeous conversation that flows synaptically and always takes surprising directions (Twin Peaks, the afterlife, and a tender moment involving Coldplay that occurs towards the end---when you see it then you’ll understand!). It also brought me right back to the days at my editorial internship where I would transcribe hours of interviews, but in a good way this time. I took great pains to not only get the content and diction right, but to convey the undertones of our exchange that made it so vibrant. Which, interestingly enough, makes it take on the visual form of a text chat.

Check out our conversation at the jump, with gorgeous illustrations by Becky Ebben:

You do a column called “Trans Monogamist” for the Bushwick Daily (I binged that…it’s really dope) and your latest project is NB Carrie Bradshaw (which is out now!). So I’m curious, what sort of came first: your interest in the format of an advice columnist/relationship columnist,  or your love of Carrie Bradshaw?

Actually--I didn’t start watching Sex and the City until January 2017, which everyone is sort of super surprised by, and honestly? Me fucking too. Not that it’s a perfect show, but the aesthetic signals that it’s something that I should have seen a long time ago. It took me a long time to get to it. I had heard a lot of the negative stuff, which there is a lot of, and rightfully so. There’s this one terrible bisexual episode where Carrie’s just like, “I just don’t know….he’s bi .” And I’m just like… “Girl, so what.” The point is, the column writing came sort of naturally. I had a column a few years ago at my paper called Queer Art Vibes before I had even seen Sex and the City. And I was mostly writing about art, and capitalism, artists, and things I was finding interesting aesthetically. The last column that I wrote was after I had a break-up, and it was called “How To Date an Anarchist.”

Oh my God

And it got like, no comments. Because most of the columns that I was writing were about trans identity and stuff. I got all these comments like, “Why can’t people just make up their minds about gender?” And I’m just like, that’s completely irrelevant to what I’m talking about. So this column got no comments at all. There’s this huge anarchist population at Indiana University. It just closed down this month, but we had this huge anarchist bookstore that was this huge draw for the punk scene.

It was a column that didn’t make sense for where I was writing. But then as I was watching Sex and the City, and as I was doing a lot more dating my last year in college, I was thinking “yeah, this is really important to talk about.” And I started thinking of dating as a political and aesthetic and emotional practice. It’s more using this pop culture phenomenon to let people understand something about what it’s like to be trans and dating. It’s not like it’s me and my three friends that are all going through the same things. Or it’s not like me and my straight girlfriends talking about how our experiences are different. Or me and someone who is nonbinary even talking about how it’s different for both of us. But I do like that element of friendship in it, that element of comradery.  But I think it’s interesting now that shows act like there’s this group of 4 friends and they’re all the same. And that was never my experience? You know, there’s always a nonbinary person, a lesbian person, and...maybe a straight man.

LOL the token straight

Right. At least that’s my college experience, where I’ve never had a group of friends that were all the same. There were always at least one other gay or queer person. It’s a helpful lens to think about dating, and think about dating how much it’s changed since the early 2000s. A column is a dispatch from the front lines, like “this is what happened this month! How’s it going with you?” The book [NB Carrie Bradshaw] has a little bit of a more narrative arc to it. But in the columns, there’s no resolution. -----keep reading below------

Right, and that’s what I like about it. There’s endless thinkpieces about dating apps, queer dating, etc, and it’s so frustratingly depersonalized. It’s very strange how the discourse tries to force dystopia instead of actually having a comprehensive view of how people feel. There’s a lot more truth in the way that you present dating than how someone tries to dissect it in a thinkpiece.

Yeah, thinkpieces are weird. I love to read them, but I also don’t know how helpful they are a lot of the time. Especially when they try to draw a definitive statement. In some things, sure, that makes sense.

Like in a college thesis, where you’re forced to come to a resolution for your life, pretty much.

What was your experience working at a college newspaper?

Basically, I came to college, and I was on the media floor--and basically what I thought that meant was cross-genre. But in reality, what it meant was journalism. And then I thought, you know, okay, it’s fine. I thought it was interesting. And so I almost went to join the newspaper as a writer and interviewer, I did a few articles. But a rule was that if you were a writer for them, you couldn’t be interviewed. And that was my biggest problem with it--I knew I wanted to do art. I knew that I wanted to get press. I didn’t want to prevent that from happening.

Right after I came out my freshman year, this guy on my floor was like, “do you want to talk about being gay at IU?” And I was like uh….sure! It was weird because it was my first time being interviewed for something real, and I was talking about being gay. But I was also trying to sneak a pitch for my website while doing it, I was like...go watch it! They promptly cut that out of the interview, though.

Good effort, tho.

I didn’t love that environment. I wasn’t taken with it. I started volunteering at a local radio station where I did stories about lots of things. That was much more interesting and fulfilling than the college newspaper. And my friend was like, “do you want to be columnist--we need one.” Not because I was special or anything, because they really needed one. And I was like, “sure.” So I started writing these extremely leftist columns, like “capitalism is the devil, and here’s why : )”

And I wrote one that was like, “nudity in art isn’t porn,” which isn’t even an extreme opinion. But I started getting all of these comments like, “Counterpoint: nudity in art isn’t not porn.” I was just like wow, I can tell that you really read this column….

People just read titles a lot of times.

Yeah for sure. Our campus was filled with a lot of views of all extremes, and not just anarchists. We also had a militant white supremacist population on campus. There were a bunch of protests from that group over the course of years--it wasn’t just one year, or just this year, which was definitely the worse than the years before. I also got tons of hateful comments from white supremacist groups on my articles. So I was just one of the people on the receiving end of those comments.

But as far as my involvement in the newspaper group itself, I think I only attended one meeting. I didn’t really feel a sense of community at IU that a lot of people there felt. I think a lot of people looked down on what I did because it was so personal. It wasn’t like I was talking about music, or like I was talking about hard-hitting stories. So I wasn’t really a part of the “IU JOURNALISM COMMUNITY.” But it wasn’t like I really wanted to be. I would still sometimes get people who appreciated my work, that came up to me and said “I love this, I love what you’re doing,” but they were usually queer people.

Which is definitely the desired reaction, which is awesome. Talking about your webseries “Idle Cosmopolitan” -- what was your favorite audience, or your favorite venue that you showed it to? And what was that sort of reaction and vibe like?

