#finally played dance rush stardom though

[sleepdepravity]

Got to play rhythm games in an arcade here finally. Sometimes you just have to throw away your pride and dance to Death By Glamour.

#vacationtag #I didn’t even do it on purpose. the game just chose it for me I guess. #finally played dance rush stardom though #wow…….just like my fanfics………

[art-dump-for-avery]

If It Means A Lot To You

AU info/chapter index || Next

Chapter 1: Put your blood on ice

Warnings for this chapter: unintentional deadnaming and misgendering, let me know if I need to add more

Summary: After the final concert of his tour, Roman finds himself reflecting on his past and present, and makes the decision to do something about it.

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Roman could remember clear as day the dreams if his childhood. Years of watching Disney had told him he could be anything. At first, he wanted to be a prince - a hero who saved the day and was adored by all. He later realized that wasn't a very likely future, so he chose something he knew he had a shot at: stardom.

For as long as he could remember, he'd had a talent for the performing arts. Singing, dancing, acting, even songwriting - it all came as naturally to him as breathing.

Roman's heart had long ached for the spotlight, The adoring fans, the fame, the freedom. He fought tooth and nail for every chance to make himself known, even leaving behind everything he'd ever known, and now, after so many years, he had what he wanted.

Except...no. This wasn't what he wanted. Not at all.

When you're a kid, your view of fame is skewed. Rose-tinted glasses only let you see the money, praise, opportunity, and everything good that comes with being a celebrity.

But it isn't the truth. The truth is that once you become someone everyone knows, you have to make sure you're always known. Little by little, the things that make you who you are can end up being chipped away. The songs you write may mean nothing to you, the characters you play can feed into a loss of self, and each time you dance you may feel more and more like a puppet on strings.

Life among the stars is so deceptively beautiful that you can become oblivious to the fact that your own starlight is flickering out. Coldly, slowly, and lonely, the limelight kills the dreams of those who seek it. Roman had learned that the hard way.

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“Thank you all for coming, and have a wonderful night!” Roman waved to the crowd of screaming fans as he walked offstage, gratefully accepting the water bottle offered to him. Finally, the tour was over. Just a few public appearances and he could go home.

He cringed. He really wouldn't say the mansion he lived in was his home. It was really just his place of residence. He hadn't had a real home in years.

“Hey! Earth to Roman!” The singer was literally snapped out of his thoughts by his bodyguard, Remy, who looked equal parts annoyed and concerned. “Were you even listening?”

Roman huffed a nervous laugh. “Sorry. You know I space out after shows sometimes.”

“This is the seventh performance in a row that's happened.” Remy raised his sunglasses to the top of his head. “Are you sure you're not subconsciously starving or losing sleep?”

“I'm fine Rem,” Roman sighed. “This tour has just been..a lot. I just wanna curl up in my bed for a decade, that’s all.”

His friend’s only response was a muttered “Mood” before walking with Roman back to his dressing room. The tech crew backstage rushed past the two, offering quick words of praise before continuing on with their post-show responsibilities. Everyone seemed so much more eager to do their jobs this time. After all, the sooner everything was done, the sooner they could finally rest. Many had been hired to help with the entire tour and had been on the road for months. But now, they could finally go home and sleep in their own beds, and Roman could practically feel their relief.

Remy held open the dressing room door, the performer thanking him as he stepped inside. The moment he heard it click shut behind him, though, he let his shoulders drop. Finally, for the first time in months, he was able to stop for a breath.

Don’t get the wrong idea, he loved this. Loved being able to perform for thousands of people, loved getting to travel the world and sharing his creations. It was all he ever wanted when he was younger — and it still is! The letters he keeps stored safely at home, from fans who have found comfort and meaning in life and are still alive thanks to his older music, they make all of the mental and physical exhaustion worth it.

That doesn’t make it any easier to ignore the ache buried deep into his very soul. The pain of trying to pour his heart out into a song that has no room for his heart at all. The interviews that slowly feel more and more scripted. The clothes that scream “rich guy with more money than he knows what to do with” but never scream “Roman”.

God, he can’t even remember the last time he truly felt like himself.

He collapses into the chair in front of his vanity with a heavy sigh, and lets his head fall back to stare up at the ceiling. Whatever remaining tension is left in his body, he lets it melt away with a few deep breaths.

“Almost over,” he mutters to himself. He says it over and over, like a reassurance and almost like a prayer. Maybe once this was over, he’d try to go visit Janus. The last time he got to see her was very briefly at one of her concerts almost a year ago.

A quiet 'ping' rings out from his phone, drawing him from his musing. He looks at the notification and sees that it's from one of his private social media accounts, ones he uses to share his personal life without being bombarded by fans or corporations looking for exposure.

It's one of those time-line memory notifications, (you know the ones) with the memory dated back to when he first made the account in high school. With his curiosity piqued, he tapped on the screen to open the post.

A picture appeared on the screen. Three teenagers, two in the background dancing around in the rain, and one taking the picture in selfie mode, rolling his eyes with a fond smile. It made the ache in Roman’s chest grow painful one again.

The person taking the photo was him, he knew it was, but he still felt as though he were looking at a stranger. He had changed so much, a quick glance in the mirror in front of him was confirmation enough.

But it was the people in the background who hurt the most to see. His twin sister, Rebecca, and his ex, Virgil. They were the only two people in the world who had cared about him back then.

But that was ages ago. Roman lost their care when he decided to run away, his last words to Virgil being cruel accusations, and he didn't even leave a note for Rebecca, let alone say goodbye.

That was what he regretted most. Not that he left them behind (though sometimes he wished he hadn't), but how he had left. After all they'd done for him, they deserved better.

Rebecca was his first best friend. From the moment they were born, they were inseparable. As they grew, they fought more and more, as siblings do, but they were always there for each other. Even when their home and school lives were hell, they always knew that their twin would have their back. He should have brought her along, or at least said goodbye somehow. She probably hates him now, if she doesn't think he's dead in a ditch somewhere. He wouldn't blame her.

And Virgil — God, Virgil was the love of his life, had been nothing but supportive of Roman's dreams, and what did he get in return? An ungrateful (now ex-)boyfriend and a broken promise of forever among the stars. Worst of all, Roman never moved on. He had a few dates here and there, sure, but none of them stuck. Not like Virgil had. The guilt of it ate at him, because really, he had no right wanting to cross a bridge long burned when he was the one who lit the fire.

They both deserved better, or an apology at least. And an explanation for why he left in the first place.

The thought had him sitting up straight in his chair. That was it, wasn't it — part of the weight on his conscience. He needed — no, wanted to make amends with the people he hurt in his desperate climb to the top. Apologize to Virgil, for lashing out after all that Virgil had given him. And to Rebecca, for leaving during the years when it was most important for them to be at each other's sides.

And seeing as the tour was coming to an end with no plans for afterwards, he had all the time in the world.

He could finally say sorry.

With his mind made up, he stood and got ready to head back out for a few final fan meet-n-greets before turning in for the night. He'd make it through the interviews over the next week, then immediately hit the road. The sooner he was back home, the better.

He had much more important things to get to.

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(Hope I actually finish this one so it'll stop bouncing in my brain. Enjoy)

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #my fics #iimalty au

[lydias--stiles]

and in the haze you see colours

juke | human soulmate au | title: 5 am // amber run

The first colour she ever saw was purple.

When someone was born, they got to see one colour. To each it was different and often a reflection of one's aura. Julie's aura was purple and, naturally, it was the colour she could see. Which was unfortunate, as there weren't many purple things in life - not naturally, at least.

And so, her entire bedroom was purple. Purple walls and purple sheets and purple stationary. The rest were varying shades of grey. Often times, she asked her parents why some were lighter than others, and they told her about green and blue and red. It sounded like a fairy tale. Red was warm, apparently, and blue was flexible and green was fresh. Despite their best attempts, she couldn't visualise it.

It didn't matter. Once she met her soulmate, she would see all the colours imaginable.

Befriending Flynn was easy. The girl had purple ribbons in her hair and that instantly attracted Julie. Vice versa, Julie's orange dress was a plus for Flynn. Through their deep bond, oranges slowly infused itself in her cornea. Orange, like a child's laughter.

With Carrie came pink. Pink, like the fiery moves of a dancer. It was close to purple, so it wasn't a huge shock to see a bouquet of roses suddenly come alive with colour.

In retrospect, gaining orange and pink wasn't that amazing. Not when she lost her mother while doing so. Placing pink dahlias on her grave was just another punch in the gut.

Years passed and people around her found their soulmates. In freshmen year, so many students gasped and fainted as they crossed eyes with their One. She went to parties and someone would start randomly kissing the other. She went to open mics and watched as her soprano voice accompanied two people finding love. It was as beautiful as it was tragic.

Julie was seventeen and she still hadn't found her soulmate. Statistically, most had by now. Had she not gone to The Orpheum that night, she might’ve waited even longer.

Flynn urged her to go to this new and upcoming band, Sunset Curve, as their sound was someone she’d vibe with. Julie wasn’t really feeling it, drowning in homework and song ideas, but her friend was persistent. They needed a breather from everything and a concert was the perfect remedy. After a quick Google search, she realised they were her age. Curiosity swelled in her chest, wondering how they moved up from open mics or school assemblies to the iconic stage of The Orpheum. The only thing she could note about the band was the drummer’s pink hoodie. That was it.

The venue was packed when they arrived. Boisterous chatter, antsy for the band to come on stage and fill the spaces between the instruments. Glasses chiming of sodas and beers being filled and passed around, the soft hum of pop music blaring from a speaker. Most of the crowd were kids from neighbouring schools and all dressed more alternatively. Though she didn’t see most colours, it was clear as day the band tees were vintage and the trousers were ripped or checkered or both.

She shot Flynn a look. “Are you sure this is our thing?”

“Yes!” Propelling them to the front of the stage and consequently shouldering kids in the ribs, she added: “Their biggest hit is, like, insane. And you’ve been in a funk all week, so you need some insanity. To like, counteract it. I don’t know.”

Julie withheld a pout. She’s been ‘in a funk’, because while she was at Eats & Beats grabbing a coffee, two strangers fawned at the sight of each other. RIght in front of her nose, another couple found. It normally didn’t affect her that much, but it did this time. The girl was sick of hearing about romantical love instead of experiencing it herself. Sure, she had Flynn and Carrie and her family, but…

But she wanted that. She wanted more. And with each ticking hour, it felt less and less viable. Where was the One for her?  

The lights dimmed and the pop music stopped, smoke drifting across the stage as the audience began hollering and whistling. Egging the band to get on and give a performance worth watching. The hyped-up teens pushed everyone to the front, now Julie and Flynn forced to crane their necks to watch.

The drummer came on first, all applauding for him as he took his seat and started a drum beat that quickly upped in tempo. It swept them up in an atmosphere, heads bobbing and feeling that rise in anticipation.

Then the bassist came. His dark jacket glittered in the overhead lights, the flannel peaking beneath almost hinting at orange but remaining grey. He added to the beat, bringing in a bassline that had feet bouncing and more people cheering. The mic at the front remained empty, teasing its explosion of lyrics and electricity.

Finally, at the crescendo of sound, the frontman stormed on. He was all charm and smirks and cut-offs and blazing purple shoes. That caught her off guard, eyes dropping to the ultraviolet sneakers. A shock of colour amidst the grey.

His raspy voice belted out lyrics, a grin pulling on Julie’s face at the musicality. Grabbing Flynn’s hand, they jumped around with the other people. Their music was insane. It was fast and clashing and aggressive and raw.

With her neck in its odd position, she observed the singer for a beat. He was… hot. That was all Julie could think. He was hot. His hair falling perfectly right, big eyes, the smile breaking all lines in his face like a beautiful mosaic. Humming like an undercurrent was a buzz right beneath her ribs. Snug and warm, which could’ve been the vibrations from the amps, but it felt different. A good different.

They were in their fourth song when it happened. The band was kicking and jumping around, singing about making it big and not looking down, skyrocketing to stardom, when it happened.

The lead singer dropped to his knees and let the guitar riff bleed to the front row. The audience hollered, Julie laughing in delight at the expert playing, when her and the guy’s gazes met.

He yelped, music stopping short as he careened over the edge and crashed to the floor. Simultaneously, Julie felt the air knocked out of her lungs, losing balance and falling into Flynn. Her eyes were shrivelling with heat, as if hit with the embers of a campfire. A hammer slammed down on the buzz in her chest, electrifying the feeling till it was nearly unbearable.

Her eyes shot open. And then there was colour.  

The crowd dispersed in fright. Gasps and gawks echoed to the back, curious murmurs carefully watching the guy and the girl come to their senses.

“Flynn,” she exclaimed, grabbing for her friend. “Flynn, I can-”

Except she wasn’t there, joining the rest of the crowd further back. The bassist and drummer were watching on, baffled.

Oh. Her stare drifted to the squirming boy on the floor. Oh.

Luke scrambled upright, instantly coming face to face with Front Row Girl and all the colours he has wished to see forever. His eyes were burning from shock and euphoria, greys and whites bleeding out of his bloodstream.

Her hands grasped for his face, worried, lips forming words he hardly registered but vaguely processed as ‘asking if he was okay.’

“Y-yeah, yeah,” he stuttered, his gaze racing across her features to wholly take her in.

Warm skin and wide, brown eyes and dark lashes and curled, pink lips and a pointed chin and glossy, long curls dancing against her cheeks and soft hands and red - she was wearing red. His colour. His soulmate.

He laughed. “Hi.”

She matched it, giggling. “Hey.”

“Hi,” he sighed, still in disbelief that she was his soulmate. His soulmate. His soulmate. The One.

Her trembling smile softened, thumbs swiping across his cheekbones. “You have really pretty eyes,” she whispered.

Her own were shining with unshed tears and he felt himself choking up too. Never in a million years did he think he’d meet his soulmate. To him, it had always been music. Sure, it sounded nice, but he knew he shouldn’t be yearning for it. He had his friends - his aura was red and he gained pink from Alex and yellow from Reggie.

But suddenly she was here. She was really here.

“You’re- pretty-” he stumbled, causing her to laugh again.

