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#90's school supplies
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I love this Lisa Frank Trapper Keeper. This brings back so many wonderful memories for me.
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thegroovyarchives · 2 years
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90′s Lisa Frank Advertisements
(via: archive.org)
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starkwlkr · 2 months
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I LOVE YOUR CHARLES FICS ESPECIALLY THE RUBY ONES OMG! This might sound strange, but could you write one where Y/N gets tired of the paparazzi and tries to physically fight a reporter? Kinda like the björk reporter incident in the 90’s. I wanna hear Charles and ruby’s reactions!
that’s my wife! | charles leclerc
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charles: you know the only reason i got married was so i could yell that’s my wife whenever i wanted?
also i made it SLIGHTLY different so instead of fighting the paparazzi, mama leclerc throws hands with toxic f1 fanboys 😍
Y/n always hated paparazzi, it was no surprise. She knew from the start of her relationship with Charles that she would be photographed whenever they stepped out. She knew what she was getting herself into when she started dating Charles and she tried to ignore it. It worked for a couple years and then Ruby and Mathéo came along. Being a mother changed Y/n. She was more protective of her children and husband.
When she wasn’t in the paddock, she was back home in Monaco with the kids and Pascale. The wag pages updated on where she was and some fans would try to find her.
During the week that Charles was away, Y/n was out with the kids in sunny Monaco. Ruby needed new school supplies and Y/n needed to buy Mathéo new clothes so she took both of her kids to the store. Charles has told her many times to at least have someone with her when she went out, but Y/n didn’t think it was necessary.
“Maman! Can I have this one?” Ruby pointed to a pink backpack that was on a window display.
“You already have a backpack, my love, we are only buying items we need like journals and books for you and new clothes for Théo, okay? And maybe we’ll get ice cream after. How does that sound?” Y/n asked the little girl, who seemed bummed that she wasn’t getting the pretty pink backpack she saw, but cheered up when her maman mentioned ice cream.
Ruby held onto the stroller as the family of three walked the sidewalk to the nearest store that sold school supplies. That’s when Ruby noticed a man pointing his phone at them. She wondered why and asked her maman.
“Let’s go inside, quickly.” Y/n told Ruby as they finally made it to the store.
“Why is he staring?” Ruby stared back at the man and even stuck out her tongue at him when he wouldn’t stop recording.
“Don’t pay attention, Ruby Jules. Let’s go.” Y/n grabbed Ruby’s hand.
“I don’t like him, maman.” Ruby whispered.
“I don’t either,” Y/n sighed as she started her shopping. But the man, who was still recording, decided to make her day worse.
“Tell Charles that Max is the better driver!” He was clearly trying to get a reaction out of her. “Fuck Ferrari!”
And suddenly, Y/n had so much anger built up in her that it made her snatch the phone from the man’s hands and throw it as far as possible. It practically landed on the other side of the shop.
“What the fuck!”
“Don’t ever disrespect my husband like that. Have the day you deserve, shithead.” Y/n turned the stroller holding a sleeping Mathéo and grabbed Ruby’s hand. “Fuck you.” She pushed past the man as she exited the shop.
As the mom had her back turned, Ruby stuck her tongue out again at the stranger.
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“And then maman said a bad word and we left! But the phone flew so far and the man looked like he was going to cry!” Ruby said enthusiastically into the phone. Charles was still gone, but news spread of the incident in the shop. Most people were defending Y/n’s actions since the man was clearly harassing the family.
“Really? So maman almost made a grown man cry, that’s my wife!” Charles laughed. Before talking with Ruby on the phone, he had gotten the full story from his wife.
“That’s my maman!” Ruby yelled.
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centrally-unplanned · 2 months
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Have seen 3-4 "death of culture at the modern university" posts on my dash, so lets address the forces being missed in those posts. People today are not less cultured, they are not less creative - hell that is actually hilarious, due to radically lowered barriers of entry a good deal more people are creative in some way today. The average 21 year old is as awash in hot takes or avant garde art or crazy political movements as they ever were, give-or-take the zeitgeist fluctuations of any given year.
What has changed is that the university is no longer as necessary a lodestone for that culture. The primary cause is of course the internet of it all; in the same way people just have less friends now because they can be entertained otherwise, if I want freeform poetry readings I can go on Youtube, I can *post* on Youtube. I don't need to be a part of my uni's zine, I can just write for...any zine!! Anywhere!! Colleges used to solve the coordination problem of bringing disparate people together to participate in distinct hobbies all in one place; the internet does that better. College for some is a little obselete.
Meanwhile, universities themselves have changed, and a lot of it is that stifling, bureaucratic stuff you see in those posts. But supply meets demand; those schools changed for a reason, and one of the big ones is that how undegraduates spend their time has pretty radically changed too. The "have fun majoring in ~whatever at uni" idea that peaked in the 1980's is pretty dead; if you are at a top school you are planning out your internships for freshman summer, because you need multiple as part of your four year plan to max your odds of getting into med school or a slot on the marketing consulting team at Deloitte. The competition for entry-level jobs has escalated dramatically since the late 90's; companies both lost faith in the "liberal arts" stamp as a universal smartness indicator, the complexity of jobs legitimately went up and demand more skills at entry level, and enough savvy students were building comprehensive resumes that they didn't need to settle any more, they had their pick. And these all feed on each other through competition; once enough students are doing it, everyone has to do it.
So college is just "about" career prep more and more now for people. Which just isn't fun and not the place you stick your creativity in; it doesn't vibe that way. These transformations are structural, and even sans the bureaucracy things like Greek Life would be fading. How is that boosting your organic chemistry grade again? Who has the time for that shit.
But people are still doing all the creative edgy art weird stuff. Just not within the confines of the college quite as much. And of course many still do; its all margins in the end.
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hobie-enthusiast · 9 months
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UNLIKELY CLASH !
— rulebreaker!hobie brown x perfectionist!gn!reader
— enemies to lovers, fluff, cursing (a lot tbh), arguments, character development, secret relationships, gossip, kissing, sneaking around, hobie is shirtless (its for one part for comfort)
— hobie brown was everything you weren’t, so maybe that’s what attracted the two of you together so well (pt. 3)
— part 3 woohoo! shoutout to 🫓 anon for the idea and honestly part 4 maybe? i have an idea brewing
— part 1 | part 2 | part 3 (here)
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Sneaking around with Hobie Brown was truly exhilarating.
After the event in the supply closet, he declared you to be in a relationship (that’s about as far as he would label it). Only problem was it had to stay secret. Your reputation was on the line, and being with Hobie could label you as trouble alone. Plus, Hobie hated labels.
So a secret relationship ensued. For two months worth of sneaking around during school hours to rooftop dates, the two of you avoided all judging eyes. You were content with that, and so was he.
That was, until your grades started to slip.
It truly wasn’t a big deal. 100’s turned into 90’s, and you still maintained your A’s. But that wasn’t good in your parent’s eyes. They noticed the weird absences for singular classes. When you said it was for academic competitions, they grew even more weary.
A confirmation was apparent to them when you climbed in through your window while they were awaiting your arrival. They wanted to talk with you about the grades, only to find you missing. Of course they were worried, but they still found themselves more angry than not.
“What is going on with you?” Your mom questions, arms crossed. “It’s like we don’t even know you anymore!”
“Mom, stop, please.”
“No, that’s not how you’ll speak to her.” Your dad interjected.
You groan, sitting at your desk. “Nothing’s going on! I’m doing perfectly fine.”
Your dad raises an eyebrow and scoffs. “Yeah, because sneaking through the window and skipping classes is ‘fine’.”
“I’m not skipping classes!”
“Oh so you want to lie?” Your mom questions.
“Why won’t you believe me?” You ask. Of course you were lying, they couldn’t know about Hobie. “I’m still doing great. Keeping up. It’s normal teenage stuff.”
Your dad shakes his head. “Nope. I don’t think so.” He declares, crossing to the door. “As of right now, you aren’t going to prom. Maybe that’ll teach you to not sneak around and lie.”
“What?!” Your eyes widen as you stand. You turn to your mom. “Are you seriously going to let this happen?!”
“Let it be a lesson, [Name]. Get your act together.”
Your parents walked out of your room, and you groan in frustration. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes. You wanted to go to prom! The nice outfits, the dancing, and maybe even convincing Hobie to go was your plan. Now you couldn’t.
You angrily grab your phone, typing to Hobie before tossing your phone away.
Me (9:42 pm):
My parents banned me from going to prom.
Hobie <3 (9:42 pm):
???
why?
Me (9:46 pm):
Caught me sneaking through the window and cornered me. Said I was skipping classes and told me that I needed to “get my act together”.
It’s absolute bullshit.
Hobie <3 (9:46 pm):
shit im sorry sweetheart
give me 5 minutes
You smile gingerly at the phone, moving to lock your room door. You knew Hobie was already on his way, so you had to ensure your parents wouldn’t get you in more trouble. That’s the last thing you needed.
You sat in silence by your door, trying your hardest not to cry over the situation. It was rough.. you never disappointed your parents before like this. They always thought highly of you, but now they didn’t, and this feeling wasn’t kind.
A knock on the window stole you away from your pity. Glancing up, you move to open the window, Hobie entering and immediately hugging you tightly.
You couldn’t help but let out a choked sob at the warmth. “Oh swee’heart.. shh, ‘s okay..”
“But it isn’t!” You respond, pulling away and wiping your face. “I know this may seem stupid but I was looking forward to.. I don’t know.. having a genuine date to prom. I was going to ask if you wanted to go with me, become public, all that stuff. And now I can’t!” You finish, plopping down on your bed.
Hobie’s eyes widen before a sigh escapes his lips. He didn’t know you wanted to go public, not at all. Of course, everyone already had their suspicions after the incident in the hallway. But no one knew you actually were together. Just thought of it as Hobie being Hobie.
He sits next to you, draping an arm around you. In response, you lean against him with a deep breath.
“It isn’t just about prom. I’ve never.. seen my parents so disappointed in me. And I don’t get it. I’m still a great student. Like.. it doesn’t make sense, y’know?”
“I get ‘t. But they put a lot ‘f pressure on ya. Can’t let this get t’ ya.” He explains, a soothing hand rubbing your arm.
You sigh. “I can’t help it. I..” You want to say you love them, because you do. But you aren’t doing this for love. “…want them to care.”
Well that wasn’t what Hobie was expecting.
He says no more words, just holding you closely. He soon finds himself hearing you request he stay, him holding you close, underneath your blankets. He knew this was bad, if your parents walked in it wouldn’t end well. But it was alright. He could just.. keep you safe for a little while. That’s what his job is.
His job as.. as..
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
Your eyes adjust to the light pouring in, a groan escaping your lips. You’re about to turn over and stretch when you feel yourself trapped. Glancing down, you see some familiar hands and rings.
The warmth elicited from Hobie was amazing. You let out a content sigh, savouring the moment with him.
Once Hobie awakens, which was possibly two minutes after you, you turn to him with a small smile. “Can’t believe you slept in your jeans and jewelry.”
“Eh, ‘ur worth the discomfor’.” He responds, a yawn escaping his lips.
“That’s.. corny as hell.”
Hobie grins, pulling you closer to him. “You make me wanna be corny, hm?”
Before you could respond, a knock comes at your door. Your mom’s voice rang on the other side, causing both of you to shoot up.
“Honey? Can I come in?”
“Shit!”
You stand from the bed, almost falling in the process, trying to fix up the scene. You usher Hobie up, who happened to be shirtless for comfort, into your closet.
“Woah woah, slow down darlin’.” He says as you shove him. His eyes glance over at something before he looks back, not saying anything on it.
That’ll be fun.
You glare at him. “Hobie Brown, you are currently shirtless in my room, slept in the same bed as me, with my mom on the other side of the door. The one who just got me in trouble for going from an A plus to an A minus. Get in the damn closet.”
He says no more, instead putting his hands up as you shove him into the closet, shutting the door. You fix up your hair before unlocking the door, opening it with the best smile you can manage.
“Hey mom.” You speak casually. “What’s up?”
She smiles back, pushing past you into your room. “Just wanted to say.. don’t take your father’s punishment too hard. He just wants what’s best for you.” She says, cleaning up some things that are out and about.
“Oh yeah! No it’s okay I’m just-”
Suddenly she stops, picking up Hobie’s shirt that lied on your desk chair. “Who’s is this..?”
You pale, clearing your throat. “No one’s! Just.. a gift I got.. couple days ago..?” You say in an almost convincing tone.
She eyes you suspiciously before shrugging, tossing it back onto the chair. You silently breath a sigh of relief, anxiety still in your heart. You’ve never hid a boy before in your closet; not a universal experience.
“…you understand? We’re just concerned.”
“Y-yeah! I get it.” You respond, not knowing what your mom said.
She smiles, walking over and ruffling your hair. “Good. I love you, honey.”
You mutter it back as she exits the room, closing the door behind her. You let out an exasperated breath before running to open the closet door. Hobie can only let out a chuckle as you slam in shirt into his chest.
“Damn you!”
“Oh come on. ‘t was excitin’.” He responds, following you back into the room.
You glare back at him as you sit on the bed with a huff. You cross your arms, as if pretending to be mad, turning away from Hobie. He rolls his eyes as his shirt slips back on.
He takes a seat next to you and plants a soft kiss on your head. “Ah.. Can’t stay mad a’ me. Ya like me t’ much for that.”
“Whatever.”
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“I’m sorry.. what?!”
“Shh, keep it down!” You shush your friend, shoving their shoulder. “Seriously, it’s whatever.”
They look at you with still complete shock. “Whatever? Whatever?! You’ve been looking forward to prom tomorrow for months! How could they?”
You sigh, stopping in front of your locker. “It’s because of the small slip in my grades.” You explain, turning toward your friend.
“You mean the measly five percent? You’re still top of the class!”
“Trust me, I know.”
You open up your locker, and a small piece of paper falls out. You smile and pick it up, opening it up. You already had a feeling who it was from.
‘downtown apartments tmrw night. dress nicely. got a surprise for u. - h.b’
As you read the note, your friend seems to notice what you have. They glance over, only to see the initials it was signed by before you stuff it away.
“Secret admirer?” They question, holding their books closely.
You laugh, shutting the locker. “Mhm, you know how it is.”
As the two of you walk down the hallway, you manage to see Hobie standing at the corner, seemingly watching you while chatting with a friend. You smile slyly and he winks when you pass by.
‘Oh.. holy shit oh!’
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
The next day came, and with it, prom night. You were bummed, truly. Though, maybe a small hangout with Hobie was certainly enough to get you cheered up.
You told your parents you were going to the library, to try and catch up. Luckily, they didn’t question you. Just sent you on your way and told you to be careful. That’s when you rushed to the bathroom to change into nicer clothes and snuck out after.
Hobie waited for you outside the apartments, like asked. For the first time in a while, he wore a button up instead of his vest. His pants remained the same, but he looked more done-up.
And it was worth it when he saw you.
“Well well. Who’s date are ya?” He asks with a small smirk.
You groan, shoving his arm. “Truly hilarious, Hobie. Gotta say, you clean up nice.”
“I manage.” He shrugs, placing a hand on the small of your back. “C’mon. ‘s upstairs. ‘nd close ya eyes.” He requests, prompting a suspicious look from you.
Once he was able to assure you that he wasn’t a killer, he led you to the rooftops. After some bumps and near-falls, he managed to make it, telling you to wait a moment while he ran off.
Hobie returned behind you, breathing in your ear. “‘right swee’heart, open ‘ur eyes.”
What greeted you were strung up lights, a couple of balloons, and a blanket on the ground. Some snacks lied there with the blanket, and soft music was playing in the background; your shared playlist to be exact.
“Hobie..”
“Su’prise. Figured ‘s the next bes’ thing, hm?” He whispers, hands gently holding your arms. “Jus’ the two of us. ‘nd ‘s free.”
You laugh gently, turning to face Hobie. “You did all this?”
He nods, and you can’t help but lean forward and hug him tightly. He didn’t understand, not by a long shot, why anyone would want to go to prom. But he still helped you, made it up for you. And that was the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for you.
Pulling away, you plant a gentle kiss on his jaw. “Thank you, seriously. I thought I was going to spend tonight sulking.”
Hobie laughs quietly, pulling you towards the make-shift prom. There isn’t much to do, but the two of you share snacks and drinks, dance a small bit, and just talk a lot. It was quiet with just the two of you, much nicer than a normal prom.
You noticed how close Hobie wanted to be with you. He was always touching you; holding your hand, waist, or fingers. It was so.. out of character. Yet, you felt amazed at how comfortable he was with you after everything before to now.
When the two of you settle on the blanket, you silently watch the sunset. Your head lies in Hobie’s chest while he strokes your hair contently.
“‘ve been thinkin’.” Hobie starts, glancing down before looking up again. “‘bout what ya said. Goin’ public ‘nd stuff.”
“Oh? That was just-”
Hobie cuts you off. “‘f ‘s what ya wan’, le’s do it.”
Your eyes light up as you sit up, turning to face him. “Seriously? You’re okay with getting labeled as my boyfriend? Just like that?”
“‘f ‘ur fine with gettin’ labeled as trouble.” He responds confidently, a smirk on his face. “‘s not easy.”
You smile gently, kissing Hobie gently on the lips, his lip ring giving a cool and sensational feeling. He grunts for a moment before grabbing your waist, kissing back. He’s obsessed with you, the way you feel on him and here in this moment. His brain goes haywire every-time he’s near you.
When you pull away, you place a gentle hand on his cheek. “It’ll be easy if we’re together, hm?”
“‘s the spiri’. Now, dance wit’ me, yeah?”
He stands you up to dance with him, the music playing a softer yet harsh tune to dance to. But you both didn’t care. You simply danced and swayed together, twirling and sharing laughs and kisses.
As Hobie dances and kisses you again and again, his thoughts run. He was used to being labeled; as a hero for Spider-punk, as a rebel for school, and as scary all around. But this label he’s creating for himself - it’s better than the others. One that he controls and more importantly, let’s them know that he’s got you. That he was given a chance and proved himself.
But of course he would never admit that.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
The weekend comes and goes, and soon, it’s Monday, and your standing outside the school. You and Hobie both agreed to meet at the front of the school, walk in together, act as if all was normal. Treat it like another day.
“Hope I didn’ keep ya waitin’.” A voice calls from behind.
You turn and smile as Hobie makes his way up the steps. He leans down to kiss you, causing a few lingering students outside to gasp. He smirks when he pulls away, holding his hand out.
“Rea’y?”
You nod. “Absolutely.”
With a deep breath, you open the doors, walking in hand-in-hand with Hobie. He told you before to stand straight, to look confident, so you did. You looked forward, ignoring the gasps and stares you both got.
