#this man has MOMENTS he does not HAVE to be cardboard-zoned and. yet.

[poorlittleyaoyao]

The fact that I don’t think about JZX when he’s not immediately in my field of vision is in fact a problem! Not because there is a Moral Imperative to think about [checks notes] the wealthiest and least interesting sword wizard boy in the Wealthy Sword Wizard Boy Show, but because he has a lot of potential as a character, and he seems like he ought to matter more given that his death is this huge tragic turning point for the story. But his premature violent death isn’t sad for him, it’s sad first and foremost for how it impacts the other characters because he’s not nearly as developed as they are, and there is no reason for that to be true of a character who is introduced so early in the story and who is present at so many important events! Especially when the story is told chronologically and freed from third-person limited POV!

My girl QS is also underdeveloped, but her story only intersects with WWX’s in the last hours of her life, so I get it. But JZX is always around! He’s in proximity to the main plot as much as NHS is, so why not take the same care with him? Especially since his death is now the fault of Designated Supervillain JGY rather than our protagonist, so there’s nothing to lose and everything to gain by making his death hit harder?

[just-some-random-blogger]

Bootylicious

Stray Kids Bang Chan x Idol!Reader Summary: You're known as the gym rat in your group, and quite frankly, you only have two moods: shredding or chilling. This was why when you're not asleep in between schedules, you're spotted with a male idol you happened to meet in the gym you were at that day. It's a known fact though, that you and Bang Chan are gym buddies and each other's spotter. Word Count: 2k+ Warnings: Internet toxicity, sasaengs, vulgar language, sexism, misogyny, pining, fluff, mentions of Pentagon because why not <3, etc.

A/N: Girl, i shouldn't do this but I did. It's so funny to me someone requested this cause I have recently become an exercise junkie lol. Also, if you can't tell, there is a pov shift after the cut so yeah. I also wanted to keep the reader gender neutral but I want to write about how psychotically different people treat male and female idols because that stuff aint it. It's most definitely not what anon was expecting me to write but I hope they enjoy it nonetheless.

There's compilation in YT with growing parts centered around you flexing your physical fitness and prowess. It ranges from you affectionally touring your fans, which really meant the cameraman, through the gym, introducing your trainer, and doing your routine on camera, to your group (and others) both fawning and bragging about how strong and how hot you are.

CLIP #1: A scene from an interview of your group in Japan, struggling to talk about how you can do 40 straight push ups.

There was a male interviewer in a suit you could all faintly recognize was talking about your recent Instagram post of a gym mirror selfie.

One of your youngest members smirked and in broken Japanese, cutely said, "Wah, she does 100 push ups! Everyday, every night."

You snap your head to the maknae and raise your brows, "nani?" You begin to shake your hands in protest and begin to explain your truth, "absolutely not 100. Maybe around 40, but nooooo, not 100."

The interviewer and your group comically react in awe. The man in the suit urges, "can you show us?"

You give a face, "Excuse me, but I'm not getting paid to do that in this miniskirt."

Everyone, including the film crew, break into laughter.

CLIP #2: A scene from a variety show where you had to prove you were, in fact, yourself, by doing a shortened version of your exercise routine.

One of the hosts of the show asks, "Wait, do you honestly do all of this in your workout? Like you can do all of it?"

The list of your exercises were written on a colourful cardboard, held by the one who just spoke. It was a range of exercises in 10 sets, from jumping jacks to sit ups, to vague sounding exercises like crab pinches and robot arms.

You purse your lips at the last question asked of you, not really liking the tone in which it was asked. You answer quickly and nod proudly, "I actually do more, cause when I get in the zone and I'm already really sweaty, I feel like I should keep going until my whole body burns." You chuckle.

The older hosts, tilt their head and mutter lowly under their breath something along the lines of, "I'd rather die."

You finally do the routine, quickly, continuously, earning impressed reactions from everyone.

"That's hot," one of the hosts note.

"Ya, for some reason it looks easy to do."

The hosts begin to clamour at that statement, and force whoever said to do the exact thing you did. Clearly, they don't work out as much as you do and cannot even get halfway through it without stopping.

You break out into a breathless laugh in amusement of the comical attempt but then protest, explaining how bad it is to force yourself to do more than you can

CLIP #3: Pentagon, Hongseok especially, fawns over how fit you are

Trailing a conversation about how your group is close with Pentagon because your companies are situated closely to each other and you wind up eating together a lot, there is an anecdote about how there was a jar no one could open, no one but you, that is.

The interviewer asks no one in particular, "wah, none of you could open the jar? Really? Or did you all just pretend so she could open it?"

There is a chorus of answers concluding with, "no really, she was the only one that was able to open it."

The story is backed up by how the jar had a really small lid and some hands were too big. Then came an explanation how you were recently into the new rock climbing machine in your gym.

Hongseok speaks up, "I was invited to go to rock climbing in, like, an actual rock climbing place and I was honestly so surprised when she began to climb. She said she never actually tried rock climbing on a wall, but it seemed like she had been doing it for years."

Shinwon agrees, "Right, right. I was also really curious about what they did that day," he points to Hongseok, "that I joined them one time. I never felt so out of shape in my life. I just stayed back and filmed everything."

Pentagon laughs, and then agrees that you were exceptionally fast and just super fit in all honesty.

The interviewer catches Hongseok's expression then suddenly asks, "do you like a woman like that?"

"Yeah, I like my women strong."

Then came a lot of teasing remarks from Pentagon, and a plethora of complaints from delusional fans who did not want Hongseok to ever breathe in your direction again.

With all that's been said about that, in all the parts of this series floating around in the internet, one thing remained, there was a slightly larger population of impressed fans than the still large portion of antifans who wanted nothing to do with it and only came around to hate.

It's hard not to think about it, but even the slightest back handed compliment can sometimes linger in one's mind.

And right now, as much as I kept my mind on my counting as I finished my set high knees, I couldn't help but think of how much backlash I got from posting a post workout photo with my midriff exposed.

Apparently that was not only enough to merit hate for being both a whore and an attention whore, but people baselessly began to hate on my groupmates simply for being associated with me.

It's kind of sad really, how, say Wonho, can post a fairly exposed photo of himself and get so much praise for it, and yet I couldn't even do anything remotely close to that.

And I don't even mean to come at Wonho, we all know he's a beast at the gym and should be able to show as much of his hard work as he is comfortable in showing, but why can't I?

"Hey trooper. I thought you said you were only doing 80 counts?" a voice cracks me out of my train of thought.

I turn to whom spoke and chuckle at myself as I stop my leg raises, "ah yeah, I got lost in thought, and your really good song."

I pull on my earphones and give a lopside smile, "I love working out to God's Menu."

He gives a soft, "he he, thanks."

"No need for a thank you when I'm only giving my honest opinion, Chan."

"Yeah, well still, it makes my kokoro go doki-doki," he sniggers, crossing his arms and flashing a dimpled smile. I raise my upper lip and reel back, "EWWW!"

I playfully shove him. He acts hurt, "this is violence against children."

"Chan, you're literally older than me."

"That doesn't mean I'm not a child at heart."

"You mean, it doesn't mean you're not a drama queen."

"Hey, I have no interest in having a throne, my only interest is," he leans in and whispers, "you."

I feel my soul leave my body as he snorts to himself and runs away. I regurgitate in surprise, "YA!"

"You better do your next set properly," Chan says heading off to a cable row machine, "I'm always watching."

I try to ignore the blood rushing up your neck, "creep."

He shrugs, "rather that or have you get injured, sweet heart."

Yeah, Chan has saved me from a lot of injuries I could have had. It was a bad habit. It stemmed from the same thing that made me mess up my count a while ago, my overthinking.

Sometimes I thought of rather harmless things, but sometimes I began to fixate on the hate I received for simply being. I do a lot to get my mind to realize that they hated me simply because they could and because it was easy. Exercising helped tremendously, especially when I had someone fun to work out with, especially when I was with Chan. He just... made me feel safe, y'know.

But when the news of us being work out buddies surfaced, a lot of sasaengs came for me. Of course, a lot of Stays and my own fans were really kind about, speaking out that we were our own people and exercising together did not mean anything in particular really.

But some really went for it, and made it a hobby to comment on everything I was in that I was a slut for 'working out' with different men every day."

I let out a breath as I finish my routine. I catch my breath and go for a swig of my water. I take a moment then sit down by the mirror, which was near where Chan was currently working out.

"You're doing it again."

I turn from where I was blankly staring at turn to Chan who gave me a soft look, "you good?"

I release a sigh then purse my lips, "maybe."

He pouts, "what happened?"

I shrug and stand from where I sat, "you know, the usual."

Chan then comes up to me and takes my water bottle from me, "you know, no matter how much people say you don't need water to live, you can never change the fact that you are extremely dependent on water to live."

I look at him and half- heartedly point, "are you calling me thirsty?"

He begrudgingly groans and releases a chuckle. He calls my name out in a scolding tone. I feel myself relax, "I know what you're getting at Chan."

He nods, "good. I'll always be here to remind you of that."

I smile and feel an urge to hug him, "if you weren't so sweaty, I would totally hug you right now."

Chan then gives me a look then does not hesitate to crush me into his arms. I groan and whine in protest. He chuckles, "you literally just said you wanted a hug!"

"YOU'RE LITERALLY SO SWEATY. NO ONE WANTS THIS TORTURE."

Chan huffs and gives a wounded look, "hmp. You better spot me while I lift or else I'm unfriending you."

"Hmm... I think I'll be good without you as a friend."

I half expect Chan to whine about it, but he instead smirks, "ahhhh, you must want me to be your boyfriends so badly huh."

I- I mean...

CLIP #4: A crack edit of Chan when he gets asked about his gym relationship with me in Chan's Room.

He was looking through the questions and suddenly chuckles, his ears noticeably began to redden. Cue a zoom in of his face and his red ears. Cue a clip of Cardi B saying, "that's suspicious."

He says my name then continues, "am I close with her? Yeah. I would say I'm close with her-- and her whole group actually."

Captioned: Nice save, Chris.

"The kids and I are close with her group," he says, clearing his throat.

A clip of him clearing his throat is repeated about ten times.

Chan adjust the beanie he was wearing as he thinks of what he was going to say next, "we actually do work out together a lot because she's under a trainer that works with my trainer."

Captioned: Sure, Chan. That's the only reason, right?

Chan catches another question, "Is she a beast in the gym like Hongseok says?" He breaks into a laugh. He then rubs his cheek and grits his teeth.