Yeah, there was no way he’d be able to continue the gig. The Orpheum was a big deal, but meeting your soulmate? Most monumental moment of anyone's life.

There was so much colour now. So much life. There was so much more than just music and red and pink and yellow to enjoy. (Songs swirled in his mind though, exciting him to the bone as his hands slid to grab her own. Winking all coy, like the best was yet to come.)

“Do you wanna talk?” he rushed out after.

She nodded. “Yeah. You- uh- your band-”

Their fingers intertwined, warmth dancing in his heart. “Doesn’t matter,” he chuckled. “Really does not matter right now.”

The light of a camera flash and exhilarated screams of ‘soulmates!’ ripped them from their bubble. The bassist jumped offstage and clapped Luke on the back, whispering at him to go to the alley. Leading her away, there was no sense of doubt in their steps. Luke didn’t know her name, she maybe didn’t know his. None of that mattered. There was colour now.

From the alleyway, they found themselves wandering around the Strip as they talked for ages. Her name was Julie, his was Luke, they were musicians, they were seventeen, their auras were purple and red, he decided he adored her smile the most and she his twinkling eyes.

“I think they’re green,” Julie said, peering into his eyes. She was impossibly close and it sort of took his breath away. “They’re fresh.”

“Fresh?” he grinned.

She didn’t lean back - she didn’t want to, his soul simply enigmatic - and asked him the same question. “What are mine?”

His expression softened, a smile twitching on his lips. They’re beautiful. “Brown, I think,” he said instead. “Not sure though. You wanna figure it out tomorrow?”

Her stride halted, their grasp on each other nearly yanked apart. His brows raised expectantly. It was there - that invisible, innate, sense of understanding. It wasn’t just colour. It was the refusal to look at colour alone, ever again. It was insane for the both of them, how their rushing thoughts slotted all puzzle pieces together without a hitch. It had that satisfying click-click-click sound, like dominoes.

Luke found himself coming back to her, the space between them disappearing till their arms pressed together and there were no forces tugging them together. It was all themselves.

“I have a book about colour,” Julie eventually said. “We can learn them all.”

He smirked. “I can tell you your lips are pink.”

“Yours are too.”

“Yeah?” he teased.  

But then she lifted a finger and pressed against the plump skin. His heart stopped short at the sensation. Before he gave into the instinct to pucker them and kiss it, her hand dropped.

Julie grinned. “And now they’re red.”

When Luke kissed her, hers were red too.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

@blush-and-books​ @bluefirewrites​ @unsaidjulie​ @willexx​ @unsaid-emily​ @ourstarscollided​ @pink-flame​ @constantly-singing​ @stydixa​

#juke #jatp fanfiction #julie and the phantoms #otp: i think we make each other better #bitches always be using colour.... im bitches

[lost-in-woodlawn]

(Songsheet via LOC.gov)

Lotta Crabtree was one of America’s first child stars and one of those rare celebrities widely referred to with just one name; she was known across the country as simply “LOTTA.” She rests in Woodlawn’s Juniper section along with her brother John, her Aunt Charlotte (for whom she was named) and her devoted mother, Mary Ann Crabtree. Lotta’s stone reads:

Lotta M. Crabtree /September 25, 1924/Beloved Actress/Founder of Noble Charities

Lotta began her journey to stardom in the gold mining camps of California in the 1850s. She was born in New York in 1847 but her English immigrant father John Crabtree left his Manhattan bookshop in 1851 to follow the rush for gold on the west coast, and young Lotta and mother Mary Ann followed after a couple of years.

(Lotta and mother Mary Ann Crabtree around 1879; photo from book Lotta Crabtree: Gold Rush Fairy Star by Lois V. Harris)

Mary Ann Livesey Crabtree was herself an immigrant from England. She was truly a controlling “stage mother/Momager” who could’ve given Gypsy Rose Lee’s Mama Rose a run for her money, but I have to admire her survivor’s spirit and financial savvy; it was thanks to her wise management of her daughter’s earnings that Lotta eventually became the richest actress in America.

In California, John Crabtree never made a dime off the gold mines and Mary Ann was stuck running a boarding house for the miners so her family could eke out a living. John seemed to hang around just long enough to get Mary Ann pregnant again and then take off when he found “new opportunities” (which inevitably led to nothing.) Mary Ann had two more children by him, both sons, before their eventual final separation.

While Mary Ann was keeping her family going running the boarding house, little Lotta befriended one of their neighbors, Lola Montez, a saucy celebrity known for her racy dances.

Lola taught Lotta to dance, and she soon realized Lotta was a natural. Lotta laughed when she danced, a habit that stayed with her and was part of the perky personality that would charm audiences all over the States for decades to come. Lola also taught Lotta to ride a horse, which would become a life-long passion (Lotta eventually owned winning race horses for a time.)

Entertainers came frequently to the mining camps to perform for the men panning for gold, and when the miners approved, the players were sometimes rewarded with gold nuggets thrown up on the makeshift stages. Mary Ann Crabtree saw an opportunity and encouraged her tiny daughter to start performing for the miners.

Lotta learned the banjo (one of the first female entertainers to do so) as well as different songs and dances from the entertainers who came to the camps, and Mary Ann herself learned to play the triangle and to do some impersonations; the two eventually joined a troupe and started traveling around California to perform at various mines. Lotta wasn’t even 10 years old when she and Mary Ann made these rough journeys by horse, mule and stagecoach over dangerous terrain, but they persevered and Lotta began thriving on the makeshift stages. The miners adored her.

(Lotta as a child, photo from San Francisco Public Library archives: https://sfplamr.blogspot.com/2008/08/san-francisco-theatre-research.html)

Lotta’s popularity in the mines led to stage work in San Francisco and eventually to New York and many main cities in between. Lotta was never a serious actress and critics frequently panned the shows she was in, but people loved her quick humor and amusing dances; her personality leaped from the stage. She loved playing roles where she could dress as a boy or do multiple characters in a show.

(Lotta as The Marchioness in “Little Nell & The Marchioness”, a favorite role of hers)

(Lotta in “Cranks”; photo from https://www.broadway.cas.sc.edu/content/lotta-crabtree-cranks)

By all accounts Lotta was well loved by both audiences and other entertainers alike, though she never married and Mary Ann remained her closest companion until Mary Ann’s death at age 84. There was speculation that Mary Ann kept any possible suitors away from Lotta but it’s really impossible to know if Lotta remained unmarried by choice or if she truly was stuck under Mary Ann’s thumb. There were apparently many men romantically interested in Lotta, some seriously and some for possible financial gain (she was sued at least once for money by a “husband” who was proven to be a phony just out for a payout.) Lotta had one persistent stalker who bombarded her with letters and followed her around the country until she finally had him arrested. He was released and returned to his native San Francisco where he eventually committed suicide by drowning.

Lotta remained particularly popular with the California miners who recalled her performances from the gold rush days and beloved by “newsies” for her generous spirit, as mentioned in this 1858 article from the New York Times:

(from the New York Times, September 1858)

Lotta retired from performing in her 40s after suffering an injury on stage that took months to heal. She decided to get out permanently while she was still popular; she then enjoyed several decades of rest from her long years of constant touring and passed away in 1925, aged 76. She must have been gratified to live to see American women get the right to vote; she had told reporters who asked that she was for women’s suffrage.

Lotta is mainly remembered now for the still-existent fountain she funded in San Francisco in 1875 to provide water for horses and dogs. Lotta’s Fountain in San Francisco survived the Great Earthquake of 1906 and it became a meeting point for survivors of the disaster. Each year on the anniversary of the earthquake, San Francisco still holds a commemorative ceremony at the fountain.

Lotta also left an estate of almost $4 million dollars to various charitable foundations in her will, providing for veterans of World War I, newly released prisoners, farming students and homeless animals, among others. Grants are given to this day out of her estate.

More bio info can be found on the Wiki page on Lotta: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lotta_Crabtree

#women's history month #lotta crabtree #lotta #gold rush #woodlawn cemetery #bronx

[thedeaditeslayer]

Living with the Cult Legacy of Evil Dead.

Here’ s a recent interview with Ellen Sandweiss by Den of Geek that discusess The Evil Dead, current cinema, and feminism.

We chat with Ellen Sandweiss, who played Ash Williams' damned sister in The Evil Dead, about a horror legacy nearly 40 years on.

Sam Raimi’s The Evil Dead franchise seems to have had at least nine bloody lives. First was the original 1981 movie that propelled lead actor Bruce Campbell and director Sam Raimi to cult cinema stardom, and then there were the sequels (The Evil Dead II and Army of Darkness), the 2013 remake, and even a cable TV show via Ash vs Evil Dead. These low budget efforts, originally labeled as “video nasties” in the UK, became a refuge for film aficionados to revel in macabre humor, bad puns, and practical disembowelment effects that rivaled Tom Savini’s best work.

Less lauded though is the coven of women in the original feature that Campbell’s Ash battles to the death and beyond. In The Evil Dead, Ash drives to the remote cabin in the woods with his girlfriend Linda (Betsy Baker), a few friends, and his sister Cheryl (Ellen Sandweiss) for their spring break. Cheryl’s character is the first to notice something awry upon their arrival, the first to suffer at the hands of the demonic entity in the now (in)famous tree rape scene, and the first to be seized by the demonic entity’s possession.

It is really Cheryl’s character on which so much of the narrative’s propulsive force hinges. As a result, she exercises her acting chomps adroitly. Whether frantically attempting to convince her brother and friends that “it was the woods themselves! They’re alive!” or cautiously traversing the dark forest with the whites of her bulging eyes, Sandweiss showcases both Cheryl’s humanity and her intense fear. When she embraces her possession, pus-filled and pawing at hapless Ash, she recalls the witch from Anne Sexton’s poem “Her Kind,” which details a lonely, twelve-fingered evil. “A woman like that is not a woman, quite.”

Sandweiss also was the first non-Campbell actor to reprise a role in the series when she appeared in Ash vs Evil Dead Season 2. Den of Geek spoke with Sandweiss about her acting career, her work with Campbell and Raimi, TimesUp, and if the tree scene would be shot the same way in 2019 as it was almost 40 years ago in the backwoods of Tennessee.

What got you interested in acting? What led to your getting the part of Cheryl in The Evil Dead?

I acted in school plays and local theatre starting in middle school. I come from a very artsy family and was involved in music and dance as well. Then I went to high school in suburban Detroit with Sam Raimi and Bruce Campbell and was in plays with them. They had been making super 8 movies since they were in their early teens, so I was often in those movies as a teenager. I then went to college at the University of Michigan where I majored in theatre, and during one summer, we made “Within the Woods,” a short film that Bruce and Sam made to garner interest and money from investors in order to make their first feature film, Book of the Dead, which then became The Evil Dead. Once they had raised the funds, I took a semester off college in ’79 to 80 and we shot the film in Tennessee.

What was your experience like on the set of The Evil Dead? Do you have a favorite memory of shooting the original?

My experience making The Evil Dead was mixed. Of course it was exhilarating at age 20 to be off making a feature film, and the “boys” [Raimi, Campbell, and producer Rob Tapert] were a lot of fun. But the budget was tiny, and it wasn’t a union film, so the conditions were harsh and everyone on the set was very inexperienced. We were all in our early 20s and for many it was our first experience making a feature film. At the Tennessee cabin where we shot most of the film, we had no electricity, no plumbing and no running water—need I say more?

Could you have anticipated, at that time, the kind of cult following that film would have especially with both the remake and TV show?

I could never have anticipated the eventual cult status of the film. When we made The Evil Dead, there was no video rental, no streaming, etc. So films, if they were distributed at all, would end up either at a first-run theater or at a B-movie theater or drive-in, which was where our film landed. Honestly, when we were shooting the film, I thought (and hoped) it would never actually be seen. Then, after a few years, it was released and then it disappeared. I forgot about it and went on with school, then graduate school in arts administration, followed by management jobs in non-profits.

It was when video rentals were born, a few years later, that people started becoming interested in Evil Dead, followed by multiple releases on VHS, then DVD, laser disc, Blu-ray, etc. I didn’t actually realize it had a cult following until around 2001 when my teenaged daughter’s geeky friends started talking about it and ED t-shirts were appearing at local film and comic memorabilia shops. Then we had a 20-year reunion screening, and it was after that that the other two actresses and I started making convention appearances as “Ladies of the Evil Dead.”

What was it like revisiting Cheryl as a character when you did two episodes of Ash vs. Evil Dead?

Revisiting Cheryl in Ash vs the Evil Dead was a hoot! At that point they had a big budget, union rules and lots of experience under their belts, so it was a lot more comfortable. It was fun acting again with Bruce, whom I’ve remained friends with all these years, and of course it was wonderful getting to see New Zealand, where we shot the episodes.

Do you think the tree scene from Evil Dead would be filmed in the same way today as it was done then?

Yes, I’m sure that the tree scene would be done differently if it was filmed today. First, I’m not sure that it would be characterized as a “tree rape,” as Sam has since said he regrets that it ended up that way. I think it would have gone back to what was originally intentioned in the script: trees coming to life and attacking Cheryl, which would also satisfy today’s more feminist audiences (and actresses!). And I’m sure that CGI would be used instead of the reverse-filming, or whatever it’s called, to show vines wrapping around me.

What is it like coming back 35 years later on the show and actually exploring a sibling dynamic?

It was great fun to do Ash vs Evil Dead all these years later and visit the earlier lives of Cheryl and Ash in their family home. In the original film, I believe there was only one line referring to their relationship (“it’s your sister Cheryl!”), and if you missed that you were probably wondering what this weird morose girl was doing on a party weekend with these two college couples! In Ash vs. ED, fighting with Bruce took sibling rivalry to a new level—I loved taunting him and I always enjoy filming a good fight scene. Of course he was the star, so he had to win in the end, but I did enjoy my final words, emanating from my decapitated head on the ground: “Not again....” We actually played around with some other final words—I thought, “Mom always liked you best” would be funny, but nobody seemed to agree with me!

Many people are saying that the horror genre is having a renaissance with hits like Us and Hereditary. What do you think it is about horror that has audiences continually returning to it?