Everyone was going to go nuts about your relationship, it was quite annoying. They needed excitement in their lives, so on they go to bother the two of you. But you both agreed you were ready to ignore it. It was one of the terms to going public.
“Holy shit! Dude look, [Name] [Last] and Hobie Brown!”
“Holding hands? When did they start dating? Or.. even talking?”
“Girl remember, they kissed in the hallway that one time!”
“How could I forget?!”
Hobie grit his teeth as you squeezed his hand, opening up your locker. “Sorry.. maybe we shouldn’t have-”
“Don’t.” Hobie immediately stops you, leaning against the wall. “Don’ regre’ i’ jus’ because of those planks, hm? All tha’ ma’ters ‘s us.”
You sigh, shutting the door as you kiss his cheek. “You’re right. Thanks.”
“C’mon, ‘ll walk ya t’ class.”
“But you’ll be late if you do..”
You both look at each other before busting out laughing. Of course Hobie didn’t care, it was funny in itself. You were even able to ignore the annoying stares everyone around you were giving. Instead, the two of you walked off in blissful ignorance.
Maybe being with Hobie Brown would be easier than you thought.
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tags for those who wanted it (🫶); @serenn08 | @babydollfoster | @em711 | @girl-detective16 | @midnightnoiserose
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lattaeyongs · 2 years
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summer of love (ljn)
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↳ pairing: lee jeno x reader
↳ word count: 15.2k
↳ genre: ‘90’s!au, brother’s best friend!au, summer!au, neighbor!au, slice of life(ish)!au, fluff, slowburn
↳ summary: The summer of 1997 was a weird time. As a person living in the modern era, you’d completely forgotten what it was like to live in the ‘90’s. In May 1997, you listened to the Backstreet Boys, flipped through TV Guide, and had an answering machine which seems so archaic now. But that isn’t the only reason why the summer of 1997 was weird. That summer was the time you fell for your brother’s best friend.
↳ warnings: minor cursing, making out
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SUMMER 1997
Your second year of college is over. You’ve taken your last exam, and it’s finally time to ditch your dorm and lousy roommate to go back to your childhood home for the summer. It’s a three-hour drive with no rest stops from college to your home, but it took longer due to the gas station stops to get junky, sugary snacks and coffee. But eventually, you made it back home in one piece. 
Your childhood home looks almost exactly the same as you left it: The old, green, flowery wallpaper that your parents keep forgetting the change still hangs in the kitchen, the brown carpet in the entry hallway with the weird stain is still there, and the pantry still has an endless supply of potato chips. The only thing missing are your parents. 
“Y/N!” Renjun exclaims, coming to hug you. As your older brother's arms lock around you, you notice how different he feels despite last seeing him only two months ago; prickly stubble pokes at your skin, and he definitely has been working out.
He parts from you, moving to the answering machine sitting on the kitchen counter. “Where are mom and dad?” You ask. 
“Out,” he says abruptly, playing the messages in the machine before clearing them out. “They’re shopping to make dinner. They thought you would come back later. And by the way,” he continues, “Jeno’s coming over.” 
“Okay,” you respond back simply. At this point, you’re used to Lee Jeno; he’s practically your family, in that the Lees live only a few houses from yours. It is honestly a wonder how Renjun and Jeno have remained friends since they were five-year-olds running around the neighborhood grafitti-ing the sidewalks with colorful chalk designs without growing apart or finding people more apt to suit their developing selves as time passes. It seems that instead of growing apart because of the new scenes and sounds in their adult lives, they were growing together like two parallel vines despite the distance they had to combat in college. When you hear the doorbell a few moments later, you know it’s Lee Jeno. 
He certainly looks different than what you remember with dark hair this time and a slight tan. You haven’t seen Lee Jeno since winter break when he was staying with his parents across the street. Just like you and Renjun, he’s back home from college after the school year, and you’ve seen him around a couple of times a year with all the school breaks. 
“Y/N!” Jeno smiles in that very Jeno way that makes everyone’s heart melt. He leans down a bit to meet your eyes, taking his thumb and forefinger of his hand and squishing your cheek. You playfully bat his hand away. 
“Quit doing that!” You giggle with a pout on your face. “I’m not a baby anymore! I go to college!” You say incredulously, a little bit of a whine in your tone. 
“You’re always a baby to me,” he teases. You roll your eyes at this, moving over to let him in. 
“Jeno!” Renjun yells, ditching the answering machine. He rushes over to hug the other boy. “It’s good to see you.” 
“You too Jun,” Jeno replies. You smile at the sight.
“Let’s play pool,” Renjun says. Jeno agrees, nodding. Both boys go to the basement where your family’s famous pool table resides (your father having gotten it for free from some bar closing in the ‘70’s), and Jeno shuts the door loudly on his way out. You’re about to rain on Renjun’s parade and tell him to come back and clear the answering machine he left behind, but you think against it. You didn’t feel like interrupting a friendship that is so beautiful. So you sit on the chair that Renjun recently left, pressing the ‘listen’ button on the answering machine.
As you listen to the promotional spam calls from companies trying to sell you things that you didn’t need or couldn’t afford, you purse your lips. Seeing Renjun and Jeno together almost made you jealous; none of your high school friends were back from college, and through the few calls you all would have during the school year, they’re off doing bigger and better things than this sleepy town that you call home. 
That night you were going to sleep in your bedroom filled with cassette tapes, posters and pink and yellow wallpaper that you picked out when you were seven. After satisfactorily wrapping yourself in your comfortable blankets that smelled of lavender detergent (your favorite scent), you stare at the ceiling. You couldn’t imagine not visiting this place. 
-
So you have a secret. No, not of the deep dark kind, but something that would definitely earn you a lot of teasing if your friends and family found out about it. One of your biggest guilty pleasures is the movie series The Zygon Kingdom, a science fiction franchise about alien invasions. Stereotypically, people think this series is for losers, gamers, and nerds who live in their mom’s basement. When you’re in public, you try your best to refrain from comment or make fun of the series alongside others, but in private, you secretly anticipate the new movies, going to see it immediately when it comes to theaters.
And that’s what you’re planning on doing today. Today is the release of the fifth movie of the franchise, The Zygon Kingdom: A New World. Finally, you actually had plans; you were starting to look pathetic with how much TV you were watching; your parents were even joking that the most recent book that you’ve read is the TV Guide that was mailed a few days ago. On top of not having friends to hang out with this summer, Renjun, a fresh graduate from a pre-law program, has been running around town trying to find positions to start paying off his degree debts and to gain experience while also trying to study for the LEET exam to qualify for law school. All your friends and family being busy would be depressing to you on any normal day, this comes to your advantage today, for you don’t want to be seen. 
“I’m going to see a friend. Love you.” You say quickly to your parents. With how immersed they are in Full House, their marked TV Guide beside them, you could have said that you wanted to get a tattoo, and your parents would probably not bat an eye.  
“Okay, be safe honey,” your mother says dismissively.
Leaving through the basement, you go to your car outside, unlocking the door. Obviously, you’re carrying your big tote bag so you could sneak in snacks; you even went shopping at the convenience store to prepare. Once you’re finished with the ten minute drive from your home to the movie theater, you look in both directions before entering the line in the lobby of the theater to get a ticket. You’re going to pay in cash, not credit to make sure that this can’t be traced back to you, and you pull out a large flopping hat that you have saved in your car, placing it on your head the second you step out of the car. Yes, you were being completely paranoid, but the last thing you want is someone recognizing you as you go into the movie theater or your parents looking at your credit card statement to see that you went to the movie theaters to view The Zygon Kingdom. 
The time you spent waiting in line is filled with you looking around in all directions, making sure to avoid gazes of anyone that went to high school with or parents whose kids you babysat. Gossip travels fast, and you didn’t feel like finding out how fast. This is a whole covert operation – you get in and you get out, hopefully with your reputation still intact. 
“One ticket to the new Zygon movie,” you say quietly. The woman sitting at the counter almost doesn’t hear you because of how quiet you are or how loud the chatters are of high schoolers and adults coming to the movie theaters after a long week, but either way, she gives you your ticket. 
“It’s in room B,” You’ve gone to this movie theater enough to know where everything is without needing a map or extra time to find your way around. Since you took into account Friday night traffic and the length of the line, you have about five minutes before the movie starts. 
“Thank you,” you say, smiling quickly. Keeping your head low, you move your neck around as if your head is a moving surveillance camera, still trying to make sure that no one you know is seeing you walk into room B, which has a huge blue and yellow poster of The Zygon Kingdom: A New World right next to the door. Once the coast is clear, you head into the dark movie room, finding row sixteen, in the middle.
“Excuse me, excuse me,” you whisper to people who you had to cross to get to your seat. The room is at half capacity; a few advertisements are playing on the screen, for now you have three minutes before the movie starts (but it will probably be longer since ads play for at least ten minutes after the movie is supposed to start to give people extra time). You find a spot in the middle row, which is where the majority of those few people are because you can get a good view of the screen and the audio would be loud but not too loud. 
Pushing down the foldable seat, you sit down. Bringing your purse to your lap, you pull out a bag of chips from your bag, opening it before the movie so that no one gets annoyed at you for opening it so loud. You adjust your sitting position, letting your left leg cross over your right one, and in the dark room, you accidentally kick the seat in front of you. It’s a loud sound, and you slightly grimace at the pain in your foot now. The person in front of you turns around, and you feel like you lost the air in your lungs. 
“Jeno?” 
“Y/N?” 
-
After the movie incident, you and Jeno realize that you actually have more in common than you thought. Apparently, Jeno is in the same position as you when it comes to high school or local friends. Just graduated from college, his friends have found well-paying starting positions and internships, and except for a few people, he’s also been bored at home. Instead of finding a job immediately or stretching himself thin like Renjun, Jeno decided that it was best for him to take a break mentally after college, and then he would be on the job hunt. So now you two have been much more inclined to meet up. 
This would have never happened a year ago. Sure, you would hang out with Jeno when Renjun invited you to hang out with them, and you would even have a good time, but by yourselves, you were a bit more than strangers. Now that doesn’t seem so. 
“I still can’t believe that you like the Zygon Kingdom. Liking the Zygon Kingdom is so not you.” You say, grinning at Jeno. “I would never have pegged you as a fan,” You and Jeno are at an ice cream parlor, enjoying the shelter of this building better than the merciless afternoon sun outside. Lee Jeno, a college soccer star who gets all the girls liking a cheesy science fiction movie? That’s not something you learn every day. Picking at his chocolate ice cream, Jeno smiles at you too. 
“I could say the same for you.” Taking a bite of your ice cream, you cross your legs under the table, a slightly pensive look on your face. Leaning forward, you put your elbows on the white table. “So what else do I not know about you?” You ask. 
“Well,” Jeno tilts his head. “I like to dip my pizza in honey.” 
“I know that,” you say. “Back when you and Renjun used to order pizza at the house, you would always ask me where the honey is.” 
“You remember that?” Jeno asks, surprised. You shake your head, a disapproving frown on your face. “I only remember because you’re the only person in the history of humankind to dip your pizza in honey. Honestly, how do you even stomach that?” 
“The same way you can eat that mint chocolate chip ice cream you have here,” he says, pointing to your cup. You gasp in mock offense, and he only continues. “That stuff tastes like toothpaste.” 
“To make up for what you just said, you have to tell me something that I actually don’t know about you.” Jeno grunts and this, and you wait, tapping your foot against the tiles annoyingly. 
“When I was a sophomore in high school, I went to one of Ten’s house parties,” he stops for a few seconds, and you look at him, your gaze willing for him to continue. “He brought in eight kegs of beer from God knows where, and I had a few drinks.” 
“Shut up!” You say, pushing Jeno’s shoulder from across the table. You’re absolutely astonished. “You, Lee Jeno, student council representative for your entire high school career, got drunk while going to Ten’s parties?” You only know Ten through his reputation, specifically his outrageous house parties that he throws whenever his parents are out of town that almost always end with the cops coming to shut it down. They’re always the highlight of your high school class’s weekend in your sleepy little town, where the mall or the park are the most interesting places to go. You’ve never been to one of Ten’s parties yourself since in high school, you were never much of a partier (and you didn’t have the ‘contacts’ to get invited anyway), but you’ve heard that he’s the definition of a privileged rich kid with money to burn. 
“Yes, that was me.” he laughs. “And, it gets better.” You lean farther forward, your cheek propped up by your fist. “I was so drunk that I couldn’t drive home, so I called Renjun at like midnight to pick me up. When I came into his car, it smelled like perfume, and he had lipstick all over his face. Yeri Kim was in the back of his car.” 
Your eyes widened. “No way! Renjun told me he was studying for a history test!” You remember this day in-depth because it was the night of the freshman dance that you went to with your friends. 
Jeno smiles at your astonished look before clearing his throat. “I told you something you didn’t know about me and something you didn’t know about Renjun, so you better tell me something good that I didn’t know about you.” 
You sigh, tilting your head upwards. Pushing your tongue against your cheek, you’re deep in thought before you spring up in your chair again.
“Remember when you, me, and Mark would all volunteer at Taeyong’s animal shelter?” You ask. During your high school years, you were in desperate need of Honors Society hours to make you look better on your college applications, so you ended up signing up to take care of unadopted pets, either rescue or lost. Jeno, Renjun, and a few of his other friends had the same idea since it would be easy to carpool. 
“Yeah?” Jeno responds. Bringing your palm against your mouth, you shelter some giggles before Jeno has a curious look on his face. 
“Y/N? What is it?” You lick your lips before inhaling sharply.
“While getting in the parking lot with Renjun to get something from your car, do you remember getting hit by a bunch of water balloons?” Jeno squints for a few seconds as if trying to connect some invisible dots, and after a few moments, his eyes widen, his mouth in an “o” shape. 
“That was you?” He says, astonished. “I blamed Chenle for that for an entire year!” 
“Yup, it was me,” you say, giggling in between words.
“Why did you do it?” He asks. 
“It was supposed to be for Renjun, but then you got in the way, and by that time, I already dropped the water balloons.” Jeno purses his lips, as if trying to picture you in the situation you described. This only leads you into another laughing fit. 
“You should have seen your face, I will never forget how hilarious you looked and how you were like ‘Chenle if you’re working the dog walking on the ceiling, then I’m gonna kill you!’” You snicker, imitating Jeno’s voice by making it abnormally deep. 
“I do not sound like that.” 
“I do not sound like that,” you imitate again. Jeno crosses his arms, a brow quirked. 
“Okay, I’ll actually stop this time,” you say, giggling. 
After a few moments, Jeno laughs with you. The prospect of no friends in town seemed unfounded today, for there is a friend for you that has been sitting under your nose this whole time. 
-
You’re sitting cross-legged on your bedroom floor as you organize your colorful array of CDs, different albums you’ve collected through various birthday monies and Christmas gifts. Not only are there CDs, but your shelf is loaded with cassettes. By this point, no one used cassettes anymore, but it was the easiest way to record songs from the tape radio and have to listen. You would simply put the cassette in your tape radio and press the ‘record’ button when radio stations would have their two hours ad free music. A mini cassette of free music was perfect to put in Renjun’s old walkman as you took a jog around the neighborhood. You learned this method two years ago from your father, who used this way to get free music in the ‘80’s, but now, you have a huge collection of songs that have become a pain to oragnize. You’re not exactly good at putting things back in their place, tending to grab your CDs and cassettes, use them, and then discard them on top of the little shelf you have. 
Point is, this is an arduous task. This is why when you hear the phone ring in the living room, you run out to get it. Plus, if you didn’t answer it now, it would be your task to clear out the answering machine at the end of the day. So, now you had one less message to listen and clear out.
When you hold the house phone to your ear, you only hear a monotonous dial tone, signalling that the person hung up. You feel a little suspicious, but think nothing of it; sometimes, neighborhood kids find it funny to dial random numbers and not answering when the person picks up – like virtual ding-dong-ditching. 
But your suspicion proves right when you feel wetness on your head. On the floor of your living room is a deflated balloon, and in your hair, you’re pretty sure it’s water. There’s only one person you think could be behind this, and he slowly comes out from the space he’s hiding in your kitchen. He smirks as he shows you a small corded phone connected to the wall, shaped like a lip (probably Jeno’s sister’s that he stole from her room). Before you can grab him in your kitchen, Jeno is running out onto the street.
“Lee Jeno what the hell?” You screech to the boy running down the street. You don’t bother to take your shoes, only closing the front door to prevent any animals coming into your house to take shelter from this hot weather. The heated pavement sings the soles of your feet as you run, but the feeling doesn’t bother you: you’re on a hot (literally hot) pursuit of Lee Jeno, and in the distance, you can see him. 
“Damn these short legs,” you mutter. You run and you run through the neighborhood. Lee Jeno has you taking sudden turns, trying to get you to break your tail on him, but it’s unsuccessful. Finally when you’re close enough, you spring forward onto Jeno’s back. He sways at the sudden weight, falling to the ground. Thankfully, you’re on grass, which is cooler to the pads of your feet and breaks Jeno’s fall. 
“What was the meaning of this?” You ask, pointing to your dripping head.
“It’s a little something called payback.” He smirks. 
“Hey, there’s a difference,” you start off, “Mine was on accident. It was supposed to hit Renjun. Your’s was on purpose.” You cross your arms, pouting. 
“Well, then this was supposed to teach you not to be mean to your brother.” 
“Siblings in the same age group act like this all the time,” you say. You then put your index to your chin. “At least if you’re like me and Renjun.” If Jeno pulled something like this on his older sister Jihyeon, who is six years older than him, he wouldn’t survive to tell the tale. 
The boy in front of you sucks in a big breath. “Let’s settle this once and for all then,” Jeno says. He comes closer, his body only a few inches from yours. “A game.” He smiles. “I have some water balloons at home. If you win–” 
“You have to give me 20,000 won.” You finish. Jeno raises his eyebrow. “There’s a new Backstreet Boys album I want,” you say. 
“Alright, fine,” Jeno says. “But if you lose,” Jeno stops midway, trying to bite his lower lip in a way to shelter the huge smirk on his face. “You have to clean my car.” 
“Too easy, all I’ll need is a hose,” you wave your hand. 
“Not the outside.” Your eyes widen at this new development. 
“You mean…” 
“Yup. The inside.” You’ve never been in Jeno’s car yourself since mostly when you would hang out with Jeno, it would be with Renjun, which means that you’re using Renjun’s car. But Renjun has told you, pretty infamously, that his car is messy and smells like a giant foot.
“That’s cruel and unusual punishment!” You say. Let’s just say if Renjun thinks it’s smelly, it’s probably smelly. Renjun has been a teenage boy before, and many teenage boys are a species that usually cannot detect the lack of hygiene.  