I wasn’t at all of the screenings. It showed at Bloomington at Planet Nine--which is this small VHS rental/DVD rental video place that kind of reminds me of Ghost World or something. I wasn’t there, but a lot of my friends were there, since it was my home for so many years. I assume it went well. From the pictures, I saw that it went well, at least.

It showed at Sarah Lawrence, which I know very little about how that went. I wanted to be there, but I was scheduled at work. Which is a whole thing about how I’m not a full-time artist. I say that I’m a freelance artist, which means that I make MAYBE 50 bucks a month off of my art. If it’s a good month! So I can’t always go to everything that’s happening. It’s an interesting part about being an artist in this landscape. People expect you to be global, and there’s only so global you can be if you’re working class. Which I think is important to be transparent about. It’s not always fun to be transparent about that, but it’s important.

Exactly, you want to be honest about it, but you want to portray yourself as larger-than-life-to get attention, and at least the semblance of clout (whatever that fcking means). But being an artist, you’re a part of a community, and you want to treat that community well. You don’t want to stunt and act like you’re making a living off of your art when you’re not.

It’s not cool to lie one way or the other. It’s not cool to portray yourself as a poor person if you’re not, and I’m not super poor or anything, but I’m not living off of my artwork, and I make a decent living off of my work as a childcare worker. But yeah, you shouldn’t lie because you’re fooling yourself and making art seem elitist.

There’s the lie by omission, in a way. A lot of people are internet famous, or have a certain persona that makes people say “Oh, I want to be like this person, who so clearly lives off of their artwork.” When in reality, it’s probably a side hustle at best.

Or they live with their parents. Or they have rich parents.

It distorts people’s dreams and plans--it’s important to be responsible about that.

Totally. One show I was at physically was at Secret Project Robot, at this festival of poets, and my videos were showing between poets that were reading their work. So that was interesting---I was the only video artist at the show. And as many things as I have tried--I have written poems, but I’ve never called myself a “poet.” So I thought that was kind of cool to have that multimedia experience, to see my videos projected really large in front of a big crowd of 20 or 30 people. Which doesn’t seem like a lot, but it’s actually a lot. I remember thinking wow, the crowds are gonna be so big in New York. And they are! But 20 or 30 people is a lot for DIY art. Even if you’re successful, or internet famous--it’s hard to gather a crowd wherever you are.

And it was really cool because people who were actually in the video got to see it, which was cool! Chariot is in it, and he was there, so that’s cool.

There was one livestream and q&a in the UK, which was really cool. And that was my favorite, because the moderator was super smart and always asked good question about the fantasy genre, and its intersections with queerness. It was refreshing instead of questions like-- “Why are you gay? Why is this here?” It was a good convo to have beyond the surface level.

It’s awesome that I saw so many showings of your series was in Indianapolis, in Indiana. You may not see a big crowd--DIY art isn’t an Ariana Grande concert--but What you do see is how it sort of transforms the room, and creates a living space, a community. 20 people is a community. Especially in Indiana.

Right, there’s very established artists and documentarians where the only place they have more than 20 people show up is in their hometowns. Even world-renowned documentarians may struggle to get an audience. Which is awful. But I think that one thing that is happening in the real world is that there are plenty of people I look up to, who are famous, whose twitter gets pretty very few likes! And they may have a huge amount of followers! And I’m like--why am I getting more likes than world-renowned feminist scholars? I think that’s happening in real life too. These people are having talks and showings of their work and sometimes DIY work is a different experience and maybe draws more people than these professional pieces, and there’s a community of people who can see themselves in that as artists.

I agree, it definitely changes the dynamic for people are used to when it comes to art, you think there’s the artist and this huge invisible wall and then there’s the observer, and it breaks down that dynamic.

Right, it changes the power dynamic. The artist isn’t a preacher.  What we’ve seen in DIY venues is, everybody is sitting in chairs. The artist is in the front, but everyone is on the same level. There isn’t a stage to walk down from.

I think people are only starting to observe this change, and aren’t sure what to call it yet. Some people see changes like this as the death of something, like the death of some kind of empire of how art works. But especially with this project, I think I’ve not only been an optimist, but a realist in the sense that it’s for the better. So many people are screaming “death to media! Death to print!” and I’m just over here like, “You’re a Baby Boomer, please don’t talk to me.”

Ha! Right. These media aren’t dead, but they’re definitely dying. But I think they’re going to be dying for a while to come. People broadcasting the death of all of these things---like, they’re not dead yet. The Met is gonna be in trouble, but the Met is gonna be around for the next 100 years. The Met’s not just gonna crumble.

Going back to “Idle Cosmopolitan”--I love how it’s a series of very short films. And by short, I mean like, slightly longer than a Vine length. And some people may come across that and immediately compare the series to Vine culture, but my immediate thought was comparing it to poetry, with a lot of tightly-wound content being fit into a small space. So I was wondering how poetry influences your visual work, or how visual work influences your poetry, etc.

That’s interesting. I actually originally applied to go to college for poetry. I never called myself a poet, but I did think about it for a while. When I do write poetry, it’s usually about nature, and viewing nature through the lens of divinity and power dynamics. Which I think is definitely a big part of my video work. The “Queer World” in my piece is a forest. Somebody was talking to me recently, and said that “I think it’s interesting that the queer world is a forest. Do you think of urban spaces as, like, not-as-queer spaces?” I hadn’t really thought about that. But whenever I think of that sort of the afterlife, I don’t think of cities. And what’s our other option, really? Nature. An ocean would be a terrifying destination for the afterlife. I think that poetry is super important, I think when I’m writing anything, I tend towards a lyrical, poetic style. I love hard facts, but I was never super into Hemingway. I always loved the Great Gatsby. Not that I like showy, hyper-stylized stuff; I hated the Great Gatsby movie. But the suggestion of artifice, the suggestion of things like that, I think is really interesting.

There’s ton of talk about heaven and nature and sin in “Idle Cosmopolitan.” I’m sure it comes from a long line of being raised in Christianity, and having read all of the Christian classics. And as a kid, I was obsessed with the apocalypse. Once, I was between 6-9 I remember looking at clocks in restaurants and thinking, “Could this be the hour of the end?” I remember being super into Revelations, and the ghost stories that my friends and I would tell each other, and often confusing them as the same thing.