A clip of someone saying, "Oh he's jealous," flashes on screen.

"Yeah," Chan finally says, "she's got a really high stamina."

Cue the clip, WHAT DID HE SAY?

Chan continues, "she can go between exercises without stopping. she doesn't even take that much time to catch her breath. In fact, she sings while exercising sometimes, which helps make her vocals stable."

Captioned: Queen Tingz.

The next thing that happens is Chan breaks into a laugh and begins to chuckle. He says, "Sorry I saw a funny comment."

Captioned: WHAT HE MEANS IS HE SAW A COMMENT SAYING 'SHUT UP CHRIS, YOU'RE WHIPPED."

Then came these comments:

LITERALLY LOOK AT HOW FLUFFY BANG CHAN GETS WHEN HE TALKS ABOUT HER DONT FUCKING TOUCH ME MY SHIP IS ALIVE

They are dating period. prove me wrong. you cant

Chan literally blushes over anything, buT HE TURNED INTO A TOMATO WHEN HE TALKED ABOUT HER BYE

if you hate on your faves loving each other, you most definitely need Jesus (:

PLEASE CAN YOU SEE HOW WHIPPED THEY ARE FOR EACH OTHER

Yeah... it's not been confirmed to this day.

[daydreamsandcaffeine]

All the Way Up

Okay, I did something I've never done before - I wrote something. 😬But watching the Olympics spurred ideas, so I just went with it. This is for @jhsgf82 who I've sent many Olympics ideas to. 🤗

The air is clear. The sun is starting to stream through the arena. The stadium has quieted down as the audience waits with bated breath. In the stands, a group of athletes are huddled close together, nervous yet excited to see what will unfold.

A gorgeous, bronzed haired man looks out to the field. His free hand fiddles with a piece of rope while the other is wrapped around a willowy, brunette tucked into his side. On the other side of the brunette is a petite yet fierce looking female, looking ready to start shit up the longer they wait. Next to her is a young woman with olive skin and dark hair. She nervously plays with the ends of her intricate french braid while her smokey grey eyes stare intensely towards the athletes below.

Down on the track, eight hurdlers are in position, waiting for their cue. The last few years of body grueling training amounted to this moment - the finals for the 400m hurdles.

All eyes, however, are on the athlete in lane 6 - the current world record holder and favorite of this race. Media personnel can’t get enough of his blue eyes and silver tongue. The stocky blonde is in position; his curls bouncing off the top of his head as he looks down ready to start.

Then the gun sounds, and all eight finalists are off.

The world feels like it has slowed down as these athletes go hurdle after hurdle.

“GO, PEETA, GO” “MAKE THEM EAT YOUR DUST” is all anyone can hear from Finnick and Johanna. Annie quietly cheers for her friend while Katniss holds her breath, both hands gripping tightly to her braid.

Peeta gets into his stride and encroaches on the competitors in front of him. At the halfway point, he is in the lead, but another medal contender, Cato, starts gaining on him.

But Peeta pushes on. He still has a lot to give, and give it all he did. The crowd gets louder and louder. The finish line is in sight. While the stadium is abuzz, Peeta blocks out everything else and zones in on the finish.

“Cato is closing in!! The world record holder is trying to hold him off. AND HE WILL WITH ANOTHER WORLD RECORD! OUR GOLD MEDALIST, PEETA MELLARK!!!” The commentator excitedly announces.

Peeta slows to a stop, looks at the screen, and can’t believe his eyes. All the work he’s put in towards his goal is realized. He pumps his fists into the air, but it’s not enough. The adrenaline is pumping through his veins that he starts yelling “AHHHHHHH! AHHHHHHH!” and tears his tank top into two, showing his toned broad chest. He feels on top of the world.

Finnick, Annie, and Jo are jumping and cheering wildly for their teammate, but Katniss can’t take her eyes off the gold medalist. Her eyes well up, but the curves of her lip turn up into a joyful smile. She knew all too well how much pain, sweat, and tears she and Peeta had endured to get themselves to this global stage.

Blinking the tears away, she does a double take. All she sees now is skin - pale, smooth skin with a broad, toned chest to boot. She feels her cheeks starting to flush. Why does he have to do that now and here?

As the adrenaline starts to plateau, Peeta looks up to the stand and catches Katniss staring at him, her eyes flitting between his face, torn tank, and broad chest. His grin widens. She looks back up to his face and knows he caught her. He winks and blows her a kiss. She rolls her eyes, but the smile on her face remains, and her cheeks flush even more.

He laughs and makes his way to the media center for post-race interviews. The sooner he gets that done, the sooner he can celebrate with his friends and his girl.

Katniss continues to watch him as the others chatter away about the race. While still one to shy away from public displays, she’s already thinking of all the ways she’s going to celebrate him back in their room. Good thing they already tested those cardboard beds when he praised her on her gold medal win.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

This little thing was inspired by this: https://youtu.be/-qFJuTpqBLM

[elsanna-shenanigans]

February Contest Submission #3: Did You Know

words: ca. 3700 setting: Modern AU lemon: No cw: Language

“Did you know that Frost Museum aims to achieve LEED Gold certification within the…”

Anna nods off, her coffee forgotten. Work orientations are the worst. 

A few minutes later, a soft cough from somewhere over her left shoulder stirs her. Anna sits up and blinks, looking around for the source. Her cheeks redden as she realizes she’s been caught falling asleep on her first day of her new job.

“Behind you,” a soft voice says.

Anna turns in her seat, and the flush to her face deepens as she is met by the most gorgeous woman with white-blonde hair and a flawless pale complexion. Dressed in a light gray business suit and blue blouse, Anna surmises that she’s one of the bosses and immediately stands up, ready to beg her to let her keep her new job. She smooths out her own wrinkled black skirt and opens her mouth to grovel when the woman speaks again.

“You, um…” The woman wipes the corner of her mouth with her index finger.

Anna’s brows furrow, and she raises her hand up to her mouth. Finding wetness there, her eyes widen.

“Oh, shi-” She stops herself from further embarrassment as she wipes at her face with the sleeve of her green blouse. Drool is embarrassing enough as it is.

The woman smiles softly and says, “Orientations are never fun. I actually arrived a few minutes late. Don’t tell anyone.“ 

Anna gapes. Of all the things for this woman to say, she did not expect that. “Yeah…” 

“I’m Elsa.” The woman extends her hand and waits for Anna to introduce herself, that soft smile never leaving her face.

It takes Anna a second to stop staring and shake Elsa’s hand. “Anna. It’s nice to meet you, Elsa. So, what’d I miss?”

Elsa giggles, and it’s the most melodious sound Anna has ever heard.

“We’re taking a ten minute break. There are some breakfast items outside if you’d like to join,” Elsa nods to the doors of the plantarium where they’ve spent the last hour learning about Frost Museum, one of Miami’s biggest museums and their new workplace.

“Yeah.” Anna picks up her now-cold coffee cup. “I didn’t have time to eat earlier. I was already afraid I’d sleep through my alarm.”

Elsa giggles again. “ I’m glad one of us didn’t.“ 

Anna smiles easily, happy to have made a new friend on her first day. Not to mention that Elsa is attractive.

“Shall we?”

As Elsa leads her out of the planetarium, Anna can’t help but glance at her backside. This woman is insanely beautiful. Her hips sway as she walks confidently in black stilettos, and all Anna can think about is how she has legs for days.

So caught up in Elsa is she that Anna doesn’t realize they’ve made their way to a table where Elsa is offering to get her another coffee from a disposable coffee container. Elsa tilts her head and lifts an eyebrow curiously.

“Earth to Anna.”

“Hm?” Anna’s eyes focus on Elsa’s cool blue eyes that definitely match her blouse. Anna glances down at it again. Yep, they match. Anna wonders what it’d be like to unbutton that blouse and bites her lip as she imagines the pale skin beneath it.

“I asked if you’d like another coffee. I imagine that one is too cold to drink by now,” Elsa nods her head toward the cup in Anna’s hand.

Anna looks down at the cup. “Oh, yeah. Please,” she smiles and walks to the trash can to dispose of her old cup.

As Elsa pours them both steaming cups of mediocre coffee, Anna tries to think of something more to say.

“This place has money. I’m surprised they can’t spring for something better than a cardboard container of coffee.” Anna mentally slaps herself for saying the first thing that came to her mind.

Elsa hands Anna a cup with a smile before . “Maybe they need a barista on staff.”

“Yes, exactly! All jobs should have baristas on staff. Did you know that Disney has baristas on staff at their animation studios?” Anna grins. Disney is her favorite subject.

“Really?” Elsa smiles back.

Anna takes a sip of her coffee and makes a disgusted face. “Uh huh,” she says as she grabs two packets of sugar to put in her drink. “If you watch the credits at the end of every movie, they mention their names. They’re just baristas, but they have film credits!”

“That’s very cool,” Elsa says. “Do you-”

“Elsa, there you are,” a middle-aged man walks up to them with a jovial smile and crows feet hiding behind thick-rimmed glasses. “Sorry to interrupt,” he says acknowledging Anna. 

Anna nods. She knows this is the CEO of the museum. She met him during her last interview, but she can’t remember his name.

“It’s good to see you again, Frank,” Elsa smiles and shakes his hand. Anna notices that her smile is tighter; it doesn’t reach her eyes like her previous smiles have.

“Likewise. Is orientation almost over? We’re ready to have you upstairs in your new office crunching numbers.”

Elsa blushes and looks embarrassed. “About another hour." 

“Surely we can get you out of it,” Frank chuckles. “After all, no one knows the Frost Museum like the Frost family.”

Anna’s mouth hangs open. Elsa is Elsa Frost? Related to the museum’s Frost family? Her name is literally on the building! Suddenly she feels very out of her league. Elsa is clearly a big deal, whereas she is just a new janitor. What’s more is that her best friend Kristoff got her this job after another guy quit suddenly, so she really wasn’t even a choice. They needed to fill the spot quickly, and Anna was qualified enough. As qualified as a college drop-out needs to be for manual labor. 

Anna realizes she is zoned out when Elsa turns back to her with an apologetic look on her face. 

“Sorry about that, Anna. You were saying?”

“Hm?” Anna looks at her. “Oh, umm… nothing. Never mind. I better go back and grab my seat.” She hurriedly leaves Elsa staring at her back.

Back in her seat, Anna covers her eyes with her hand and leans over. “Shit, shit, shit. Anna, what are you thinking? She’s so clearly out of your league. She’d never be interested in you.” 