“Those are the parameters of the game,” Jeno says. “If you resign now, that’s considered a loss, which means you have to clean my car anyway.” 
You flatten your lips. Damn, you’re in a deadlock now. 
“Fine. Game on.” 
-
Lee Jeno destroyed you. But honestly, what else did you expect? Lee Jeno, who has played soccer his whole life and has had plenty of experience with strategy and planning, completely and utterly destroyed you. It wasn’t the smartest idea to go guns-blazing with water balloons at Jeno, but you didn’t have many other choices. Your long-distance aim and contact skills weren’t that good, for you never played “sports,” sports as in competitive sports since you only danced for a couple of years. You did use your surroundings well, hiding behind trees and bushes so you can stalk your way to Jeno, but that only did so much.
So now you are wearing an old T-Shirt and some jeans shorts, opening the front door and performing the ‘walk of shame’ as you walk to Jeno’s house, where boxes of unopened trash bags, air freshener, sponges, and soapy water sit. 
Jeno is only a few feet away from the cleaning materials he left out, sitting on a beach chair.
“Y/N,” Jeno says, waving to you in a friendly way. “Thank God you’re here. I was worried you might happen to forget about the deal. I really need you right now,” Jeno chuckles, “because my mom wanted me to clean my car last week. She said that if I don’t clean my car by tonight, then she’s really gonna give it to me.” 
“Good,” you say, laughing a bit to yourself. “Somebody’s gotta tell you. Back in high school, I was afraid to get in this car, or else I would never be the same again.” 
Scrunching your nose, you peek your head inside Jeno’s car. It’s an old 1984 Nissan 300zx, most likely used because if his parents are anything like your parents (which not so surprisingly, growing up around each other, they are), they would never give their teenage sons brand new cars. The people in your neighborhood certainly aren’t tearing at the seams with money. 
Gulping harshly, you decide to throw whatever junk you find in the car away. You pulled out wrappers, chip bags, old water bottles, and random coins that you pocketed (Jeno let you since even he knows how bad cleaning his car is – which is why he held off on it for so long). Jeno kept you good company, and you found yourself chitchatting with him as you organized every piece of junk in his car in a trash bag.
“Are you liking college so far?” Jeno asks broadly when chatter between you both slowly dies. No response.
“What’s wrong?” Jeno asks. He knows he’s right to think that when it takes you a few minutes to respond, a few moments for your gaze to focus on him.
“College hasn’t been that fun,” you confess to Jeno, the words falling out of your mouth faster than it should. “I haven’t made a lot of friends despite finishing my sophomore year, and my roommate is a pain. Her entire side of the room is so messy and acts like I’m unreasonable. It’s a small space anyway, she should keep it clean!” You huff, scrubbing the cloth seats in Jeno’s car harder. It felt as though a huge weight has been lifted off of your shoulders.
You were surprised that you confessed this to Jeno of all people. When you told Renjun this freshman year, he advised that it would get better after the first semester, and your parents said the same thing, but nothing really changed. You’re going to university on a significant scholarship, and you didn’t want to give that up if you decided to transfer somewhere closer to home, closer to your support network of familiar places and people. Ever since then, you didn’t tell anyone how miserable you were in college.
“Can I make a confession?” Jeno asks suddenly. You were worried that you were being way too personal after Jeno didn’t say anything for a while; after all, Jeno is your brother’s friend and not yours.  
“Shoot,” you say. 
“I didn’t have many friends in college either. Why do you think I always hang out with Renjun every summer?” You’re piling all the trashbags together near the edge of the Lee property for the trash truck to come later today, but hearing this is enough for you to turn around and look at the raven-haired boy quizically. 
“I don’t believe that,” you scoff. “You have teammates and a hundred girls who would tattoo your name on their chests immediately.” 
“They’re just teammates and girls. I got along with my teammates, but I don’t talk to them on a regular basis after graduating college.” Jeno sighs. “And the girls who liked me in college liked me because I was ripped. None of them really wanted to know me personally.”
The silence between you both is deafening. You purse your lips, sympathy in your voice. “I had no idea.”
“Most people don’t,” Jeno says. “I try not to tell everyone this,” he says, a slight humorous lilt in his voice. 
“Those girls missed out,” you say, a soft smile on your face. “You’re hilarious and great to be around.” 
“It seems like I have that effect on the members of the Huang family,” Jeno smiles, any sign of melancholy gone from his face. 
“Say,” you start off, bending down to reach the mat on the car floor. “if I find something I think is of value in this car, then can I keep it?” 
Jeno nods. “Sure, I guess. I can’t imagine what could be of value.” 
“Now I’m 20,000 won richer,” 
Jeno’s back instantly becomes more rigid as he sees you wave a few crumpled bills in the air, almost unrecognizable due to the amount of dust and grime accumulated on it. A couple of coins here and there were tolerable for him to let you keep, but 20,000 won is a lot for loose change in the car. “I tend to find 20,000 won very valuable,” you smile. 
Jeno curses under his breath.  “Touche.” 
“I guess we both won.” You shrug your shoulders, “You’re gonna have a clean car for your mom, and I have enough money to buy that Backstreet Boys album.” 
-
Just the other day, you ran into Taeyong, the owner of the pet shelter you used to volunteer at. You were at the supermarket, picking up some groceries for your parents when you saw the man carefully weighing a bag of Roma tomatoes. Although he is almost five years older than you, it certainly doesn’t seem that way with how youthful his face looked, and when he noticed you putting bananas in your shopping cart, he was glad to see you. You both engaged in pleasant conversation about your lives since you volunteered at his pet shelter, and he mentioned to you that he was short of hands. Recently, a full-time employee quit, and he needed people more than ever. He offered you a job on the spot, and you gladly took it – you needed something to do this summer anyway, and your parents were starting to get a little restless with how much you were at home, revolving your life around TV Guide. 
You had been working for a few days at the store and got to know the two other employees, one of which is Doyoung, who you already knew from your time volunteering at this shelter, and Sungchan, a boy around Jeno’s age who had been working for a year. Compared to the last time you saw this shelter as a senior in high school, not much has changed. The only thing that was different was that the walls were recently wallpapered. 
Taeyong greeted you when you walked in, and you already started following a routine you set up for yourself; the good thing about hiring you was that he didn’t have to teach you much since as a volunteer, you would feed and wash animals a couple of hours a week, which as an employee, that was the same thing on a fuller time basis. In the mornings, you liked to start off walking dogs in the dog walking area on the roof before the sun would shine mercilessly in the afternoon. Carrying a light brown golden retriever puppy named Dasom, you head down the roof stairs back to the lobby, where Jeno is sitting on a hard, metal chair. 
“Jeno?” You ask. “What are you doing here?” You don’t ever remember telling him that you would be here. 
Jeno smiles at you. “Your mom told me I could find you here. And some other guy said you were walking a dog, so he told me to wait here.”
You nod. He must not have meant Doyoung since he would already know him from his time at the pet shelter in high school. “So you must have met Sungchan.”
Jeno shrugs his shoulders. “Yeah, I guess. He said he was going to wash some of the new arrivals.” While speaking, Jeno’s lips curled into a small smile. “Remember when we used to do that?”
“God,” you say, shaking your head. “That was one of the worst jobs.” You said. If there was anything that dogs and cats hated was being in water. New arrivals, especially strays, haven’t been introduced to clean water in a long time and can get especially rowdy since they are also untrained. 
“There was one dog that me, Renjun, and Chenle had to wash, and let’s just say that it looked like we took a bath too!” At this, you both laugh.
You lick your lips, looking at Jeno, good humor in your eyes. “I almost feel bad leaving Sungchan all by himself.” Crossing your arms and leaning your back against the wall, you look at Jeno, your head cocked.
“So what are you really doing here?” 
Jeno looks fondly in the distance. “I think Bongshik needs a new playmate,” you smile at Jeno. For as long as you can remember, Jeno has always been a cat person, and after much convincing, his parents agreed to get him a cat seven years ago. They initially were only getting Jeno the cat to help teach him responsibility, because as a teenage boy, he had none, but slowly, Bongshik grew on them too. Ever since, the Lee family’s soft spot has been Bongshik.
“Do your parents know?” You ask. 
Jeno smiles. “They were the ones who suggested the idea.” As Bongshik grew older, his energy hasn’t quelled, and for the lack of neighborhood cats, he follows the Lee family around everywhere in the house. 
“What breed?” you ask. 
“Maybe a Bengal. I’ve heard that they are energetic.” 
“I think there are some Bengals. Let’s check the back.” You both go into the room adjoining the lobby, where the rescue and stray animals were stored. After a long night with Doyoung yesterday, the cages were cleaned, and all the animals looked happy that it was clean. You both are greeted with excited barks from the dog section of the room, and finally, you approach the cats in another room. Cats of various breeds occupied the segregated space, from Shorthairs to Bobtailed cats. Black, white, gray, and tabbies are all present, and they look at you and Jeno quizically. 
Jeno also observes the felines intently. “Actually, Bongshik is full of energy, so maybe a bit of a quieter playmate to contrast,” Jeno taps his chin, thinking to himself. Some cats wave their tails at Jeno as if wanting his attention while some other cat mothers wrap their tails around their young, protecting them. There are two cats that seem to take his attention, two cats that are sitting together. They don’t appear to have any sort of genetic or familial relationship, for one cat is white with a few specks of black around the ears while the other is a gray tabby with a white chest; they both appear to be Shorthair crossbreeds, though. 
“Can I hold that one?” Jeno says, pointing to the white one with the few black specks. You open the cage with the master key that you have in your pocket, and carefully, you take the cat out of the cage. Jeno has his arms open, so when you place the cat in his arms, he cradles the animal, the most adoring look on his face. The other cat seems to be annoyed and meows a lot, its gaze on the white cat, and the white cat starts meowing back. 
You and Jeno both melt on sight. 
“So cute,” Jeno murmurs, putting the tip of his nose on the crown of the white cat’s head. This cat does not seem to be bothered that it’s being held by Jeno (when most cats take some time getting used to a new human). It is as if they were both destined to meet. This cat does turn to face his companion still in the cage once in a while, still meowing.
“I think this one’s more concerned that its friend is not being held,” you jest. You stand on your tiptoes to grab the other, carefully cradling the tabby in your arms. It starts meowing for its companion, and you face Jeno. 
“This one’s also so cute,” Jeno says longingly. He comes closer to you, bending a little, his face close to the tabby that you’re holding. His smile is wide, his eyes shaped like crescents. Carefully, he holds the white cat with one cradled arm, and with the other, he uses his index and middle finger to pet the other cat. The tabby meows happily. 
As Jeno tries to stand upright again, his head almost bumps your face, but he stops before that, carefully meeting your gaze. For what feels like an eternity, you both stare. Jeno’s eyes are like brown pools, and you notice every detail on his face; how dark and pronounced his eyebrows are compared to his suntanned skin, how pretty his nose looks against his face, the fringe on his forehead that is so close to giving a lovetap to his eyes, how shapely his chin is, a small, stray mustache hair kissing his upper lip… 
His lips. Pursed slightly as he drinks in the sight of the little details of your face as well. They look a little chapped – 
“There you are Y/N! Is that you Jeno?” A familiar voice rings across the large room, and you notice it to be Doyoung. His gaze is focused on you both. You and Jeno immediately stop gazing at each other, as if Doyoung flipped a switch, and you both focus your attention on the raven-haired employee, his hair wet from a fresh shower. He usually comes to work at eleven or noon since he is not a morning person. 
“Yeah, it’s me,” Jeno says, waving before repositioning his other hand to hold the white cat in his arms.
“Long time no see,” Doyoung remarks. “How’s college?” He asks. 
“Graduated in the spring,” Jeno says. “I’m back with my parents now.” He says.
“Oh,” Doyoung says, nodding awkwardly. “Well, if you want a job, the door is always open here. Trust me, we need the help,” Doyoung says. 
“Thanks,” Jeno says, smiling courteously at Doyoung. “I’m actually here to look for another cat. Maybe two,” Jeno looks at you, an eyebrow raised in anticipation. Suddenly, he sneezes. 
“Jeno,” you chastise. “What about your cat allergy?” You suddenly remember. Jeno learned affirmatively after adopting Bongshik that he had a cat allergy, and his sister and parents tried to convince him to give Bongshik back to the shelter, but Jeno vehemently refused. After almost a month of bonding with the feline, he didn’t have the heart to give Bongshik back. Instead, he went to the drug store and got some anti-histamines to suppress his allergies and eventually got more personalized medicine from his doctor. At first, his doctor said the best (and cheapest) course of action would be to return Bongshik, but Jeno just took the prescription and has since then been refilling his prescription on a regular basis. 
“What cat allergy?” Jeno asks, but he sneezes a few times. Cocking your head at the raven-haired boy, you snort.
“That cat allergy?” You say, leaning all your weight on one leg.
“It’s nothing,” Jeno says dismissively. “I’ll ask my doctor. I’ll probably just have to up my dose.”
It was Doyoung’s turn to snort. “Can you really be around three cats every day?” He asks. “The only reason your allergy didn’t get out of control while you were volunteering here was because I kept you with the reptiles.” You nod in agreement. The reptiles were kept in another room on the far side of this shelter, far away from all the cat hair floating around in this room. Jeno, though, still used to sneak a few minutes with the cats. 
“I can be around three cats!” Jeno says defensively. By this time, the white cat is rubbing itself against Jeno’s T-shirt. 
Feeling this, Jeno’s gaze softens, and he smiles at the kitten, whose brown eyes Jeno looks in to. “I am going to name you Seoli,” Jeno says in a soft tone and gazes at the cat in your arms. “And I’m going to name you Nali.”  
“Did your parents agree to two new cats?”
“Well,” Jeno trails off, shrugging his shoulders.
“Lee Jeno!” You say. 
“My parents grew to like Bongshik. They’ll grow to like Seoli and Nali.” Jeno reasons. 
You roll your eyes. Lee Jeno is the only person in the whole world you know who has a cat allergy and still wants three cats. “Lee Jeno, you’re crazy, you know that?” 
-
Seoli and Nali instantly got along with Bongshik. The three of them would sleep together, eat together, and roam the house together, only being apart momentarily. Like Jeno predicted, his parents grew to like the addition of Seoli and Nali to the family. 
Hearing about the new cats from you, Renjun would visit Jeno, and you would come along with them and play with all three cats. Renjun started joking that you two started being best friends without him and that you were leaving him in the dust. 
Renjun started a new job as a paralegal and became busier than ever; he was working to save enough money to live in an apartment closer to the law firm he worked at, which is forty-five minutes away from your house. The commute itself was tiring and he was working extra hard to get along with his coworkers, going to events, and establishing contacts.
Like many weekends, this weekend Renjun was hanging out with a few coworkers at a party at one of their houses, and normally, you didn’t mind this, only joking to him that he only came home to eat and sleep. 
In mid-July, without fail, you and Renjun would always go to the beach, ever since he was old enough to drive; it was valuable “sibling time” that your parents supported and even suggested; as teenagers, you didn’t always get along, and your parents wanted you both to establish a close relationship because sibling relationships were the only life-long relationships.
This weekend, Renjun was busy, and for the next few weekends, he would be catching up with old friends and would even go on a few dates, for his dating life was pretty sparse with how busy college was. You were hoping that Renjun could blow someone off and come with you and not break the tradition, but your hopes did nothing to change reality after Renjun told you about his plans and apologized that he wouldn’t be able to come to the beach with you.
So you decided, if you can’t bring your brother to the beach, bring your brother’s best friend. 
At 7 AM on a Saturday, you knock on Jeno’s door, a few doors from your house, dressed in a casual T-Shirt and jeans shorts. You’re ready to go, without a doubt in your mind that Jeno won’t come. 
Jeno answers the door, rubbing his eyes. From the looks of the dark house, Jeno’s parents aren’t awake. As a means to hold himself up, Jeno leans against the door. He’s dressed in long pajama bottoms and a black T-shirt (that is littered with Seoli’s white cat hair). The white, spotted cat follows Jeno to the door, sitting a few feet away from the living room couch. 
“Y/N? What are you doing here?” He asks, his voice heavy with drowsiness. 
“We’re going to the beach, obviously,” you say matter-of-fact, in a voice that Jeno didn’t look like he wanted to argue with. He knew that you were hurting because Renjun couldn’t come with you to the beach any time soon, so he was ready to be called to go to the beach. 
“Right now?” 
“Yes right now. Don’t you remember that Renjun and I would leave early in the morning to get a head start to the beach?” The closest beach to your house is two hours away, and being landlocked during the college semester makes you restless for the yearly summer beach trip as well. 
“Yeah I know but–” 
“No ‘buts,’” you interrupt. “If we leave now, then we get the whole day at the beach. Be ready in thirty minutes.” 
Jeno acknowledges with a sleepy grunt before closing the door, and you head back to your house to eat breakfast. If you left hungry, then you would be tempted to stop along the way for snacks, making the drive longer. So you ate a hearty bowl of oatmeal, a banana, and drank a glass of water before seeing Jeno standing at your door twenty-five minutes later with one of his sister’s peach-colored tote bags hanging on his shoulder, in casual shorts and a T-shirt, and a navy colored cap covering his black hair. You already had your things ready in a bag next to the dining room table, and you carry your bag and exit out the front door, saying a quick goodbye to your parents. 
Out on the porch, you jog across the driveway to Jeno, and your parents wave to him. “Have fun guys,” they chorus, smiling. You roll your eyes. 
“It’s like they’re leaving us on a playdate,” you say, and Jeno smiles, the tiredness in his eyes long gone. 
“Want to ride in my car? After all, it’s clean now,” Jeno says. You sigh, but it’s not exasperated or tired. 
“I should know,” you say. 
Jeno’s Nissan sits in its usual place on the driveway, and Jeno takes his keys from his pocket, unlocking the car. As you both load your bags onto the back seat, you breathe in the air. “Minty fresh,” you smile, looking at the tree-shaped car freshener hanging on the rearview mirror. “You better keep this car clean because I am not cleaning it again,” you threaten, pointing your finger accusingly. 
“I pinky promise,” Jeno says, he extends his hand, his pinky out, and you grasp it with your pinky, pinkies locking as well as your gazes.  
Jeno’s hands are way softer than you expected.
The pinky promise lasts way longer than you expected, with you quickly pulling away and getting into the front passenger seat of the car. Jeno hops in the driver’s seat, and the car starts. 
Jeno’s driving is smooth, and through the window, you admire the scenery. You pull out of your neighborhood, driving on local roads for a good few minutes, and you admire the beautiful scenery of houses, shrubs, and picket fences before getting on the highway. Now, cars are zooming past you both, of all sorts of shapes and colors, minivans to sport cars, black, white, gray, and silver. 