I think that’s a form of poetry true, a strange, mental form of poetry. I think the afterlife is poetic, because there’s no concrete that you can provide.

I think in terms of modality, I think I’m always writing in the form of the poetic, even if I’m not writing a poem. Even my column--it’s not a how-to column, it’s not a safari.

It’s not MTV Cribs!

Right! Definitely more reflections.

I always thought of videos sort of in musician terms, like “this is my new album---Idle Cosmopolitan.” This is the tracklist, and each has a poetic name, etc. And each year, there’s a self-image overhaul….well, there’s no image overhaul for me this year, but especially in college I was into that idea, where I wanted to amp myself up every year.

But this iteration, for me, was trying to marry these poetic ideals with my own lived experiences, to make it sort of autobiographical, but still have a flourish. I mean, I was watching Twin Peaks when I was working on it.

Yeah, I can definitely see that influence in there. Where there’s that magic-realism, but it’s so mundane. The suspension of disbelief is so well-dissolved into it.

Right as I was starting to write this, I just finished the season of Veronica Mars---I’m not sure if it directly influenced it…

But it was there

Yeah, and watching Twin Peaks: the Return. What I thought was interesting about it was its formal elements. There was this sort of suspension of disbelief present for both the characters and the audience. So then you’re just like, “Yeah, queer spirits! That makes sense!” So, it’s that magic realism that is super appealing. And also the fact that it’s episodic. One of the things about David Lynch that I’m really into is the episodic nature of his work. There’s this loose play with time and narrative, and it’s an experience.

I think what Lynch talks a lot about, especially in later seasons, is agency. But in Sex and the City, for example--Carrie isn’t a bad person, but she’s not necessarily a good person either. She has affairs, runs around doing whatever she wants, she tries to take a break from dating and has a guilt complex where she feels bad about her actions, and also places guilt on other people--it’s complex, which I think is interesting.

Like chaotic neutral, but a little more complex than that?

Yeah, definitely. I’m obsessed with people who are chaotic neutral. I don’t think I’m chaotic neutral, but I’m fascinated by that those people exists.

I’m a super-intense Virgo, Type A, Blair Waldorf type. I definitely pride myself on hard work--which could be problematic--but I have that crawl-my-way-to-the-top sort of vibe.

This character in the webseries, they’re sort of neutral. They’re a relationship writer, but it doesn’t seem like a main part of their personhood. The only thing that they seem mad about is when their boyfriend breaks up with them, which is fair. But they don’t seem to be making many choices, and there’s something very sidekick about that.

I was in this space in my life where I was having to make all these intense decisions--deciding to move to New York, having to make all of these choices about who I wanted to be as a person. The character is the exact opposite, where there’s no movement. There’s a movement in narrative, a movement in place, but it kind of happens to them.

They get a letter, a pep talk from Fate--and they’re just like, “Sure, whatever, I don’t care.” Then they enter the queer world, and they’re like “Alright.” And then the Blue Spirit is the one who was like, “No, this wasn’t actually a good choice.” And they’re like, “Okay, sure.” They never really doubt people’s motives.

There’s a sort of guilt about making choices that Type A people have. Inevitably, if you’re a type A perosn, you’re going to hurt people. Even if you’re not actually hurting them, you’re going to make choices, and choices affect people. There’s winners and losers. So what does it mean for the sort of stoner archetype, this chaotic neutral archetype, when they don’t make choices?

I’ve never been a chill person, so I gravitate towards writing characters that are like that. Because I’m always wondering….what does that feel like?

Right! I feel like it takes a lot of effort to be chill, which isn’t chill. It’s kind of a self-consuming concept. I’m not gonna say it’s the only real binary, but…

Haha, right! Ok back to influences. Actually, as far as the soundtrack goes, I’ve gotten a lot of feedback where people say it reminds them of Sex and the City, and that it’s derivative. Actually, one person said that the soundtrack reminds them of Rugrats….

Stop!!!

Right!? Well, it’s jazz, but it’s sort of this chaotic jazz.

It’s a typical theme song in a lot of ways, but it’s disarming. Which I like.

Some people said it makes them anxious.

It offsets the perceived chill in the series, which signals you to look harder.

Watching it back, I was like...something is wrong. Narratively, there’s something up. But I’m not sure if that thing ever gets hashed out or resolved, it just sort of hangs like a dark cloud.

Which is what’s so great about poetry. There’s always that lack of resolution. People always get angry at that, where they want to feel satisfied...where’s the sequel at??

Do they get the girl or not??

Yeah! It’s how we’re taught to view life. But especially with creative people, it’s paradoxical--they only thing that makes them (us) feel satisfied is poetry, that sort of form that leaves things unresolved.

Totally.

How has the internet shaped your writing?

The internet is definitely fucked up. It was created by the military, and is now owned by billionaires. That’s already strike one. But let’s assume that the internet is also provides a space that provides more access for more people. But it doesn’t provide equal access for everybody. It provides equal access for a relatively small amount of people. You have to afford a computer, internet access--and even if you go to the library, you have to afford to be there.

But let’s say it does level the playing field in that way---even still, people don’t have more of a chance of getting their art noticed because of it. It does mean more people can put their stuff out there, but it doesn’t guarantee more viewers, or more fans, or some utopia.

The internet has become this neoliberal promise of equality. This reveals itself in every aspect---who dominates media, who dominates internet celebrity, etc. This doesn’t discount the fact that there’s fantastic DIY spaces based on the internet, but there’s a lot being overlooked.

The internet as a structure is racist, sexist, homophobic, and transphobic. Even if we go back to technology like photography, for example, it was a technology developed to best depict white faces. It’s so great that the internet creates a platform for people, but that includes creating platforms for neo-nazis on 4chan, for alt-righters to doxx people. The web is pretty fucked up, and it amplifies our greatest strengths, like community. Especially the trans community, which is so important. But it also amplifies our problems, and reveals where we need to grow.

I don’t think the internet is the devil, but I think it makes it harder for people to feel like human beings. It mirrors capitalism, and degrades human beings in so many ways where we’re expected to become a brand, which is always tied to capitalism. We’re forced to reduce ourselves to something bite-sized, which is troubling me as a person and as an artist.

When did u start writing and being creative?