I admittedly am not a horror expert by any stretch of the imagination. I normally don’t watch horror films, but I did watch Us because I love everything Jordan Peele does. I liked it because for the most part it didn’t focus only on blood and guts—there were actually well-formed characters and a message. I think that certain people will always want to explore their dark side, and horror films allow them to do that in a safe space. I also think some people simply like the adrenalin rush they get from being scared.

In the past few years, there's been a lot of discussion around the representation of women on screen. A lot of this conversation seems to be fueled by #MeToo and #TimesUp movement. What’s been your impression of the shifts being made in Hollywood?

I love the shifts being made and hope that they continue to shift even more. Everything about the women’s movement, MeToo, TimesUp, etc. can only make our choices in entertainment better. My daughter is an actress, and I like the improvement of the roles that are available to her. Of course we need more female producers, writers, and directors, and I wish that was happening a little more quickly.

What films have been most exciting to you as an audience member in the past few years?

I’m such a film enthusiast that I really can’t name specific films. But in general, I’m drawn mostly to indie films that make me think, laugh, and cry, and films that cast women in interesting roles.

Do you have any new roles or projects coming up that you can speak about?

No, I’m pretty much retired at this point, although sometimes I will come out of the closet and do a play. Mostly I’m having fun watching the acting careers of my daughter Jessy Hodges and her husband Beck Bennett blossom!

#Ellen Sandweiss #The Evil Dead #Evil Dead

[wigwurq]

WIG REVIEW: ROCKETMAN

Oh girl - this movie! I was very scared going into this experience - fearing that it would be a repeat of the piece of garbage from hell that is Bohemian Rhapsody. It ended up being much more like a slightly less homosexual version of Mamma Mia: Here We Go Again? Honestly, I have not enjoyed a gay trash fire like this since The Cher Show and hope the producers of that bring this to the Broadway stage immediately. But what about the wigs? Let’s discuss.

We begin in...the 80s? Unclear. Time and timelines do not matter in this movie and that is fine. Regardless, we begin with this phoenix lewk as Sir Elton barges in on....rehab and starts to relay his story. SURE? 

We are immediately transported back to 1950s suburban England where a cherubic child version of Elton starts singing and everyone on the street starts dancing and I understand 3 things: Elton’s songs are not going to be sequential, this is fully an actual MUSICAL which it wasn’t really billed as, and there is absolutely nothing more gloriously queer than a small child singing “The Bitch is Back” on the streets of ‘50s England.

AND THEN ELTON’S MOM. Played inexplicably by Bryce Dallas Howard in a cast off wig from The Help and a cast off accent from [insert American actor doing an ok English accent movie] , Elton’s (or should I say REGGIE’S!) mom is truly the kitchen sink of 50s English housewife stereotypes. Loud, demanding, philandering, and somehow warm and supportive (j/k not really!), this is the childhood horror Elton must confront (also: his MONSTER of a father, obviously). Oh and his sweet nan is played by Gemma Jones (aka the mom in Bridget Jones and Sense and Sensibility aka CORRECT). 

We are rushed through Elton’s sad childhood with his only escape being a piano phenom at the Royal Academy of Music which he abandons to be a pub piano player in the style of Elvis Presley. AND THEN TARON EGERTON takes over as Elton literally exploding into a choreographed carnival rendition of “Saturday Night’s Alright (For Fighting)” and truly WHAT ON EARTH IS THIS MOVIE MAYBE I LOVE IT. Except for the wig, which like all male wigs juts out in the back and is very distracting. Also: they decided to recreate Elton’s famous tooth gap with - I shit you not - blackout paint that kids buy to be a pirate for Halloween. YES REALLY.

It is then suddenly the late 60s and Elton is in a pub band that does back up gigs for American touring R&B bands and Elton tries to get a record contract in this neckerchief which is really quite lovely. He suddenly has a really shaggy tumbleweave of a wig and is paired with lyricist Bernie Taupin as played by Billy Elliot (yes, that is his name forever and always) and they immediately become BROTHERS. They say this a lot which is very in keeping with Bohemian Rhapsody but not as annoying. 

Billy Elliot’s wig is a bit better than Elton’s but it’s still a mess. Anyway, the dudes have no money and have to move back in with Elton’s mom though weirdly Elton has plenty of money for all the different prescription glasses in the world but again: this is not the movie for logic! Anyway, he writes “Your Song” and gets swept up in STARDOM, Y’ALL. 

Elton and Billy Elliot are immediately transported to Los Angeles for Elton to headline the Troubadour. Enter: Tate Donovan doing the best impersonation of that Californians SNL sketch and a new shaggy wig and glasses for Elton. Ok? All of Elton’s wigs at this point are very bent and upsetting and I get what they were going for but they’re still not good. 

At the after party, Billy Elliot abandons Elton to go have sex in a teepee in the backyard of Mama Cass’s house (yes, really?) and Elton is left to wander through the yard singing “Tiny Dancer”. It should be noted that Zaddy Taron has a very nice singing voice and should get any and all accolades bestowed on Rami Malek. It honestly baffles me why this movie was released in the summer and not next fall since it is about 50000 times better than Bohemian Rhapsody. Anyway, then Elton meets RICHARD MADDEN AKA ROBB STARK. Straight up: he is wearing the same wig as Bryce Dallas Howard!! And they are both the villains of Elton’s life/this movie. Coincidence? I THINK NOT. For now, though, Robb Stark is NOT the villain and is just a nice piece for Elton to have gay sex with and GREAT.

Elton’s star rises (as does his glasses budget!) and whilst in the recording studio with DAME KIKI DEE (in a very accurate wig), Robb Stark shows up again. The fact that Elton is literally recording “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” is clearly no coincidence because clearly: THIS DUDE IS GONNA BREAK IT GURL.

I cannot put too fine a point on the fact that this wig is the exact same wig that Bryce Dallas Howard is wearing. 

Was this a conscious thematic decision since they are both villains or just a budgetary device? I DEMAND ANSWERS.

Anyway, Elton and Robb’s lurve is shown through a fabulously homosexual kimono buying montage set to “Honky Cat” and truly: I want this to be on Broadway, please. Also Robb gets a haircut so I guess my wig theories might go out the window at this point (OR WILL THEY?!?!?)

Elton’s wig gets slightly more relaxed and his eyeglass budget truly goes through the friggin’ roof (to say nothing of his champagne and dessert budget). This wig is still a dried up, curling ironed piece of nonsense, fyi.

But then he cuts it off and starts losing his hair! This lewk is...passable at best? I mean, the receding hairline is fine but the quality is still not great. Clearly any money necessary for wigs in this movie was used on kimonos and truly: may we all be blessed with the kimono budget of Rocketman someday. MEANWHILE, Robb Stark is revealed to be a total d-bag but before Elton can deal with that, his mom in Robb’s old wig shows up. Don’t you hate when that happens??

This leads into a bizarre sequence wherein Elton falls into his pool only to be met with the child version of himself dressed as an astronaut and playing a tiny piano and then he gets his stomach pumped and then he plays a stadium show to a sea of computers posing as fans. The latter is the closest this movie gets into Bohemian Rhapsody territory, Billy Elliot brother lines aside THANK GOD.

As Elton has is drinking and drugging his life away, Billy Elliot and his soft wave yacht rock makeover is NOT HERE FOR IT. Also his entire character is basically paraphrased RuPaul taglines. At one point, he says some iteration of “if you can’t love yourself, how in the hell are you going to love anybody else?” CAN I GET AN AMEN UP IN HERE?

Then on a random private jet, Billy Elliot finally takes his critically and financially profitable lyrics and goes the hell back to England. 

Which leaves Elton alone in this GODDAMNED HAT to make lesser music and marry a WOMAN (of all people!) and enjoy very expensive meals out with family members he hates. The side burn action in this whole lewk is also very upsetting. 

Aaaaanyway, in the end we return once again to Elton in rehab as he gets his life together and is visited by his BROTHER Billy Elliot in this amazing 80s ponytail leather daddy with a few old age lines lewk and I was very much here for it. I was not here for Elton’s bad man wig (LOOK AT THE BACK OF THIS THING!)

The film ends with a recreation of the “I’m Still Standing” video and truly - what a way to go out. They wisely chose not to recreate the video and instead to superimpose Zaddy Taron into it which means that the MVP of the movie is circa 1980s Bruno Tonioli dancing his friggin heart out (if you haven’t seen this music video, shame on you and click here). This movie is truly bizarre and wonderful and terrible and lovely all at the same time. The wigs are consistently bad, but if you can look past that, please go see it. Also in conclusion, have I mentioned yet that this movie is WAY BETTER THAN BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY WHICH IS GARBAGE.

VERDICT: DOESN’T WURQ

#WigWurq #rocketman #eltonjohn #sireltonjohn #bernietaupin #taronegerton #richardmadden #brycedallashoward #badmanwigs #kimonobudgets #eyeglassbudgets #beautifultrashfires #brunotonioli

[sunmisgirl]

Demon!EXO Reaction to Human Not Signing Contract

Exo demon reaction to their assigned human not wanting to sign a contract (to give their soul in exchange for sth)??? -🌹 anon P.s. I live for your reactions you're such an amazing writer!

Side note: You’re so kind; thank you for taking the time to read my reactions. I hope you enjoy this one. I also wrote a spin-off to this here.

Xiumin:

Xiumin finds you busking at a street corner singing the words to “Wonderwall”. He’s seen you perform at various street corners around the city trying to pick up extra tips and hopefully get scouted by a talent company. He approaches you and places a tip in your guitar case. You acknowledge his donation with a nod and smile as you continue singing through your performance. He patiently waits for you to finish before complimenting you on your voice and dedication. “You sing with so much soul and passion coursing through your body. It would be a crime to let that talent go to waste. I have friends in high places. I could recommend you to a music executive. All I want in return is a little bit of that soul.” Your eyebrows furrow in confusion at his request, but shyly decline his offer and gather up your guitar case and leave for the day. Something about him felt very odd and you decide to stop playing in public for a while. 

Suho:

Suho is your regular customer at the diner. He’s pretty decent compared to the other patrons. He always leaves a hefty tip and makes good conversation with you. You’ve managed to form a friendship and share with him your woes about paying for college and balancing two jobs to do so. One night he appears at a booth and orders his usual meal. When you serve it to him, he stops you and asks, “Haven’t you ever thought about leaving this job? I see the way some of the sleazy customers treat you.” You sigh and run a hand down your apron. “Remember I need this extra income to pay for the semester? I can’t quit now especially around the holidays when more people dine in.” 

He lightly chuckled to himself and said, “What if I supply you with the extra income? Imagine paying off college and buying anything else you desire. Moving out of this town…hell maybe even buying this diner if you so desire. I just need something in exchange…more specifically your soul.” You blink at him a few times and swear you notice his eye color shift to red and back to brown in an instant. You become uncomfortable and excuse yourself from the booth. Suho took the hint when you never returned from the kitchen and left his usual tip on the table. You never saw him again after that.

Lay:

Why? Why must you always be the victim of Cupid’s arrow? Your love life isn’t successful, and you’re close to giving up on finding any happiness until you run across an ad for a dating company guaranteeing love. At this point you have nothing to lose and decide to stop by the business on the way home from work. You walk up to a tidy shop named Master of Love. You almost cringe at the cheesy name but enter the shop anyways. You meet the owner of the shop and he sits down explaining how the company works, filling out applications, and showing your potential matches. 

Before you sign the contract, he goes over some rules with you. Lay says, “Just as a reminder, if you are to find a perfect match, we must maintain communication. I can’t lose a valuable client like you.” As he says this, you witness his eyes shift to a different color. “You may have a perfect match here in the physical world, but in the afterlife you’re all mine.” You abruptly stumble out of your seat and flee for the door and away from the shop. You don’t will yourself to look back in fear he is standing by the doorway of the shop watching you go.

Baekhyun:

All these dating apps have brought nothing but misery and wasted time. Your friends push you to attempt speed dating, so you attend an event at a local café. Baekhyun was already seated at a table far away and you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. Even the other speed daters notice and make no attempt to engage with you. Once you finally sit in front of him, his charming smile and smoldering eyes make your heart skip a beat. Your speechless state causes him to laugh and he reaches out to caress your cheek. “Seems like we’ve already made a match. Isn’t it exhausting to go through countless dates and never find the right one?” You sigh and nod your head. He suggests, “I think this relationship could last forever…that is if you want it to. I need your heart, body, and soul in this agreement.” You don’t miss the way he emphasizes the word soul and push his hand away from your face. He never does get your response though because the timer rings. You rush out the door mentally cursing your friends for dragging you into yet another weird guy’s arms.

Chen:

Kim Jongdae stands as one of the most popular stylists in the industry. Every model and rising celebrity hopes to be selected as his muse and face of his seasonal line. It’s quite surprising when he asks you to be a visual for his spring line. You haven’t made much waves in the modeling industry, but you’re not about to decline this opportunity. His aura is slightly intimidating when you first meet, but you suppose that’s because he is such a popular figure in the industry. 

After your fitting, you bump into him at the elevators. You thank him for selecting you as his visual and he shrugs it off stating he sees much potential in your future compared to the others. He suggests an easier rise to stardom by forming a partnership with him. “Just think about it. A rising model and a popular stylist duo taking this industry by storm. Can’t you see it too?” He begins gripping your wrist tightly and you glance at him with an alarmed look. “With the partnership, we’d be inseparable. Your mind, heart, and soul are mine and vice versa.” His eyes turn red the second he mentions your soul and you yank your wrist from his grip and race out the elevator not caring that you’re calling attention to yourself.

Chanyeol:

Every successful band experiences a few pitfalls and missed opportunities. Your band has gained enough attention to go from bar performances to small concert venues. However, it’s been a difficult time to get the attention of any record label companies. One night, your band finishes a set and clears the stage. You’ve still got that adrenaline high when a tall man approaches you. He reaches out to shake your hand. “I’m Park Chanyeol. Your group has got some serious talent. Your voice is incredibly unique as well. My record label is seeking talent just like you. I can already imagine thousands of adoring fans screaming out your lyrics and, in a few years, even a Grammy nomination is possible.” You scoff at his wishful thinking and utter, “That sounds way too good to be true. What do I have to do, sell my soul?” A chilling smile appears on his face and you kindly decline his offer and pray you never cross paths with that odd man again.