For the rest of the orientation, Anna thinks of all of the fancy parties Elsa must go to on the regular. She imagines Elsa lives in a mansion on Star Island and is probably a VIP at all the best clubs. She probably has a rich boyfriend named Hans or Alfred or maybe Charles Van Buckingham III. And he takes her on trips to London and Paris and Fiji. He gets to see Elsa in a bikini; not Anna. Never Anna.

When the small group of new employees is finally dismissed, Anna does not dare look at Elsa. She leaves the planetarium quickly and practically runs to the engineering department where Kristoff is monitoring the water flow to the aquarium’s tanks.

“Hey, there she is,” he grins. “How was it?”

“Awful,” Anna sits in a chair next to him and takes a look at his computer. “Have you heard of Elsa Frost?”

“Yeah, HR sent an all staff email out letting us know she’d be joining the staff as the new head of finance. She’s apparently super smart and hot as fuck.”

Anna snorts before groaning. “I made a complete fool out of myself in front of her.” She recounts being caught sleeping, nerding out about Disney, and feeling like nothing next to the blonde woman.

“Anna, you’re not nothing,” Kristoff says with a frown.

“I am compared to her, Kris. She’s… she probably has a million college degrees, and I don’t have any.”

“That does not make you nothing.”

Anna sighs and stands. “It doesn’t even matter. She probably has an equally hot as fuck boyfriend, and they live in the lap of luxury.”

“Anna-”

“I gotta go see my new boss. Can you show me where maintenance is? I kinda forgot.” 

Kristoff gets up. “Okay, but don’t put yourself down, Anna. Any woman would be lucky to have you.”

—

The next day, Anna gets a full tour of the facility. Around lunch, she finds herself on the fifth floor cleaning the administrative offices. Poking her head into an empty office, she determines that the coast is clear to empty the trash.

She rounds the desk and searches for a trash can but can’t find one. Pursing her lips, she mutters, “Come out, come out, wherever you are, trash can.” She turns around and faces a wall where multiple diplomas hang. She sucks in air as she realizes whose office she is in.

“Oh, hi, Anna,” Elsa says from the doorway, causing Anna to jump and turn around. 

“Uhh, hi. Sorry, I was just… “ Anna swallows. “I was looking for your trash.”

“Oh, well, I haven’t really made any yet, but if you come back in half an hour, I will.” Elsa smiles that smile that seems to be reserved for Anna as she holds up a container.

“Yeah… I can do that. Enjoy your lunch…” Anna starts to walk out only to come face-to-face with Elsa, who has not left the doorway.

Under the blue-eyed gaze, Anna feels small, and it isn’t just because Elsa is wearing another pair of stilettos. Navy this time, to match a silk navy button-up shirt under a white suit.

“Excuse me,” Anna mumbles to the ground.

“Anna, did I do something yesterday?”

Anna whips her head up to discover that Elsa is biting her bottom lip.

“What? No! No,” Anna shakes her head. “No, you didn’t.”

Elsa can’t look at her now as she lets out a breath. Her shoulders, which Anna realizes were tense, seem to relax. 

“Okay. It felt like I did when you felt suddenly during the break, and then when you left orientation really fast,” Elsa says quietly. “If I did, I’m sorry.”

Anna feels horrible now. “No, Elsa, please. You don’t have anything to be sorry about. I just wanted to go say hi to my friend Kristoff. He works in engineering.”

“Oh,” Elsa says. “Well, in that case…” She closes her eyes for a moment before opening them and looking directly at Anna. “Would you like to go get a coffee one day this week?”

Anna’s mouth drops open. Elsa Frost, who has a business degree and a master’s in finance, wants to get coffee with her? “Coffee? With me?”

“Yes. If you want,” Elsa chews her bottom lip again, and Anna decides that is endearing even if it does seem to stem from Elsa being nervous.

“I want!” Anna says a little too cheerfully. She tells herself to tone it down. “I mean, yes. I would love to.”

—

Anna clocks out and turns to her best friend. “She is so far out of my league, Kristoff.”

“But she wants to get coffee with you. That’s something,” he cocks his head and gives her a haughty look.

“I need to wow her, Kris. I need her to know that I’m smart too.”

“You are smart, Anna. You don’t need to prove that to her or to anyone,” Kristoff says seriously.

“Yeah, but this is Elsa Frost we’re talking about. I need to go into this coffee date ready to dazzle her with everything I know." 

Kristoff sighs. “Anna, just be yourself. I’m sure that’s why she asked you out for coffee anyway.” 

“Maybe, but I still gotta be prepared. But anyway, I gotta go. I’ll see you later,” she grins and walks to her used Toyota Camry. If she’s going to go on a date- is it even a real date?- with Elsa, she needs to start studying up on potential topics.

That evening, Anna watches a National Geographic documentary on Disney+ that succeeds in putting her to sleep half an hour in.

��

Elsa’s work keeps her busy for the rest of the week, but they make a plan to meet at the Starbucks on Biscayne Boulevard on Saturday afternoon.

Rain pours as Anna arrives early with index cards ready. She stayed up Friday night taking notes after doing some googling on Elsa and finding an old college newspaper interview in which she mentioned liking Egyptian history.

She places her order, grabs her coffee when a barista calls out her name, and sits down at a table, waiting nervously.

Less than five minutes pass before Elsa walks in and shakes off the rain. Anna gazes at her as she takes off a long raincoat and brushes her hand through her damp bangs. Then Elsa looks around for her.

She waves and calls out, “Elsa, over here." 

With a grin that could light up the world, Elsa makes her way over to Anna. “Hi,” she says breathlessly.

“Hi,” Anna smiles back. “I already got a coffee, but if you want something, I can get it for you.” 

Elsa shakes her head. “No need. I can grab it. I’m not really in the mood for coffee today. When it rains, that means hot chocolate.”

Anna laughs. “I should have waited for you then. I love hot chocolate.” 

“It’s my favorite,” Elsa grins and drapes her raincoat on the back of her chair. “I’ll be right back. Don’t leave.”

“I won’t.”

When Elsa seemingly makes sure Anna won’t leave, she walks up to the counter, giving Anna time to watch her. 

Elsa’s demeanor changes as she steps up to the barista. Anna remembers when Frank came by to talk to her on their first day. It seems that Elsa isn’t very comfortable in social situations. That much is confirmed when Elsa lets out a deep breath when she is done paying for her drink. And, thinking back on their week, Anna realizes that Elsa only ate lunch in her office. She knows because she picked up Elsa’s trash every afternoon, and there was always an empty container in the bin. Anna wonders how a super brilliant finance lady could be introverted. Don’t you have to do projects and give presentations and stuff in college? Surely, Elsa realizes that she has nothing to worry about with Anna. She’s clearly the more classy, educated one. Anna is the dumb one who has to worry about making a good impression.

When Elsa returns, hot chocolate in hand, Anna shakes herself out of her thoughts. 

“So,” Elsa sits down. “Did you have a good first week?”

“I guess,” Anna replies. “It’s not hard work.”

Elsa tilts her head. “It’s not? I saw you lifting a giant bag of trash into the dumpster. It must have been heavy.”

Anna shrugs.

“Well, I couldn’t do it.” Elsa smiles and lifts up her arm, flexing it. “I’m not exactly the strongest person.”

“It’s not that hard to do,” Anna repeats. “It doesn’t take a brain to do it.” 

Elsa’s face falls slightly at the bitter response. “Oh.”

Anna winces and mentally berates herself for being stupid. “Sorry. I just mean that the work you do is probably more exciting.”

“I suppose,” Elsa smiles briefly. “Numbers make sense to me.”

Seeing an opportunity to turn the conversation around, Anna looks down at her index card quickly. “Did you know that the ancient Egyptians had a decimal system using seven different symbols?”

Elsa looks confused for a minute. “I…”

“And the symbol for 100,000 was a frog or a tadpole,” Anna continues. “That’s kinda funny, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Elsa takes a sip of her hot chocolate. “I used to have a pet frog.”

“That’s cool,” Anna says. “But did you know that the Egyptians’ symbol for 1000 was a lotus plant?”

“Anna-”

“And the symbol for 10,000 was a finger.” Anna holds up her index finger. “How weird is that? You’d think they’d use their fingers for one through ten, but nope. They used strokes for that. So one stroke was for the number one and two strokes was for two, and three stokes for three, an-”

“Anna,” Elsa interrupts with a soft smile. “That’s all fascinating, but I’d really like to get to know you.”

“Oh,” Anna blushes. “What do you want to know?”

“Anything. Did you grow up in Miami?”

Anna shakes her head. “I’m originally from Atlanta. I’m surprised you couldn’t tell. Everyone usually tells me that I have a distinctly Georgian accent.”

Elsa giggles. “I can hear it now; but, honestly, I didn’t pick up on it before." 

“Well, I have lived here for the last ten years. My parents moved here for work. What about you? I mean… you are probably from here, right? Since your uncle and aunt are, ya know, the Frosts.”

 “I did grow up here, but I moved away for college. Decided I needed to experience proper seasons so I went up north to Harvard. What about you? Where did you go to college?”

Anna’s face falls as she shifts in her seat. “I didn’t go.” It isn’t a total lie, but it’s easier to say than “I dropped out after half a semester.” 

Elsa’s eyes widen for a second before she says, “That’s okay. It isn’t for everyone.”

“You don’t have to say that,” Anna says. “I know that’s what educated people say when they meet people like me. You try to make us feel better, but like… it doesn’t.”

“Anna, I’m sorry,” Elsa says softly. “I didn’t mean…”

“You don’t know what it’s like. Employers ask me why I don’t have a degree, and I always have to justify myself.”

Elsa remains silent as Anna continues.

“And then people like you exist.”

“People like me?”

“Super smart, sexy CEOs who have everything and couldn’t possibly see anything in a college drop-out.” Anna replays the sentence in her head and nearly groans at having said “sexy.”

Elsa looks like she’s on the verge of tears as she all but whispers, “Anna, I’m sorry that you think that, but I… I am very interested in you.” Her arms come up and wrap around her abdomen. “I’m sorry I brought school up; I was just trying to get to know you better.”

“Well now you know that I’m not good enough for you,” Anna mutters.

Elsa’s lip quivers, and she shakes her head. “No, I don’t think that." 

“I can’t offer you anything beyond picking up your trash.”

“No, Anna.” A single tear falls down Elsa’s cheek and she quickly wipes it away.

“This was a mistake,” Anna sighs and pushes back her chair. “You deserve more than me.”

Anna hates herself for leaving Elsa at that table in Starbucks, but she knows that Elsa is better off without her.