I was always drawing. I was super into Pokemon and all the Nintendo games. I was into anything cute and well-designed, like Zelda, and anything involving world-building. I was super into maps, and at a young age, I thought, “I wanted to do that.”

At a young age, I wanted to be a pop star. And I made the boys in the neighborhood be my band. Now I’m thinking that was sort of a strong signal of me being gay, haha. Boys---you’re gonna be in this band, and I’m gonna sing Breakout by Miley Cyrus.

I started getting really into bands. I was really into Coldplay, and I wanted to be Chris Martin.

STOP, ME TOO

I really liked “Clocks.”

ME TOO, when I first heard that, I was like, Now….that’s what I call music.

I also really liked “Lovesong” by Sara Bareilles, which is entirely different, but I was also like...that’s what I call music. Also Paramore and Deathcab, and I was like…..this is also Music. I still love all this stuff

I still listen to all this stuff pretty much on the regular, even though I laugh about it Yeah! And at the time, all of these things were coded as feminine. Even Coldplay, which was, not a boyband, but kind of more healing.

Right, like ~emotional boys~, ~soft boys~, this sort of soft masculinity before it was talked about and memed.

I went from wanting to be a popstar, to wanting to be in bands, to wanting to do comics, and then I was like...I want to be painter! I did a lot of paintings, and then I wanted to be an actor. I was fixated on stardom, on theater. I was in all the plays of my freshman year.

Then I moved schools, and this guy who didn’t even like me and stopped talking to me, but I liked him---I wrote this psycho-opera about him. It was all songs about him, and it was super awkward. I recorded an album about him. He started being nice to me, and then I was just like…...here’s an album…

I was like, that was fun, but then I started to getting into Wes Anderson. And Woody Allen, but #WORST. And then Godard, which was better. Then I started making movies. And I saw 30 Rock, and it confirmed what I wanted to do.

I love how you go from Godard to 30 Rock

I know!! I was very all over the map. Then I started watching more experimental films and wild stuff, so it’s been a journey to where I’m at now.

The wrapping up portion, something I ask at the end of every interview...this is actually the first interview I’ve done that’s over the phone, an actual physical conversation. And the form of how I’ve conducted each interview has really affected it.

How would you describe the future of literature in a tweet-length? Or a sort of verbal tweet length, also tweets are longer now so….yeah….

Smaller.

[abigailskoda]

Wedding Plans in 2015

It enables to visualise your favored wedding. Women have long planned their ideal wedding day,  Custom Made Jewellery however with the robust have an impact on of celeb marriages the current fashion for weddings has unfold far and huge, and is not restrained to the vastly rich. The picks you now have are fantastic, and lots of old traditions are being ditched or subtle for greater cutting-edge day ones. So wherein do you begin?

Well, there have been plenty of movies to watch for thought or thoughts; The Knot, Love clearly, My Best Friends Wedding, even TV hits like "Friends" had its proportion of weddings. These are great, however these weddings are approximately particular characters and personalities. They are high-quality to poach thoughts that you could construct on and refine, however in the end...

Start it with YOU! That's right, suppose 'big ego', 'no limits' and start at the top! Pretend for a moment you have got a bottomless pocket and pass beforehand and draw up your ideal wedding ceremony due to the fact you are about you!

So design all of it to your pad, appearance and research from the excellent weddings that inspire you- from the marriage dress to the ceremony and on to the reception(s). Yeah this is right, you could have multiple and it does not even have to be sooner or later both as some weddings cross on all week. It's a one-off unique day for you and there will be no others to suit it.

So now you've got a rough best wedding ceremony planned right? Well, perhaps your price range is a attention, so time to start making your dream wedding ceremony work on your practical wedding ceremony. Keep in mind your dream wedding though as it may be feasible for to overlay some of it onto your practical one. Hopefully, you have months till the large day so perhaps consider beginning with the less complicated stuff first; things you may cross and discover right now and work into your finances. In a wedding there are belongings you have to have, things that should be there (however no longer crucial) and things that you may easily afford to lose, specifically if it does no longer be just right for you.

The wedding get dressed and the venue are the first to arrange. Put yourself in an imaginary white room and visualise your dream dress acting on you. Next believe the white of the room turning into your venue. So which one seems better, less expensive, and practical in your thoughts? A Church or a registry office... ?

WEDDING THEMES

Themed weddings are a contemporary fashion in 2014, and from what I am seeing as a photographer there also are famous colour and food topics. If a fave shade is important to you then this may be start of your topic. Since the royal wedding of Kate Middleton and Prince William, a brand new conventional style benchmark turned into set and additionally because the movie "The Great Gatsby" there was a definite flow in the direction of the 1920's appearance.

Now subject matters do include a fee tag, however will genuinely stand out for years to come. For subject matter inspirations take a look on-line and see what catches your eye.

THE DRESS & THE SHOES

wedding ceremony footwear The selections obtainable are more various than ever before, and in the long run you your dress and shoes are going to be the centre of attraction and remembered. Your photographer bases the wedding pix round you. Everyone else who brings their cameras are going to be pointing them at you as properly. Therefore, one component to preserve in thoughts: region your dress and shoes on the top of the budget list.

So what is current right now? Functional dresses that may be used time and again? Or something that flickers glamour and taste?

"Less is More" 1855 poem "Andrea del Sarto

Wedding clothes in hues apart from shades of white are simply something distinctive - creative and ambitious. They can be used over and over. Blush colorations, like red or peach are coming round again. A fashionable, pale, shimmering crimson is actually some thing to do not forget but in my opinion you cannot beat white. The classic white dress still sits at the pinnacle and has finished for loads of years.

Wedding portraiture

Depending on where you've got your ceremony, there are some issues to maintain in thoughts. A church wedding historically way hiring a unique vehicle to get you there. You ought to additionally think about the time you have got within the day as nicely; how lengthy will the journey be from A to B after which to C. If you are having a expert photographer, ensure you propose with him/her in which, how long and what sort of photography you would really like.

What's hot right now could be total coverage, and I locate the most interesting pix are the pre-wedding ceremony ones: the bridal prepping photographs of the makeup artist at paintings, the hair being styled, the marriage dress placing up prepared to be worn, the shoes, the state-of-the-art sparkling jewelry. As a society, we are now, greater than ever interested by the who, how and what went into creating a massive occasion. Look at any popular movie on DVD and Blu-ray nowadays and you may frequently locate the making-of documentaries are honestly longer than the film.