“Turn on some music,” Jeno prompts. It’s easy to get distracted on the road, not by external forces such as a random bird flying by, but from the lull of the car when driving on the highway – when driving on the highway, the roads look the same, a cause for boredom and tiredness. The steady humming of Jeno’s car is particularly relaxing on this early morning. 
“I thought you would never ask,” you say, in a voice that sounds mischievous. You twist your body to reach the back of the car, and you reach into your bag, fishing for something. When you pull it out, Jeno rolls his eyes. 
“Seriously?” Jeno groans. 
“What? You said you wanted music,” you say defensively. 
“I didn’t mean the Backstreet Boys.”
You don’t listen to him and instead press the ‘CD media’ button on the front dashboard and insert your CD. The music is catchy, and you hum along to the songs that you’ve loved, namely ‘I’ll never break your heart’ and ‘Everybody.’
“I’ll never understand girls. I mean, what’s the appeal of boybands anyway?” Jeno says after some time. 
“It’s the group dynamic, the interactions, the teamwork, and the songs are catchy as –” you stop yourself, cocking your head at Jeno. “Are you nodding along?” 
“N-No,” Jeno stutters, purposely keeping his gaze fixed on the road so he doesn’t have to face you. 
“Admit it,” you say, a smug look on your face. “You like it.” 
“No, I don’t” Jeno argues. 
“Yes, you do,” you argue back. 
“No I don’t,” Jeno repeats. 
You snort at this. “Look at us, we sound like two five-year-olds.” 
“I think,” Jeno says with a joking lilt, “that we sound like an old married couple.” 
“That too.” You look at the boy, an eyebrow arched.
After a few moments of silence, Jeno changes the topic. “I’m hungry,” he says. “Let’s get some instant ramen.” 
“Where’s the microwave, genius?”
Jeno pouts. “Fast food?” 
“We’re gonna be there in like fifteen minutes. I have some snacks in my bag.” Once again, you reach for the back of the car, fishing inside the tote bag for a bag of Cheetos.
“Here,” you say, holding the bag towards him.
“I’m driving, genius,” he says, emphasizing the last part in a mocking tone. You roll your eyes. 
“I guess you’re gonna have to feed me,” Jeno says.
“Seriously?” You groan. 
“Yes. If I could open the bag with my eyes and feed the Cheetos with some mad telekinesis, then I would.” 
“Well, you would have to keep your eyes on the road, so you still couldn’t do that either.” Jeno grunts at your response, and you silently feel a small victory winning this conversation.
You open the bag and take a Cheeto in your left hand. Jeno opens his mouth, and you place the piece in his mouth. He crunches on it, and when you see his Adam’s apple move as he swallows the snack, you reach in and grab another piece. On and on this pattern goes until there are no Cheetos left in the bag, and at the final time you drop a piece of the snack in his mouth, he playfully clamps down on your fingers. 
“Jeno!” You exclaim. 
Jeno has a youthful, playful look on his face. “That’s what you get for forcing me to listen to this crap.” 
“You like it too!” 
Jeno rolls his eyes. “Here we go again.” 
-
The rest of the car ride is filled with laughs, as though you were supposed to bring Jeno along to the beach this year instead of Renjun. The beach is filled with people wanting to soak up some sun, children playing games, and surfers swimming in the water. Luckily, there’s enough beach for everyone; the sands on this beach are well-maintained, and they go on for miles.
Suddenly, you grab the boy’s wrist, and Jeno looks surprised, a cute doe-like expression on his face (Jeno has the most beautiful, expressive eyes). 
“Come on,” you say, a wide smile on your face. “I’ll show you a nice spot.” 
Together, the two of you are lugging your tote bags across the beach, careful not to step on anyone being buried in sand or children playing games or other people sunbathing. It’s like the sand wants to absorb your feet, which is why your steps are labored, along with the load you are carrying.
The spot you take Jeno is more secluded, with sparse surfers coming about here and there. It’s next to a jagged, gray peak, perfect for divers. The small pieces of eroding rocks falling to the water make it less kid-friendly, but it’s still a good spot if you want to relax and get away from the noise. Right here is where you decide to set up, a few yards from the shore where the cold seawater can’t touch you. 
Carefully, you unpack your tote bag, set up your beach towel, and place a book on the sand. The beach was always a way for you and Renjun to relax together, talk about updates in your lives, and strengthen your relationship. But sometimes you both liked to sit in silence, enjoying each other’s company while enjoying the words of an author, the introverts you both are.
Before sitting down, you also take off your T-shirt and shorts, revealing a navy, strappy bikini underneath. Picking up your book, you open it to the first page and sit down. Next to you, Jeno takes off his shirt, revealing toned abs. (What did you expect? He plays soccer). You don’t want to admit that your attention on your book is long gone. 
When Jeno catches you staring, an immediate flare of heat hits your face, and you quickly try to bring your attention back to your book, starting at the first sentence. You’re unable to keep focus anymore, just re-reading the same sentence at least five times because your brain is too distracted to understand the sentence. 
“You don’t have to look away,” Jeno teases. “Every girl wants a look at Jenabs.” 
“That’s what you’re calling it? Jenabs?” 
“Yes. Is there a problem?” Jeno asks. 
“Obviously. It sounds so self-centered,” you huff. 
“You’re just lashing out because I caught you red-handed.” 
“Maybe you’ll get a red hand to your pretty face,” you challenge, a humorous look in your eyes. 
“Ah,” Jeno says thoughtfully. “You think I’m pretty?” 
Another hot flare hits your cheeks, with the heat of a thousand suns. “No,” you say. 
“Yes,” Jeno counters. 
“No,” you repeat, this time more confident. By this time, you both are gazing at each other intently in silence, until suddenly, you start laughing. Jeno does too. It was one of those times when the moment seemed so serious, but the argument was just so silly.
“Just admit that you think I’m attractive,” Jeno says simply. 
“Every girl with a pulse thinks you’re hotter than a sidewalk in August.” You deadpan. 
“I don’t care what they think,” Jeno says suddenly. You quirk an eyebrow at this statement. Quickly, Jeno recovers himself. “I care about what you think.” He smiles. “You’re the only person I’ve known that hasn’t ever brought up my looks.” 
“Why should I?” You shrug your shoulders. “You know you’re hot.” At this you and Jeno laugh again together, but after a few moments, Jeno stops laughing. 
“So you admit it?” Jeno asks curiously. 
“Yes, I do.” You say sighing, hating that you’re giving him this victory. “Lee Jeno, you’re one of the most attractive men I’ve seen in my whole life,” you vow. “Now, can I get back to my book?” You ask. 
“Fine.” Jeno obliges. He sits down on his towel laid out beside yours, lying down on his back as you read your book. His gaze changes from the ocean’s waves licking the sandy shores to the side of your face. You’re maybe a chapter in when Jeno interrupts your train of thought. 
“Are you really gonna be reading the whole time?” Jeno whines. “I didn’t bring anything to do because I thought we were gonna go in the water.” 
“Th-The water?” You ask. You look at Jeno as if he grew a second head. 
“Yes, water. We’re at the beach per your request. Remember?” Jeno says slowly. 
“Yeah, but I didn’t think–” 
“You didn’t think about swimming at the beach?” Jeno asks incredulously. 
“No,” you respond, your voice small. 
“You’re literally wearing a swimsuit,” Jeno points out. 
“Yeah, but that’s just to get a good tan,” you say. Now that you say it out loud, it does sound kind of ridiculous that you didn’t even make plans about getting in the water today. “And plus,” you say a bit awkwardly. “I don’t really know how to swim.” 
It seems as though Jeno’s eyes are about to bulge out of his face. “You’ve been coming to this beach for years, and you don’t know how to swim?”
“I never really learned how. I mean, I did, but I wasn’t very good, and I’m super out of practice. I usually just come here to read or admire the scenery – Jeno!” You exclaim. Jeno snatches the book out of your hand and places it on the towel. He’s strong enough to hoist you up, and you’re left with no choice but to jog along with him to the edge of the shore, kicking up mounds of sand; you have a stinking suspicion about what he’s going to do. 
“Today’s the day I’m gonna teach you how to swim.” He says.
“B-But,” you stutter, struggling for words. Jeno doesn’t look like he’ll take no for an answer. 
“I promise I won’t let go of you, and we won’t go far from the shore.” He says, his gaze sincere. “Let’s start off with floating. Spread your arms out and kick your feet up. Act as though you want to lie down on the water like it’s sand. Like this.” Jeno demonstrates, going slightly away from the shore and deeper in the water, leaving you knee-deep, standing on the wet sand underfoot. Once Jeno has floated for a few seconds, he positions himself upright, everything except his neck and face submerged in water as he swims towards you, walking the last few steps to you. 
“Now you try.” You look a little nervous but follow what Jeno says. You kick your feet up and try to treat the water like it’s the sand you rest your towel against; Jeno’s hand is on the small of your back as he holds you up. You’re not used to the feeling of water in your ears, and you’re struggling to stay afloat as you accidentally breathe in water. Hearing you cough, Jeno sets you upright, and you cough up the salty water. 
“I don’t like,” you say between coughs. “The water in my ears. It keeps going in.”
“Trust me when I say that when you don’t want water to go in your ears and nose, it doesn’t. When you are thinking about water going into your ears and nose, it does. Now, let’s try again.” 
“No,” you whine. “I don’t like swimming.” 
“Please?” Jeno asks. “For me? After all, you did drag me out here so early.”
“Fine.” You relent. 
“Like I said,” Jeno chides, “Kick up your feet and lie on the water like it’s sand. Don’t struggle too much right now. Unless you don’t think about the water around your ears and nose, it won’t go in.”
You repeat what you did earlier, kicking up your feet and lying on the water like it’s sand. This time you don’t move a muscle. You let the gentle low-tide waves of the water kiss your skin and wash over you again before it’s exposed to the refreshingly cool ocean breeze again. Jeno’s hand is against the small of your back as he leads you to deeper waters. 
“What are you doing?” You ask. 
“Floating is all the same. If you can float in knee-deep water, you can float in deeper water.” Jeno looks into your eyes. “Don’t worry, I still won’t let go.” 
You don’t struggle against the water, and when you’re in the deeper water, Jeno helps bring you upright on the water. This time, your feet are unable to touch the ocean floor, and before the panic can settle in your eyes, Jeno is holding your waist. 
“Upright floating works the same way. Don’t struggle. Hold your head up high.” You follow as Jeno says and observes how he does it. Jeno slowly takes his hands away from your waist and holds your arm instead. Slowly, he lets go, and here you are in front of him, swimming; you’re pretty amazed too. 
“Oh my God, I’m doing it!” You say excitedly. Jeno shares your excitement. 
“I know. To think you wanted to give up,” Jeno shakes his head. 
Your bodies are close, so close that you can feel Jeno’s breath on your nose. Jeno looks almost angelic with the way the salty water glistens against his face as if his skin is made of diamonds. His jet-black hair is stuck to his forehead, and your hair is in thick, salty strands, but the moment still feels perfect; the shouting of children in the distance doesn’t bother either of you.
You almost want to ki– 
Suddenly, you’re taken out of your thoughts when a splash of cold water hits your face. Jeno has already swum a few feet away, the culprit of the cold splash on your face. 
“Tag! You’re it!” He says in between giggles.
“Jeno!” You exclaim, trying your best to swim and splash him. 
He’s the most handsome, adorable dork you’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. 
-
Every summer, city council organized a summer concert series held at the local park. They mostly featured student bands, cover bands, and lots of vendors. But most importantly: they were free. 
The one happening tonight was the last one of this year’s series, and there would be fireworks. You hadn’t been able to attend the last few summer concerts because of your growing responsibilities at the pet shelter; you were becoming pet manager, a position where you would inventory what animals were available to adopt, and the numbers were changing every day. Also, Doyoung had gone on vacation along with many of the volunteers, so you, Taeyong, and Sungchan were left to cover for them. 
Tonight though, you were given the day off, so you decided to see if Jeno was free to go to the concert with you.
You tell your mother your intentions, and when you’re done talking, she gives you a sly look. 
“You’ve been hanging out with Jeno a lot recently. Is there something I should know about?” She asked. She doesn’t ask this in a condescending, strict-parent tone, but of one as a friend. For the most part, your mother was always the woman you came clean to and got advice from; there were truely only minal secrets you kept from her. 
“Yeah Y/N, is there something we should know about?” Renjun asks. 
Renjun. For a while, you had completely forgotten about him. He had started getting suspicious recently that you were harboring feelings for his long-time best friend. After the beach trip, he started getting suspicious, but he had been too busy to do anything about it, only sulking in the corner thinking about it.
You had to admit that you had a little crush on Jeno, in that every time you thought about him, your heart started racing in an exhilarating way. Maybe when Renjun was around, you weren’t as slick as you thought you were. “No,” you say, a little quieter than you meant for it to be. You clear your throat, making your voice louder. “Nothing’s going on. Jeno’s always available to hang out, which is why I’m hanging out with him.” 
Your mother doesn’t say anything, knowing Renjun is in the room. Most likely, Renjun was worried that if you and Jeno got into a relationship, it would mess up the long-time friendship they had, and if you broke up, it would be even worse. You understood his sentiment, but it’s not like Jeno likes you back… 
Right?
The way he looked at you, the way that when you talked, he was fully attentive, his soft, expressive eyes reacting, listening to every word you say.
That’s just because you guys have become good friends, right? 
(A part of you wishes that it isn’t). 
You’re wearing your standard summer uniform of daisy dukes and a T-shirt when you walk up to Jeno’s house and the door opens before you knock. Jeno is standing at the entrance of his house, already dressed in shorts and a sleeveless shirt, showing off his strong arms. 
“Jeno,” you say. “Do you want to go to the summer concert together?” You ask. 
“Actually,” Jeno says shyly. “I was gonna ask you the same thing.” 
“Great.” Jeno invites you in and asks if you want anything. You said you would just have some water. He pours you a glass before heading to his room to grab a towel and some bug spray. Stepping outside, you both spray yourselves, and when he goes back inside to put the bug spray away, he tells his parents that he’s going to be out and will be back before ten. 
The park is a short drive from your neighborhood, and it is just as scenic as you remembered it to be. It’s about sixty-something acres filled with walking trails that loop around your city, which city council has tried hard to have more “green” city planning, rather than letting this place become a concrete jungle. 
In this park, there is lots of green space for people to lay their towels across the grass and enjoy the music. Most of the people here are young parents with budding families, in which a family-friendly free concert with a packed picnic and fireworks is the perfect summer activity. There are also older people like you and Jeno, showing up to the concert today because they were bored. The beginning of August signaled to high schoolers the start of school, and to college people that they would be moving back to their dorms soon. Either way, the park is packed. Tonight isn’t as hot and stuffy as most nights, which also accounts for why there are so many people here tonight. 
“What’s the theme for this concert?” You ask Jeno when you hop out of his car. 
“‘70’s American rock,” he says.
“Fun,” you say. You weren’t an avid rocker, but you turn on the oldies radio station, you didn’t mind listening to a few rock songs. “It’s better than working at the pet shelter every single night.” Jeno laughs. You loved your job more than anything, but you wanted a semblance of work-life balance. 
“Now I’m glad I didn’t take up Doyoung’s offer immediately,” Jeno says. 
“It isn’t usually this bad,” you say. “It’s just that Taeyong and many volunteers are on vacation, and I’m being given more responsibilities.” 
“Maybe I could come in and volunteer just to help you out,” Jeno says wistfully. “I’ll have to find time in my schedule,” he jokes. 
You raise a brow at the boy. “In your schedule of doing nothing?” You snort. 
“It’s not nothing,” Jeno counters. “I’m just relaxing before finding a job. Jobs are going to be there after I take a little break from college,” he says. Renjun wouldn’t ever be caught saying something like this. For him, it’s always one thing onto the next. Renjun is a restless man, and taking a break without a job would drive him crazy. 
While Renjun is ridiculously Type A, Jeno is the opposite. He’s used to opportunities coming to him, believing that everything has a way of working out in the end. It’s crazy how the two have managed to be friends with such vastly different outlooks on life. 
You drop the topic, opting to lay out the towel that Jeno brought. There’s enough space for both of you to fit… but tightly. Even though you’re wearing bug spray, the sharp, freshly cut grass makes your skin feel itchy. 
“I guess we’re gonna have to sit like this,” you say a little awkwardly. Jeno turns to face you, his face only inches from yours; your arms brush Jeno’s biceps, and you feel your throat become dry. 
“Yeah,” he says softly. No witty reply. 
The silence between you is broken by the cheers of the audience. The performers are here. 
“What’s up Neo City?” The head performer asks the audience. He’s a man in his mid to late twenties, wearing a white T-shirt and jeans. Cheers are the response, filling the air. 
“We’re Neo Culture Tech, and today we’re going to be performing some covers to end Neo City’s 1997 Summer Concert Series! We hope you enjoy the performance!” The man stops talking, and the park erupts with cheers.
The first note is played on the piano, followed by the addition of drums and electric guitar. The songs go on one by one, and Neo Culture Tech plays popular songs by the Eagles, ACDC, Fleetwood Mac, and Def Leopard. Parents are dancing with smaller children, singing along to the songs they listened to in grade school, while younger people sit on their towel and jam out to the songs less physically. 
You and Jeno are bobbing your heads together to the music, stealing glances at one another. Jeno was able to sing along a little to ‘Shoot to Thrill’ and ‘Gold Dust Woman,’ while you were able to sing along to ‘Witchy Woman’ and ‘Hotel California’ after memorizing the lyrics so long ago. As the guy who was playing the guitar played the guitar solos for ‘Hotel California,’ people cheered. 
“Before we start the fireworks show, I’d like to end off with a banger. Everyone stand up and find a partner to dance with!” the lead singer said. With that, the band started the chords for ‘Pour Some Sugar On Me’ by Def Leopard.
Jeno looks at you, a wry smile on his face. “Would you care to dance with me, partner?” He asks, holding out his elbow. You loop your arm in his. 
“Of course.” 
By this time, more of the younger people were standing up, dancing with their friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, or wives. You and Jeno were dancing, not caring how you looked, your hands clasping and unclasping as Jeno twirled you around to the rock song. You both sing along to the song, knowing the famous song. 
When the song ends, you’re out of breath, your chest against Jeno’s, but Jeno doesn’t look very tired; there’s only a small drop of sweat pooling at his forehead, and he’s able to control his breathing. While the crowd screams, cheering for the band that just performed, you and Jeno are in your own world. 
You feel like you know what Jeno’s thinking. 