D.O.:

Moving out of your hometown seems to be one of the dumbest choices you’ve ever made. Your apartment isn’t the best and you constantly beat the radiator to emit heat during the winter months. Your boss criticizes your work ethic and coworkers always gossip about you. You wish you could pick up everything and move back home, but of course money makes the world go around. Having to balance paying off your student loans, countless GrubHub orders, and rent is taking a toll on you. 

Kyungsoo moved in a few months ago, but you never crossed paths until today when you checked the mailbox. You yell in frustration after seeing more bills and dramatically toss them to the floor. Kyungsoo is checking his mail at the same time and notices your meltdown. He suggests a close friend that lends people money without questions asked. You stare at him in disbelief and say, “There must be some catch to this.” Suddenly he dons a serious expression and replies, “A special agreement has to take place. You have to give up your soul but think about all the financial issues that will melt away with this solution.” You conclude your neighbor is insane and walk back to your apartment. All night his words toss around in your head until you look for him the next morning. When you knock on his door, you find an empty apartment.

Kai:

Kai watches you from afar as you struggle to nail your choreography in the dance studio. You’ve stumbled repeatedly and the aches in your muscles beg you to give up for the night. You grumpily pack your belongings and head home. This part of town isn’t the safest, but your place isn’t too far from the studio. However, tonight you feel an eerie presence lurking nearby and meet eyes with a man—or so you assume is a man. He walks towards you and your guard goes up immediately. He keeps a distance from you and says, “Don’t you get tired of constantly failing? Your peers are exceling and performing on stages in New York City while you’re stuck here in this small town. What if I offered you an opportunity to showcase your talents? Surpass everyone and make yourself worldwide known. All I need in exchange is your soul.” You mutter a “no thanks” and sprint to your place before he can reach you. You think to yourself, I’m so tired of these drunken creeps in this town.

Sehun:

Last Valentine’s Day proved that love is crap and the holiday is a product of capitalism wrapped in pretty colors and adorned with flowers and chocolates to trick lovesick couples. Your partner decided it would be appropriate to break up with you the day before Valentine’s Day so they could dodge your dinner plans and run off on some “journey of self-discovery”. Whatever. You’re not buying it. This year you’re sipping a bitter cup of coffee seated by the window of your favorite coffee shop. You’ve witnessed tons of people passing: some carrying giant stuffed bears to bring to their partners, some looking guilty and carrying bouquets of roses, and others blissfully walking hand in hand. You sigh wondering if you’ll ever find your special person.

Sehun sits nearby noticing your gloomy expression. “Valentine’s Day is a double-edged sword. It forces singles to feel bad about not having a special person and guilts couples to buy gifts for their partners.” Your eyes widen as you turn to look at him. “Yes! Exactly!”, you exclaim in delight because finally someone doesn’t think you’re just bitter about the breakup. You two speak more and eventually start talking about your ex. He can tell you’re still hurting from the breakup and offers a solution. “Maybe I can help? I can get your ex to fall in love with you again. All I ask for is your soul in return.” You glare at him and dump the rest of your coffee on his head and leave the shop. You switched coffee shops after that just to avoid the weirdo.

#this is prob one of my best works lol #exo #exo scenarios #exo imagines #exo reactions #exo requests #exo au #kpop #demon!au

[bangtan]

BTS Takes on L.A. With Vogue—And It’s “Hella Lit”

“Whoa, is that Raf?” asks J-Hope—the main dancer of BTS—striding into a chintzy suite in Downtown L.A. decorated with mustard-colored couches and heading straight for the racks of tapered jeans and Western tops in the middle. “It must be expensive,” he murmurs, running his hands over the grosgrain stripes, then calls out to his bandmates as they enter: “Guys, it’s Calvin Klein!” The hotel’s 10th floor has been completely closed off for this week in November to accommodate the seven-member K-pop act on their first major run of U.S. press: James Corden, then Jimmy Kimmel, a historic performance at the AMAs (the first Korean group to do so), and Ellen DeGeneres, with a slew of interviews squeezed in between. On their penultimate day, they hit another milestone, becoming the first K-pop band to book a full-fledged shoot with Vogue, who proposed a fun and carefree tour of the city they had taken by storm. One by one, they file into the room—Jungkook, the youngest, is so striking in person, an audible hush falls when he enters, startling him slightly. He heads straight for the makeup chair to wait for his touch-up, singing softly to himself to pass the time. Other members make a beeline for the pile of snacks on the sideboard: cup ramen and boxes of Pocky, crunchy Cheetos and Fritos, cans of Coke, slices of castella cake, iced Americanos, and thick “body conditioning” shakes in teal sports bottles, individually labeled and lined up with military precision. Raf’s Spring 2018 denim (later shot on the Kardashian-Jenners) is duly admired, then the boys slip out to get dressed in private and return for group inspection. They are extremely particular about clothes: “They are perfectionists,” a staff member proudly notes five times that day. Hems are cuffed and uncuffed and repinned until they hit the ankle just so; Jungkook fusses with a belt to perfect the fit, while Jimin and Suga compare silver chain earrings, left long to brush their collars. Jin walks in promptly, shrugs on a pair of cornflower blue cowboy boots, and sticks a wedge of castella in his mouth. Some 45 minutes later, the boys pile onto one mustard couch and happily recount the highlights from the past seven days—meeting Post Malone at the AMAs, airport Panda Express—and move onto their favorite bit of American slang. “Teach us something!” RM, formerly Rap Monster, the leader, asks. One editor proposes “lituation,” a portmanteau of “lit” and “situation.” Their eyes glow, as though they’ve been given a shiny new toy. “Lituation! That’s hella lit.” And so it was. By now, everything there is to know about BTS has come out in interviews. BTS stands for Bangtan Sonyeondan, or Bulletproof Boy Scouts; last summer, as their U.S. visibility grew, they added the meaning Beyond the Scene. The seven-member boy band debuted in 2013 through Big Hit Entertainment, a Seoul-based entertainment company that has been a smaller player. Initially, their music took more from rap and hip-hop. In 2015, they shifted direction and began to attract international attention with high-energy dance tracks (“Dope”) and EDM torch songs (“Save Me”), but Big Hit remained focused on Asia (This editor attempted to shoot the band that summer, but was rebuffed). Everything changed last May at the 2017 Billboard Music Awards, when BTS flew to Las Vegas to accept Top Social Artist in silk Saint Laurent suits and the subsequent flurry on Twitter (the band’s preferred social media platform) made the rest of the world take note. From there, the attention snowballed, and by the time they had scheduled their flights to the West Coast, the press and fans were ready to pounce—on their arrival at LAX, they were greeted by a crush of shrieking girls and boys, who strained against the line of security guards in yellow shirts that had formed a human wall to protect them. The L.A. trip was the sort of pop cultural milestone not seen since the Beatles arrived in New York (or One Direction arrived, well, anywhere), but of different magnitude. For countless Asian-Americans, it has meant everything to see seven Koreans celebrated on a global scale. Back home, Koreans are astonished to see a group of their own go so far (unusually, BTS exploded overseas first, only winning their first daesang, or major Korean music award, in 2016). The boys know it too—over the course of our day with them, they spend a great deal of their time blissfully awestruck by the attention. “It’s still hard to believe it’s happening,” Jin says. “It’s like a dream.” It is 3:45 p.m. and the boys have finally boarded the party bus (how else to travel L.A. with a small entourage?). The final head count: seven K-pop stars, three Vogue editors, a four-man video crew, one manager, one body guard, one translator, one makeup artist, an assistant, and the driver. The rest of the team (three additional bodyguards, two hair stylists and a makeup assistant, more managers, and two publicists) follow in gleaming black Escalades. The bus is lined with leather seats and armed with flashing colored lights and a silver pole at its center. There are snacks here, too: bottles of Coke kept on ice, passed around by the boys, yogurt-covered pretzels, Kind bars, and a bag of nacho cheese Doritos, which Jimin grabs gleefully (“These are my favorite!”). “This is the kind of place where you have a party?” Jin asks, eyeing the pole with some suspicion. Once it is explained that the party bus takes you from club to club (“so the party never stops”), the group is stunned (“Wow, Americans . . . ”). Agreeably, J-Hope plugs his phone into the sound system to play a selection of their favorite songs: “Havana,” “Dirty Pop.” Let loose for the first time in days, with the stress of the AMAs behind them, they seem full of pent-up energy. The bass shakes the walls, and V picks up two discarded Coke bottle caps and pops them in his eyes, grinning and shimmying wildly to peals of laughter. Jin and RM take turns slinking and bouncing around the pole in a dramatic fashion, until every member of the team and crew is laughing, too. Why is BTS so popular? They are far from the first South Korean artist to make a splash in the U.S.—SNSD with their viral hit “Gee,” Rain, who famously defeated Stephen Colbert for Time’s top influencer in 2007 (as voted by fans)—but the attention around them feels different. It comes down to timing: at the right moment, they found a fiercely loyal group of fans called Army, who fell hard, grew fast, and delivered their boys to international stardom. Yet there’s also the current media landscape to consider. It is why the Billboard Music Awards marked a turning point—the media saw the potential for page views, and the exponential rise in coverage that has followed has at times, to Army’s dismay, felt disingenuous. Take James Corden, for example, who drew some ire for pandering to fans. Worse still were those American interviewers who had done no research and asked often patronizing, uninformed questions—“Do you dance?” when they’re known for it. It has been tough for Army to watch wafer-thin interviews, conducted by people who barely know (certainly don’t care) about their boys, only the attention they might bring; in many ways, they have been treated as an Asian novelty. Yet the fashion world appears eager to embrace them on more balanced terms, something the boys like quite a lot. They wore Anthony Vaccarello’s Saint Laurent for both U.S. red carpet appearances; they spend a lot of time worrying over watches and earrings and documenting their daily looks. On the party bus, they take careful bites of their mustard-topped hot dogs, careful not to spill a drop. They’re big fans of brands like Gucci, WTAPS, and Calvin (and Raf, for the matter), though in Korea, the price of CK is quite steep due to import fees. “What about a group discount: 30-pack of Calvin shirts for $30, how’s that?” Jungkook proposes, laughing. “Cut us a deal?” Last fall, BTS was accosted by a cameraman outside a famous hot dog stand near Hollywood. The footage went viral and rumors quickly spread that the band had canceled a “meet and greet” for no reason. Of course, the truth is that there never was a meet and greet, but a private photo shoot with this magazine: the owner signs a standard agreement, part of which stipulates the event is closed to the public. Later, the stand’s Twitter account posts the exact time at which the band would be arriving and encourages fans to come. The bus pulls up to see at least three camera crews, including ABC News and TMZ, and a crowd of fans waiting; the shoot is no longer possible. To stick to schedule, the team is forced to move a few blocks away to continue. Eventually, a few cameramen find the new location; one particularly aggressive man begins screaming about his rights to a bodyguard (the guard, not understanding English, is quite literally unmoved). Shooting is forced to wrap, and the boys step back onto the bus. “You’re going to lose all your American fans before you even get here,” he screams after them. “What’d he say?” they ask back onboard. They seem on edge, though mostly confused by the panicked affair. The hair and makeup team rush forward to dab herbal oil behind their necks and offer soothing shoulder rubs. Once his remarks are translated, however, the tension lessens and they laugh. “Tell him thank you for worrying about us!” J-Hope says, smiling. “Yeah, thank you so much!” Even the Big Hit team, though openly displeased, seem privately thrilled. “The paparazzi were here!” one says in passing. “That means we’ve really made it, huh.” Flash back to 2014 when BTS came to L.A. to film a reality TV series, American Hustle Life, where they learned about hip-hop culture. In one memorable passage, the boys are sent out on the street to approach random girls and invite them to star in their music video with little success. Now, it’s security teams and TMZ. A happier scene unfolds at Dave and Buster’s, the adult arcade games chain, where the boys are given an unlimited points card and set free. On a weeknight the floor is quiet, just a handful of families with small kids killing time; not much notice is paid to the handsome group in the back. Jungkook and Jin race to the DDR machine and face off, their patent cowboy boots darting frantically across the mat. Suga and Jimin reach for a first-person shooting game, while J-Hope and RM start throwing baskets. Across the way, V draws the attention of a small kid—”Mom, they were on TV last night!”—and takes a selfie with him, before turning his attention to a machine where you toss palm-sized footballs through different hoops. “Wait, this is really hard!” he says, calling to Jimin to take a turn (Jimin effortlessly throws a few into the correct slots). Their energy is infectious—and seemingly limitless. After shooting has wrapped, and they have politely bowed to the entire crew, the seven boys board their Escalades and promptly return to the hotel. They walk to their separate rooms, change into fresh clothes, and continue an interview that had been interrupted that afternoon. The next morning, bright and early, they appear on Ellen, then head straight to LAX and back to Seoul to begin rehearsals for the end of the year award shows, practicing late into the night. No doubt they are tired, but still, they smile and keep at it. Perhaps the beauty lies on that basic level: just seven young boys, enjoying the ride.

Source

#bangtan #bts #v #jimin #jungkook #rm #suga #jhope #jin #t:article #180125 #vogue

[wonderlustlucas]

warmth - wong yukhei

⇢ prompt It’s like a breath of fresh air on the first day of spring, filling you to the brim with new life and you can't get enough. ⇢ pairing yukhei x female reader ⇢ word count 16k ⇢ genre fluff & slight smut ⇢ warnings oh my GOD the fluff in this killed me, resuscitated me, & then hit me with a car. if you squint really hard there is like a teaspoon of smut & implied s e x ⇢ summary Meeting NCT was definitely not something you or your best friend ever imagined would actually happen on your road to stardom, but Wong Yukhei falling for you never once crossed your mind. Lucky for you, a touch of jealousy, fifteen rounds of Fortnite, impromptu snuggling, and a splash of soju is the perfect recipe for falling in love. ⇢ a/n ok FIRST OF ALL since this is my first actual fic im posting i feel like i should warn u all & apologize for my use of italics, im a little obsessed cuz when i go over & read what ive typed i always put emphasis on specific words so ya just roll w that. secondly i tried sosososo hard to include every member but obviously some got more spotlight than others thats just how the cookie crumbled BUT I TRIED. and lastly the beginning to this is a little rough but i swear it gets better trust me on this, warmth is my bby rn & im proud cuz it gets real good as u keep reading. enjoy:)

“Kim Mina and ___ ___, welcome! Take a seat! How are you?”