Preparation Preparation

We like seeing the main actors in between takes, behaving certainly and offering a little perception into their actual personalities. The equal applies to you, your bridesmaids, the Groom and grooms men. You clearly are going to be a superstar for the day and seeing the bridesmaids having a touch amusing getting geared up is exactly what you are going to need to look back on... No matter how antique they're.

A rite in a lodge may additionally imply no automobile is required, and you could loosen up a bit more due to the fact everything's central; all roads factor to one venue for absolutely everyone concerned. Also guests can book rooms for the night time so your reception does no longer ought to have a set end time.

Now permit's now not overlook a few key details both, have you concept about how the ring gets offered all through the rite? A favourite in the meanwhile is a adorned pillow with pins at the rings, or the own family canine sporting it down the aisle on call. Just be innovative, it is the little things that add that speciality.

Some church buildings and registrars have policies you want to be aware about and this is made clean when you are booking with them. They normally insist on only one respectable photographer being allowed to photo the event. This is not intended to be suggest or too controlling but it is a information protection trouble and in a few instances a copyright issue as nicely with reference to the venue. For instance, on the subject of the signing of the legitimate sign up no pictures is allowed - complete stop. This is a policy all officials will observe. But as soon as this formality is finished the photographer is free to seize the satisfied couple signing a fake e book rather.

Respect and Social Media

Something to keep in mind is the release of guest images onto social media at the night time of the marriage. You may or won't have an opinion on this, however a few couples ask their visitors to keep again their pictures and not submit them directly to social web sites till the legit ones are launched to so as hold their 'distinct' excellent. What I recommend is to ask every person on their invites to ship their pics to the bride and groom afterwards, and let them be the primary to peer their very own wedding.

Now I need to factor out a few facts right here: newbie photographers are anywhere and most of the people very own a few quite true cameras which can rival the photographers own device. Does this mean that uncle David is going to get the same snap shots as your hired photographer? Do you really want a photographer at all?

I can virtually say I even have in no way been wowed by those snaps. People do get lucky occasionally with perhaps 1 in 50. I even have but seen most of them emerge as online in social media web sites with titles like; pinnacle 100 worst wedding ceremony pictures though.

The factor is, you need a professional for quality and peace of thoughts. Like Jamie Oliver cooking a Wedding Breakfast or Maggie Sottero designing a unique get dressed, professionals in their field have the suitable device and skills to supply. A professional photographer is aware of what to look for and in which to be. You cannot assume a member of the family or pal to take on such a duty. The expert brings back-up facilities so no photograph is lost. He/she has the competencies to procedure your pictures and keep them nicely afterwards. Your employed photographer could have be versed in adjusting your snap shots, sprucing and cropping them to fit industrial print requirements geared up for printing.

DETAILS OF THE RECEPTION

Hunger - After a rite, maximum guests are hungry and thirsty. When making plans your wedding reception it might be sensible to provide canapés/appetisers with any reception beverages. These will revive any flagging visitors, and potentially save you any early inebriation.

Wedding reception

Cake - The wedding cake is a subculture that people seem to be re-vamping and modernising. Recent weddings I actually have attended have seen the slicing of the conventional iced fruit cake take a backseat and sometimes just no longer appear in any respect! This may be seasonal preference, as an example, iciness tastes veer towards chocolate and wealthy flavours, while in summer time I actually have visible light sponges, lemon cake or maybe simply an amazing antique cheesecake. Wedding fairs are presently promoting ice-cream desserts that double as a dessert for the Wedding Breakfast, or layered tiers of frosted cupcakes that can be dispensed on the large day with out the need to reduce the cake.

Messages - The conventional way is a visitor signing e book, it's a incredible keep sake to take home. But there are already new ideas available. How approximately a wishing well that guests can put little notes into? Once you're finished with it after the wedding, stick it in the lawn and permit nature grow round it.

Presents - A super way to make the speeches extra interesting is giving out offers to those who have helped and been there for you, you can even strive a a laugh raffle or supply out lottery tickets.

Kids - If there are youngsters present, you may be sure that they'll be bored and ready to begin running around, having amusing and generally getting under your ft. You can plan for this too, via having bubble blowing bottles available to hand out. It appears top on the snap shots too and is such fun even the adults be a part of in!

Staff - If you're having a large themed wedding ceremony, it is worth checking with the caterers in the event that they have a few form of uniform. A concept right here is request group of workers wear white gloves, they simply look classy and clean.

Food - The cutting-edge take on the Wedding Breakfast is less conventional with extra highly spiced delicacies at the menu. Styles vary however, through the years peoples tastes have simply modified. The greater creative your food the extra memorable your day can be, and depending on how lots time and money you have, how approximately attempting an eight route meal? It's all approximately the flavor.

Music at the same time as you consume - If you visit any wedding ceremony fair you'll locate some exquisite musicians to pick from. They can accompany your meal playing the piano or harp and will frequently play something you request. At one wedding I included recently the subject became rock, so the pianist become playing hits from ACDC, Metallica, Pink Floyd, Queen, Slip Knot and plenty of, many more. It turned into exclusive and funky!

Up lighting effects - Hiring a few lighting fixtures for the night is a first rate manner to absolutely alternate the temper of your event and deliver it an super appearance. Up lighting factor on the partitions and ceilings and may be set to a coloration to fit your theme. White fairy lighting fixtures can create a pretty history for your night time picture's and are in particular powerful after dark.

Night Music - Cover bands are famous in the interim and there are some fantastic businesses obtainable focusing on weddings. They will play your favourite tracks on request. Disco's, well do you need a disco? Technology is good enough now to be able to pretty a lot create your very own custom playlist that blends into each music from a computer or iPod/iPad. Just plug that into the band's amplifier and click play. You can alternate your own track with the band to present them a ruin. By the manner... Recollect to feed the band!

Flowers - Real or Fake? Its a hard one to decide upon, and it is able to be pretty nice to have vegetation to hide parts of employed halls. For others its some thing to perhaps forgo and overlook altogether. It without a doubt topics on how much importance it has for you.

[raendown]

As it turns out, I have no idea how to blatantly seduce someone. This might explain my awkward teenager stage. But I did give it a try!