Slowly, you start leaning in, and Jeno follows your example. Before long, your lips land on his. You only want it to be a peck, but your body refuses to listen to your brain, so here you were, for what feels like centuries kissing Jeno. You weren’t going to struggle against your feelings anymore, you were going to float like you were at the beach.
Kissing your brother’s best friend. 
Kissing the guy that all the girls in high school drooled over, the guy that got so many sports scholarship offers, the guy that many thought was infallible. 
But he’s just Jeno, the adorable dork who’s stuck with your brother for almost their whole lives through thick and thin. 
The adorable dork that you’ve helplessly fallen in love with.
Reluctantly, you both pull away, your breaths hitting each others’ noses. You’re almost to scared to look Jeno in the eye.
You just changed everything. 
While you’re too busy not looking at Jeno, he takes your chin with his thumb and forefinger and tilts your gaze upward, to look at him. 
When you look into his beautiful brown eyes, you realize that you didn’t change everything with one kiss. The feelings were always there. While you were slowly falling for Jeno, Jeno started slowly falling for you.
“I-I think I’m in love with you,” Jeno says, his voice unsure, lacking that cocky athlete tone that’s synonymous with Lee Jeno. While one hand remained holding your chin up to face him, the other hand was on your waist.
You didn’t think you ever wanted him to stop touching you. 
“No,” he corrects himself, clearing his thoat. Seconds felt like hours, and your heart is racing like crazy.
“I know I’m in love with you.” 
You think the loud beating sound is just your heart, but when you look up, the black sky is filled with color, expressive fireworks shining before dissipating. Red, orange, blue, and purple fill the sky before gray smoke settles and floats away. The park is oddly quiet while at least two hundred people enjoy the fireworks and are held by their boyfriends or girlfriends. You look up with Jeno in the same position you were, his arm still on your faces close. Your jaw is close to touching his collar bone, your nose almost touching his neck. 
“I love you too.” 
-
It’s probably one in the morning right now. 
Ever since you and Jeno confessed your feelings, all you were doing was hiding your feelings around your family. You didn’t want Renjun finding out about your relationship just yet, and Jeno had the same idea. You and Jeno wouldn’t advertise to your families that you were hanging out, and most of the time, you met up at the pet shelter, where Doyoung was the only one who knew about the true nature of your relationship (after the unfortunate man walked in on you two making out in the janitor’s closet). You and Jeno forced him to promise that he wouldn’t tell anyone or even give any hints if he ran into your families; in small towns like yours, word travels fast.
Other than seeing Jeno at the animal shelter, you would sneak Jeno into your bedroom at night. A little part of you thrived from the danger you felt, doing something secret and slightly forebidden (nothing this exhilarating ever happened to you in high school or in college). You live in a one-story bungalow (like all the houses in your neighborhood), and your parents’ room is on the other side of your room, with the kitchen separating your rooms. 
However, only a wall was separating you from Renjun’s room. You think you’re safe right now since through the paper-thin walls, you can hear Renjun soundly snoring to himself. The iceing on the cake was that Renjun is a light sleeper. 
You hear a knock on your window, and you look to see that it’s Jeno. You’re in your pajamas, just a shirt with some pajama shorts, and you get off your bed, systematically opening the latch to your window. Pushing the window, it opens now, and Jeno opens it a little wider, enough for you to let him in. 
He’s dressed in a T-shirt, sweatpants, and red, drugstore flipflops. He rubs his arm a little bit, a small scowl on his face. 
“You should really trim that rose bush,” Jeno says softly, his gaze following to the rosebush that is near your window. Outside your window, you had a good view of the garden, and your mother took great pain to maintain that garden; your father often joked that it was her third child. For Jeno to get access to your window, he would have to wade through all the plants and flowers, careful not to step on anything because your mom would notice the next day. “I think it roughed me up pretty good.” 
“Let me see,” you whisper, pulling his arm. In the minimal light that came from the almost full moon outside, you’re able to see clearly. It’s just a little scratch, that was slowly turning into a red line. No blood. 
“You’ll live,” you say rolling you eyes. Sometimes Lee Jeno was the most dramatic guy that you’ve ever met.
Jeno pouts. “I think I would feel better if you kissed it,” he suggests.
You heave a sigh. “I swear to God,” you mutter. You lean foreward, pressing your lips against his arm. “That better?” You ask, crossing your arms and leaning your weight to one leg. 
“How about one here?” He asks, pointing to his lips. 
You laugh a little to yourself. “Greedy little–” 
Jeno interrupts you. “Don’t act like you don’t want to.” 
Standing on your toes, you lean in, your nose touching Jeno’s for a brief moment before your lips collide. Jeno’s hands gravitate towards your waist as he tries to push you against the nearest wall. He pushes you to the wall with the window he climbed into your room with. There’s only a narrow gap of space between the edge of the window and the bookshelf that houses all of your albums. He pushes you there, his knee finding its place between you legs. He grunts a little as his lips trail from your mouth to your chin to your neck. He slides you against the wall, your elbow hitting the edge of your bookshelf, and something goes flying off of the top of your bookshelf.
Immediately, you and Jeno jump apart at the noise when the object hits the floor. You’re thankful that the carpet muffles the sound, but it’s still audible since it hit the edge of the wooden door. You bend down to examine the fallen object, realizing that it’s just a snowglobe. You pick it up, putting it on your desk instead. No one stirs. Renjun is still in his room snoring. 
“We’re supposed to be quiet!” You whisper loudly, putting your index finger to your lips. 
“I’m sorry!” Jeno apologises. 
“God, you lumber around my room like you haven’t been here before,” you joke. “How about let’s go into the bed where there’s less chance of making a noise.”
Jeno quickly agrees, and you both go into your bed, under the covers. Jeno’s arms find their place around you once more, and you put your head on Jeno’s chest, feeling his heartbeat. Jeno kisses the top of your head. After a few moments of lying like this in silence, your lips find Jeno’s again. You’re on top of him, him straddling your hips, but quickly, it turns into him on top of you. You both kiss each other with a new kind of fervor, but Jeno pulls away. “How long are we going to be doing this?” He asks. “I don’t know about you, but this whole sneaking around thing is getting kind of old. I just want to call you my girlfriend in front of people.”
You kiss him. “Just until I get the chance to tell Renjun.” You say. “I have a speech prepared.” You clear you throat, shifting your position in bed so you can face your boyfriend. In the dim light in which you can barely see Jeno, you can imagine his beautiful features, barely believing that you are his girlfriend. “I love Jeno, Jeno loves me, we want to be together, and you can’t do anything about it.” Jeno waits for more. 
“That’s it?” He asks.  
You shrug your shoulders. “What else am I supposed to say?” 
Jeno smiles. He finds directness to be one of your most endearing qualities. You aren’t scared to say what’s on your mind, even if it’s controversial. He puts a hand on your cheek and brings you closer to him, kissing you again. His lips smack against your’s and you’re pretty sure you can hear audible popping sounds every time you both mutually pull away for air, only meaning to come back. 
When he pulls away, Jeno says. “Y/N, you should at least be a bit more considerate to his feelings. This is going to be a big change for him.” Jeno reasons. 
You seemed to like the exact opposite of what Jeno sees in you. You liked the way he considered everyone, and although it sometimes makes it seems like he is a people-pleaser, people who are the most considerate to others’ feelings when it doesn’t align with their own are the people who are the peacemakers, the role models, the people who rule the world. 
While you were the fire, Jeno was the water, who made you see reason. And your directness teaches Jeno to stand up for himself. 
“I know, but if Renjun can’t accept it, then he needs to grow up.” 
“I don’t think Renjun wants to grow up.” 
After you hear the new voice, the lights turn on, and you and Jeno immediately jump apart to opposite sides of your twin bed (but it’s not possible without your bodies still touching). This only gives the onlooker a better view of the two parties involved. When you and Jeno finally decide to face the onlooker, you realize that it’s Renjun in his pajamas. He wasn’t wearing his contacts, but he doesn’t need them to recognize the two most important people in his life. His arms are crossed as he examines both you and Jeno, and together, you both struggle for an explanation.
“Surprise?” You and Jeno chorus together. 
-
PRESENT DAY
Eventually, Renjun got over it. Or else, he wouldn’t have been able to give such a wonderful best man speech. 
That’s right. After years of dating which helped you realize that no one was more perfect for you than Jeno, you and Jeno decided to get married in 2003 after you both were settled in your careers. Jeno, after a few months of relaxation, got a job at a marketing firm, and he worked his way up to become a lead account manager. You, after earning your degree in accounting, worked at a firm for a few years before quitting and becoming the book keeper at Taeyong’s pet shelter, which now you owned. Taeyong moved to his mother’s paid-off house in Seoul to take care of his aging mother, so he stepped down and gave you ownership of his beloved pet shelter. He now worked at his mother’s supermarket and visited you often.
Sometimes, it amazed you how far society has gone since your childhood. You would never have dreamed of touch-screen cell phones with the power of a full-sized computer or your fridge making grocery lists for you. It was convenient and fascinating, but at other times, this new world scared you; only recently has it been confirmed that your phone is listening to you and people are selling your online data.
“Kids, dinner!” You shouted up the stairs. Just after you were married, you became pregnant with your daughter, and five years later, your son came along. 
“Coming,” your daughter Yoona said. 
“Yeah!” Your son Hyuckjae yelled from his room. That wasn’t really an answer, leaving you signing by the kitchen. 
Jeno is already sitting at the table, eating the meal that you prepared. It wasn’t that complicated, just some fried rice with some vegetables and meat, as well as potato soup since you were tired after your long day at work. You sat at the table next to your husband, and you know you don’t have to call for your children again when you hear thundering down the stairs. Yoona’s phone is glued to her hands, while Hyunjae finds his position next to Jeno. The food is on the table, but only three of you are eating; Yoona’s food remains untouched as she sits down and keeps her attention only on her phone, not acknowledging the presence of her family.
“Yoona!” You say, snapping in front of her face. Only when you put your hand between her phone did she actually look at you. 
“What do you want mom?” She says, exasperated. 
“Aren’t you going to eat your food?” 
“Yeah,” she replies, “In a little bit,” Almost immediately, she only looks back at your phone. 
“Yoona, put the phone away.” 
“That’s right honey,” a new voice interjects, and it’s Jeno. “Put your phone away. We want to have a conversation.” Jeno adds. 
“About what?” Yoona asks. She finally puts her phone down and looks at you both. “Are you guys having a midlife crisis?”
“Midlife –” Jeno stops. 
“We’re not even that old yet!” You exclaim.
“Yeah Yoona,” Hyuckjae adds. 
“Shut up Hyuckjae,” Yoona says, her voice snarky. “Buttering up to Mom and Dad isn’t going to get you a phone.” 
“Says who?” Hyuckjae argues back. “Mom and Dad didn’t say anything.” 
“Hyuckjae, you’re not getting a phone,” you say stubbornly. 
“Oh come on, Mom!” Hyunjae whines. “I’m the only eighth grader without a phone!” Hyuckjae counters. 
“Me and your father didn’t have a phone at your age. You’ll live.” 
“That’s because you guys lived in the stone ages.” 
Jeno scoffs. “The ‘90’s weren’t even that long ago.” 
Yoona cocks her head. “The ‘90’s are in history books now.” 
You and Jeno both look at each other, but Yoona continues. “The ‘90’s were like thirty years ago.” 
You knew that time had passed, but it never really occurred to you the quantifiable number of years; someone born in 1990 is in their thirties now. You vividly remember 1990, being a thirteen year old. Jeno was fifteen. You wonder how he’s feeling. 
“That doesn’t change why you should have a phone, Hyuckjae,” you say. 
“What about schoolwork? I’ll be in high school in the fall.” 
“You can use the family computer.” Hyuckjae groans; the desktop in the computer room right off the entrance of your’s and Jeno’s suburban home (originally the formal dining room) is a Windows 8.1, and somewhat slow. 
“Hyuckjae, we’ll get you a phone your first month of freshman year, just like your mom and I agreed on.” Jeno says cooly. “That’s when Yoona got her first phone.” 
Hyunjae grunts. “But that’s so long from now.” 
Noticing how the conversation mainly was between you, Jeno, and Hyunjae, Yoona gestures to pick up her phone when you point at her. 
“Don’t even think about picking up that phone right now, young lady,” you say pointedly, and Yoona’s hands immediately back away. 
“Right that conversation we’re going to have,” Jeno says, redirecting the topic. “How was everyone’s day?” 
“That’s the conversation you want to have?” Yoona says. 
“Yeah, what’s wrong with it?” You ask, defending Jeno. 
“Nothing…” Yoona trails away. 
“I’ll start,” you say. “I had an overall good day. Taeyong gave me an extra 15% off groceries instead of 10%.” It was incredibly convenient that Taeyong’s mother’s supermarket was only eight miles from the pet shelter. 
“Nice,” Jeno says, smiling in that same boyish eyesmile that you fell in love with all those years ago. “I had an average day. It would have been good, but the coffee machine in the cafeteria broke,” Jeno sighs.
You and Jeno both turn to look at Yoona. “I had a good day, I guess. I got a 100 on my calculus test.” 
“Great job!” Jeno says. You reach over to rub Yoona’s shoulders. 
“You see? I told you it would benefit to go to calculus tutoring,” you say. 
“Hyuckjae? How was your day?” Jeno asks. 
“Not good. You guys aren’t getting me a phone.” 
“We just said we would!” You exclaim. “When you’re a freshman.” 
Hyuckjae grunts at this and stands up, heading towards the sink to clear the remnants on his plate. You didn’t realize that Yoona and Hyukcjae had been eating particularly fast tonight, evident by their nearly empty dishes.
“I’m going to the computer room,” he says, not waiting for a response when he leaves. Shortly after, Yoona is done with her food. After rinsing her plate, she leaves it in the sink and snatches her phone off of the dining room table (as if you were going to take it and look at the texts on the notification bar). 
“I’m going to my room,” she says. She waits for you to say a resigned ‘okay,’ and she heads up the stairs, sparing no time to look at her phone.
“What could be so important that she can barely stay a free moment without her phone?” You voice to your husband. You and Jeno are taking your time eating your meal at the table, now by yourselves. 
“What isn’t so important at that age?” Jeno says before slurping the soup collected in his spoon. “When you’re a teenager, you see things with a different perspective than you would see if you were a mom, for example.” 
You sigh at these words, the fresh perspective that your husband is giving you that you failed to see initially. Jeno is good at seeing all sides of the situation; that’s why Renjun always goes to him for advice.
“I guess,” you say, crossing your arms. “I can’t imagine being a kid right now.”
“I bet Yoona and Hyuckjae can’t imagine being a kid in the ‘90’s.” 
You sigh. “Things really have changed, haven’t they?” When you and Jeno were younger, you weren’t trying to get the best gadgets to impress your friends, you didn’t have advanced TV’s and vacuum cleaners that were listening to you, you weren’t always on Instagram and Twitter, and the concept of a ‘social media influencer’ didn’t exist at all.
When you and Jeno were younger, you thought the future would resemble Back to the Future. Although there weren’t any hoverboards that actually hovered the ground in 2016, the actual future paralleled the movie in surprising ways with the fact that people were always so distracted with the screens in their hands. 
“Don’t you ever just feel…” you start off. Jeno’s attention is on you while he eats. 
“Don’t you ever feel that people are always in their own worlds?” You ask. “Always on their phones looking at the latest posts, listening to music, downloading photos? No one ever runs around the neighborhood and draws chalk or play with the neighborhood kids,” you sigh. It was like people preferred to type than to talk. 
“Yeah. It wasn’t like that when we were kids,” Jeno says. You eat a couple of spoons of friend rice, the silence between you both evident. 
“In a way,” Jeno says, “Things are still the same.” 
“How?” You ask.
“Well, people still have the need to be social, whether it’s on social media or in person. And we are still trying to keep up with our friends,” he says. Without words, you know he’s talking about your son and how obsessed he was about getting a phone since his friends started to flash their iPhones and Samsungs. 
“I still think life was simpler back in the ‘90’s,” you say stubbornly. “Even though we had to use TV Guide to find out what was on TV, it was still easier. I’m always looking over my shoulder these days,” you confess. “Every single second, so much data is being collected and sold, it makes me worried. On top of all that, social media isn’t good for young kids,” you say, redirecting the conversation back to Hyuckjae. You feel a little guilty seeing Hyuckjae so upset that he doesn’t have a phone, but it was the principle that mattered. You didn’t think phones were good for young kids, to be hooked up to the internet 24/7. Being fifteen and having a phone isn’t much better than being fourteen and having a phone, but you drew the line at high school. You couldn’t protect your son forever, no matter how much you desperately wanted to. 
“There’s still something that remains simple, though,” Jeno says. When he gently squeezes your thigh, you think you have an idea. 
“This,” he says. He leans over and kisses your lips, cupping your cheek. His lips are soft as they rub rhythmically against your lips. He pulls away, his voice soft. “I love you. We can be in 2092, teleporting to see our great-grandchildren, and I’ll be in love with you,” Jeno says. 
You giggle. Nineteen years of marriage, and he still makes you feel like a young bride. 
“We can be in 3092 with our brains connected to robots, and I’ll still be in love with you,” you counter, turning this into a competition.
“How about let’s think about right now,” Jeno says. He cups your cheeks in his hands and admires your eyes before he kisses you deeply, as if he isn’t going to kiss you ever again. 
The world can change as much as it wants, as long as you have Lee Jeno by your side. 
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a/n: if you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading :) since this is my first slowburn, let me know what you thought in the comments or by sending me an ask! thanks again!
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Betsy DeVos has been trying to break public education for decades so her “for profit charter schools” can rake in the dough from school districts across the nation.
Most charter schools are non-union, pay slave wages, don’t require qualified teachers, are exempt from the standards public schools are held to. They are failing miserably, offer little to no special needs or bilingual education, and produce poorly educated MAGAs that can not survive in today’s complex job market. It’s a scam that was pushed into the mainstream by Bush/Cheney with their No Child Left Behind. Another tricky Republikkkan misnomer.
NCLB brought us standardized testing to punish public schools, particularly those in inner cities that catered mainly to children of marginalized people. A school superintendent in Texas, that was a crony of Bush, expelled all the failing children (mostly minorities and poor whites) issued standardized tests and proclaimed his district proficient based on the scores. State legislatures across the country started punishing inner city districts by pulling funding from underperforming schools and giving it to charter schools. The charter schools were owned by DeVos and other billionaire Republikkkan donors.
Even blue states were pressured into adopting the standardized tests and the curriculums and texts that came with them. These materials that costs millions per district mostly came out of Texas and other red states. Ironic that Texas supplies the majority of our textbooks and has since before this scam. The Red States control our history and education in general, or at least have a profound impact on it. Many local level Dems on school committees and state boards of education also invested in this get rich scam.