—

Over the next couple of weeks, Elsa is noticeably gone from her office when Anna arrives to take the trash out. She gets it though. After getting home and thinking about how badly she messed up, Anna feels like she deserves Elsa’s silent treatment. She wouldn’t want to see herself either if she treated herself that poorly.

Even Kristoff told her she was an idiot. In fact, he reminds her daily when she visits him to let him know that she still hasn’t seen Elsa in her office.

“What am I going to do, Kris? How can I fix this?” Anna says into her hands one afternoon as she sits in a chair in the engineering room.

“For starters, you could have a little more self respect, Anna,” he says bluntly. “I know you have confidence and charisma, and you’re brave and blunt. But when it comes to this, you’re so damn afraid that people are going to judge you for not having a college degree. And it sounds like Elsa really didn’t care.”

“I know, but I fucked it up so badly. I let it get to me. I mean, you’ve seen her; you know. She’s pretty and smart, and how can I compare?”

“Jesus Christ, Anna, you’re pretty and smart too,” he says brusquely, as though the tone of his voice will finally drive the point home. “You are very intelligent; you just don’t ever give yourself any credit.” 

“It’s… hard to,” Anna admits. “I feel like not getting my degree is this big weight on my shoulders, and I just feel like I’ll never amount to anything.”

“Amounting to anything isn’t limited to a college degree. I’d say having a loving partner and friends amounts to something. I’d say that loving yourself amounts to something.”

“I know, I know. Easier said than done though. And Elsa… I’ve already fucked things up with her,” Anna sighs.

“Do you really think that?” Kristoff asks, eyeing the newest engineering department guest that stands behind Anna.

“Obviously. I mean, I get it. I made her cry on our first date, if it even was a date. Would you give me a second chance if I made you cry?” 

Kristoff considers his answer for a moment. “I would, provided that you apologized big time and promised to have more faith in yourself.”

Anna rolls her eyes. “Yeah, okay, but it doesn’t matter since I haven’t even seen her since that day.”

A soft cough from behind her causes Anna to freeze in her chair. She turns slowly, and her eyes widen when she comes face to face with Elsa.

Elsa looks slightly terrified and definitely vulnerable as she licks her bottom lip. “Did you know that I don’t care about whether you have a degree? That I saw you that morning and instantly knew I needed to get to know you? Numbers have always been my thing, but I was hoping… am hoping still… that you might be my thing. Sorry that sounded weird, but I’m not good with people normally. I usually talk too fast and don’t make sense, which I would have told you at Starbucks, but I didn’t get a chance. I just… want to get to know you, Anna. Please, let me have the chance.”

Anna opens and closes her mouth for a couple of minutes before she stands up. “I’m sorry, Elsa. For everything. I’d love to get to know you.”

[fleetwoodmak99]

Primed for Sin (4/10)

SUMMARY: Arthur tries figuring out what to do while Elena does her own investigation on who the clown was. Finding the journal was a step in the right direction. Elena confronts Arthur on what he has been doing. 

WARNINGS: Stalking, taking photos without permission, bad writing lol.

I’m so sorry this part took a little bit for me to get out. I've been dealing with a lot of shit emotionally and just can't seem to get in the zone. This definitely helped me through it so I'm really thankful. Don’t worry, smut is on the way. I know this is starting to get long but it just so fun to write about this guy.

Part 3

Elena paced around the living room. She didn't even know where to start about what had happened the previous night. It kind of felt like it didn't even happen, like it was all one big horrible dream.

Luckily she was able to occupy Michael with his favorite plate of spaghetti and cartoons while she tried processing her emotions.

She knew she should have called the police. She should be putting him in jail for what had happened but she couldn’t bring herself to do so.

The men who surrounded her the night before would have probably done much worse if the clown hadn't been there. Yet she shivered every time she thought of him.

She was even more surprised when she found the journal that belonged to Arthur. The man had seemed so sweet. She never thought he would be capable of such things.

Yet here she was, looking at the mans journal. She needed answers as to why he was there and who he really was. It couldn't have been a coincidence for the clown to have shown up at the right time.

Opening the first few pages, it seemed like a normal journal. Some drawings here, some jokes there. Nothing too out of the ordinary. It wasn’t until she got into the thick of it that things started to come to light.

He talked about being in pain all the time. That he wanted to snap. She couldn't help but feel bad for the man but it soon dissipated when she soon saw the drawings of naked women. She guessed every guy had fantasies like that. She just didn't expect to be apart of them.

Going through the pages, she felt her privacy grow smaller and smaller. Photos of her at work, picking up food, playing with Michael and the one that shocked her the most was one of her in bed wearing barely anything with her hands between her legs.

Reading the text, he would describe performing very specific sexual acts on her that she didn't even know was a thing. Not that she had much experience, but she certain had no idea a person could have such a dirty mind.

As she hate to admit, she almost felt excitement from it. It made her feel special to have someone want her so badly in this kind of way. Of course she didn't expect for it to be in this sort of way but she honestly didn't feel as angry or upset about it as she probably should be. Thankful that he had shown up when he did but there was a small part of her that didn't ask for this and just wanted things to go back to normal.

Eventually the cartoon ended and Michael once again was wanting to play with his big sister. She had to suppress what she was feeling for now but she knew eventually she would have to confront Arthur.

______________________________________________________________

Arthur too seemed to be having a difficult time processing what had happened last night. He sat on the couch with a lit cigarette in hand, he could feel the burning sensation as the smoke grew in his lungs.

How could have he been so stupid? He thought to himself. Leaving his journal there was just about the foolish thing he could have done. The good news was he hadn't been arrested yet meaning she hadn't told anyone. Maybe she didn't know it was him.

Arthur had to admit that it felt good to put those rich Wayne dicks in their place. They had touched her, they were the ones who crossed the line. Yes, he wished it didn’t end the way it did but it was a good thing those assholes are off the streets. 

He had watched the new stations to see if there were any reports on it and wasn’t surprised when he saw the local station all over it. They would describe the men as heroes, describing the scene as a blood bath. Lucky they still didn’t have any leads. 

He could feel his anger grow but it was slightly put to rest when he heard a gentle knock at the door. He gave a quick glance over at his mother who was passed out cold in her usual spot on the love seat. She must of not heard anything because she continued to breath softly with her eyes shut.

Arthur got up and quickly came to the door, moving multiple locks and swung it open. He came to meet the weary brown eyes of none other than his sweet girl Elena. 

She must of not expected him to be dressed in nothing but light blue pants and socks because she pause for a moment. She began looking him up and down, taking in deep breaths before opening her mouth. 

"Umm, can we talk?" She said, trying to sound stern but nothing came through but a shaky voice.

Arthur stood there, not knowing what to do exactly. He didn't expect her to just show up and demand to talk to him. How did she even know which apartment was his? He stared at her while he tried to gather his words. He knew what was probably going to come.

"O-of c-course." He forced out as he moved to the side to let her in. She kept her head down as she walked past him. Arthur closed the door behind her, watching her every move as she started to examine the apartment, stopping when she saw his sleeping mother.

"Oh." She whispered, "I didn't realize we would have company. I thought you lived alone." She turned to him as he started to push his hand through his hair, looking down at the floor in embarrassment.

"I-its only temporary. S-she's very s-sick a-and needs a lot of care for right now." He shook his head back and forth, not wanting to seem like some sort of fuck up. He could feel his throat starting to tense up as laughter threatened to break through. “I-I’m s-s-sorry.” 

Even he didn’t know why he was apologizing but he just felt so terrible, he felt like he needed to make it up to her. He looked up at her when she let out a big sigh. She looked so heavenly with her glossy eyes looking at him so innocent like. 

“Arthur, you don’t need to be afraid of me. I would never judge you.” She offered him a gentle smile. He didn’t know if she was joking or not. Why was she acting so kind towards him? His hope raised when he thought this thing could actually working out. It came crashing down when she continued to speak, pulling out his brown journal, placing it on the kitchen counter. “But we need to talk about this.” 

Arthur closed his eyes, not wanting to go down this road with her but he knew he didn’t have a choice. So with a groan, Arthur sat down at the kitchen table. He hoped it was far enough away so they wouldn’t wake up his mother. Elena hesitated but followed Arthurs movements, joining him at the table.  

Arthur grabbed a cigarette from the small cardboard box and sparked it up. He slowly took a drag of it before offering it her. He cautiously watched her as she hesitantly took it and brought it to her lips, taking a big inhale. He could tell she was nervous too. She would keep playing with her hands and her leg hadn’t stopped twitching since she had arrived. 

He opened his mouth, “What do you wanna know sweetheart?” Her eyes focused in on his as she breathed the smoke out. She wasn’t used to being called sweetheart. It made her feel giddy inside like a teenager at prom. 

She handed Arthur the cigarette before speaking. “Well to start, I wanna know what exactly these are.”  Arthur watched as she opened up the journal to reveal the multiple photos of hers in various places. She held one up to him. “Did you take this?” 

Arthur licked his lip as he searched for the right thing to say. He took a quick drag of the cigarette to give him more time, never leaving her eyes. “Yes, I did.” 

Elena crossed her arms and leaned back in the chair, shaking her head in disbelief. “W-Why?” She looked so scared. He hated that he made her feel that way. 

He took another drag of the cigarette before passing it to her once again. This time she didn’t seem that interested. Arthur let out some air before speaking to her in a defeated tone. “I-I never wanted to hurt you. I-I just don’t want to be so alone anymore. I want to be close to someone. Y-you’re so perfect.” 

It honestly scared him to be so raw with her. She could easily shut him down but to his surprise she didn’t. She just stared at him, not really knowing what to say. She could honestly understand the aching desire to be needed by someone else. That didn’t make it excusable. 

She decided it wasn’t time to turn soft. She needed to know everything. “How did you get those photos, Arthur?” 

He took another hit of the cigarette. “I think you already know how.” 

"By following me, right? How long has this been going on?” He could hear the anger in her voice. This isn’t good. 

“I-I started after we first meet." He watched her eyes grow big.

That long? It had only been a few days but that didn't mean it push major boundaries for her.

"And last night?" Her eyebrows raised as she spoke. Swallowing hard she continues, “Was that you? Did you kill those men?” 

She could feel herself starting to tremble just thinking of the events that occurred the night before. How could she have gotten into this mess with a complete stranger. They never even went on their first date. She began to doubt they would ever have a normal relationship. Well, if they would ever have one after all this. 