Yuna’s greeting is welcoming but it barely calms your nerves. Your grip on Mina’s hand is like iron, but you finally have to let go and give your best smile before shimmying onto the high stool. Mina starts the small talk with the two anchors and you can’t help but silently thank her. Lord knows small talk was not your thing.

Meanwhile, you glance around the large room, taking it all in—from the brightness of all the screens to the professional video cameras facing in your direction and all the way to the small crowd of fans cheering outside. How did you end up here?

“So, tell me, what started this amazing journey the two of you have gotten yourselves into?” Seojun, the second anchor, asks with a beaming grin. You look to Mina and she nods to you in approval. Deep breathe. Don’t panic.

“Well, Mina and I have been best friends, if you’d like to put it that simply, since we were freshmen,” the three chuckle at your comment, “we both shared and bonded over our love for BTS, actually, and then Seventeen, NCT, Red Velvet, and so on.”

You pause to lick your lips and take a deep gulp of air.

“We both weren’t very active nor athletic. First, we played volleyball, then lacrosse, and we even tried golf but sports just wasn’t really our thing. So, we eventually settled for a gym membership and spent a lot of time there together, and over time we really got into shape,” you stop again to laugh when Yuna reaches out to poke at Mina’s very prominent bicep muscle.

“And so one-day junior year we were jamming to, uh, I don't know,” you laugh, glancing to Mina. “BBoom BBoom,” she says, “by MOMOLAND.”

You smile to yourself at the fond memory. “Anyway, Mina randomly suggested that we should learn the full choreography and not just random parts. At first, I laughed at her ‘cause I thought there was no way either of us was bright enough to remember the full thing. But she was so serious about it that I eventually just agreed to it to humor her, and we actually learned it by ourselves.”

“It wasn’t as easy as I thought, though,” Mina interrupts, “it took a really, really long time just to get the footwork and so many times I knew ___ wanted to shoot herself for agreeing to do this,” she laughs and the three of you join her. “But once we got it, we recorded it, and we were just amazed. Like, ‘Wow, we did that! That’s us!’ and we showed everyone we knew. The sense of pride motivated us to do it again. So we did Mic Drop by BTS, and when we uploaded it on YouTube it really blew up within our school,” Mina stops and looks at you to continue.

“Our friends and family really started spreading the word about us after the fourth or fifth video we uploaded. In the meantime, a lot of kids thought we were really weird for, you know, putting ourselves out there like that. But it was just so fun to dance that we really didn’t care about both the positive or negative feedback we were getting. After all, we were only seventeen, you know. But things really started getting serious about two months ago when we uploaded Baby Don’t Stop from NCT U and CLAP from Seventeen. Someone big must have stumbled upon our account because a week later we were in the newspaper. Something about ‘arising local stars,’ I think,” you pause when Yuna shuffles through her papers to pull out the exact article you were talking about.

“Yep,” she pauses to flip through the papers, “‘___ ___ and Kim Mina: Small-town Seniors to Stardom,’ wow, so you two really caught someone’s eye,” she comments as Seojun nods in agreement.

“So yeah, that’s basically it. We still plan to graduate high school and all, but right now we’re not sure if we want to go to college at this point. We have a steady income as of right now and hopefully, we can really make this into a career. It’s kind of our passion at this point, not just a hobby,” you finish, fixing the collar of the rather fitting romper you were wearing.

“Wow,” Seojun comments and brings his hands up to clap, “talk about an inspiring story.”

“Hopefully. We tell our followers that even if you may feel really lost in the world right now, you will find something that you’re passionate about, it’ll just take time and probably some stupid idea,” Mina concludes with a beaming smile and an arm around your neck, tugging you in close.

Yuna and Seojun coo in unison at the affectionate act and you can’t help but squeeze Mina back.

“So, we have a few more questions,” Yuna finally says after you pull away from your best friend. You sit up straighter in your seat and nod excitedly.

“This one’s easy. Who is your favorite group?” Seojun asks once he’s done flipping through the pile of note cards in his hands.

“NCT, for the both of us,” Mina replies easily, and you nod in agreement. “And do you have a bias, as I’ve heard you call it, in the group?” Yuna asks and you immediately feel the heat rush to your cheeks. It wasn’t that you’re embarrassed, you just don’t want to talk about it.

So, yeah, maybe you’re embarrassed.

“Uh-oh, ___ is red,” Seojun catches on and you squawk in embarrassment, having to hide your face from the cameras just so those watching wouldn’t be able to see you flush so badly. “Well, my bias is Taeyong,” Mina replies while soothingly patting your arm to get you to look back up.

“Yukhei,” you eventually squeak out after sitting up.

“Which choreography so far has been you’re favorite?” Yuna moves on instead of picking on your red-hot embarrassment anymore and you quietly thank the gods.

“Oh geez, I can’t choose one. CLAP, HIGHLIGHT, Burning Up, DNA, Cherry Bomb, 7th Sense, Baby Don’t Stop, Boss... all favorites. No way we could simplify it to one,” Mina laughs after naming off a few.

“Alright, last question before the surprise,” Yuna says, winking at the camera mischievously, “if you could go back in time, would you have started this journey earlier than you had?”

You glance at Mina and pause to think for a moment. Would you? Mina opens her mouth to say something but closes it again, clearly stumped by the question.

“No,” you speak up, “I think the way we did it worked out in the best way possible. It started as a joke for us, but the music we love turned it into something we’re passionate about. If we started this when we were any younger, we wouldn’t have been as mature and probably wouldn’t have gotten as much attention as we have. We would’ve looked like even more idiots to the public. It all happened for a reason, and I wouldn’t want to change it one bit, you know?” You rant, picking at your nails as you do so. Was that too much? Too little? Hopefully I didn't sound cocky.

“There you have it, folks! Wise words from eighteen-year olds ___ ___ and Kim Mina!” Seojun cheers and Yuna claps. Mina bows and you smile appreciatively. “Don’t leave just yet! After this commercial break, Mina and ___ will be performing live before the show ends! Stay tuned everybody!” Yuna finally announces and you can finally breathe again now that the cameras are off.

“Go on and get changed, kiddos. Don’t wanna miss your own performance,” Seojun smiles. “Thank you. And thank you for having us. This was amazing,” you reply, hopping off the seat and giving him and Yuna firm handshakes before storming backstage with Mina.

“You spoke so well! What the fuck? What happened to little ol’ ___ stuttering and dying when she has to present?” Mina exclaims excitedly, spinning you into a hug in the dressing room. “I don't know! I just—I have no idea! I felt so, so... proud, you know? Look how far we’ve gotten,” You speak hurriedly, peeling everything off your body.

“I know, this is crazy. I feel like I’m gonna shit myself,” Mina replies as you both unclasp each other’s bras to replace them with sports bras. “Me too. I don’t know why I’m so nervous to perform, we could do this choreo asleep, with our eyes closed, and our legs cut off,” you exaggerate, tugging up your ripped black skinny jeans and hopping around to get them up.

“With our legs cut off?” Mina laughs as she pulls up her denim shorts. “But no, I feel you. It’s because it’s live, we usually have the comfort of knowing that we can mess up without anyone knowing,” she explains as you push your arms through the sleeves of the cropped white tank you decided on.

The two of you finish getting dressed, quickly stretch, and hurry back out before you actually are late. “Good luck, don’t mess up,” Mina whispers, fixing your braids and giving your hands a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “Thanks, asshole. You too.”

Baby Don’t Stop starts from the speakers, extremely loud but too quiet and exhilarating but soothing all at the same time. It’s a natural habit now—the way your body moves to Ten’s absolutely panty-dropping voice and Taeyong’s aggressive rapping—arms twisting in ways that used to hurt and legs reaching new angles every second.

But it’s happening all too quickly—you want it to slow down so you can bask in the feeling of doing what you love for everyone to see.

You find yourself singing along like you usually do, and start to worry that it could be heard. What if you sound like a crow, squawking Ten and Taeyong’s beautiful lyrics? Focus. You mentally slap yourself when you lean over a minute and a half in to scratch Mina’s chin and head. So you keep going.

You always dance Ten’s role—it was something you begged Mina when you chose Baby Don’t Stop as the next choreography you two would learn. Mina had no problem with it, considering she wanted to dance her own bias’ moves.

Two minutes in and you were officially breathing heavier after the last few complicated moves you had to do. Then the transition to Cherry Bomb started and you took a couple much needs breathes before continuing.

These last two minutes of Cherry Bomb you performed were always the hardest, especially since it was mainly beats rather than actual singing or rapping. There were so many movements that needed perfecting, so many angles that needed to be reached, and so many changes that had to be done quickly all had your head spinning.

Your legs are burning. God, they hurt. You can feel the sweat dripping across your neck, down your spine, and into the waistline of your jeans like a waterfall. However, you receive an adrenaline rush sent by the heavens after the first time you have to fall back onto the floor only to quickly lean back up and do a few more grueling flips and tumbles.

After your very difficult part on the floor, you finally rejoin Mina for the last forty seconds to begin your descent to an almost-split before jumping back up and finishing the song.

The loud music is cut off and you are left with only you and Mina’s heavy breathing, blood rushing in your ears, and the loud applause coming from the crew, anchors, and friends and family off to the side.

Oh my God. We did it. You quickly turn to Mina and engulf her into the tightest hug of your life, not caring about the slick layer of perspiration between you. “I’m so proud of you,” you mumble into her neck, giving her one last squeeze. “Of us,” she quips as Seojun and Yuna stop next to her.

“Kim Mina and ___ ___, ladies and gentlemen! Thank you all for watching and have a wonderful night!”

You wave tiredly at the camera and give a weak smile, but all you can focus on is how heavy your breathing is and an annoying bead of sweat rolling down into your asscrack. Seojun and Yuna say something about relaxing for a while in the private lounge upstairs and as soon as you hear water and brownies you’re off, racing Mina up the stairs no matter how badly your legs scream at you not to.

“I can’t believe we did that!” Mina screams, spinning around and making a bee-line for the table full of beverages and food. You quickly yank your sweaty tank off your body, crumble it up in a ball, and toss it at her head. “Oh my God, you’re a disgusting, repulsive, ugly, sickening rat,” she hisses, swatting your outreaching hand away.

You chuckle to yourself as you grab a water bottle, pausing for a moment to grimace at the copious amount of sweat in your cleavage before cracking the cap off of the bottle and nearly inhaling the delightfully cold, refreshing liquid.

“You know, maybe we should just forget about this. I’m so tired of the way you treat me,” you start, finishing the bottle before cracking open another one without even glancing her way.

“___,” she starts to interrupt, but you don’t let her. “Like, the amount of disrespect I get is nauseating,” you continue while reaching for a brownie and basically shoving the whole thing in your mouth. “___,” she says again.

“I just don’t understand. I do nothing but love and support you, clean the house, nurse our children,” you pause to chew on a chocolate chip cookie, “pick up the dog’s shit, for crying out loud! And this is what I get back?” You finally end your sarcastic rant, popping pieces of cut fruit into your mouth before breaking into a fit of giggles.

“___!” she shouts this, and you finally look at her, wondering if you’ve somehow offended her. You follow her gaze once you realize she’s not even paying any mind to you or your shenanigans.

And there they are.

All eighteen of them.

Right across the room.

The water bottle doesn’t make it to your mouth this time but instead falls from your grip and onto the floor. You don’t even notice it, considering all eighteen fucking members of NCT are sitting only a few yards away, their mouths slightly agape and a shocked expression mirroring your own.

You don’t know how long it takes for one of you to finally say something. “Am I hallucinating or is NCT in our room?” Mina whispers.

You blink hard. Rub your eyes. Pinch your skin. “No. They’re there.”

And then you sob. You don’t know what happened, but something within you snaps and a choke sounds from your lips and tears swell from your eyes.

“Oh my God, don’t cry,” someone says and seconds later engulfs you in a hug.

They were here. In the same room as you. Had they watched you perform? Were they invited, or did they coincidentally have an interview here as well? You sob into the jacket of whoever is holding you, your knees buckling beneath you as they hold you.

“Why are you crying?” None other than Nakamoto Yuta asks quietly, his hand placed gently on your head rubbing soothing circles.

You finally pull away and wipe underneath your eyes. When you look up at him you nearly choke again. He’s so beautiful. “I—how? I just—where did you? What the fuck?” You cry again and nearly melt into a pathetic puddle when he wipes the tears from your eyes.

“Should we leave?” Yuta laughs, his hands resting on your bare shoulders. “No!” You shout, too loudly. You look down in embarrassment. “Okay, good. I was beginning to wonder you actually didn’t like us,” he chuckles again, and this time you look at his face and nearly faint when you see his gorgeous smile you’ve spent hours gawking over.

“No, never. I’m just... confused? How—who? How did you guys get here?” You stutter, shaking under his gaze.

“Well, we were kind of notified that you two would be performing our songs and thought it would be pretty cool to surprise you,” a new voice appears. You feel like throwing up when Mark Lee comes into view.

“I don’t—I literally don’t know how to talk anymore. How is this happening?” You whisper to yourself, hoping they don’t hear you but by their chuckles they apparently do. “Sorry we surprised you to the point you practically shit yourself,” another someone laughs.

Lee Je No has joined your little circle now too, and you reach out to the table next to you to stand properly. “Sorry, give me a moment,” you chuckle, not because you find it funny, but because you’re so entirely wound up you think death is quite possible.

After a moment or so of you controlling your breath and the three awkwardly standing there, you finally lean up and look over them again. Calm down, idiot. They’re people. People that you have read smut about way too many times and have cried your heart out over. But still people.

“Hi, I’m ___,” you eventually opt for, reaching out to whoever. Yuta takes your hand first, then Jeno, and finally Mark. They introduce themselves as if it was totally normal. Mina!

“One second,” you quip, shuffling over to see Mina in her own little circle of Park Ji Sung, Kim Jungwoo, Kim Dong Young, and Lee Tae Yong.

She was with Taeyong!