Betsy DeVos runs a propaganda policy agency, the Mackinaw Center, that purports to be a grass roots movement for better education. It sends out emails, to everyone in education, that praise charter schools while denouncing public schools. Mackinaw created an artificial crisis of faith in public schools and largely blamed teachers’ unions-because organized labor is always the enemy of billionaires. DeVos’s agenda has seeped into the consciousness of Americaand even some public school employees have unwittingly bought into her propaganda. Southern Red States was where, and still mostly is, where the underperforming schools are-and that’s by Republikkkan design. Late stage capitalism, when the people have been bled dry the oligarchs begin plundering the government.
Oligarchs have been attacking our society on every level for decades. They have so many policy institutions, propaganda outlets, and political operatives working 24/7/365 that is almost inconceivable. While the main attack ramped up in the 1960’s it’s actually been going on here since the start of the Industrial Revolution.
Hilary Clinton was mocked viciously by Fox, talk radio, and Republikkkan politicos for comments about the “vast right-wing conspiracy” in the 90’s. Today there are college courses about it, books, articles, and documentaries. High ranking Dem party leaders are given briefings about it. RI Dem Senator Sheldon Whitehouse exposes it on the floor of the Senate daily. We’ve all seen charts of the Koch-topus with its tentacles stretching from right-wing billionaires to think tanks that openly write legislation for Republikkkan politicos to introduce. From the John Birch Society to ALEC and the Federalist Society they shape and control our laws and destiny.
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submalevolentgrace · 11 months
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(yesterday i received an ask, which prompted me to write the following response. the asker has apologised for sending it and i took it down to prevent anyone from laying into them, but present is anonymously below because i like my response and want you to see it)
"Based on the fun new revelation that the world is ending before I graduate, is it even worth it to try prepping or should we all just get ready to jump into traffic come 2025?"
okay, there is, A LOT to unpack here. i'm gonna do my best to respond to this helpfully, the way i am facing it: confronting it, emotionally processing it, pragmatically preparing, and holding on to a sort of grim, dark hope.
we're talking about climate collapse and the latest IPCC report here right? first off, it's not a new revelation. maybe it is for you personally, but for humanity as a whole, we've known about the inevitable outcomes of emissions damaging the climate since like the 70's. i found out about it myself in primary school in the mid 90's, when it was still called the greenhouse effect, and i then spent 20 years on and off in various roles of support for climate activism, when i had the spoons. if you're young and just finding out about it now i know it's probably overwhelming, and especially sucks the later you've been born into this mess… but i'm pointing out that it's not new, to underline the point that it's also not sudden. yeah it's getting worse, but it's been getting worse for generations, and will keep getting worse for generations.
it's not a meteor, or a volcano. it's a creeping steady decline of habitability with sputters and bursts of natural disaster; there is no timeline or event or threshold at which the world ends here.
that 2025 "deadline" from this year's IPCC synthesis report, for instance; it's not a date that the world ends. honestly, in some ways, it's kinda meaningless. what it is, as i understand it, is that all the data says that if we want to limit global average temperature rises to 1.5C by end of century - which we do, because even 2C would be catastrophic - we need emissions to peak by 2025 and then rapidly decline. it's a vastly oversimplified agregate of incredibly complex data reduced down to the point of absurdity in a desperate attempt by scientists to get corporations to allow governments to take action to limit corporations. it's a deadline for government action to limit effects by 2100. the year will come, and pass, and the world will go on. probably with emissions still going up, probably with targets shifted again and 2C accepted as the next half hearted goal that will also be missed, but life will go on.
no end of the world. life will go on. into the 2030's, into the 2040's, into the 2100's, life will go on. it'll be hotter and colder, wetter and drier, more storms and bushfires, less food and fertile land, but life will go on. populations will starve, land will become uninhabitable, life will go on. when you hear about "the end of the world" from climate collapse, it's not a hard apocalypse that kills us all off or whatever. it's the slow creep of nature getting more harsh, and the way we do things much harder.
if you look at the serious reports from scientists and militaries, the language you see isn't "end of the world", it's "end of modern societies". that's what's really at risk: the fragile infrastructure that holds up the ruling classes of rich nations and has us all scurrying around to make it work. mass scale power grids, international supply chains and just in time logistics, silicon wafer production, year-round plastic wrapped preserved passionfruit chunks grown in thailand, packed in argentina, sold in france, profits to america, money stored on a computer in the cayman islands. i can't sugarcoat it and say that's all that's at stake; people are definitely going to starve and drown and die of exposure; but that already happens every day in most of the world, right now. there are a million rohingya at the border of bangladesh, locals fleeing khartoum as the west airlifts out is nationals, people whose civilisations were crushed under the boots of empires and land destroyed to create the farmland and factories that are killing the planet. life for them goes on.
i mean, i get it. seeing the impending collapse of your society, everything you've known for your whole life being willfully destroyed, it's fucking devastating. we want to keep sitting here on comfortable couches with our gold and cobalt plated supercomputers sharing cat gifs on the hellsite. we don't want to have our civilisation taken away from us and be forced into brutal struggle to survive. it's going to fucking suck, it will be awful, and it will be (and already is) most destructive to the people who are already the worst off, which just sucks even more… and maybe your life is already bad enough that you don't think you can handle it getting worse. i mean, i've been suicidal since i was 14 and i've been through trauma and medical torture you wouldn't believe since then. i get it. you're scared, terrified even. existentially threatened. you don't know what you can handle and maybe you donn't wanna find out.
but here's the thing: the ONLY sensible thing you can do, now and going forwards, is prepare for it.
you wanna kill yourself when it gets hard? let's say sure, i agree with that. what's the threshold then, what's the limit? when will you kill yourself? the power grid going down? sewerage backing up? supply chains failing and being unable to buy food? from the comfort of the developed world, those all feel like exit points i can imagine many people taking as their out… but how long does it have to last before you know it's carbon-monoxide-party time? a month of no power, no flush, no food? a week, a few months, or a year? because it won't start that way.
it's not a meteor or volcano, it's a slow slide. some powerlines sagged so there's rolling blackouts every now and then, a few hours or a day at a time. pipes backed up a bit so pressure is reduced for a week until repairs are done. fires and plague have closed roads so shelves are bare and stores are limiting purchases on essentials this month. there will be bumps along the road before there will be any sort of definitive cliff where you can say "this is it, now is the time to kill myself". these bumps are already happening.
i really hope you can agree, it'd be absurd to be such a fatalistic doomer that you kill yourself instantly at the first blackout, dry tap, or closed grocery store; when you can't know if it'll be back up in a few hours or tomorrow or next week. these small disruptions are already happening right now, directly as a result of climate collapse, but we're still here, still living. if we're going to talk about suicide as a pragmatic option, you need a threshold, and wherever you set it, you'll have to get through what comes before. "i'll kill myself after a month with no grid" still means you gotta be ready for a week without it. you gotta prepare, even if you plan to not survive.
and i know it's overwhelming, i know. to look around and think about what is essential to keep you going, what you can sacrifice, how you can make it through. but you're not going to be doing it alone, everyone around you is going to be doing it with you. we're all going to be struggling through it, and based on how communities have responded in the last few years to a string of once-in-a-lifetime disasters here in my home of climate-fucked australia, i am certain that when the climate collapses around a group of people, they will form a community and help each other, no matter how selfish and mean of a country bogan (translation: redneck) they are. people will help each other; people already are helping each other.
because yeah, climate collapse will probably destroy modern civilisation… but so what? it's a neoliberal capitalist hellscape quickly plunging us into technologically enforced eternal authoritarianism… and like, not to be an accelerationist or anything, but here's that dark hope i mentioned: i'm kinda relieved by the thought that the infrastructure that enables it won't last this century. that climate collapse will force us out of these horrors, and back into real, interdependent community.
so do what you can to prepare, how you can, to make the little disruptions more bearable and comfortable. there's plenty of resources still available for off grid life, camping, home agriculture, and general self sufficiency out there on the still-existant internet, and more people are getting into it all the time - not just what you imagine when you hear "prepper". any skill you can develop, anything you can do to prepare, even if it's as simple as keeping extra shelf stable food and a jug of clean water around, anything you can do will help you materially and more importantly, mentally.
having some jerry cans of water and a small solar setup has been amazing for my mental health and anxiety! and as much as i'm putting material and energy into preperations, i'm also putting them into comfort, maybe even hedonism. collecting some cool lego, got some fancy synths i didn't need, making fucked up noise music with them. enjoying the sound of the neighbours' chickens, looking forward to the day "the world ends" and i can free-range my own on the council's nature strip and share the eggs with the pottery lady down the street. once you're prepared to survive a week of grid down, maybe you'll realise a month, a year, isn't so unbearable. maybe it starts to feel nice?
because i've been there, the suicidal grief. 2018 was absolutely the worst year of my life and i was sure i'd die being tortured in hospital, and coming out of that, in 2019, both the IPCC and ADF released incredibly bleak reports on climate collapse outcomes, and it all sank in. all the spare spoons i'd sunk into helping when i could, all the decades of scientists desperately warning, it all failed. the final warnings have been coming for years, with no change in course, it's happening. and i faced the realisation that my decades were limited, my time of comfort short, and i started despairing and grieving. i turned to what support systems i had, and they failed me. when my psych asked what i was so anxious about and i started explaining the climate reports, he tensed up and started asking diagnostic questions for dilusional psychosis. i went home and cried, i was sleeping on the couch in the junk storage room of my sharehouse because i'd let my own room fill up with so much trash that there was a distinctly organic smell of growth choking the whole place out. i was fucking done, my heart and body broken, there didn't seem to be any point in anything, not without a future. it's the closest i've been to killing myself since leaving home…
so i said, fuck it. i've got a tiny pool of cash from welfare backpay, and i bought a synth i wanted. it fucking rocked, and brought me so much joy, so i bought another, and another. no future to save for, anyway. i made some cool music, i never saw that psych again, i gave up on my drive for revenge on doctors and finding answers about my fucked up nervous system, why bother when the world is ending? and i made music. i can kill myself later maybe. i started loving myself more, because what's the point starving to death hating myself? i made music and got confident and cleaned my fucking room, bought a new mattress. i met a girl and took a chance and we fucked real good and i fell in love again. i moved out somewhere new and quieter and left a home of over a decade behind me, left parts of my identity behind me, moving forward and growing for the better. i have a family now, the first family that has ever loved me without expecting anything in return, and i love them with all my heart. i listen to the chickens, and watch leaves float down the storm water drain, and make cool music. yesterday i listened to a 14 minute track i made 6 months ago and almost cried, because nobody can make music that is so perfect for my tastes except me, and i brought it into existence. on the weekend i'm gonna set up the solar panel to keep the backup battery topped up, i use it to charge my phone and laptop, which the kids would call solarpunk and i'd call cool as fuck to have a solar powered laptop.
in 2019 i stared into the void and realised there is no real future for me, for human civilisation as we know it, and i grieved and processed… i almost killed myself, but i didn't, and the years since have been the best of my life, no question.
so, no. don't kill yourself, now or in 2025 or at any point until you can't handle the torture anymore. "graduation" sounds young, real young, even if it's tertiary. i'm creeping towards 40, and the age that "graduation" conjures makes me think that you've got a hell of a lot of potential left in you, for fun and stupidity, and growing up, and finding love and heartbreak, and your version of wierd-arse synth music.
so go out there, prepare, and enjoy.
…..and for the love of all the false goddesses of the void, never, NEVER EVER again contact a random fucking blog on tumblr and ask if you should kill yourself. holy fuck buddy. the amount of pressure you put me under to deliver an emmaculately worded response that somehow talks you down from the ledge without lying, is way, way too much fucking pressure. i really hope you were being stupidly hyperbolic, but even then, Eris Fucking Kallisti Herself In Absurdist Pagan Blasphemy, so incredibly unacceptable to say to a stranger. i think you need a therapist, even if they do think you're catastrophising, because like. shit dude. this is abso-fucking-lutely not okay!
now go. prepare and enjoy.
(reminder that asker apologised and i have no hard feelings for a midnight despair ask)
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cringetownusa · 1 month
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The Warner Tax Rant.
Being “So far below the poverty line, they’re off the graph”, doesn’t seem to be a statement only true in the movie after all. This is almost 1k words. Sit tight.
OG RANT DATE: 3/22/2023 We know the Warners pay taxes. We know they pay income tax from the “We pay tons of income tax” line from the 90s intro. Tons is subjective, but we also know based on many instances of the Warners gaining some sort of monetary wealth(even to be immediately taken away) that money is something they care about(1). There’s been jokes(2) about how little they’re paid by the studio, one of which from a cut song about tiny things where the smallest thing of all was their paychecks. We know in the comics they also just. Don't have money to treat themselves to nice outings and so they have a separate thing they call “The Cute Fund”(3) where the Warners allow people to pay to pinch their cheeks, and they use that money for things like trips. Not only are the Warners like wicked underpaid and taken advantage of for being children, but since they were originally from the 30s, when they were released from the tower for the 90’s show they didn't know what the base wage was at the time. 
So even with all their fame in the 90s (on the level that would make it a cultural phenomenon, eg: clothes, games, theme park partnerships, school supplies) they were not fairly compensated for it.
But even with them being such a household name, if they had to talk over their own contracts, they were likely tricked into thinking they were getting a better wage just by holding it up to what they were paid for their very few paychecks for their 30s films, even if they’re smart kids, they’re just kids, and between desperation and relief of being released, their judgement may have been clouded on their own contracts. They were probably also just thankful to be getting the opportunity to get them at all because it meant that they would get time outside the tower for the first time in 60 years Anyway these thoughts brought me to thinking about Yakko having to calculate their paychecks and do taxes every year since they have an income.
But based on how little the three of them make together and how expensive California is, i assume tax season is pretty stressful for poor Yakko.
In the 90s when there wasn't a ton of tech going around it meant he'd have to do all their taxes by hand with a calculator and a bunch of notes and i am thinking of this poor boy pouring over then at like 12 in the morning after Wakko and dot have gone to bed under the guise of practicing his lines.
For assistance programs that exist for humans that the warners making so little money might qualify for, e.g. food stamps, would they even be approved?
Maybe toons get rejected for that since "they don't need to eat" regardless of toons like wakko who are designed differently to eat more and always be hungry and also hypoglycemic(4). (5)So in the 30s, minimum wage was .25 an hour, which translates to a little over $4 an hour now
In 1990, the minimum was was 4.75 ($9.19 as of 2024)
HOWEVER
We can assume toon labor laws would be different since they didn't even have the right to vote until 2020 bc of Dot, and the way animals are paid for their “acting” in 2020s.
So for the sake of this exercise in taxing we’ll assume that they were convinced being paid $1 an hour for each of them was a really REALLY good deal because it was 4x the wage in the 30s.(during the great depression)
This next part was calculated with help from my friend allowing me to use his California pay stub. Thank you Mickael. &lt;3
Toons are probably paid less because they "have less necessities" and get rigorously overworked because their bodies “don't work like humans”. If we assume that they've been tricked in this way and calculate this off a 4 week paycheck, while also saying that they're pulling 40-60 hour work weeks due to overwork, with no overtime pay, that puts their GROSS pay for a MONTH at around ($480 for 40 hours) ($720 for 60 hours). 
Taking out California and Federal withholding, and healthcare on through the studio all together at around 12%, net take home would be ($422.40 at 40 hours) ($633.60 at 60) Now let’s assume the Warners get the tower as free room and board. That includes rent, electricity and running water ONLY, so we still have to calculate their wifi and phone bills (since we know for a fact that it’s relevant in the reboot. For the state of California, I used Mint unlimited at $60 a month since all three of them have phones. ($64.35 after tax) Internet needing to be somewhere around 100mbps for all their device’s wifi in the Burbank area, the least expensive option with wiggle room for Wakko(the Gamer) would be Starry Internet ($32.18 after tax). Yakko would be able to get a (LIFE) LA Metro tap card for low income, which would also give him a certain amount of free bus rides per month,after that each metro ride is $1.75 one way, and each bus ride is $1 one way. Let’s give all three Warners together a Budget of $50. This leaves them at ($275.87 for 40 hours of work) ($487.07 at 60) Much, if not all remainder would go to food or clothes depending on your headcanons for that. It’s no wonder they can’t afford expensive picture frames! ---
I'm sure there was more stuff I could have linked back to like the amounts and how I got them, and if people want more info they're welcome to dm me, but I've been impatiently wanting to share my thoughts lol.
Back in march of last year, I first spoke to my friend @help-the-lesbian in DM's about the warner's monetary situation. As I made more friends, I roped more of them into listening to me and now it's kind of an in-joke, but I just like thinking about Yakko getting stressed out about taxes and doing them because he cares about his siblings and he needs to take care of their family.
1[Animaniacs "Temporary Insanity" 1993] 2[Rob Paulson, “Animaniacs in Concert”, 2023] 3[Animaniacs Comic #2, 1995] 4[Wakko Warner Wiki] 5[Department of Industrial Relations, state of California] 6[California state tax is x1.0725]
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bp-zb1fics · 10 months
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hello !! could u write something with jeonghyeon and reader in school like they are already dating, and it would be about them being the "famous" couple in their school !! lijeong being a genius and the reader being dumb like an airhead but she really kind and all. teachers and students could be teasing them about being an odd couple haha
So without meaning
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pairing: leejeong x reader
genre: highschool au (same verse as shy,shy,shy and tall& handsome), fluff
tw/tags: sort of character study, class couple, mean girls reference, flirting, kisses, woongki being salty, leejeong simp agenda as usual
wc: 756
summary: it’s not that you were an odd couple, more like you were smart in different ways.
a/n Kind of put a spin on the req but I hope you like it anon~ it's also super late so there's that but these weeks have been rough tbh. also anyone who doesn't get the mean girls reference, jail for you jk
check my pinned for more fics!
When Gyuvin first transferred, Gunwook and Junhyeon made it their mission to introduce him to everything that there was to know about their highschool, sort of like those 90’s teen movies. So far, they’ve done a decent job. 
Gyuvin now knows they served donkatsu at the cafeteria every second Tuesday, how to not piss off Baek Kooyoung-seongsaengnim and every notable class couple that he shouldn’t get in the middle of.
Case in point, you.
It wasn’t that you were stupid. No, definitely not. Maybe you made stupid decisions sometimes but doesn’t everyone? Sure, you weren’t the brightest bulb in the box (is that the correct analogy?) but you made do. You got decent grades, teachers liked you even if you had a tendency to daydream during class. And it helped that you were really nice in the very unintentionally genuinely good way that very few people were these days.