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 2385 Summary: Madara didn't believe Tobirama could seduce anyone until he witnessed it happening - and found himself seduced in the process as well.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

Fingers In The Honeypot

“Obviously we can’t kill him.”

“Obviously.”

In tandem, the two men let out a quiet sigh of disappointment. They might not agree on many things but they definitely agreed that they wished they could kill the diplomat across the room from them. He was loud, abrasive, smug, and boastful even when his stories were nothing to truly boast about. Even worse, he looked down on all shinobi as lesser beings. Were he anyone else he would have been dead before the first hour of the party had finished.

As it was, his status protected him from such retribution as they would have preferred to deliver him. Akinori Tanabe was the Daimyo’s closest advisor and the only man with access to the information they needed on the noble who was their true target, one who had been doing everything within their power to sabotage Konoha’s efforts to spread its roots. They were going to have to employ some other method than violence to retrieve that information from the smarmy braggart if they hoped to foil the noble’s latest plan.

“So what do you suggest?” Madara grumbled. “Hmph. Wish your brother had sent me here with a Yamanaka instead of you.”

Tobirama sent his companion a withering look and deliberately took his time before answering. He tilted his head and observed his target, considering the problem from all angles. Which would be the course of action least likely to draw attention? Most of the things which came to mind were loud or violent and he discarded them one by one until at last he shrugged.

“We could always fall back on the classics.”

“Be more specific,” his companion demanded flatly.

“Rumor states that he prefers the company of men. One of us could seduce him.”

Madara stared at him for perhaps fifteen long seconds before turning his head and holding a hand to his mouth, muffling the laughter that threatened to ring throughout the entire room. Having sort of anticipated this kind of reaction, Tobirama waited patiently until the other man was able to calm himself down a little.

It took a while. Every time Madara turned back to look at his mission partner he burst in to a fresh round of mocking laughter. The very idea of Tobirama trying to seduce someone was hilarious to him for a number of reasons. Who the hell would be attracted to someone with such a stiff stick up their ass? And did the Senju even know what sex was? He could hardly imagine Tobirama unbending enough to attempt anything even close to seduction. In his head it was the most awkward thing in the world.

“Are you done?” Tobirama asked eventually. Madara sniggered once more.

“You’re not serious, are you?”

“Why not? The human male predilection for giving up pretty much anything in return for sex is rather well known. I don’t see why it’s not a valid option.”

“Are you kidding me?” Madara shook his head. “Because it won’t work, that’s why. The man detests me and you probably couldn’t seduce yourself in to jerking off. The very idea of you attempting to seduce anyone is laughable – literally; how long was I laughing for just now?”

Rolling his eyes and sniffing with insult, Tobirama set off across the room with a flippant, “Watch and learn.”

Madara didn’t even try to call him back. The mere prospect of getting to watch him try to awkwardly flirt and fail miserably was enough to make this entire stupid mission worth it. So instead he wandered slowly after the other to place himself closer to what was sure to be some prime entertainment. He was already amused to watched Tobirama run a hand through his hair as he walked, ruffling the strands until they fell in artful disarray.

Actually, he noted reluctantly, the effect wasn’t half bad. It softened the man’s face in a way.

“Akinori-sama,” Tobirama murmured in a surprisingly deferential tone, “If I might have a moment of your time.”

Pausing in the conversation he was having, their target turned to see who was interrupting him. When he spotted Tobirama there his eyes seemed to light up and he immediately shooed the other person away. A sinuous smile crossed his face as he motioned Tobirama closer.

“Call me Tanabe, please,” he said. “I confess, I’d been hoping I could steal you away from that untamed beast you arrived with. Truly I pity you for having your sensibilities constantly offended by such boorish behavior.”

“Your sympathies are most appreciated, Tanabe.” Tobirama’s voice affected a rolling purr as he shaped the syllables of the diplomat’s name like a lover’s caress. Akinori leaned towards him unconsciously and Madara rolled his eyes in disgust from his hiding place. “It’s so loud in here, don’t you think? Perhaps it would more pleasant if we could speak somewhere…quieter.”

“I would like nothing more.” One could almost see triumph flashing in Akinori’s eyes at the suggestion, a clear bid for privacy more so than a request for a less noisy venue. Tobirama was obviously not bothering to play subtle but there was no doubt that his tactics were already working. In merely four sentences he had managed to convince the target to go somewhere alone with him as well as capture his interest in what basically amounted to a voluntary honeypot mission.

Madara slipped unseen in to the shadows and followed the two of them from a distance as Akinori led his partner out of the main hall and in to an empty one which took them a few minutes to reach. Actually it sort of looked like a servant’s hallways, which would guarantee that no one important could discover them here.

“What was it you wished to discuss?” Akinori asked, leaning back against the wall in what he surely believed was a seductive pose. It really wasn’t but Tobirama’s surprisingly was as the pale shinobi stepped up in to the other man’s personal space and put all his weight on one arm, palm resting just beside the advisor’s head. He flashed a wicked grin which succeeded in weakening two different sets of knees.

“Nothing in particular,” he admitted. “Mostly I just wanted Tanabe-sama’s attention for myself – but of course it would be terribly improper of me to admit to something like that. We should find something to talk about.”

“Truly…” Akinori appeared to suddenly be having trouble breathing.

“Pointless gossip should do. Nothing we wouldn’t have spoken of before.” Tobirama gave a careless shrug as he leaned a little closer, lifting his free hand to draw one finger almost casually down his target’s chest. “Something I don’t really need to listen to so that I may concentrate on…other things.”

“Anything you like,” Akinori mumbled. “Anything at all.”

“The Ishii clan are sufficiently boring. Surely there can’t be much gossip surrounding them and such a quick conversation would leave us open to discuss those ‘other things’ I mentioned.”

From his spot unseen only a few feet away, Madara swallowed thickly and hoped to kami that his partner was putting all of his attention on what he was doing, sparing none for him. It simply wouldn’t do for the pale bastard to know how much Madara found himself affected by the wicked tone Tobirama had pitched his voice in. He could hardly imagine the horrors that would be visited upon him were the other to discover that just a few words spoken in that manner had turned his knees to water.

Where had someone so cold learned to speak like that, anyway?