You scan over the rest of NCT some who are in their conversations or awkwardly standing there. After all, it was eighteen meeting two. Your eyes don’t stay on one person for too long, just because your excitement is so overwhelming and you need to see everyone.

Wong Yukhei. There he was. Six feet tall in all his glory, rocking on his heels as he laughed loudly with Qian Kun. “Lucas is here,” you say suddenly and to no one in particular.

Your statement comes off more as a question and the trio laugh. “Well, he is part of NCT, is he not?” Mark asks with a grin. “Shush, she’s going through a midlife crisis over here. You heard her earlier,” Yuta retorts with an elbow to Mark’s side.

“Oh God, did he hear me say that he’s my bias?” You hiss, slapping yourself on the forehead. “Well, we were all watching, so I’d say so by the way he blushed about a hundred shades red,” Jeno says, giving your shoulder a squeeze. He blushed?

“C’mon, you should meet everyone,” Marks luckily saves the day and changes the subject. He reaches for your hand and you take it gently, looking down in hot embarrassment. You aren’t wearing your shirt! You’re mouth forms an ‘o’ as recognition hits you like a train and you let go of his hand to pick up the crumpled shirt on the floor.

Even after you pull the damp tank back on you still feel incredibly embarrassed for having been so exposed to the boys and can’t seem to shake it from your mind until you start meeting everyone.

It’s awkward at first, but they’re all incredibly sweet—sweeter than they are online—and you fit right in. After thirty minutes or so, you’re finally led to the last few members.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Lucas. What do I say? Act normal? Pretend he isn’t my lock screen or the reason I’ve been up until four in the morning on so many nights? You have yet another midlife crisis and opt to just smile at him.

But you can’t look away. The tall, beautiful, genuine, hilarious, pure, wonderful boy you never in a million years thought would be so close. You can barely breath when his eyes lock with yours and every working brain cell disintegrates.

His lips. They were even plusher and poutier in person and you wanted nothing more than to touch them. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead while a few blonde strands brushed his long eyelashes and you nearly cried at how soft and fluffy it looked. Defined eyebrows, darkdarkdark brown eyes, sharp jaw, and the soft slope of his nose were the only things you were focused on and yet you couldn’t find yourself to care despite the incredibly long staring contest the two of you were having.

“I was just telling everyone that you’re my mini-me,” Ten giggles and it finally brings you back to reality. You look away from Lucas to quirk an eyebrow at Ten’s statement. Just how long were you staring? Long enough to not know what they’re talking about, clearly. “You know,” he elbows you, “you dance my part in Baby Don’t Stop.”

“Oh,” you laugh, curling into him when his arm drapes over your shoulder, “I wouldn’t say I’m a mini you. Nowhere’s close.”

“You’re lying,” Lucas interjects and it takes everything in you to look at him again. “I think you dance it even better than Ten,” he teases and when he laughs something deep within the confines of your heart sparks—it’s a loud, hearty laugh that you swear on your life is the best sound you have ever heard. Your mouth falls open at his compliment and can’t help the hotness that rushes up your neck and onto your cheeks.

“Ouch,” Ten fakes to cry, finally removing his arm to place his hand over his heart. What were you to say? You simply could not form a coherent reply and instead stood there like an idiot, completely starstruck.

Eventually, conversations start to slow down and everyone is sitting, either on their phone or piling junk food onto plants and chowing down. You find yourself gravitating to the empty seat next to Mina and as soon as you sit down, she grins at you.

“What have we gotten ourselves into?” You laugh, toying with rips in your jeans. “I don’t know. All I do know is that I don’t ever want them to leave,” she sighs, and the realization hits you.

They were going to have to go eventually, and no matter how close they lived to you or not, the chances of ever being able to see them were incredibly low. It was like a dagger to the heart, twisting and digging into you as the disappointment settled in. “At least we got to meet them,” you whisper, trying to be optimistic.

“I know, but now that I’ve had a taste, I want the full platter,” she mumbles and you feel like smacking her for having to sound so wise.

Before you can reply, Chenle appears next to Mina and leans on his elbows, wisps of blonde hair falling into his eyes. “Hey, so, would you guys want to come back to the dorms with us? We’re doing a vLive and thought it would be cool to have you guys in it. It’ll be a truth or dare kind of thing with all of us. You guys should come.”

You gape up at him. Go back to the dorms with them? “Could we take a shower?” Mina asks.

“Yeah, of course. vLive can wait,” he laughs, the high pitch of it makes you laugh as well. Mina looks at you, silently pleading to agree.

“I’ll have to ask my mom.”

It took a lot of pleading and begging and fake crying for both you and Mina’s parents to finally agree. After a whole lecture about boys only wanting to get into girls’ pants, arguing that they aren't like that, and making you promise to never leave each other’s sides, you were finally at the dorms.

After Jaehyun guided you both to the bathrooms, you finally got the shower you desperately needed. After shampoo and conditioner, you scrubbed the layer of dried sweat off your skin and simply stood under the warmth of the water. Your muscles were so damn sore, and you were so incredibly exhausted that you feared you would be knocked out and miss out on the fun.

When someone knocked on the door and teased you about taking forever, you started to feel bad and eventually turned the water off. You dried, brushed your damp hair, and swapped your towel for leggings and a black t-shirt that stopped mid-thigh all under fifteen minutes before finally exiting the bathroom.

You hear laughter coming from down the hall and aimlessly follow in that direction, hoping to find your newfound... friends and not walk into some important meeting. Although, who would be meeting at seven o'clock at night?

“___, we got pizza!” Johnny calls from across the room, being the first to notice your entrance. Wow. The dance practice room is even bigger in person? Your fingers trace the mirrors on every wall as you make your way over, completely entranced with the large room.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Win Win asks, clearly catching onto your awe. “Yeah, I can’t believe how... how big it is,” you gape, spinning on your heels to take it all in again. Imagine how awesome it would be to have all this space!

“That’s what she said,” someone comments, and you look over to see Jaehyun smirking and can't help but laugh at his stupid line. “How original,” you snort while the rest of the boys roar in laughter.

“How did you manage to finish before me?”

You’re surprised when Mina appears by your side but also relieved that she’s finally here. “’Dunno, a lot of weird things have happened today.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Are you guys going to eat or did we order four boxes for nothing?” Taeyong asks and you roll your eyes while Mina mumbles something along the lines of ‘so damn aggressive’ in your ear.

You skip over to the table and grab at a slice while discerning where to sit. Were you to just sit anywhere randomly? By yourself? With someone in particular? This is awkward. Jaemin must have read your mind since he calls you over and pats the open spot on the windowsill next to him.

“Thanks,” you smile, pulling your legs up and sitting crisscross. “So,” he starts, and you glance up at him.

Damn.

Jaemin always had a special place in your heart, so having him right here in front of you made concentrating on one part of his face rather difficult. “So.”

“I thought you and Mina’s whole story was really cool. Since it started as a joke and such,” he says, casually leaning back against the window. “Aw, thank you! As much as it would be super cool to be able to tell people dancing has been our passion our whole life, that’s just not the case. We just lucked out, I guess.”

“Heck yeah, you did. I mean, look at you! It’s a shame you don't sing too—you’d really be a knock-out,” he compliments rather smoothly, crisscrossing his own legs so that your knees were now touching. You couldn’t tell if he was flirting or not, not that you minded, but quickly brushed it off.

“Nana, are you flirting with a girl older than you?”

You look up and nearly shit yourself when Lucas leans against the wall next to you, his muscular thighs just barely pressing gently against your bent knee. “That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Jaemin replies, clearly not fazed by Lucas’ sudden bossy front.

“Anyway, I’m off. Catch me later, yeah?” Jaemin beams, playfully bumping into your shoulder before hopping off the sill and walking away. Leaving you by yourself. With Yukhei.

“Hello,” he greets, his voice deep and his grin wide, making his big eyes scrunch up in delight. “Hi,” you squeak, voice quiet and rather pathetic. “I’m starting to think you don’t like me, ___, and I’m really hurt,” he sighs from his position still next to the wall. Very intimidating for such a soft boy. You take a deep breath. Act normal.

You scoff. “Ah, yes, Yukhei, I’m sorry to break it to you, but I don’t like you.”

“You know you can call me Lucas.”

“I’m aware,” you laugh, suddenly hyper-aware of the sudden lack of space when he leans even closer. “Then why do you call me Yukhei?”

You swallow the thump in your throat and force yourself to look at the boy you have once claimed your undying love for. “’Dunno. I’ll start calling you Lucas if you really want me to.”

“No! No—I didn’t mean it like that. I just—never mind.” Bingo. Finally broke his little facade. “Gosh, Yukhei, you shouldn’t be flirting with a younger girl,” you use his words to Jaemin somewhat against him, and the sudden confidence has you grinning up at him. His mouth hangs open a bit.

Before he replies, Taeyong claps and everyone’s attention is on him. “We’re starting the vLive so if everyone could somehow come over here that would be fantastic.”

You shift off the windowsill after popping the last piece of pizza in your mouth and look up at Lucas, who’s still looking at you with his jaw slack. “Sorry, I’ll go back to being nervous around you,” you tease before bouncing back over to the two sofas.

Despite everyone’s pleas for you and Mina to sit on the couch, you opt for the floor and sit next to Jaehyun who greets you with a heartwarming smile. “Have you ever done a vLive before?” He asks once you’re comfortably settled next to him.

“Oh yeah, we’ve done a few. It’s kind of hard when you’re still a senior and have a shit ton of homework. Plus trying to learn new choreography takes a lot of free time,” you laugh. “I mean, you would know,” you add, hoping to not sound cocky.

“I feel that,” he smiles, moving his arm from between you to rest around your shoulders. You can’t help but smile at it.

“And... we’re on!” Jungwoo cheers, finally moving away from the phone set up on a tripod a few feet away. Everyone cheers and waves so you awkwardly join in, hoping to somewhat seem as if you aren’t freaking out internally.

Taeil, Mark, and Renjun go back and forth asking everyone watching to drop questions along with ‘good dares because we’re not pussies in this bitch,’ as Haechan whispered from behind you. It doesn’t take long for the comments to start flooding in, and you watch from Mina’s phone that a lot of them are mainly asking who you and she are.

“Guys, this is Kim Mina,” Taeyong finally announces, patting her head from his spot on the floor next to her.

“And this is my best friend ___ ___!” Jaehyun shouts, pulling you into his chest. “Woo!” You cheer, your heart ready to burst at his outburst of affection. “If you guys didn’t catch their performance today, definitely check out their YouTube channel. Super talented gals,” Taeyong finishes.

“Except they don’t sing!” Jaemin shouts and you glance back to give him a playful glare.

“Actually, I heard ___ singing my part in Baby Don’t Stop today,” Ten interjects and you want to die. The boys break into a chorus of ‘oooh’s, turning their attention to him. “She’s pretty good, not gonna lie. Not as good as me, of course,” he giggles.

You laugh, more thankful that you apparently don’t sound like a toad from Hell itself when you absentmindedly sing along during performances.

“I found a question!” Yuta hoots. “Mina and ___, are you dating anybody?”

You glance at Mina and break into a fit of laughter. “If we were dating anybody we definitely would not be here right now. Plus no one in our school wants to date us, we’re losers. So no, we’re not dating anyone,” Mina laughs.

“Way to lighten the mood,” Chenle cackles like a dolphin somewhere behind you.

“Oh, I got a dare. Jungwoo, you have been dared to slap Doyoung’s booty,” Jaehyun calls from next to you. Ah, yes. You’d finally get to see Dowoo in action.

After a few moments the two get up and stand right in front of you, and Jungwoo gives the most aggressive slap he could have done that has the whole room roaring in laughter while Doyoung basically cries.

“Mina, someone asked you to marry them, what do you say?” Ten shouts. “Sure! I’ll marry you!” The pretty girl next to you says to the phone, adding a charming wink that has them laughing again.

“Wow, I feel left out on this one. But someone asked that Mina, ___, and everyone from the Firetruck music video perform the first minute of the choreo,” Jeno reads and your eyes nearly bug out of your head. More dancing? “I don't think my legs can take any more moving,” Mina sighs.

“I’m with you on that one.”

“Do you know this?” Mark asks, walking with you to push the tripod back so everyone could fit within the frame.

“Yeah, might be a little dusty though,” you laugh. “That’s okay, so are we,” Yuta reassures before getting into his position. The song begins and luckily it only takes you a few moments for it to come back to you, but the song is paused after at the minute mark even before you can really get into it or break a sweat.

“That was fun,” you comment, sitting back down next to Mina and Jaehyun. His arm goes back around your shoulders and you’re left thinking way too far into it, your heart beating wildly at the older boy’s sudden attachment.

“Truth for Mina again: how are you so gorgeous?” Chenle reads and you watch as her face turns a deep shade of red that has you all cooing at her. “I’m not. But thank you,” she rushes and you smack the back of her head.

“I got a dare! Ha. Jisung, you have to eat a raw egg,” Jungwoo giggles and everyone cries ‘eww’ in unison. “I hate you all,” he grumbles, getting up and jogging out of the room. Moments later the blue-headed boy returns, glass in hand.

“You’re all going to burn in Hell for this,” he says before bringing the glass to his lips and chugging the egg down like a shot.

“Ehhhhhhh, ew, oh gosh, ewww,” he whines second later, his tongue wiggling out of his mouth and his face contorting into a disgusted grimace.

“Dare for ___ and Mina! You guys have to do splits,” Johnny reads, glancing up from his phone to wiggle his eyebrows at you.

“I can’t do a split,” you grumble, stumbling up to your feet. You move away a little and suddenly feel incredibly self-conscious when Mina goes down once and gets it perfectly. Your mouth hangs open. “Yeah, I don’t do that.”

“Try!” Someone hoots and you opt for a straddle since you almost have that during Cherry Bomb. You start to spread your legs, going lower and lower until the muscles in your thighs are screaming. “You got it!” Mina cheers you on, “helping” you by pushing your back lightly.

Instead, you lose your balance and stumble over, groaning when your chin hits the hard floor. “Thanks, stupidhead,” you mumble, your face red in embarrassment because you just face planted in front of NCT and their fan base.