She was pulled from her thoughts when Arthur started to ramble, “Y-yes I-I did.” He tried to study her expressions but her face didn’t change from the look of intimidation so he continued to try and make things right.

“They had their hands all over you. T-they w-would have hurt you. “ This time his voice started to get stronger and became more dominate. “If I-I wasn’t there, I don’t even want to know what they would have done to you.”

She knew he was right. Honestly, she probably would have ended up much worse. Elena looked down in shame. Once again, she was speechless. 

“I-I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want.” Arthur spoke softly, not wanting to do any more damage. 

Elena closed her eyes and shook her head. She opened her mouth to speak but only a few sounds came out. “I-I don’t know what I want.” 

Elena was so confused. She couldn’t even understand all she was feeling but she knew it was a mix of fear, excitement and confusion.

Fear, because the man clearly had pent up anger that could be unleashed on anyone but who didn’t in this city.

Excitement, because she never really had someone who was this interested in her. Normally, men get turned off by single women who have certain responsibilities involving children in the 70′s. She could tell Arthur was different. 

“I-I promise. I’ll do anything to make you feel better.” He wanted to reach out his hand to her. She looked so sad and confused. He just wanted to console her, tell her everything was going to be ok. 

“I-I” She stuttered, not knowing how to get the words out. “I just need some time Arthur. This is a lot for me to handle.” Water started to pool up in her eyes. 

It hit Arthur like a bus but at the same time he understood. He didn’t want to see her upset and he certainly didn’t want to give her space. He knew if it meant they would be together down the road than he was going to do whatever it took. 

He simply stated, “I understand.” 

Her eyes stayed locked on his, "No following. I need to be completely alone." She felt like she was going to burst into tears at any moment but she held herself together.

"Of course. D-do y-you know how long?" He wondered how long he would last before he would feel the need to follow her again in order to keep her safe of course. 

She shook her head, looking down at the floor. "I don't know. A few days."

Ok, he can work with that. For now at least. Maybe this was a good thing. They could both focus on what they wanted but Arthur already knew what he wanted. He felt like she was already his. They belonged together, he just had to give her some space so she could see that.

With that he took one last hit of the cigarette before putting it out. Releasing a sharp breath, he stood up and offered her a hand. She looked uncertain if she could take it or not.

"Don't worry. I-I'll do as you say my love. Just know I'm one call away. I'll be here when you are ready." His voice was as soft as an angel. She wanted to believe him but she knew she would be looking behind her back everywhere she turned the next few days but she had to at least try to trust him. 

Deciding not to dwell on it anymore, she offered him a fake smile and took his hand. He could tell it was fake but didn't say anything.

He was spot on when he wrote in his journal about how soft and small her hands would be wrapped around his. His hands were monsters compared to hers. He gave it a gentle squeeze and started to pull her towards the door. Honestly, he was taking this really well. She had no idea what to expect when she first walked in but this wasn't bad.

He opened it and letting her through, never let go of her hand as she turned around now on the outside of the apartment. He gently placed his other hand on her cheek, forcing her to look into his eyes. He was hesitant to make such a bold move but he just couldn't help himself.

He watched her reaction then gently began rubbing her cheek when she didn't protest. He could tell she was a little nervous. She was breathing heavily and placed her shaking hand on his bare chest. She probably never been touched like this. He slowly moved his face closer to her, closing the gap between their lips.

He stayed there for a moment. Connecting his lips with hers was almost intoxicating. He was scared if he moved his legs would give out. Elena must have felt the same way when she leaned into the kiss, not really being able to fight against him. Still, she didn't push him away after everything that had happened.

He gently released her from his grasp, allowing her to stand on her own. Her mouth slightly parted in shock as to what just happened yet still she found no words.

With a sinful smile, he repeated the same words that she had said to him when they first meet. "I'll be waiting for your call Elena. Have a good night."

He gave her a peck on the forehead before closing the door behind him. He's not gonna lie, he had no idea how he got away with that but it just went to further show that she was made for him and him only. He knew this, now he just had to wait. 

[goth-albino-angel]

What about the boys from Descendants 1-3? Which ones radiate the most sub and which ones show switch or dom energy?

I am so sorry for getting to this so late. I wanted to rewatch the first two movies to get a feel for the boys again, but packing for my trip took up so much time. Anyway, here we go.

Jay: Definitely switch energy. He's fine going with the flow and following Mal's lead, but he sometimes has moments where he'll be absolute dom energy. His interactions with Harry in D3 have so much dom energy. Actually, his energy around Chad in D2 is also very dom.

Carlos: My good subby boy. He is such a sub and I love him for it. The way he goes with the flow when Mal's in charge, the way he looks to Jay for protection and guidance, the way he's so adorable with Jane. My favorite Carlos scene is him giving Jane that Janlos necklace because it's clear he's seeking her approval, but he's so used to not getting approval that he instantly assumes she'll hate it. But then Jane grabs him and he stops and the hopeful look in his eyes is just precious and wow I love him. 

Ben: Sub King Man! Ben radiates sub energy, but not as much as Carlos and Chad. He's willing to let Mal take the lead in… pretty much everything. He doesn't do something without checking to make sure she's in her comfort zone first (though she's really good at misleading, as D2 showed, so he had to get more perceptive). He's generally unwilling to go against someone he considers an authority figure (like his parents), he aims to please at any chance he can get, and he loves showing off to make his dom laugh.

Chad: SUCH BIG SUB ENERGY. He actually has a bit of Brat energy in him, too. He acts big and tough in front of Ben, Doug, Jay, but a single word from Audrey and he'll crumble immediately. This is, of course, negating most of D3. In the beginning, though, he does still have some of that Brat energy. It's just that he's such a submissive boi, he craves to the bigger Brat energy, Audrey's.

Doug: During a conversation, I told @foxfaceintheflesh "Doug isn't even a cutout, he's just cardboard." And it wasn't until I was watching D1 and D2 that I realized, wow, Doug has almost as much sub energy as Carlos. In D1, he is absolutely head over heels ready to please Evie. She was into Chad at the time, but if she said the word, he really would have knelt at her feet and kissed her boot. In the second movie, she silences his fears easily and he doesn't doubt her for a second. All he needed was her validation and he melted like a hershey kiss in an Arizona summer. The first movie also has him caving to Chad, even though he clearly didn't wanna. I suspect that has a little to do with Chad's bullying tendencies, but also, Doug's willingness to please. 

Harry: MY PIRATE BOI! Harry is an interesting case. He is dominant, no doubt about that, but he chooses who he submits to. It's very similar to Evie's low-key dom energy. Harry in D2 had really high key dom energy EXCEPT when he was around Uma. When it comes to Uma, he wholeheartedly becomes the subbiest sub to ever sub the seven seas. There was a post I reblogged that said it better, but like, the way he acts around Uma in the second movie, not touching her without permission, bowing to her, the absolutely lovestruck way he looks at her, talks about her, talks TO her. He had such hard sub energy. And then, in D3, after being away from Uma for two years, he still has that sub energy, but instead of asking permission, you can see it more in his direct actions. Pressing close to her at all times, moving with her when she leans to look around Evie, putting a supportive hand on her arm during… well, pick a scene. And yet, around everyone else, from Jay to Ben to Mal (not Evie and we all know why), he is the dominant one in the conversation, walking with a purposeful swagger to his gait, getting in everyone's space like he owns it, his body language…  Harry is a dom, but when he chooses to submit, he submits with his whole self.

Gil: Subby cutie. His actor described him as a golden retriever. That descriptor, by definition, is submissive. Any character given that descriptor is submissive (see also, Mirei Shikishima). He's the brawn, perfectly fine going along with Harry and Uma, just wanting to experience. He has a very "will do as you ask so long as no one gets hurt" kind of energy. Likely willing to try anything. I really do love Gil, even though he was mostly on the sidelines.

Hades: Hades is ROCKING that Brat energy! Oh my goodness, he comes off like a dom, especially in the song, but just the smaller movements he makes, not directly confrontational and more playful, make him more inclined toward, "I'm not submitting until you make me" and I love that energy from him. I mean, I could be reading it wrong because, you know, he's talking to his DAUGHTER during the song, but the way he speaks about Maleficent gives me big Brat vibes. Almost as big as Audrey.

King Beast: You. Stupid. Switchy. Asshole. Beast has a very switch attitude about him. The way he was going to go beast when Maleficent showed up in D1 and his immediately jumping to Hades' challenge in D3 are clearly the actions of a dom. But he also has moments of submission, like in D3 when he's looking to the high key dom for an answer instead of the King of Auradon. Or in D1 when Belle has to calm him after Ben announced he's bringing over villain children. He is instantly calmed by her touch instead of flying off the handle.

Aaand... I think that's all of them! Sorry again for being late, anon!

[sportsanimebreakdown]

Breakdown: Initial D

Okay a lot of new fans of the genre will find this a weird one. Not because of the cars (which are aMAZing) or the character designs (which are not) but because the series -along with its ridiculous eurobeat soundtrack- is practically legendary. The memes make themselves. But even the memes are done with good humor because, to be optimistic, I’d say that the fans are very whole-heartedly enthusiastic. (In a pessimistic way, I’d say that the story reinforces a lot of ideas of gender roles and the fantasy of an effortless traditional masculinity and its dual, serving femininity.)

But I digress. Let’s get into the breakdown. 

SPOILER FREE ZONE

Initial D: manga 1995-2013 by Shuichi Shigeno, 5 season of episodes alongside at least 4 movies and three OVAs, it’s a big one.

Tropes: Undiscovered Genius, Unbeatable Hero, Technical Sport, Cardboard Women, Teaming Up With Rival

Not-Your-Wikipedia-Summary: Fujiwara Takumi is a kid who’s been doing the deliveries for his dad’s tofu company (illegally) since middle school. Flying through the mountain pass in the wee hours of the morning, he’s developed, unbeknownst to him (though known to his ex-racer father), a killer instinct and technique for mountain pass racing (touge racing). When he trips into the racing scene by defeating one bigshot after another, it leaves everyone watching shook. He’s in for the long haul now, whether he likes it or not.

TL;DR Review: First off, I’d say if you want to get into this series, watch the three “Mugen” (Legendary) movies that have just recently been made because they go back and cover the battles and key plot points of the first few seasons of the series. Why would you do this instead of watching the actual seasons? Because they look like this-

It’s pretty bad. And you haven’t even heard the earworm beats they put this to. Just youtube it, dudes. 

It gets better as the seasons go on, and I have to admit that there’s a certain “it’s so bad it’s good�� quality about the first season, but yeah if you’re used to the quality of modern anime, definitely watch the movies. 