It’s just- your boyfriend was-
“That’s Lee Jeonghyeon.” Junhyeon whispers to Gyuvin as they watch the older boy walk down the hallway towards you. “Genius, sort of a lone wolf, all sorts of rumours floating around him.”
“What kind of rumours?”
[insert unnecessary montage]
“Lee Jeonhyeon is flawless.”
“He has an endless supply of bracelets and only owns green sweaters.”
“I hear his jawline is insured for 10 million won.”
“I hear he does underground rapping.”
“His favourite colour is green.”
“One time, he got recruited by this company and they told him he could be an idol.”
“One time, he punched me for trying to kiss him.” A pause. Cha Woongki takes the time to flip his hair before sighing wistfully. “It was so hot.”
[end montage]
Gyuvin’s eyes have grown twice their original size in disbelief. Junhyeon nods solemnly. Meanwhile, you and your boyfriend are none the wiser. In fact, he’s completely preoccupied by you grabbing his hand, chattering about something brightly as you tug him towards the cafeteria.
Most of the students give you a wide berth. But that’s probably because your boyfriend is at least 185 cm and looks like he can cut a bitch on a good day. It was also sort of interesting, the contrast between you, like a manhwa plot coming to life. The resident genius and the bubbly airhead, complete opposites and completely enamoured by each other.
“Jeonghyeoniee,”
The withering look that your boyfriend gives Park Hanbin would probably deter anyone else. But Park Hanbin is a dazzling force of nature with a brilliant smile and military commander-like focus when he gets invested in something. Trailing behind him is Kim Taerae, resident class-crush with his church-oppa like charms and soft, sweet voice.
“What do you want?”
Maybe Jeonghyeon would look more intimidating if he currently wasn’t letting you feed him like a petulantly adorable child, practically glued to your side, holding your other hand under the table. You ignore the other boys, bringing another spoonful of rice and meat to his lips.
“Thank you aegiya.”
“You’re welcome, Leejeong-yah.”
“God, I hate love.” Woongki fake gags from the other side of the table.
“Wow, way to be single and bitter.” Hanbin shoots back, the other gasping dramatically.
“I am not.”
“Are too.”
“Am not.”
“No fighting!” You insist after swallowing the bite your boyfriend fed you. Woongki coos at you.
“Oh my poor, innocent baby, how did our big, bad Jeonghyeonie manage to score someone as sweet as you?”
“Woongki-ah, I punched you once, I can do it again.” Jeonghyeon grits out before obediently opening his mouth so you can feed him.
“Oh please do,” The other boy says way too eagerly. You sigh. And they said you were the dumb one when you could clearly see your boyfriend being played. Also your food was finished and you kinda wanted one of those pudding cups that they brought out after you had sat down with your trays.
“Leejeong-yah?”
“Yes aegiya?”
“Want pudding.” You pout, You really don’t need to. Your boyfriend stands up right away and goes over to the counter to fetch one for you. Woongki rolls his eyes, applauding you slowly.
“Ugh, your power. Literally you need to tell me how to get a boy completely whipped like that.”
You shrug. Jeonghyeon comes back with your much-desired pudding cup, proffering you a spoonful.
“Leejeong-yah, kiss?”
The rest of the table groans as he leans down and gives you a peck shamelessly. You smile and eat your pudding, stealing more kisses in between spoonfuls. Jeonghyeon might be a genius but he wasn’t the only smart one in the relationship.
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Lisa Frank school supplies were the hottest at the time. Take a look at these Lisa Frank folders.
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stinkyme · 4 months
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I know I said I will take a small break, but my heart won't remain still if I don't say this somewhere. I watch more and more videos about Palestine and every single one makes me cry and some comments make me angry. I am so angry and I can't even do anything about it, so, I figured to just put it out here.
I just saw a video about children who keep their hands close now when it's raining so they can get some water because Israel cut their water supplies off.
I've seen a man carrying his two children's remains in plastic bags, the same ones we use to pack our groceries in. With the hand falling out of the same bag. I've seen a woman, a mother hugging her dead child in the smallest white bag, gently kissing their forehead and whispering the words no mother should whisper while she is alive.
They say "we are NOT the victim...oh sorry! we ARE the victim!", they say "they are innocent...oh sorry! they are NOT innocent!" yet, some people keep supporting Israel. If you take a look at a lot of news, they all use the EXACT same speech, EXACT same words and push the EXACT same agenda.
I know to some this seems like a simple product of genocide. Have you ever met a mother who lost a child? I have.
My classmates and I have buried our high school classmate alongside their mother and family. You know what she said to us? She said, and I quote "every moment I hope they will wait for me at home and ask me what's for lunch." while hugging my classmate's picture. Can you imagine the heartbreak of having to hope that your child will come back, but they never ever will? Yet, some have the guts to support Israel due to 40 babies that there is no proof of. It's even proved wrong. They even say they have no proof.
Do you know how much starving hurts? I do. And I don't wish on anyone to know how much it hurts and how awful it feels. And for them to experience all of it, starvation and death and amputations and burns and absolute sadism, yet to keep on smiling and taking care of each other proves to you who and how strong Palestinian people are.
Do you know what's beneath Palestine? Oil. Do you know how much oil is worth? A lot. Do you know what happens when you kill or forcefully make people leave their land? You take the oil and share it with your beloved US and other supporters. So, you can't tell me that this is Israel "defending itself" from Palestine. Defending how? From what? 40 imaginery babies? By airstriking HOSPITALS and AMBULANCE CARS for CIVILANS? Palestine has no defense or military that can defend them, all people in Palestine are civilans. Only people who defend them are journalists and their only weapon are words.
They don't even have proper food to eat. Their bakeries are bombed. Ruined.
I have seen a female doctor screaming how their blood isn't any cheaper. It's not. Their blood isn't any cheaper, any less worthy than yours. Their blood doesn't deserve to be spilled.
I have seen children speak of their dreams. To become a pilot, another pilot, a doctor, another pilot, a lawyer, a teacher, a best man. All politely waiting for their turn, all smiling and being happy for each other. I have seen children crying and breaking down when asked what would they say to their fathers who died. One couldn't speak, only looked down and cried. Other one said how she wishes to tell him "I love you and I miss you, bye.", third one was also hesitant to speak, but he said he loves his father. They know only love and love was ripped away from them by a selfish, sadistic genocide.
My country was bombarded by NATO in the 90's and it wasn't half as bad as Palestine. But I know how many dreams bombing here stole. I know a child who was on her toilet and bomb hit her. She died. I know how many dreams were stolen and I know that our country still pays the price of that.
So imagine Palestine. Imagine their future just for a moment, yet they keep fighting and believing. So why can't you?
I have seen a mother speaking about how her children ask what it feels like to be hit by a bomb. Does it hurt? Is it immediate death? Or is it suffering? She and her husband had to explain that to them. To not worry, they are all together when they used to say how it will pass and it will be okay.
Bomb doesn't necesseraly kills you immediately. It can rip away parts of your body, give you insane burns, ruin your lungs. Which all results in suffering and very slow and painful death. I have seen a boy who died like that. His whole body was absolutely ruined by burns, later on, he died. The worst thing is, him dying was him receiving mercy given the condition their hospitals are in.
So, to all of the people who support Israel - fuck you.
I have seen a neighbour holding a little boy's hand, trying to soothe the pain of his due to losing his whole family. Can you imagine the fear, the dread of having your whole family killed in an instant? No time to grieve, no grave to go to. No way to say goodbye, no benefit of having a decent burial filled with respect and love.
I have heard about a boy getting hit by the bomb and having his brain and head exploding all over the place.
A doctor who said how he became a doctor to help his people, not to run away. Asking what kind of doctor would he be if he turned away from his people. He died.
Seeing wall writings saying how life hasn't been kind to them. How world doesn't love them. How they kicked their mother's stomach for 9 months only to live like this.
Be aware of which celebrities you support too. You may have different ideas than them, but ultimately, be aware of who you support because yes, their music/films/shows/etc. can be separated from them, but their actions or lack of actions can't.
To "spiritual" people who "don't want to bring their vibe down by talking about genocide" - shut the fuck up. Does this bring your vibe down? Genocide lowers your vibrations and gets in the way of your manifestations? Damn. Talk about self-centered. Talk about being uneducated. Talk about not knowing your own beliefs too. Educate.
I have seen a woman talking about "if you support palestine, you should call a ceasefire" and getting shushed by the whole room, getting recorded, received people clicking their tongues and showing overall annoyance by her sentence.
I will never forget the screams of children, men and women, fathers and mothers either from the pain they were in or from the fact they lost their families.
Regardless, I hope you speak up about Palestine and if you support Israel, I hope you get change of a heart and mind. If you keep on supporting Israel, you are a scum, simple as that. An uneducated, ignorant, sadistic, disgusting scum. To anyone who says "it's not good for my mental health" - I empathize with the fact that it can get hard. I know that empathy without a break is just going to make it worse. So, take a break, take a breather, take some time for yourself.
But once you feel good enough again - post about it. Say something.
To people who are "neutral" - no, you are uneducated. Read a book. There are sources in my pinned post. Either uneducated or simply disinterested in anything that doesn't hurt you which is equally bad.
To all the christians who remain silent, I hope you know there are christian Palestinians too. They are almost all gone. If your religion forbids you to speak up about a genocide which, if you know your bible, you would know that's not the case and what to do and what to say. Speak up. Speak the fuck up.
So, please keep talking about Palestine, please keep supporting them.
I don't understand how some people can't. I wish I could do so much more for them. Sometimes, I just wish to be able to rip my heart out so all of my prayers can be heard, so those people get some peace. I wish for them to get all the future, the opportunities, everything that's good. I wish for them to have all of their dreams come true. I wish for them to survive, to not lose themselves. I can't explain the utter desire I have for them to be okay and how angry I am that some people don't feel the same way as I do.
I am angry, I am beyond angry. I truly wish, with every cell in my being, for them to be okay. And I foolishly hope that my thoughts and prayers will be heard and that this will come to an end soon, but I will keep on doing so. They have my whole heart and soul. I won't give up on them and please, don't let yourself give up on them either. Please keep talking about Palestine.
Talk about Palestine until it's free again and even then, don't stop supporting them. Take into the consideration that they are giving you their traumas, grief, deaths, dreams - everything. They are sharing it all with the world, so listen. Listen and learn. Listen and share. Listen and speak. Listen and understand. Listen and change. Listen and love.
Keep on boycotting, I promise you that you will survive without mc donalds or starbucks.
I just want to hug every single person in Palestine, I wish to be able to take all of their pain away. I wish to be able to give them everything they need and I feel so guilty for not being able to.
I wish for Plestia to publish a book just like she desires. I wish for all of those children to become everything they want to become in life. I wish for them to have peace.
I feel so annoyed and helpless and unhelpful. I truly hope this comes to an end soon, I am praying with my whole being.
Sometimes I wish I was able to give them my own life just to take all of their pain and suffering away, I wish to give them all of my luck, all of my chances, everything. They deserve it all and I am so angry with the world right now. I hate the world right now, but seeing some of them smile while making pizza by using coal oven made me a little bit happier. I wish for you to have many more beautiful pizzas and all the food your heart desires. I wish for you to continue smiling and to survive. I wish for you to get peace and achieve your dreams. I am always rooting for Palestinians and my whole heart is with them.
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losfacedevil · 6 months
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How Do I Say Goodbye // (Skater!Sam)
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a/n~ Alright guys.... this one, oooh does this one make ya girl nervous, like super nervous. I've never built a world quite like this one before and this is only the beginning of something SO much bigger than I ever thought he would be. Buckle up, babes, you're in for a wild ride. (Thank you to my ever so lovely Kait for bringing my skater boy to life!) WC: 4.7k
            Lenny’s Records 
   ~*~ Your Daily Dose Of Vinyl Therapy~*~
Lenny’s Records cropped up in the early 90’s, taking over a long abandoned and in need of much love store front. It slowly became the place to be, with old man Lenny putting in some of the hardest work to make his store front enticing and inviting. Carrying anything from eight-track tapes to the latest  full length records and LPs, Lenny’s carried it all.
The store first caught Sam’s attention in the mid-2000’s, the twelve year olds interests peaked by the records his family often spun; music being the foundation of their daily life.  Pressing his nose to the glass of the big picture window he would take in the countless racks of records, some catching his wide eyes as ones he would love to have in the family collection. 
Stepping foot in the store for the first time as a freshly turned fourteen year old with birthday money burning a hole in his pocket.  He walked the aisles in awe, thousands of records at the tips of his fingers with no real idea of what he was looking for. He sifted through the racks carefully, spending hours just looking. The track lists all catching his eye, record covers of all sorts telling stories without even hearing the music on either side. 
Old man Lenny took notice, the tall scrawny boy sat up against the wall, a stack of records sat to his right as he sifted through his finds looking for the perfect one. he quickly settled on a 12 inch pressing of The Basement Tapes by Bob Dylan and the Band. A smile spread across the mans face as Sam put every record he wasn’t purchasing back where they belonged. 
Sam’s eyes were alight with wonder as he approached the register, his eyes never leaving the track list set across the back of the record as he placed it on the counter. Lenny picked up the record, looking it over before finding Sam’s gaze.
“Nice choice, kid. You into all the folk rock sounding stuff?” Lenny asked, watching as Sam’s eyes lit up once more. Sam nodded quickly as he dug his money out of his pants pocket. 
“We listen to a bunch of different music at home. My parents record collection is huge but I wanted to start my own so they gave me money for my birthday to get my first record.” Sam rambled, music being a passion of the Kiszka family household. Lenny chuckled, placing the record down on the counter and slid it back Sam’s way. 
“Your first record huh? This one’s on the house. Happy birthday, son.” 
~*~*~
Sam’s relationship with Lenny grew from that day forward. Many long afternoons spend in the record shop keeping the older gentleman company as months quickly turned into years. A quiet spot at the side of the shop set up for Sam to hang out at when he had homework to catch up on. Most of his essays consisting of old man Lenny’s ramblings which never made any sense to Sam but set him up to nail his papers every single time. 
Lenny was one of Sam’s biggest supporter, next to his parents. He’d make sure the youngster had everything he needed, from slipping him a twenty dollar bill for the school store to surprising him with a backpack full of supplies the week before he started his senior year of high school. He would often joke with Sam’s parents about wanting his cut of child support, the boy spending more time with Lenny than his own parents but the older man wouldn’t have it any other way. 
Sam never thought twice about heading to the record shop. His home away from home even on the worst of days. Lenny knew all about Sam’s ups and down, his strengths and weaknesses. How much he enjoyed space and all things NASA but really struggled where writing essays and forming coherent sentences were involved. 
The first time Sammy suffered with a broken heart he turned to Lenny. His brothers having just snickered because ‘you’re just a teenager, Samuel.’ The older gentleman talking him through the narrow roads of the heart break in the best way he could. 
It didn’t take long for Sam to begin helping out around the shop, forgetting about the homework he should’ve been doing. Math equations and history questions thrown to the wayside as a truck with new stock rolled in. 
“Got it in an auction, there were too many good titles to pass up.” Lenny would shrug, nodding to a crate full of new records for Sam to sift through. “Aht! Not until you finish that calculus homework, son. What would your mother take me for if I put you to work before your school work was done?” He’d chuckle and shake his head as Sam poured and slumped back down in his cushioned kitchen chair. 
Sam never knew why old man Lenny was so nice to him. Giving him odd jobs around the shop to earn some pocket cash. Teaching him the ins and outs of the different instruments he had hung behind the register - his own personal collection sat beautifully next to his beloved first sale dollars. 
If he knew one thing though, he knew Lenny was someone special, someone you don’t come across very often in your life. From confiding in him about things his brothers did, showing off what he had taught himself on the bass and right down to having his first beer with him.
Sam had laughed that boisterous, just him, laugh as Lenny gave him a standing ovation at his high school graduation. With his valedictorian speech behind him he looked out at the crowd to see all three of his parents stood tall, hands clapping high above their heads as tears streamed down their cheeks. 
~*~*~
Harvard Business School. 
Somehow, some way, Sam had secured his spot in the one school he merely dreamed of attending. The letter came late one October afternoon, bringing his parents into the shop right before closing time. Lenny beamed from ear to ear as Karen shook the letter in the air, the fingers on her other hand crossed as she handed the letter to Sam. With shaky hands he held it to the light, trying to stealthy see the words on the page inside. His father, Kelly, clapped a reassuring hand down onto Sam’s shoulder with softly spoken words of encouragement. 
He slowly broke the seal on the letter, eyes searching for Lenny for that third leg of support. Lenny beamed at Sam with his middle and index fingers crossed on both hands and a soft nod in the youngsters direction. Sam’s eyes slipped shut as he pulled the letter out, letting the envelope flutter to the floor.
Sam slowly unfolded the letter and pulled a deep breath in through his nose, eyes darting between the three adults stood before him. He shook the paper, causing his mother to jump and his father to squeeze against his shoulder once more, both of them over his game of stalling. He made eye contact with Karen, a reassuring smile spread across her face as he slowly lifted the letter and broke their stare. His eyes danced across the page, widening slightly as his jaw slackened and the muscles in his hands forgot how to work together to form a grip. 
The paper fluttered to the floor and landed at Karen’s feet. With her head cocked to the side and a concerned look about her features she bent at the waist and gingerly picked the paper up off the floor. Her hands shook just as Sam’s had as she turned her focus to the letter and her eyes danced quickly across the page. 
“He got in. Kelly, HE GOT IN!” Sam’s jaw sat slackened as his father wrapped his arms around him, a wild whoop of congratulations spilling from his parents as they took him in their arms. 
His shifted his gaze to where Lenny stood behind the counter, hand held over his mouth as tears welled in his eyes. The look of a proud parent splayed across his face all the same as he watched the family have their celebratory moment. 
“I… I did it.” Sam’s voice was but a whisper as he spoke his future into existence; earning himself the widest smile he had ever seen on old man Lenny’s face. 
“That’s my boy. I told you you had a bright one on your hands.” Lenny cooed, nodding his head in the Kiszka’s direction. Karen laughed, making her way over to where the older gentleman stood. 
“We can’t take all the credit, he’s been pestering you for years. You’ve helped keep him on track too!” 
Sam’s going away party was one for the books. From the embarrassing photos his mother strung up on the ends of streamers to the piñata that Josh claimed he just ‘had to have’ full of his favorite nips, he could feel just how loved he truly was. 
He found himself lost in thought, swirling the drink he held in his hand as he watched his brothers fight over whose turn it was to whack the piñata. Soft giggles emitting from his chest as his mom made her way over to him and wrapped her arm around his shoulders. She pressed a soft kiss to his temple, running her hand over the length of his arm and he rested his head against her shoulder. 