You stand back up and brush yourself off with a smile, trying to seem unbothered, especially when Jaehyun shoots you a sympathetic smile from the floor. You make your way to the table and pour yourself a cup of soda despite the fact that Lucas was right there, ignoring him altogether to avoid another awkward encounter.

But, unfortunately yet somewhat, fortunately, he has a different idea. Before you can manage to walk away, his large hands reach out, attach to your waist, and pull you down until your sitting rigidly on his lap, perfectly set within the space of his chest and the arm of the sofa.

You attempt to not think too far into it, reminding yourself of all the times members randomly pull one another into each other’s laps. But this was Lucas, pulling you onto his lap. Your heart is beating sporadically now, all the blood rushing to your head and goosebumps rising along your skin.

He clearly notices it, too, since his one hand still on your waist squeezes while the fingers on his other trace the bumps on your forearm. You twist your head to look at him. “What are you doing?” You hiss after it finally hits you—people were watching.

“Am I still you’re favorite?” He grins, obviously mocking the question posed by Yuta. “Not right now you aren’t,” you retort, eyes wide when he laughs loud and incredibly obnoxious. Now everyone was really looking.

“Sorry! ___ is just super funny!” He laughs again and your eyes go wide as everyone takes in the scene before them. After they all get over it and go back to the vLive, you look at him again.

“Are you on drugs? What’s up with you? You’re even crazier in person,” you whisper, your voice clearly shrinking when his hands go back to wrap snugly across your stomach. “Not crazy.” Is all he says.

“What, then? Are you suddenly super clingy or something? Or just drunk out of your mind?” You keep egging him on—you need to know what’s going through his damn head. “First Jaemin, then Jaehyun, and then everyone’s whispering about you,” he replies, his voice deep and raspy in your ear.

“Excuse me?”

“Gotta make sure I’m still you’re favorite,” he whispers, smiling innocently against your shoulder. Your mouth falls agape. What the fuck was going on? Since when? How? When did this all happen?

As the vLive dragged on, there wasn’t many dares or questions posed anymore, and everyone was just joking around and talking. At times when both you and Lucas were laughing, you thought you could make an escape but his long fingers became an iron grip on your ribs if you even tried moving. And he was acting so normal; still cracking jokes and making faces and acting like an idiot as if you weren’t even there.

So, you eventually give up and decide you might as well get comfortable, moving around so his hip bone wasn’t uncomfortably digging into you or that you weren’t awkwardly just plopped on his lap. After all, it’s not like your making out with him or doing anything bad. Sitting on laps was a fairly normal thing, right?

And oh God, did he smell like heaven. It was as if sandalwood and peppermint were clouding your brain, and every time you glanced up you got a little peek at his gentle features you had found yourself so in love with when he first debuted. How did you find yourself so close to someone that nearly fills up half of your camera roll?

“Anyway, guys, I think we’re gonna log out for tonight.”

You turn your attention back to the original reason you were even here, heart thumping against your chest and whole body on fire. You cannot concentrate with Yukhei’s body heat warming you head to toe and his breathing against your neck or his occasional laugh, let alone his long fingers spread across the dips of your waist and his thighs beneath your own. You blink until you refocus, quickly realizing everyone was waving and shouting goodbye. With an apprehensive and rather awkward wave, you watch in relief as Taeyong finally ends the live.

You hold your breath—what now? As soon as his grip loosens you’re up, moving a few feet away to stretch and simply breath. Lucas follows after a few seconds, raising his long arms over his head and stretching them with a yawn.

“That was fun,” he says with a smile plastered on his face. You glare at him, not entirely too sure what to say. What was there to even say? ‘Hey man, what the fuck was that?’ or were you to just act normal about it? And what were the NCTzens going to say or do, and how many questions were going to be asked? Hopefully, people wouldn't delve that far into it.

“You guys should always come over when we go live,” he says, rocking on his heels. Oh, was this what we were going to do? Act normal? “I don’t think your fans would like that very much,” you laugh awkwardly.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“I mean, or we could always use more members for NCT. Make it twenty,” he jokes and you truly laugh this time. “Yeah, no. I’m holding out until NCT Antarctica.”

“That would be exciting, you could impress everyone with your almost-there-but-not-really split,” he teases, laughing loudly again. There you go being embarrassed again, face burning red. “Shut up.”

“I’m kidding, I certainly can’t do that,” he says. “Gee, that makes me feel better,” you scoff playfully, rolling your eyes. He gasps. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hey, I hate to say this, but are you ready to go? I’m so knocked.”

Before you can reply Mina is next to you, pressing her body weight onto your side. “Uh, yeah, I’m ready if you are,” you smile to her sympathetically. “Thank the heavens, I could sleep for a year.”

“Mina and ___ are leaving, guys!” Lucas suddenly shouts and everyone breaks into a chorus of ‘aww’s. Ignoring the painfully obvious disappointment, you and Mina say goodbye to each member, offering a hug and quick exchange of appreciative pleasantries.

“What’s your numbers? We’re adding you to a group chat,” Ten says after releasing you from a hug. “What?”

He beams at you and you stutter your number out, Mina doing the same, and watch in complete astonishment as Ten types them into his phone. “Thanks,” he grins again, bringing you into another quick hug. He and Lucas walk the two of you to the door, and when Lucas wraps his arms around your waist after hugging Mina you feel as if you’re literally flying—physically and emotionally—as he lifts your feet up off the ground.

“Bye, ___,” he mumbles after setting you back down. “’Night, Yukhei.”

“Am I still your favorite?”

“Yeah, don’t you worry.”

Forty-eight hours later when you’re in the middle of studying AP Chemistry vocabulary, you receive a text from a number not saved. When you swipe it open, it’s a group chat full of exactly twenty people, and the only name in there is Mina.

Seventy-two hours later you have plans for Saturday night.

Forty-four hours later, you are sitting on the same sofas from last week, watching NCT U practice Boss while the backup dancers give you and Mina the rundown.

You’re nervous. You’ve done this choreography before, basically have it memorized like the back road you take on the way home, but you never did it as a group. The version with just two people was significantly different; plus having to do it with NCT? You would’ve never dreamt of this in a million—trillion—years.

You spent way too much time watching the dance practice on their channel and practicing it with Mina. Both Jaehyun and Win Win were feeling ill, and although the live could have just been pushed back, Taeyong insisted the two of you came and joined in for ‘shits and giggles,’ as Mark texted.

Thankfully it was just a spur-of-the-moment thing and it wouldn't be uploaded anywhere. But it would be live, which meant absolutely zero mistakes.

Mina squeezes your hand when the two of you finally move to the boys and get in your respective positions, the live already started a few minutes ago. “You ready?” Lucas turns around from in front of you, offering a reassuring smile. You nod quickly, swallowing the lump in the back of your throat and focusing on the positives.

Hey, maybe this would help your future career. Being with NCT for the second time may shine some light on you and Mina and could possibly give you major popularity. Nothing but good could come out of this, you tell yourself.

The song starts and your mind completely goes into business mode, your brain remembering twists and turns correctly until you’re following each part spotlessly, especially Jaehyun’s solo part, no matter how awkward it is looking into the phone all to yourself.

And you can’t help but feel as if your pushing yourself harder simply because Lucas is there with you. Sure, you’re scared shitless of messing up, but knowing he might be watching most definitely gives you a push, even if you don't want to admit it.

But you mess up.

It’s minor—incredibly minuscule that no one besides you probably notices it. Your ankle twists in an awkward angle and a searing pain shoots up your Achilles tendon that has you breathless for a moment. You dance through it though, and the song ends before you even know it.

The only sound throughout the large room is the heavy breathing from everyone followed by a joyous cheer. “That was so fun, holy shit. Dancing with a group is so... so empowering,” Mina stammers with her hands on her hips, breath heavy. You simply nod in agreement, your mind too caught up in how much your foot burns. Fuck.

“Showers and pizza, yeah?” Doyoung asks, running a hand through his dampened hair. Everyone nods in silent agreement before splitting up in different directions in search of a free bathroom.

You wobble behind Mina and it doesn't take her long to realize something’s up.

“You're hurt,” she notes, watching the way you limp. “Yeah. It’s fine. I’ll be okay,” you mumble, shooting her a smile and ignoring the rise of her perfectly sculpted right eyebrow.

But it still hurts, even after your shower.

Simply trying to pull your cotton shorts up your leg is an ordeal and you’re left out of breath once you have them on. Instead of heading back to where everyone else is, you wander through the corridors for the kitchen and once you’re there, you open the freezer in search for an icepack.

“Whatcha looking for?” You practically jump out of your skin at Lucas’ sudden appearance, leaning on the counter. “An ice pack,” you grumble, shoving an ice-cream carton out of the way.

“Yo, yo, yo, no need to get aggressive with the Rocky Road, man. What do you need an icepack for?”

“Foot. Ankle. Tendon. That area,” you reply, lifting your foot and pointing to the now swollen area. “Foot-ankle-tendon, that’s new.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, lightly smacking his hand. “Sorry, sorry,” he laughs freely now, the loud, angelic sound filling the room. He scoots you out of the way and continues digging through the freezer until moments later, he comes up with a beloved icepack. You beam at him in appreciation.

“C’mon, follow me,” he says, linking his arm through yours and leading you down a different hallway. Once he opens the door and flicks the light switch on, you realize it’s his and Kun’s room and your mouth slightly falls open. “Sit.”

You do so quietly, watching from his bed as the tall boy rummages through a dresser and seconds later whips out an ace bandage. “I can do that, you know,” you laugh awkwardly, ogling at how his beautiful face scrunches up in concentration as he kneels down and begins to snugly wrap the whole area.

“You can also call me Lucas,” he retorts, pinning the bandage in place and kicking his door closed. Your heart beats faster now. “Oh my God, what’s wrong with calling you Yukhei? Unless you truly don’t like being called that,” you laugh as he plops down beside you and turns the television on. Your heart settles.

“No, I don’t mind. I’m just not used to people I’m not super close with calling me Yukhei,” he admits while flipping through channels. “Oh. I’m being honest, I’ll call you Lucas from now on if you want.”

“I’m teasing, you can call me anytime,” he looks over with a wink, but then his face falls, “wait.”

You genuinely laugh at him this time, watching as he frowns. “How did you forget the whole beginning to that pun?”

“I don’t know. Shut up,” he snickers, then tosses the remote down next to your leg with a huff. He quickly turns to you and you look expectedly at him. “Have you ever played Fortnite?”

You laugh again. “I’ve played mobile but never Xbox or PlayStation,” you admit, watching joyfully as his eyes light up. “Can I show you how to play? We can do duos. We have two TVs, Kun and I usually play together. I mean, only if you want, you don’t have to, but—”

“Yes, I’ll play!” You interrupt, your mouth truly hurting from laughing as the beautiful boy in front of you rambled on. “Really?” He beams.

“Really.”

“Oh my gosh, this is probably the best day ever. I’ve never been able to teach anyone how to play, it’s really so fun, well you said you’ve played before so you know, but still. I feel so bad for all the girlfriends in the world who don’t play and just get annoyed ‘cause they're really missing out, you know? I’m so happy you’re somewhat experienced though, that kind of makes this a little easier. But, ah! This will really be fun,” the tall boy goes on and on, and you simply listen with a smile on your face as he sets up the two screens.

“Oh, gosh, I’m sorry, I got super excited. I promise I’m not that weird,” he chuckles uncomfortably, looking at his feet while the Fortnite screen loads. “Pfft, don’t be sorry. And that wasn’t weird at all; super cute, actually,” you smile, surprising even yourself with your blunt honesty. The pink hue of his cheeks darken and your stomach leaps—you did that!

“Okay, this is just the lobby so I can show you some stuff before it actually starts,” Lucas says, sitting back on his bed and scooting to lay back against the wall. He passes you a PlayStation controller and cups your hands in his. “Okay, this is to move,” he demonstrates and you look up to your screen and back to his fingers.

He goes on and on from explaining the simple goal of the game to shooting, jumping, crouching, and so on, but in all honesty, all you can focus on is his soft hands on yours. Luckily once the game starts you sit in comfortable silence aside from random comments about finding a chest or ‘there’s a shield over here,’ until, alas, there are only twenty people left and you encounter another duo.

The two of you break into a chorus of shouts, warning each other and groaning when you mess up. Your aim isn’t horrific, but definitely not amazing, and you’re wasting ammo terribly. When you have to reload, the opponent shoots you dead and you drop your controller with an annoyed sigh. Seconds later, he dies as well.

“Sorry, that was my fault,” you grumble, wiping your now sweaty hands on your t-shirt. “Don’t worry, eighteenth place isn’t too shabby for your first duo,” he reassures you and sets his controller down.

“Are we going to play another?” You inquire and he raises a thick brow in response. “Do you want to?”

“Um, yeah!”

You play fourteen more rounds, ranging from fiftieth, seventeenth, sixth, and sometimes even fourth place. On your last round, however, Lucas dies and leaves you to battle the last duo.

With a clever jump while reloading, you’re able to quickly kill one player and when the last player hides behind a tree, you find the perfect angle and come in first place.

“Oh my God, we won! You won!” Lucas hoots, shaking you by your shoulders until you’re cheering with him. “Yes, yes, yes!” You shout, grinning ear to ear. “I’m so proud, now you can tell everyone I’m the best Fortnite tutor ever,” he brags, running his hand through his hair and you have to keep yourself from drooling.

You check your phone. 9:47 PM. You’ve been in here for two hours. “I think we’ve played enough for tonight,” he chuckles, turning one television off and switching the other to cable. Now what? Should I leave?

“Holy shit, Zootopia is on,” he suddenly gasps and you look over to see him wide-eyed. “I thought guys weren’t supposed to like stuff like this?”

“We’re not supposed to,” he shrugs, looking over at you with a wide grin, “but I can’t help myself.” You don’t reply and instead sink lower into the mattress, fixing the pillow behind your head in order to get comfier. You keep going back and forth from watching the movie and sneaking glances at Yukhei in his red sweatshirt, hood up and hiding most of his face. Regardless, you can still see strands of his soft hair falling into his eyes and the outline of his lips and begin to feel dizzy by something so incredibly simple but still so breathtaking.