That said, the story holds up well. Maybe it’s because ‘undiscovered genius’ is a catnip trope of mine, but I think it’s still a lot of fun. Unlike a lot of other sports in the genre, racing is a one-man sport so it’s much closer, pacing and story-wise, to something like Hajime no Ippo rather than a team-based story like Haikyuu or Slam Dunk. But, unlike in boxing, Takumi can team up with his rivals, as he does in the later seasons when he joins an expeditionary team. 

The female characters, as I’ll get into later, are terribly written. This is one of those series where I skip all the parts where there’s a female onscreen, because they’re so problematic (emotionally weak, bad drivers, two-dimensional, only there to be a sexual/romantic target for a male character) that I’d rather skip them then cringe through them. Like ewoks in Star Wars, I’d rather just pretend they don’t exist than have that shit shoved in my face.

So yeah. Fun story, great races, it’s a classic. Like the Great British Baking Show, it’ll get you seriously into shit that you may never have thought you’d get into.

I’d like to think that’s the first time Initial D has been compared to the GBBO on the internet, and I want some credit for that, thank you.

PS: I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention how huge an impact this series has had on the street-racing and rally-racing scene, by the way. I’ve only heard about the tip of the iceberg, but this series has gotten a shitton of people interested in drift racing and the AE86, Takumi’s car model. Drifting is a thing in large part due to this series. Which I FUCKING LOVE cuz it shows the power of comics. 

Objective Score: 6/10 and all of those points are for how awesome the races are. The character development exists insofar as each character has a trope that they represent and stick to, but it’s really just the backdrop for a whole lot of car nerddom and awesome racing.

Personal Score: 8/10 Excepting the ewoks, it will and always will be one of my favs. It helped get me into driving and cars in my teens and earned a spot in one of my top ten by that merit alone.

 SPOILER ZONE

Full Thoughts: OKAY. I’ve loved this series for so long that it’s hard to feel that glow again, but I thought that since I’d gone back to watch it again (in between drawing pages and needing a break for the goddamn stress injury in my drawing hand) I might as well do a breakdown.

First off, can we give HUGE PROPS to Shuichi-sensei who somehow manages to make weird-shaped boxes zipping around corners LOOK DYNAMIC? Like how the fuck did he do that srsly

...haha for a moment there you thought I hadn’t actually analyzed it yet. Well joke’s on you cuz oF COURSE I HAVE. It’s actually not super complicated: Japanese sound effects, being one or two-characters long, means that they can be used more easily as visual onomatopoeia for the texture of the sound it’s conveying. He uses that a lot. Then there’s the motion lines and an ability to draw any fucking car from any angle and BOOM there you have it. 

But on the flip side, his characters look like this so.... win some, lose some. 

 In regards to the issues with the women I discussed earlier... well. I can count on one hand with a pinky still left over how many actual female characters who last more than a wink-and-a-nod there are. There’s so few, I can tell you exactly who they are: first is the highschool popular girl who has a crush on Takumi for some strange reason we never discover (and who has Drama because she had a sugar daddy for a long time). Then there are the two-women-who-count-as-one-driver (???) driving team who take on Takumi early on. One of them has Relationship Drama with Takumi’s friend, and the other (an intimidatingly Mature Woman) starts crushing on/hitting on Takumi, providing us with the typical madonna/whore dynamic with Takumi’s crush that Japanese media seems to require even more than American. AND THEN we have the shit cherry on the shit cake, a female driver in the later season who’s actually talented (heyhey!) but OH WAIT she has insta-crush for Keisuke, Takumi’s rival and team partner, and she is now Emotionally Compromised for racing and.... also a total stalker and weirdo and if I hear her say ‘Darling’ one more time to a man who has no interest in her, I’m gonna report her to some sort of HR.  EDIT: OH WAIT I forgot there’s two chicks who exist to be relationship bait for Takumi’s loser friend. One of them lasts like 3 whole episodes.

And that’s it! In probably the only sport where it’s impossible to have any kind of gender-based advantage or separation (such as in school sports, where there are girls’ teams and boys’ teams) there are only FOUR WOMEN in the entire series, and of those women only two of them actually drive. 

It’s frustrating how common this is, and how it goes by so unquestioned. I mean, it wouldn’t be hyperbole to say that this series changed the sport it’s about. It popularized drifting, probably got a lot of young men traffic tickets, and got me into buying a junker to tear apart with my dad while he pointed at all the parts and taught me what they did. 

What else could it have done? What seriously badass female drivers would we have if the author had just not let his misogyny get in the way? “But that’s what the racing is like, man!” someone in the back yells. To which I reply: Shuichi is a STORYTELLER. If he’s big in the racing scene and looks around and says “huh not many women here” it should be in his creative best interest to ask “well what if there were?” Storytellers are here to envision what the world could be, not to enforce the prejudiced systems that are already in place. If he can imagine a 17-year-old kid being able to beat a gazillion 30-somethings at drift racing with no formal driving education, then he can damn well imagine a talented driver with tits who doesn’t exist solely for the sake of sexual interest. 

But as they say... if you want something done, you gotta get it the fuck done yourself. 

[christhatcher]

12 albums from 2016

These aren’t in any particular order. I have, and continue to, love them all. If I’d have listened to the Mammoth Weed Wizard Bastard album more often I reckon that would’ve got in too. Unfortunately I do a lot of listening to music in the car, and I’m perpetually late for work, and it’s impossible to drive at anything approaching the speed limit when you’re listening to an album by a band called Mammoth Weed Wizard Bastard.

Underworld - Barbara, Barbara We Face A Shining Future

Oh Underworld you've soundtracked many significant moments in my life from the 90s onwards, and as we both get older you keep reminding me that youth and fire in the belly aren't the only ingredients necessary for making vital music. Underworld have blown me away again with an album which finds them at their most intimate yet transcendent. To my mind that's the perfect balance to pitch on an album that takes its name from some of a husband's final words to his wife.

The lyrics to Low Burn ('Time, The first time, Blush, Be bold, Be beautiful, Free, Totally, Unlimited') could, in the wrong hands, all too easily find their way onto a platitudinous meme but they sound vital in the context of the tune, a cresting wave of synths, strings, bass throb and eventually Hounds of Love toms. The perspective shifts on the penultimate line to include, "Panic, craving, nothing... Time, the first time..." and it transforms the vocal from a call for the Living to one that seems to encompass life and death's full cycle. Played back to back with Nylon Strung, whose refrain 'I want to hold you, laughing' assumes a mantra like quality, the two tracks feel like a compellingly heartfelt plea to embrace utterly the short moments we have.

David Bowie - Blackstar

We will never see his like again. To some extent that’s probably true, but that’s because Rock n roll is now nearing the point of anachronism; it's passing is inevitable but not something to mourn. We can't be forever young and full of piss and vinegar and I think if you're determined to be 18 till you die you've set your sights pretty low. I actually hope that the future of expressive culture lies not solely in the hands of men and women on raised stages preaching to the masses but in increasingly indivisible hands and minds brought together and operating in the spaces where the real and virtual world blur. I hope it's a place where individuals come second to the product of expression. In short, I hope there isn't another David Bowie. I love the guy (as much as it's possible to love someone you've never met), but I hope that before too long we no longer require these figureheads to align ourselves with or against. I want his work to survive and be celebrated but I hope that the culture he sprung from baffles my descendants, because there's something rotten about our obsession with the shock of the new that is the third quarter of the 20th Century.

Jez: Look, Mark, I'm a musician, in case you've forgotten. I answer to a higher law, the law of "If it feels good, do it."

Mark: Oh, that's a great law, isn't it? What's that, Gaddafi's law?

Jez: It's the musician's law. Colonel Gaddafi could not lay down a bass hook, Mark. That should be clear even to you. - Peep Show (series 3 ep 5)

It was the shock of the new, not a Solomonesque cultural cache. And now the world is moving on. Not diminishing in talent over time as we speed further away from the grand ejaculation of the Big Rock n Roll Bang. Music hasn’t descended into an over reliance on auto tune, or computers. There isn’t a dearth of ‘real’ musicians learning ‘real’ instruments, learning their song ‘craft’… ‘organically’. The world is moving on. But still we get to listen to the fucking bullshit put about by old people convinced that the brief period when you’re most emotionally engaged in the cultural stimuli around you happens to be the apex of civilisation; and you should never underestimate a Baby Boomer’s ability to slip a pair of rose tinted blinkers over your eyes when you’re moving into the crawl space they’ve rented out to you from their burgeoning property portfolios (Hippies and Yuppies – only really distinguishable by the proportion of their income spent on joss sticks).

But back to Bowie. Guilty of none of the above. His capacity for re-invention and forward thinking doesn’t need re-iterating, the back catalogue up to and including Blackstar speaks for itself. This has turned into a rant but, sod it, I'm not in the mood for not ranting.

Here's to Mr Bowie, perhaps the ultimate rebuttal to those who cite ‘honesty’ or ‘realness’ or ‘rocknroooooll’ as fundamental to making ‘organic’, ‘real’ music and writing ‘proper’ songs. Who used artifice, and sounds regardless of source, was fearless and transcended rock n roll and took it higher than it deserves, subverted and utterly disregarded hoary, chin stroking… fuck it… boring… notions of what a song/album/concert could/should be.

And he left us with Blackstar. All of the above.

The Comet is Coming - Channel The Spirits

It's quite hard to believe that this is the sound of just sax, synths and drums (or ‘skins’, if I'm trying to be vaguely alliterative) recorded (to tape no less) in a three day burst of creativity. The sound, all pervading atmosphere and ethos at large here is worthy of the entire Arkestra, amped up and channelled through Funkadelic via Leftfield at their most furious. If they've heard Channel The Spirits, then I imagine that the house band at the Restaurant At The End Of The Universe are probably worried about losing their residency. Sub point: Slam Dunk In A Blackhole (which wouldn't sound out of place on either Blackstar or Kendrick Lamar's To Pimp A Butterfly) is my song title of the year.

Savages - Adore Life

Opening with the three chord grind of The Answer, Adore Life positively pulses and howls (the guitars sound feral) before dissolving into more cerebral territory for the title track. Jehnny Beth's lyrics run the gamut of love, turning the subject inside out fearlessly, never breaking eye contact. It's an intense, beautifully paced piece of work, packaged in monochrome but red blooded through and through.