“Lenny’s in the house if you want to go say hi. He’s not feeling too great so I don’t think he’s staying long.” Karen cooed, trying to hide the look of concern in her eyes. Sam perked up, holding his cup out to his mom as he turned on his heel and headed towards the house. 
“We’re gonna have to tell him, you know. Len’s not gonna break that boys heart.” Kelly cooed, sidling up behind Karen. She nodded her head sadly, watching through the kitchen window as Sam embraced the older man, throwing his head back in a fit of laughter as Lenny slammed a six pack down on the counter top. 
“Not today, we can’t break his spirit. He won’t want to leave if he knows Lenny might not be here when he gets back.” Karen’s eyes welled with tears as she thought of the news Lenny delivered upon entering the house. Stage two lung cancer - there was only so much that could be done. 
“He’ll hate us more if he comes home to find Lenny’s no longer with us and no one told him.” A sigh slipped past Karen’s lips as what her husband said sunk in. 
~*~*~
Four years. 
Sam had been out of state for four years, with the occasional trip back home to see his parents. He had learned the hard way that college was no joke, having almost failed out of his first year because he wasn’t sure just how to juggle the work load. 
“I don’t know how much more I have in me, Lenny. Graduations in two months I’m almost there but, it’s tough out here. But I’m gonna come home this weekend to see you and mom and dad.” Sam sighed, pacing the length of his dorm room. Lenny chuckled on the other end, taking a deep breath as oxygen pumped it way through the cannula. 
“Don’t say that, you’re the brightest star I know. We’ll be watching you cross that stage in no time.” Lenny fought the cough that bubbled in his chest - not wanting Sam to know he was sick. 
“I know but this is hard, I’ve fought so much and if this last essay takes me out I’m done I won’t be graduating and there’s no way I’m retaking this class. I’ll just be drop out Kiszka.” Lenny chuckled at Sam’s outburst, causing the cough he was fighting to sneak out, the wheezing in his chest too much for him. 
“If we have any say you won’t be drop out Kiszka. I may be old but I can still give you a what for, Samuel. But this old man has to jet, it’s past my bedtime.” Sam glanced at the watch that adored his wrist. 
“Yeah I guess is it late for an old geezer like you, huh? I’ll see you think weekend though, okay? I love you Leonard.” Sam chuckled, the soft I love you sent down the line raising goosebumps on his skin as the line went dead. That was the last time Sam would ever speak to old man Lenny.
The weekend came and gone, the essay he was stressing over keeping him holed up in his dorm room rather than catching his already booked plane back home. A quick call to his mom late Friday afternoon breaking the news to her and telling her to let Lenny know he’d make sure to see him soon. 
Karen hung up with Sam and turned to her husband, tears welling in her eyes as her heart shattered in her chest. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Sam that Lenny had passed during the week, a sudden cardiac arrest taking the elderly man in his sleep. Kelly shook his head, slowly making his way over to where his wife stood and wrapped his arms around her. 
“He’s gonna wonder why Lenny isn’t at his graduation. We have to tell him before then.” Karen shook her head, a sob escaping her chest as she melted into her husbands embrace. 
“He’ll want to come home. It’s almost finals week, he can’t forfeit his education now.” A sigh slipped past Kelly’s lips and he pressed a soft kiss to his wife’s head. 
“He’s gonna hate us.” 
~*~*~
Sam shook with nerves as he sat with his graduating college class in the buildings cafeteria. His eyes roamed the seats behind his class of twenty-five, looking eagerly for the three adults he knew would be watching with tearful eyes. But he heart sank in his chest as his eyes landed on his parents and eldest brothers, old man Lenny nowhere in sight. Sam plastered a smile on his face as he waved to his parents and brother, not wanting them to know he was upset. 
He walked the stage quickly, shaking the hand of the person handing out the diplomas and held the certificate high in the air, a theatrical bow taken before making his way off of the stage. He wasted no time in making his way over to his family, pulling his mother into a bone crushing hug. 
“Congratulations baby.” Karen cooed, wrapping her arms around Sam’s mid section as her boy now towered over her. He reached out to fist bump Josh and Jake, never letting go of his mom. 
“I made the Dean’s List too! I tried to call Lenny earlier cause I thought he’d be with you so I could just tell you all but, he didn’t answer.” Sam shrugged, pulling back to open the diploma he held in his hand. 
“He’s not feeling too hot, but he sends his love.” Jake was quick on his feet, clapping a hand down on Sam’s shoulder. The younger boy nodded, awe etched on his face as he started down at his Bachelor of Science in Business Administration certificate. 
“Hopefully he’s back on his feet by the time I get home. I can’t wait to show him this. I did it guys. We did it.” Sam was beaming as the realization that his hard work had fully paid off set in. 
Karen met Jake’s gaze, a sigh of relief slipping past her lips at the boys quick thinking. She knew she had to tell Sam soon, but the thought of breaking his heart hurt her more than letting it be for the time being. 
~*~*~
Jake knew he was going to have to be the one to break the news to Sam. 
His parents flat out refused, even with him now fully finished with his schooling. They wanted him to enjoy the rest of his time out of state, knowing his heart would be shattered the moment the words slipped past their lips. 
Jake spoke to his mom late one night, telling her he was going to be the one to help Sam move out, saving his parents the long trip he knew they despised. Karen had shaken her head vehemently, protesting that she and her husband had to be the ones to pick Sam up, to shelter him just a little more before he found out the news on his own. 
“That’s fucked up, you can’t just let him skate down to Lenny’s thinking he’s gonna find the old man only to be met with his obituary taped up on the window or them cleaning it out to rent the space. Do you know how traumatizing and damaging that would be?! I had to LIE TO HIM at his graduation, you don’t think he’s gonna be mad at me too?! I’ll pick him up, I’ll talk to him and I’ll be the one to take him to Lenny’s to pay his respects. I don’t understand what’s WRONG WITH YOU AND DAD!” 
Jake’s voice rose higher than it ever had, reverberating off of the walls as the pent up anger released itself all on his poor unsuspecting mother. She hung her head, tears welling in her eyes as her heart shattered, not only because her son had just screamed at her, but because her youngest was about to walk right into the biggest heartbreak of his young life. Karen nodded as she kept her eyes trained on her feet, not wanting to make eye contact with the fuming man that stood before her. His chest heaved as he stalked away from his mother, the wild shaking of his head solidifying the way he felt about the situation at hand. 
The soft sound of knuckles against his door shook him from his thoughts, causing the boy to spin where he stood. His older brother stood in the doorway, shoulder leaned up against the door jamb as he took in Jakes disheveled appearance. A sigh slipped past Josh’s lips as he made his way into his brothers bedroom, reaching his arms out to embrace Jake. Jakes reserve broke as he wrapped his arms around Josh, pulling a deep breath in through his nose. 
“They’re not going to tell him. They’re literally going to let him find out himself. We can’t let that happen.” Jakes voice shook as he buried his face in the crook of Josh’s neck,  just the thought of Sam’s heart shattering too much for him. 
The death of a loved one was a hard subject to approach. Especially when the death of a loved one wasn’t something Sam had ever fully experienced. They had been fortunate enough to coast through life never losing anyone close enough to them to feel the impact. The loss of Lenny was going to cut deep, the pain and heartbreak it would cause Sam not something Jake was fully ready to endure. 
He ran through different ways to word it as he boarded his flight, knowing there was only a matter of hours left before he was face to face with his baby brother. Timing would be everything when breaking the news to Sam, and Jake had no idea when the right time would be. 
~*~*~
Jake expected the confusion that played across Sam’s face as he opened the door to his nearly empty dorm room to find his brother standing there. Jake plastered a fake smile on his lips as he opened his arms and embraced his brother. 
“Where’s mom?” Sam was curious, pushing the door open just enough for Jake to sneak through as he turned on his heel to finish packing his luggage.
“Work stuff came up, she asked me to come instead, are you almost ready?” Jake clapped, rubbing his hands together as he glanced around the empty dorm room. Sam nodded, pointing at one last tote bag sat in the corner of his room. 
“Be careful with that one, it’s a bunch of new records I got on adventures out here. I think Len’s gonna be impressed with some of the titles I got my hands on. Old bastards been looking for a few Blue Oyster Cult pressings I finally managed to find for a decent price.”
A silent sigh slipped past Jake’s nose as he felt his heart break more for his baby brother. He still hadn’t found the words to lessen the pain of the news he had taken upon himself to deliver. Hot tears began to prickle the backs of his eyes as he turned away, knowing that his expression would betray him. 
“How is Len? Last time I talked to mom she told me he wasn’t feeling too well. Something about a chest infection? I don’t remember.” 
Jake took a deep breath, slowly blowing it out before turning to face Sam. He remained with his back turned to Jake, quickly stuffing the last of his beloved band t-shirts into the last suitcase. The older boy took a step forward, closing the distance between them and placed a gentle hand against Sam’s shoulder. 
“I… I’m so sorry, Sammy.” The younger boy tensed at the sound of his name. The nickname only slipping past his brothers lips once before. Sam turned to face Jake, eyes wide with concern as he took in the expression on his brothers face. 
“Lenny’s okay, right?” Sam steeled himself, bracing his heart for the impact of what Jake was about to say. A sigh slipped past Jakes lips as he shook his head solemnly and reached up to place his other hand on Sam’s shoulder. 
“I’m sorry, Sammy, so so fucking sorry. Lenny… Lenny passed away.” Jakes breath caught in his throat as he watched his little brother process the information he was just given. Sam opened his mouth to speak, his eyes darting everywhere but Jakes face as his heart shattered. 
“No, you’re lying. I JUST talked to him before graduation. When?” Sam couldn’t form full thoughts, his mind reeling. 
“The weekend you were supposed to come visit. He died overnight in his sleep that Wednesday. Lenny had lung cancer Sam, not an infection. Mom didn’t know how to tell you and you know the old bastard Lenny himself wasn’t going to tell you. He didn’t want to interfere with your schooling, he wanted you to get your degree Sammy, he was so fucking proud of you. You hear me? He was so fucking proud. He wanted nothing more than to be at your graduation with mom and dad.” 
Hot tears spilled down Jakes cheeks as Sam collapsed against him. Loud sobs emitted from the younger boys chest as he fully understood the words that slipped past Jakes lips. His best friend, his right hand man gone. Jake wrapped his arms around Sam, rocking the boy from side to side. Sam’s grip on Jake tightened as his knees began to give way, his body fully overwhelmed with the sensations running through it. 
“Cmon buddy, sit, please. Before you take us both out.” Jake nudged him in the direction of the twin size bed, letting go of his brother just enough for him to bend at the knees and sit on the edge of the bed. 
“I don’t understand.” Sam reached up, running his hands down his face as fresh tears welled up in his eyes.
“He was sick, Sammy. He was sick for so long and he refused to tell you. He wouldn’t even let on there was anything wrong. No one wanted to hurt you, we knew getting into Harvard was everything to you and old man Lenny wouldn’t let us tell you. He thought you’d drop out and come home if you knew. He… he thought he’d be okay but an undiagnosed complication happened and took him from us. I’m sorry this is the way you’re finding out.” 
Sam sighed, his upset quickly turning to anger as the weight of what he was just told sunk in. Curling his hand into a fist he brought it up and slammed it down against his thigh, needing to feel anything other than the sorrow that ate at his heart.
“You all lied to me. You told me he was okay. When he wouldn’t answer the phone I’d call mom and she’d tell me he as fine just under the weather. YOU LIED AT MY GRADUATION! Right to my fucking face. You fucking lied to me.” 
~*~*~
Sam was mad at the world, at Lenny for leaving him, and most of all at his family for not telling him. Though he understood the intentions behind it he couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that they had hid this from him. He slammed his way into their childhood home, storming up the stairs to his room as Jake emptied the car of his belongings. 
The ride from the airport had been silent, not a single from uttered from either boy as Josh tried his hardest to smooth over the rough edges. Sam had sat in the back seat, without even so much of an utterance of ‘shot gun’; AirPods shoved into both ears as he focused his attention out the window. Josh had known right away that the conversation hadn’t gone well, somber looks gracing both of his younger brothers expressions. 
He reached back towards Sam, placing a reassuring hand against his knee and gave it a gentle squeeze. Sam eyed Josh carefully, knowing full well he was just as guilty of not telling him what was going on. Josh bit his bottom lip, nodding his head as he retracted his hand and turned to face Jake. 
“He’s pissed at all of us, isn’t he?” Josh mumbled, catching sight of Sam’s side profile in the rear view mirror. Jake nodded solemnly, bringing his hand to his face and began to nibble on the skin around his nails. 
“He’s mad we all lied to him and that he wasn’t told Lenny was sick. He wants nothing to do with mom and dad either. I’m gonna have you swing by Lenny’s really quick just so he can see the obituary. I’ll bring him back later once he’s gotten some rest.” 
Josh nodded gently, quickly throwing the car into drive and took off away from the airport. 
He wanted nothing to do with his older brother trying to get him out of the car. Pulling up in front of Lenny’s was the last thing Sam had wanted to do. He didn’t think he had the strength to walk up to that door knowing it was locked and not a single soul would be beyond the door. 
A picture of Lenny had been posted up on the inside of the picture window. Signed poster boards and prayer candles sat against the side of the building, a way many were paying their respects. A sigh slipped past Sam’s lips as he saw the memorial sight, slowly pulling himself out of the car and made his way over to the window. 
“The fuck, you weren’t supposed to leave me, old man.” Sam chuckled, his eyes landing on the now faded newspaper clipping taped up next to Lenny’s photo. The obituary was short and sweet with a brief overview of the mans life, how he had become ill and that he was survived by two sons and an adopted son. Tears welled in Sam’s eyes as they skimmed over his own name. 
“What’s gonna happen now, Leonard? You’ve abandoned your shop - our shop. Who’s gonna take care of her?!” Sam joked, his voice barely above a whisper as he started up at the elderly man. Reaching up he pressed his fingers to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the skin before lifting his hand and pressing it against the glass. 
He nodded once more before turning on his heel and came face to face with Jake. His older brother held his arm out, snaking it around Sam’s shoulders as he pulled the younger boy into his embrace. A shaky breath slipped past Sam’s lips as he composed himself, reaching up to press his fingers against his eyes, trying to squeeze out any left over tears - he couldn’t let Josh see him cry. 
“We’ll come back when Mike’s around. He knows you want to go in at least once more before they fully gut the place. Let’s get home.” Sam nodded, pulling back from his brothers embrace and slid back into the backseat of the car.
TAGLIST: @gretasmokerising @ascendingtostardust @sammysprincess @sammykiszkamyass @belovedsamuel @puzzle-gvf @sunfl0wer-power @vanfleeter @twistedmelodies @miguelnation @gracev0609 @runwayblues @sparrowofthedawnsworld
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randomvarious · 7 months
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Today's compilation:
Hed Kandi: Disco Kandi 2000 House / Garage House / Nu-Disco
Good God, what a terrific pair of discs here from the ever-consistent dance comp label Hed Kandi. With this first ever installment in their Disco Kandi series, the UK outfit supplies a steady stream of ephemeral house bangers from the late 90s and 2000, with a lot of the selections sounding contemporary, but also managing to channel an invigorating old-school disco spirit too. And many of these glitz-glammy, high-quality productions also collectively continue to progress from the sonic tradition that first started in famed New York DJ Larry Levan's Paradise Garage nightclub in the late 70s, where he nurtured a more vocally soulful and R&B-rooted house sound into the late 80s that would come to be known simply as 'garage.' And after the Paradise Garage's closure, that garage sound would find popularity at a club in New Jersey called Zanzibar too, where Tony Humphries would continue to spin it.
Now, despite a few of these tracks having somewhat remarkably high YouTube play counts, all of them were and still are definitely underground; that is, except for one. And this particular tune that I'm referring to wasn't just mainstream, but it really managed to lace the hell out of a lot of US contemporary hit radio stations back in the late 90s, even though it only ended up peaking at #52 on the Billboard Hot 100, overall. Basically, if you tuned into your local pop or more dance-oriented station on anything close to a regular basis back then, there's almost no way that you could've avoided one-off supertrio Stars on 54's cover of Gordon Lightfoot's 1970 soft folk-rock classic, "If You Could Read My Mind," which saw Amber, Jocelyn Enriquez, and Ultra Naté teaming up to record a song for the soundtrack to the disco period flick, 54. Really classic radio gold right there that a lot of people probably haven't thought about in a long while.
And then just as you're finished reminiscing on whatever fond memories you might hold that are associated with that particular song, quite possibly the most impressive track of all within this two-disc set ends up directly following it: the Matthew Roberts and Richard Fite remix of Eclipse's "Makes Me Love You." This one has a big, sun-shining pool party vibe to it, as it combines lustrous disco strings, funkily plucked guitar, a fuzzy-thick corrugated bassline, and piano keys, all while employing a lovely filter technique, which is that really popular thing that house musicians got to doing around this time period, in which certain elements sound distant and submerged, and as they continuously loop, keep sounding closer and clearer, until they satisfyingly breach the surface and hit their glorious peak. And that's maybe my favorite type of house music in the whole world 😊.
So, a really enjoyable way to spend over two and a half hours here, with a hefty dose of  super sleek house tunes, a lot of which are on a nu-disco and garage tip. And it was collected by the always seemingly on point Hed Kandi label too, which has never steered me wrong before!
Highlights:
CD1:
Cunnie Williams - "A World Celebration (Mousse T's Party Lick)" Lovestation - "Teardrops (Joey Negro 12" mix)" Bini + Martini -" Happiness (B+M's new re-edit)" Paul Johnson - "Get Get Down (Dancefloor dub)" Fire Island - "There but for the Grace of God (Joey Negro mix)" Soulsearcher - "Can't Get Enough (vocal club mix)" Stars on 54 - "If You Could Read My Mind (original club mix)" Eclipse - "Makes Me Love You (Morning Star mix)" Darryl Pandy meets Nerio's Dubwork - "Sunshine & Happiness (Nerio's Dubwork mix)" Glaubitz & Roc - "Sunshine Day (extended mix)" Jaydee vs. Bo Horne - "Spank (Exit EEE's alternative mix)"
CD2:
The Lab Rats presents The Experiment feat. Lisa Millett - "Music Is My Way of Life (Lab Rats Main Experiment)" Choo Choo Project - "Hazin' & Phazin' (Lab Rat's Funkin' With Choo Choo)" Sun Kids feat. Chance - "Rescue Me (Bini + Martini 999 Funk mix)" Phunkie Souls - "The Music (Richard F "Defected" re-edit)" Z-Factor - "Make a Move on Me (extended 12" mix)" Michael Moog - "That Sound (Full Intention mix)" Novy vs. Eniac - "Superstar (Full Intention mix)" Duke - "So in Love With You (Full Intention mix)"
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