Akinori very clearly agreed with him. Diplomatic training to stayed poised at all times flew out the window as he leaned more heavily against the wall, chest heaving and fingers coming up to boldly trace the shapes of Tobirama’s arms. Although Madara was certain his companion would have preferred otherwise, he watched with a tightness in his gut as Tobirama allowed the touches and leaned even closer to whisper in the man’s ear.

“I trust you to keep up the conversation for me, Tanabe. Should anyone walk by it would be terribly inappropriate for them to hear anything else, yes?”

“Oh yes.” The response sounded more like a moan than anything else and Tobirama tutted lightly.

“The Ishii clan, Tanabe. Bore me with whatever they haven’t been up to while I tend to…more important matters.”

“Actually one of their lesser family members was just seen – oh...” Pausing nearly in the middle of a word, Akinori went up on his toes as his entire expression twisted with pleasure. Madara couldn’t quite see what Tobirama was doing to the man’s neck but whatever it was the effort appeared to be appreciated. It took the advisor a moment the collect himself and attempt to continue speaking in a breathy tone. “They were, um, seen in the village of Nakatsugawa. Buying…buying…”

Tobirama hummed, making his target shiver, and asked in a rumbling whisper, “What were they buying?”

“Weapons,” Akinori whimpered.

“Hm. And here I thought their home village was famed for its weapons production.”

“It is!”

Madara shifted very carefully, ensuring the motion made no noise. His own neck felt cold and hot at the same time, burning for such attentions to be lavished on himself and chilly at being denied. As reluctant as he was to admit it to himself, he was incredibly jealous of Akinori right then. His pride took a rather heavy blow as he silently acknowledged that he wished it was him in the advisor’s place with Tobirama’s touches on his own skin, being allowing to take such liberties as the hand he could see slowly making its distracted way down his partner’s back.

With minimal prompting the information continued to flow. Akinori mumbled without seeming to really pay any attention to his own words or even care that what he was revealing what might be considered sensitive information. The exact moment Tobirama decided he had enough was visibly obvious. His body language went from relaxed to tense in under a second, although the man before him didn’t seem to notice and continued to blather on.

The man never even noticed a thing as Tobirama casually raised a hand and pressed two fingers against the base of his skull, sending a carefully controlled pulse of chakra in to his brain stem. Akinori crumpled, instantly unconscious. Tobirama didn’t bother to catch him.

Slipping out of the alcove he had concealed himself within, Madara gave the body on the floor a disdainful sniff.

“His mouth runs like a leaky faucet,” he observed. Tobirama snorted.

“Indeed. Did you happen to note where his rooms are? We can leave him there and you can implant some memories of what I’m sure he was expecting to happen. That should keep him docile.” Madara froze at those words, giving his companion a suspicious look.

“You assume I can do such a thing with the Sharingan?”

Tobirama rolled his eyes and, seeing he wasn’t going to get help with the heavy lifting, heaved Akinori over his own shoulder. “Anyone who knows your clan can attest that each Mangekyo-stage Sharingan has a unique ability and I happen to know that one is yours. Although I am happy to burst any questionable fantasies you might have had by pointing out that it wouldn’t work on me. The technique implants your chakra in to your victim. I would most definitely feel that.”

As he turned to walk away, Tobirama gave his partner a cocky wink which sent Madara in to a fit of spluttering. It took a few moments for him to gather himself enough to follow the other down the hall, still lost in his thoughts. Sensing his chakra being transferred in to an opponent would certainly explain how Tobirama knew he was doing something, although most likely he would have had to ask one of their brothers for clarification on what exactly that something was. Just the idea that Tobirama had taken the time to ask about him did funny things to his insides.

Once their burden had been dropped off in his bedroom, enough memories implanted in him to keep him happy but not obsessed, the two of them briefly debated going back to the party. It would seem a little suspicious if they didn’t, although they hadn’t exactly been subtle about Tobirama removing Akinori from the room. In the end they decided to simply allow the rumors of something scandalous happening to fly freely and headed back towards their own set of rooms.

For the entire journey through the twisting corridors Tobirama continuously made expressions of mild disgust, running his tongue over his teeth and opening his mouth as though to air out his tongue. It looked just ridiculous enough that Madara let it pass without comment, enjoying the show.

That show came to a rather abrupt end, however, as they reached the corridor in which they were staying and Tobirama reached over without warning to reel him in with a tight grip around the back of his neck. Such was his shock that Madara froze entirely, standing completely still while Tobirama ravished his mouth in what was quite possibly the best kiss he had ever taken part in. Not that he was taking much of an active part. The very second he gathered enough of himself together to respond Tobirama was pulling away with a self-congratulatory look on his face, smacking his lips in satisfaction.

“My utmost apologies,” he purred. “I needed to get the taste of that idiot out of my mouth and replace it something more pleasant.”

“Uh, alright.” Madara blinked rapidly, unsure of how to respond to that.

“Now to wash his touch off the rest of me.”

Madara watched dazedly as the other stepped away from him and continued down the hall towards the chambers he had been given for their stay. Tobirama unlocked his door and opened it, then paused with one foot in the room to look back at the man still staring blankly at the empty air around his own head.

“Aren’t you coming?” he asked in a teasing tone, so many filthy promises hidden in those three short words.

Without giving the matter another thought Madara found his feet moving to follow. Suddenly he really wanted to know what those promises were like.

[foundcarcosa]

cclxii.

1.) In the past, I had a bad habit of leading people on. Have you ever been lead on? Have you ever lead someone on? [intentionally or not] What do you think of people who do lead others on? >> I don’t think I’ve ever been led on, but I’ve had more than a fair share of socially-dense moments, so it’s always possible. That said, it’s also possible I’ve accidentally led someone on. It’s not something I’d do intentionally. I don’t have an opinion on people leading others on, I’d just prefer people didn’t. 2.) List all your favorite girl names. >> I can’t possibly do that, but here’s one that I like: Miriam. 3.) List all your favorite boy names. >> Here’s one that I like: Adrian.

4.) In what ways has your life improved since this time last year? In what ways has your live gotten a little worse [if it has?]? >> I’m no longer stressed out about the spiritual (and physical, truth be told) miasma in my household, which I mostly regarded as my responsibility to contain, and I was failing at that responsibility. I have new spiritual relationships, that’s a good thing. I can’t really think of any way that my life has gotten worse, and I don’t want to dig too deeply just to find something. 5.) What are some of your favorite song lyrics at the moment? >> I can’t possibly think of this.