David Holmes – Late Night Tales

I was introduced to Mr Holmes via one of those late 90s Chillout compilations. The culprit, 'Rodney Yates' is a journey borne on floating ride cymbal and strings a la Lalo Schriffin, which led me to its mother album 'Let's Get Killed'. Over the subsequent years, I've lapped up pretty much everything he's done, be it soundtracks (Out of Sight springs to mind), Psychedelic Funk mix albums (Come Get it I Got It), freaky Hip Hop (The Free Association) and this year, Late Night Tales and Unloved (more of the latter in a bit).

If there's a unifying thread to Mr Holmes' work, to these ears, it's the sense that he's a man outside of time. His work is peppered with samples and ideas from pretty much every decade since it became possible to capture and replicate sound. But this is not the back catalogue of a retro mongering throwback, it's a body of work that speaks of a genuine love of sound and an overarching desire to share it. I have no idea how much of his own music is created from samples and how much is original composition... the lines are utterly blurred and it makes for compelling listening.

In these interconnected times, the Internet, behaving like it's second syllable, drags the endless bounty of musical creativity onwards with ever decreasing regard for chronology and Holmes has a rare talent for sifting through the haul for treasures. If you're on the search for new artists then Mr Holmes beats Spotify or any app you could imagine hands down. He's arguably never been better than on Late Night Tales. It's a beautiful, torchlit collection made all the more striking by the fact that it's largely beatless and full of acoustic and vocal performances thematically linked to questions of love and loss. A truly mesmerising experience.

Church of The Cosmic Skull – Is Satan Real?

I've spent the last few years resolutely trying to engage with modern sounds after years in a proto metal, Sabbath indebted cul de sac (not a bad place to be admittedly, but it's good to shake things up every so often). This year however, I've found myself slipping back into my comfort zone, maybe as a way of escaping the hideousness of 2016, maybe because albums like Is Satan Real? are so fucking tasty. It combines the vocal, harmonic... There's no other way of saying this... pomp of Queen, hooks and almost jazzy flourishes that The Zombies would've actually stayed split up over and a deliciously sparse smattering of Sabbathian crunch. The fact that they only properly let rip on the closing 'Evil In Your Eye' is a masterstroke that has had me reaching for the repeat button, repeatedly.

Metronomy - Summer '08

Joe Mount is not cool, he’s no rock star and he doesn’t swagger, but the music he makes does, albeit in a slightly jerky, twitchy St Vitus on espresso way. When I was small I used to make myself spaceships out of bits of furniture, and go on adventures of the imagination… Listening to Metronomy has always felt a little like being invited into someone else's world of 'let's pretend'. One where the lightsabers are still visibly made from mismatched lego bricks and the Darth Vader helmet is quite obviously a plastic policeman's helmet with a flap of cardboard inexpertly sellotaped around the back. They aren’t smooth. They're not making music for parties in and around Jacuzzis and JD shaped swimming pools, but 40 minutes in the company of this collection of off kilter electro funk, break and disco beats and aching slow jams might allow you to pretend that you are. And, once again, the artifice is far more stimulating and appealing than reality.

Opeth - Sorceress

Opeth. Opeth. Opeth. I just bloody love them. That's a shit review, but it's basically how I feel. I guess that how you feel about Opeth depends on your views on progressive music. If you think it's wanky and unnecessary then you'd be forgiven for avoiding Opeth but I'd argue that you're mistaken, because there are very few elements included in an Opeth number that could be considered unnecessarily wanky. Dramatic shifts in tempo and volume and time signature abound on this, as all, their albums. The key to their success though, is that they're artfully and meticulously placed with an almost architectural eye for detail that seems set on firing the imagination, rather than bludgeoning the listener with its own cleverness. In the truest sense of the word Sorceress is a wonderful addition to an enviable back catalogue.

Hedvig Mollestad Trio – Black Stabat Mater

 I don't really know much about these ladies. I'm not sure whether to describe it as Jazzy proto metal or proto metallic jazz... maybe the latter. But it is fierce. Really fierce. The five tracks slowly descend from a (relatively) straight forward opening freak out on a jazzy, turning bluesy groove, to nightmarish feedback and clatter that could be mistaken for King Crimson being dissolved in a rusted cauldron of battery acid stirred by Trolls. Also: One of my favourite album covers in a long time.

Paul Simon - Stranger To Stranger

Received wisdom has it that 74 year olds should just rest on the canon, firing blanks, cashing in on the willingness of Mojo readers to part with their coin for ever more padded out and barrel scraping reissues. Paul Simon seems to think that the best way to get through one's three score and tens is to build an album from the beats up and then bring in a designer and player of micro tonal instruments to add layer upon layer of otherwordly sound. I like Paul Simon. A lot.

Unloved - Guilty of Love

A collaboration between Jade Vincent, Keefus Ciancia and David Holmes (him again). As with Late Night Tales, Unloved is a creature of the night, but this time with teeth, paraffin eyes and a taste for smoke in the back of the throat. Guitars twang, drums can be heard reverberating up blackened alleyways and the astonishing voice of Jade Vincent entices, admonishes, damns and defies. When A Woman is Around should be considered a classic, 'Truth is seldom found (by a man) when a woman is around... Lose that Cheshire grin, take it like a man, keep what's yours, leave me mine.' Although there's a dark 60s vibe at work here, it's beautifully realised, with the faultless songwriting, performance and production giving it an elusive timelessness.

Nissenenmondai - N/A

This album is a perfect example of singular and fearless exploration.

They're a power trio, but that's where the similarities to that particular trope end.

They veer closest to making minimalist Techno, but with guitar, bass and drums.

They sound like they're being beamed in from the future, and not necessarily a good one.

Some of the album is hard to listen to and imagine it having been created by humans.

That's why I love it.

[biofunmy]

Bill Traylor’s Outsider Art Veers Into the Mainstream

The actress Julia Louis-Dreyfus remembers her father, William Louis-Dreyfus, swearing on the phone in the 1990s as he almost got outbid on a painting by Bill Traylor, the Alabama artist born into slavery who took up drawing around age 85.

“He amassed quite a number of them,” she said of the works, which the artist made with scraps of cardboard as his canvas, using poster paint, charcoal and pencil. “He really likened Traylor to the greats — the Giacomettis, the Kandinskys.”

Forty of those Traylors will go on view at Zwirner Gallery’s Upper East Side space on Tuesday in an exhibition whose proceeds will mostly go toward the Harlem Children’s Zone, a nonprofit organization that seeks to break the cycle of poverty for youngsters in Central Harlem through education.

The William Louis-Dreyfus Foundation, started by Mr. Louis-Dreyfus in 2013 with the fortune he made as a commodities trader, has sold Traylors at auction before. In January, “Woman Pointing at Man With Cane” went for a surprising $396,500 at Christie’s, nearly 10 times its low estimate of $40,000 (those proceeds also went mostly to the Harlem charity).

But the foundation wanted to have this sale at Zwirner to reposition the artist, moving Traylor — who died in 1949 — from the somewhat limited categories of outsider, self-taught or folk art into the mainstream.

“We’re hoping for the art market to see this as great contemporary art and not just as outsider art,” said Jeffrey Gilman, president of the foundation. “Given Zwirner’s position in the contemporary art market, we’re hoping he can introduce this to a larger audience.”

That recontextualizing of Traylor is already underway, with museums all over the country aiming for a more inclusive view of America’s visual culture and reviving neglected histories of many African-American artists who did not receive formal training.

Traylor was recently given a major retrospective — “Between Worlds: The Art of Bill Traylor” — at the Smithsonian American Art Museum, which closed in April. “He’s not an important outsider artist,” said Leslie Umberger, the Smithsonian curator who organized the show. “He’s an important American artist.”

Earlier this year, the Betty Cunningham gallery on the Lower East Side presented its second Traylor show. And at the Museum of Modern Art, which reopened to the public on Sunday after a substantial renovation and rehanging, there are now five Traylors on view.

Lucas Zwirner, the Zwirner gallery’s head of content, who selected the pieces in the Traylor show (priced between $60,000 and $500,000), said the renewed attention is long overdue. “When you look at those blues and the graphic qualities, that stuff just pops,” he said. “It has gravitas, power, intensity and vision behind it.”

The show includes prime examples of Traylor’s signature style — elegantly spare, alternately buoyant and elegiac. Despite their stick-figure minimalism, the characters in his paintings and drawings have personality; his rabbits, birds and dogs seem to move through space.

“They’re almost modern in composition,” Ms. Louis-Dreyfus said, “and they have a joyfulness that reminds me of my father at his best.”

The artist’s work is deepened by his singular history. After emancipation, Traylor spent much of his life as a sharecropper, and only started making art in his 80s, when he was living on the streets of Montgomery. His work was discovered in 1939 by another artist, Charles Shannon, who brought Traylor supplies.

Traylor made his art on the backs of candy packaging, discarded boxes and window advertisements. While his paintings and drawings often have a whimsical quality, they were informed by weighty themes like lynching, illiteracy and the Jim Crow South.

“It is the only existing body of work that has survived made by a person born enslaved,” Ms. Umberger said. “So it really is a treasure trove of information from this person who was raised to believe he was not a legitimate part of American society, who in the last part of his life decides he’s going to make this body of work that declares his self-worth and what he was witness to.”

“He did not have a model for what he was doing,” Ms. Umberger added. “He picked up a pencil and tried to figure out for himself what he was seeing.”

Several critics have questioned the motivation behind the glamorous, almost heroic status accorded Traylor today by art dealers, curators and critics, which has fueled soaring prices at auction. While noting that Traylor’s “drawn and painted subjects exude a remarkable exuberance,” G. Roger Denson, writing in The Huffington Post in 2013, added, “We might also regard the same good humor as facilitating the conscience of the white liberal collectors in offering no threat of indictment for the social injustices being perpetuated on blacks.”

The works in the Zwirner show were among the total of about 4,000 pieces in Mr. Louis-Dreyfus’s collection, including works by the likes of Jean Dubuffet and Helen Frankenthaler, much of which is in a museum-quality converted electrical supply warehouse in Mount Kisco, N.Y., that is open to the public by appointment.

Mr. Louis-Dreyfus, who died at 84 in 2016, was the kind of collector who bought what he loved, rather than what the market or the art establishment deemed valuable, his daughter said.

“He did not approach art collecting like an asset,” said Ms. Louis-Dreyfus, who in 2015 made a private documentary about her father and his collection. “His motive was looking for good art, period.”

Her father took a particular interest in self-taught artists who also included Thornton Dial, Nellie Mae Rowe and James Castle.

“He thought it was great art that was undiscovered and unappreciated,” Mr. Gilman said.

Like many collectors of such work, Mr. Louis-Dreyfus eschewed the term “outsider art” as patronizing, his daughter said.

“It does have a pejorative connotation to it,” said Ms. Louis-Dreyfus, who is best known for the television comedies “Veep” and “Seinfeld.” “I’m very happy that this is moving the needle for Traylor.”

In 2015, the foundation announced that proceeds from collection sales would be donated to the Harlem Children’s Zone, an organization that inspired Mr. Louis-Dreyfus. “I’m an American patriot — I love this country — so I hate all its blemishes and the way it’s treated the black man has been a huge blemish for hundreds of years which continues today,” Mr. Louis-Dreyfus says in the documentary.

“There is something terribly natural, terribly right, about having the Bill Traylor collection turn into money for his progeny,” he added, referring to the Zone’s students. “I think he would have been — or he is — delighted about that. And I am, too.”

Geoffrey Canada, the founder and president of the Zone, said the sale of Traylor’s work seemed especially apt to help children in Harlem. “What could be more fitting than this work helping a generation of kids?” he said.

“It’s incredible to try to imagine what this man had gone through, yet he still produced works of art that cry out about humanity and beauty and the promise of life,” Mr. Canada added.

Ms. Louis-Dreyfus said she was proud of her father’s decision to use his collection “to do good,” describing it as “a full-circle moment.”

“His whole life he was very upset about the social injustice in this country,” she said, “so the fact that he’s able to address it with this gift is a triumph for him.”

“It’s really an amazing move that he made at the end of his life,” Ms. Louis-Dreyfus added. “It may be the best thing he ever did.”

Sahred From Source link Business

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[jessestoddard]

Welcome to Chapter 8 of my blog-to-book project: Life After High School: Secrets To A Successful Life By Those Who Have Had Twenty Years To Think About It (or) What They Didn’t Teach Us Gen Xers In High School. This chapter is called The Apartment. If you missed the last post, click here, otherwise, you can start at the beginning here.

I decided to get out of the dorm and get my own place. The Apartment was on 43rd and Brooklyn in the University District. It was a fantastic top floor condo with a view of downtown. I lived there for something like thirteen years, with all kinds of roommates on and off. At one point my “sister” (cousin) Stacie was a roommate. She was doing well at the time with a great job but partied a bit hard at night. I did what I could to be supportive. At another point, I had five roommates in the one-bedroom apartment. I lived in the closet, all in the name of saving money and helping friends out. Scott stayed there during our monk years, where he prayed all day, and I measured all my food for the Zone diet and studied. We did not talk and we did not party for a year.

The funniest time at the apartment could fill another few chapters with stories. Scott’s brother Jon was a roommate, but we never saw him. He had a pair of shoes that lived in the corner of the room, with jeans and a shirt folded on the top. That represented Jon. Their younger brother Ryan was our butler, and literally had a list of chores to do every day in exchange for rent. When you have five guys with drunk friends coming over it was an endless job. The toilet alone required a Hazmat suit and a set of three-foot prongs to clean it without being exposed to the nuclear filth. Luke Pinnow lived there and worked at Trader Joe’s and for a short time the gym I worked in. He graduated high school the year after us. Luke was later a minority partner and employee of the gym I opened up in 2005, which probably ruined our relationship. One of my friends from the dance department, Michael Bilikas, who also majored in a bunch of science stuff and Greek, and took nearly as long as Scott McKinstry to graduate, used to run big events at the Show Box downtown, and the crazy nightlife kept him on his cell phone late into the night. He used to fall asleep sitting up with the TV blaring. He later went to NYU dental school. Of all the roommates over the years, 9-Ball was the funniest roommate by far.

Formally John “9-Ball” Angus, who later legally changed his name to “Jawn” Angus, was in a phase of his life that one might call the partying years. To me, he was just full of life and living every moment. Others might call him a drunk. To me, he was a friend and a very interesting roommate. One day, he invited the homeless man who sat out on University Way Northeast, colloquially known as The Ave. The man went by the name of Bear and had a hook for a hand. He had a cardboard sign he would proudly display next to his can (pun intended) as he sat with the other Ave Rats waiting for a handout. His cheeky sign read, “It’s For Beer.” At least he was an honest bum.

Now, I prefer to view 9-Ball’s invitation an act of generosity, charity, and as philanthropic humanitarianism. One could also make an argument that he was just doing it for a laugh or as a bizarre social experiment, perhaps to see if the man could out drink him.

Upon arriving back home that day, I was surprised to see 9-Ball and Bear hosting a poker party. I can’t remember for sure, as many of those parties were a little hazy in my memory banks, but I seem to recall cigars and several other gentlemen from our usual crowd. The apartment had become an episode of Cheers, but Norm sitting at the end of the bar had been replaced by a homeless derelict who indeed could drink everyone else under the table… And he did.

After that, Bear became an honorary member of the Stoddard Tenement House, and his hook became our crest.

It was an amazing time. There were women in the place here and there (I am so sorry for those poor souls), but the primary players were a motley crew of young men somehow loosely connected to one of the tenants. In addition to those formally paying rent, there was a cast of characters that rounded out the mix.

My childhood friend Gary Hunter, a math genius who went to Whitman college, would come over and help organize the poker parties and bring exotic liqueurs, food, and cigars. He was on his way to becoming a successful bond trader and highly sought-after analyst of some kind. He worked for Washington Mutual Capital Corporation before the crash. I would go and visit him when I was working at the 5th Avenue Theater on our lunch break. Gary always has at least two computer monitors in front of him at all times. There is a legal statute somewhere that says that whatever is on the monitors must be at least three years ahead of everyone else and at least thirty IQ points above my head. Gary is one of those people who saw the crash coming and warned me, but I bought swamp land in Florida anyway (literally and figuratively) and lost my shirt. Years later, real estate investment trusts and really smart people in California pay Gary a lot of money to be smarter for them as he sits in his underwear in his living room. To be honest, no one really knows what Gary did or does. From what I have been able to deduce, Gary creates Excel spreadsheets that other people use to try to figure out other spreadsheets, that analyze things that other people try to figure out using spreadsheets that Gary made. There is then a bunch of smart people who ask Gary when they should jump and how high, and then somehow at the end of it all some guy in Rhode Island ends up owning twelve apartment buildings for a nickel.

Another friend I met at the gym, Nick Lacy, was an African-American singer and club hopper who I loved dearly and somehow ended up at the club Neighbors with. I did not know what Neighbors was when I went, and it made it that much more interesting. I grew up very fast in those years. I dated Tania, who’s family was from Mexico and was an exceptional Salsa dancer that I met at the University of Washington Ballroom Dance Club. We went out dancing all the time for several years. The culmination of our relationship was a bronze in the Seattle ballroom dance competition. We tried for a while, but it wasn’t meant to be. That was that and she moved to Australia.

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Nick’s buddy (who I shall not name to protect the innocent), would come over already high and looking to get more stoned. He had completed a master’s degree in a very competitive program at the UW, and now was doing nothing with it. One time, at the end of a long drawn-out soirée, he couldn’t find any more beer in my fridge. He looked at a half-empty (which he saw as half-full) glass of beer that someone had put a cigar out in, and with only a brief pause, shrugged his shoulders and chugged it down, ashes and all. These were lengths to which one would go to keep the party going at the Stoddard Tenement House.

Those years ended abruptly when the owner of the condo, an airline pilot with a stressful life, suddenly passed away from a heart attack. His wife and daughter were in shock and mourning, and I knew they wanted the daughter to be able to stay there, as she was a college student too. I decided it would be for the best if I just moved out to get out of their way. I had a deposit all wrapped up in a new building up the street that was already past the opening deadline and kept postponing. I had nowhere to put my stuff, so I stored some of it downstairs in the laundry room and some of it out in the alley behind the building in our garage space that was not at all secure.

What seemed like an act of courtesy turned into very bad timing. A few hours before I was to move out, we were all having one last little get-together. 9-Ball noticed some young punks in the alleyway four stories below who were mouthing off and throwing insults at us through the window. 9-Ball very correctly set the young hooligans straight and they fled the scene, not knowing that they would throw something much worse than insults in a matter of hours. We left the apartment to finish our work (I literally had to go work at University Fitness) and I came back later that evening to find splattered egg all over the walls of the living room. Somehow, he had insulted the next pitcher for the mariners or something, because that kid had an arm like a cannon. Either that or they had some kind of deadly accurate egg gun. I realized we had left the windows open on that hot evening and from four stories below, these kids had managed to launch those eggs through our windows and all over our walls, destroying the paint.

The others were gone, and all I had with me was the newest roommate on the scene, Andrew from the dance department. Andrew had just moved in and never even knew any of the other guys and yet from the goodness of his heart, he stayed with me that evening to paint the entire living room and clean up the mess. He lasted most of the night, and I pulled the rest of the all-nighter and finished the job. I turned the keys in and went to the gym the next morning. Without a home, the backroom at the gym became my new living space. I worked during the day, and then pleaded with Fahreed, who started at eleven, not to tell the boss that I was sleeping there. I am not sure if the boss would have cared, but I felt ashamed. Fahreed’s shift would end at five in the morning and I would start. It was a strange time.

Years later, after acquiring a well-paying oil refinery job, no doubt with help of his sheer charisma, 9-Ball began to travel to exotic locales in order to help with the expensive process of the winding down of refineries. On location in a tropical setting, he was a major car accident that should have taken his life. Swearing to become changed man, he swore off his previous lifestyle, including all drinking, purchased a race bike, and became an avid marathon runner and tri-athlete. I visited him once when he lived on Alki in Seattle, to see his many ribbons and accolades lining his wall when he was running an average of one marathon per month. He was lean and sinewy and truly embodied a new man. He legally changed his name to Jawn Angus.

Farewell 9-Ball, your memory shall forever be cherished and worshiped by the suppliant Ave Rats and Bums of University Way North East. Thus is the tale told by descendants on the Ave who’s cardboards signs now read, “It’s For 9-Ball,” and who wear pendants and various pieces of flair, all with the image of a hook on them.

In the next post, I will continue with more interesting interviews.

Are you from Generation X? I want to hear what you think! Please comment below and participate in the conversation about What They Didn’t Teach Us Gen Xers In High School. What do you wish someone told you when you were eighteen?

Life After High School: Chapter 8 The Apartment Welcome to Chapter 8 of my blog-to-book project: Life After High School: Secrets To A Successful Life By Those Who Have Had Twenty Years To Think About It