6.) Have you ever been to college? If so, what for? & did you drop out or complete your major? >> No. 7.) If you go to college or went to college, did you ever have issues with financial aid? What happened? >> ---

8.) Do you have a job? If so where? & what are your job duties? >> I don’t. 9.) If you’re unemployed, are you looking for work? If so, where have you applied to recently? >> I’m not. My only two areas of even the vaguest interest are bartending and merchandise sales (at concert venues), but those are both awkward fields to jump into without connections or references. 10.) Name four favorite fast food restaurants & what you usually order at each one[or instead, favorite food items at each restaurant if you don’t always order the same thing]. >> Oh, brother, I don’t know. I just get chicken sandwiches and fries no matter where I go.

11.) Name four favorite sit down restaurants & what you usually order at each one[or instead, favorite food items at each restaurant if you don’t always order the same thing]. >> I’ll pass. 12.) Would you say you’re more close minded or open minded? is there anyone in your family or group of friends you’d consider close minded? if so, does it ever bother you? >> I am leagues more open-minded than close-minded, but I also always try to remember that saying about having a mind so open your brain falls out. Sometimes it’s healthy to draw lines for yourself, as long as you don’t box yourself in completely. 13.) If any, what movie previews have you seen recently that looked really good? >> Oh, I can’t remember now... wait, A Quiet Place, I remember that looked interesting. And Game Night looked funny. 14.) Post two favorite pictures of you.

15.) Put your iPod or itunes or music player on shuffle & list the first 15 songs. 1. Stricken, Disturbed 2. Never Get Old, David Bowie 3. The Last Message, John Murphy 4. Sin With a Grin, Shinedown 5. The Fall of Adam, Marilyn Manson 6. Burning My Soul, Dream Theater 7. Burning Bright, Shinedown 8. The Call of Ktulu, Metallica 9. Said the Spider to the Fly, the pAper chAse 10. Faceless Man, Creed 11. The Call, Backstreet Boys 12. Treat Her Like a Lady, the Temptations 13. One Headlight, the Wallflowers 14. At Dawn’s First Light, Amon Amarth 15. Hands Clean, Alanis Morrisette 16.) Of the above songs listed, which one(or ones) are your favorite? >> I’m really fond of that pAper chAse song, and One Headlight is always a classic. I love Bowie to pieces, so there’s that. Also, that BSB bop is solid, and I’ll take that opinion to my deathbed. Anyway, since we’re on the subject... I just downloaded the rest of the Queens of the Stone Age albums that I didn’t already have, because my need for what I call “motel-room music” is bottomless right now. So that’s where I’m at. 17.) If you’ve ever been in a relationship, which one(assuming you’ve been in more than one) was the hardest breakup, & which relationship was the biggest learning experience? if you’ve never been in a relationship, do you like anyone right now? if so, do you think it’ll go anywhere with the person you like? >> The hardest breakup was either the one where I had to somehow ‘break up’ with someone who died during our relationship, or the one where somehow no matter what I did or who I became, my very existence seemed to be a source of pain, and I couldn’t do anything about that except... dig the knife into myself so deep that it would hurt more to be with him than be without him, make a feast of the defeat and convince myself it tasted good. It worked, and eventually we both got to where we could be friends again, so I guess the end justified the means.  -- Except I’m still unnecessarily maudlin about it, apparently. I have my reasons.

18.)what’s the meaning of your first name? >> Funny, after all that emo shit I just said, Dashboard Confessional started playing. Fuck you, iTunes. :p Logan means “little hollow”. I often find it fitting. 19.) What’s the meaning of your middle name? >> Frey means “lord”. “Little hollow lord” is a pretty apt name for me. 20.) Have you ever moved to a different state? if so, how many different states did you live in? & did you ever move back to your home state for whatever reason? >> I’ve moved to different states several times. I’ve lived in five different states. I don’t have a home state. 21.) In your life, who have you made the most sacrifices for? In the end, would you say it was worth it? >> I don’t know. 22.) The last movie you watched, what was it about? >> The Ritual was about four twats in a forest and the old god that hunted them. 23.) Who would you say is or was the meanest person in your family? & what about them exactly makes them the meanest? >> I don’t know. There are a few mean people that I know of. I consider them mean because of how they treat children. 24.) Post a picture of you from 3 years ago if you have one. >> I don’t even know which of my photos would be from 3 years ago exactly. 25.) What’s your opinion of today’s modern music? Do you prefer newer or older music? >> I have opinions about the way the music industry is, but not necessarily about the music itself. Most of the music I like was made in my lifetime, honestly. 26.) How many of your favorite bands’ albums do you have on cd? >> First of all, how many favourite bands do I have... 27.) What are some tattoos you want?(if any) >> I’ve stopped keeping an actual list of ones I want, because I can’t foresee having the budget for them anyway. 28.) What are some piercings you want?(if any) >> I’m pretty fine with the ones I have. 29.)in your opinion, have you changed for the better? >> Yes. 30.) Do you ever let your emotions get the best of you? >> Yes. 31.) What is the most fucked up movie you’ve seen? what made it so fucked up? >> Antichrist (hard to explain, it’s just unsettling as fuck and there’s a lot of disturbing imagery/concepts, also it doesn’t make complete sense which just adds to the unsettling qualities) and A Serbian Film (the whole thing is a lurid, edgy psychosexual nightmare, set to a pretty damn good soundtrack though) and... I’d say the second Human Centipede (I haven’t seen it in a while so I can’t remember so well anymore, but I know the main character was an appropriately disturbing individual as befitting the plot, unlike the doctor from the first one). 32.) If you like a variety of music, list 5 different bands or artists, each of a different genre & then name what genre of music they play. if you don’t, list your five favorites at the moment. >> Pearl Jam (grunge/alternative rock), Carach Angren (symphonic black metal), Kendrick Lamar (hip hop), Il Divo (classical crossover...?), Jace Everett (country).

33.) Last person you got into an argument with? Who was the last person you fought with physically? >> I don’t remember. Probably Sparrow’s parents. Physically? God... uh... Sigma? Vlad? Someone in 7F, definitely.