Your eyes begin to grow heavy and burn from the brightness of the television compared to the darkness of the rest of his room and you force yourself to blink hard a few times to keep them from fluttering closed. Don't fall asleep now, he's so close. He was leaning his weight on you, slightly slumping on his side with his arm and thigh pressing against yours and you could feel him breathing.

You blink again, but you don’t open them right away this time just to give them a rest. A few minutes won’t hurt, right?

You quickly fall asleep to Nick Wilde telling Officer Judy Hopps that she needs to give him that pen.

Warmth.

That’s exactly what you wake up to—you can feel warm sunlight dancing on your bare arm and face as it shines shamelessly through the curtains, the white duvet tucked up to your neck engulfs you like a hug, and overall warmth surrounds you on this lovely morning.

Never getting up, you think to yourself, or maybe you even grumble it, you don’t know. You sigh softly and curl your arms and legs tighter around your body pillow, pressing your face against it and breathing in the familiar scent—

Wait.

You inhale deeply again. Sandalwood and peppermint.

Sandalwood and peppermint?

Your eyes are open in a millisecond, but you quickly squeeze them shut in fear of that what you think you saw isn't what’s actually there. You force yourself to peel an eye open again and nearly vomit at how breathtaking the view before you is.

“Yukhei,” you finally breath, barely audible, testing to see if he was up. He doesn’t budge or flinch or sigh—nothing. He stays asleep, his breath softly fanning over your chest from where he lies. The same soothing sunlight warming your skin makes his honey skin gold, and his eyelashes cast soft shadows across his cheekbones while his lips are just so pouty you aren't even thinking when your hand leaves his side to trace his Cupid’s bow.

If your phone was in reach you’d take a picture right then and there and selfishly keep it to yourself, something no one else could have because it’s your memory to keep. But you can’t seem to move. Instead, you stay still, memorizing every plane and curve of his face because you know nothing will ever be as ethereal as what you see right now.

One, five, ten minutes later, you have no idea nor do you care, you realize you should leave. This wasn't right, as much as you hated to admit it. Your heart was completely on the line here and you weren't prepared to be utterly heartbroken in the long run.

You start to shift, slowly, barely an inch at a time, further from the comforting warmth radiating off his body. You’re closer to the window now, and once you detach his remaining hand, you can easily lean up and make your escape.

You shakily reach for his long fingers spread across the small of your back and gently slide it off and lay it on his pillow.

Yukhei groans into his soft pillow and you freeze, hoping he’ll just turn away but no—both hands come back this time, reaching for your body. And once they find your waist you’re being pulled back even closer now.

He sighs against your collarbone and you start to melt. “Don't go. You’re so warm,” he breathes, turning his face so that his cheek lies flat on the center of your chest. “I think I should.”

“No, shut up,” he mumbles back, completely locking his muscular arms around your back.

You huff in defeat and rest your hands around his shoulders. He seems to already be back asleep, so you absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair you've been dying to touch and practically cry when he hums in response. So you continue to, gently scratching his scalp and untangling the ends until he's softly snoring against your collarbone once more.

Your heart genuinely aches—you can feel it in your chest, months and weeks and days and hours of adoration for the boy clinging to you swelling from inside and out and you cannot comprehend that you're even here with him. What did this mean? Friends who have only met twice and randomly texted throughout a single week did not share a bed, let alone spend the morning like this.

You sigh, mainly out of guilt but also sadness—you wanted to wake up like this every morning, stay up every day the way you had, fall asleep with him beside you every night. But would it happen? It was incredibly unlikely and you wanted to sob.

You huff again, pushing your thoughts into another corner of your brain and deciding to just relish in the moment now. You wiggle further down until finally, you’re face to face with perfection himself, his nose just barely brushing your own.

You close your eyes again, hoping maybe you’d fall back asleep and when you wake up again he wouldn’t be there anymore.

“I knew you wouldn’t leave.”

Your eyes are open in a flash, widening at his words and at the fact his own were staring at you intently. “Only because you asked. And you’re very comfy,” you admit, hoping he wouldn’t see right through you. “So I’ve been told.”

“Oh, yeah? By who?” You can't help but ask, not only were you curious but you genuinely wanted to hear his raspy morning voice again. “Oh, you know...” He trails off, and you’re not aware of his hands on your waist until they start tapping against your skin.

“Jungwoo?”

“Yeah, Jungwoo,” he breathes, nuzzling his face back into the crook of your neck and you can’t help but notice that he inhales deeply. “You alright?” You ask gingerly, placing your free hand back on his head and playing with an oddly darker strand of hair.

“Mhm,” he hums against your skin, “comfy. And you smell good.”

Your heart jumps over hurdles at his words and you’re so entirely grateful that he can't see the way your cheeks burn. You stare at the wall for the next few minutes in silence, your mind blank until he starts to breathe heavily and you can only assume he’s fallen asleep once more.

You must have fallen back asleep as well because when you open your eyes again the tall boy isn’t next to you, but sitting on the edge of the bed and prodding you awake. And by prodding, you mean attacking your sides and tickling you until your mind registers the dull pain.

“Stop, stop, stop!” You cry, leaning up and tearing his hands away. “I’m up, I’m up. Jesus,” you hiss, leaning against the wall and smoothing your hair.

He’s grinning so big you fear his face might break. “Sorry, you wouldn’t wake up so I had to do it the hard way,” he laughs.

“Did you try saying my name?”

“Yeah.”

“Poking me?”

“Yep.”

“Oh,” you sigh, “sorry. I guess I was really knocked.” He laughs. “Don’t worry about it. I would’ve let you just stay there all day but your phone was blowing up,” he explains, standing up and stretching. He’s already dressed, so when you check the time you aren't surprised to see that it’s noon.

Mina has texted you nineteen times. Some are from last night simply asking where you were, then calling you out for leaving her alone with Jeno, followed by texts from this morning calling you ‘such a thot and you know why’ and ending with something along the lines of ‘Taeyong isn’t my bias anymore;)’ and you’re laughing.

“What?” Lucas asks and you just show him, watching his expression grow until he’s laughing too. “I feel bad, I stole you from her,” he chuckles, running a hand through his hair. How were you supposed to reply to that? “That’s okay, she’s left me all by myself at parties plenty of times, this isn’t a big deal.” You notice the way his face falls but brush it off when he smiles softly and sits down beside you. “Good. How’s the foot feel?”

“Uh, better, I think. I haven’t walked it yet so I’m not sure.”

Goosebumps rise along your limbs the second he reaches for the white blanket and his knuckles brush your skin and you just pray he doesn’t notice. You watch silently as he unwraps the bandage and presses the skin around your ankle. “Well, it’s not nearly as swollen so that should be a good sign, right?”

“I suppose so,” you laugh, twisting your ankle in his gentle hold. Luckily there’s no major pain so you shimmy off the bed (as much as you don’t want to) and stand up, testing your weight as he watches on. “I think it’ll be okay.”

“Phew, thank Jesus,” he smiles, getting up as well and swinging the door open. “There’s still some leftovers from breakfast if you want some,” Lucas says as you walk down the corridor to the kitchen. Jisung and Haechan pass you on the way and when they wiggle their eyebrows, all you do is smile and look down at your feet.

“Breakfast sounds amazing.”

When you enter the kitchen only Mina and Jeno are in there, sitting on high top chairs at the counter. Mina sees you first and her eyes light up. “___! Look who decided to wake up!”

“Sorry,” you laugh, “I was super tired I suppose.”

“Mhm, I wonder why,” Jeno smirks and your mouth falls open. “NO!” You and Lucas shout at the same time and Mina and Jeno break into a fit of giggles. “We played Fortnite all night. And watched Zootopia,” you grumble, smiling appreciatively when Lucas passes you a plate.

“Is Fortnite a new code for f—”

Lucas glares at Jeno angrily and he quickly shuts up, turning to Mina with a grin. “When did that happen?” You scoff, pointing between them. If they were going to play like that, so would you.

“Well, when you two disappeared she was all alone so we hung out and even practiced Go,” Jeno retorts back. You roll your eyes in defeat and hold your plate out as Lucas spoons what’s left of scrambled eggs and toast on your plate. “Thank you,” you beam at him.

You eat in relative silence except for the occasional snicker when Lucas leans over to show you a meme on his phone. After helping to clean up, you and Mina finally deem that it’s time to leave and say goodbye to whoever is out and about in the dorms.

You find yourself wrapped in Lucas’ muscular arms once again and you can't help but feel at home in his warm embrace. Discreetly as possible, you scrunch his sweatshirt in your palms and breath in his alluring scent, praying, hoping that this won't be the last time you’ll ever be so close. “Text me, okay?” He mumbles in your hair.

“Yeah, sounds good,” you smile, finally pulling away from his hold.

And so you do. You’re lying in bed, fresh out of the shower on Tuesday night with all homework complete and Mina on FaceTime.

“Jesus Christ ___, just send it. You slept in the same bed for crying out loud,” she hisses and your face flushes at the recent memory. “Okay, okay. I’m sending it.”

9:53 PM - To Lucas: hey yukhei!!

“Oh gosh, I sent it,” you gasp, tossing your phone onto the floor and smacking your face. Mina looks at you with a raised eyebrow from the screen of your laptop. “I have to tell you something.”

Now, this makes you look up, completely forgetting about the text. “I hate that sentence,” you say, but luckily she doesn't seem too fazed. “No, it’s not bad. Well, kind of. I don’t know,” she sighs, worrying you, “remember when I texted you saying Taeyong isn’t my bias anymore?”

“I’m guessing you weren't just joking around?” You ask slowly.

“I wish. Well, when me and Jeno were hanging out all night I hadn't really realized until he was talking all philosophical to me just how cute he was. And once I did, I noticed how hardcore he was flirting,” she rambles, never looking directly at the camera, “so while you were sleeping in the same bed as Lucas I was, you know, flirting back, and we uh—we kissed. And then he apologized for rushing and I said that I was sorry too and, well, now we’re going on a date tomorrow!”

Your mouth falls open. Mina and Jeno? “I—wow. I don't know what to say,” you laugh, “that’s amazing!”

“You think so?” She’s beaming like a little girl on Christmas morning now. “Yes! While Taeyong is a god, he’s way too old for you while Jeno is our age. Plus, he’s a sweetie so I support.”

“Oh, gosh. He’s such an angel. He’s so adorable and so funny but if he thinks a joke is rude he always apologizes and God, he’s so sweet,” she goes on and you can't help but smile for her. Your phone dings from the floor and Mina stops to smirk at you. “That might be him!”

You squeal, leaning off your bed and picking up your phone.

9:57 PM - To You: Hello ___ !!!

“Oh my God, he replied,” you squeak excitedly, bouncing excitedly. “Yes!” Mina shouts and you can’t help but laugh. “Ask him how he is.”

9:58 PM - To Lucas: how are youuuu

“So yeah, I guess we’re going to have to double date now,” she giggles and if she was next to you, you would have smacked her. “I don’t want to mess this up, you know? It’s still so unreal to me,” you sigh.

“I mean, you’re already pretty good friends with him and you had a major snuggle session, plus I think you’re both whipped and should just marry now,” Mina says and you laugh at her honesty. “Ah, yes. Marriage is always the answer.

10:01 PM - To You: Im doing better now, how are u?:))

You can’t help but squeal again. “Anyway, I’m going to go. I still have to do these god-forsaken note cards,” she sighs, waving her blank cards dramatically, “have fun talking to your boyfriend. Text me if anything juicy happens.”

“Okay, I will. Goodnight sweaty, love you.”

“Love you too shithead,” she giggles before hanging up and you close your laptop to finally head to bed. Or, lie in bed while on your phone.

10:03 PM - To Lucas: im swell. school SUX tho

10:03 PM - To You: Aww I’m sorry, is something wrong?

10:04 PM - To Lucas: no, i just want to be out of there and live my life u kno?

10:04 PM- To You: Yeah, I understand:(

10:04 PM - To You: I have a question

10:05 PM - To Lucas: sure

10:05 PM - To You: Is my bed comfier than urs

The butterflies in your stomach are becoming painful now, stirring such emotions within you that you feel as if you might just explode. You’re grinning like an idiot, too, typing back quickly just so the conversation doesn’t die.

10:06 PM - To Lucas: it depends. theres a few factors that could change my answer

10:06 PM - To You: Such as?

10:06 PM - To Lucas: whether you would be there or not

You have to bite your lip to hold back another squeal of excitement. Where did this confidence come from and how did you just say that? You can’t believe you actually texted it and hope it’s as smooth as it sounded in your head. You could only pray he would flirt back.

10:07 PM - To You: Idk how to reply back smoothly but I hope u know Im smiling like a dork rn and Kun is making fun of me

10:07 PM - To You: How do you do that???

10:08 PM - To Lucas: <33

10:08 PM - To Lucas: do what?

10:09 PM - To You: Everything you say or do makes me smile. And idk why like even when u told me to shut up I couldn't stop grinning. Or when you pretend to be disinterested and lie so I can't see how u actually feel. It makes me smile and I feel weird when Im around u

You can't breathe at his text. Your head is spinning and you have to read it three times to actually comprehend that Wong Yukhei sent that to you.

10:10 PM - To Lucas: i could say the same ab you. you make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside

10:10 PM - To Lucas: gosh, was that too much? sorry

10:11 PM - To Lucas: sorry for always being a mess around u. u still make me nervous

10:11 PM - To You: Yeah. Me too

10:11 PM - To Lucas: really?? u hide it really well

10:12 PM - To You: Yeah man. U make me really anxious. In a good way. I know you won't but I always get scared you'll think im a weirdo

10:12 PM - To Lucas: i could never

10:13 PM - To You: I don't know how to end this conversation now Im too happy but Im super tired and I have practice tmrw

10:13 PM - To Lucas: hm. well. how bout one of us says goodnight and then the other says it back ?

10:14 PM - To You: Clever

10:14 PM - To You: Goodnight ___💗💗

10:14 PM - To Lucas: gnight lucas❤️

You don't fall asleep for another half an hour, your mind buzzing with excitement and affection for the boy who still is your lock screen.

Saturday evening Ten calls you. “___!” He shouts, nearly deafening you.

“Hello!” You shout back.

“I know it’s last minute but I have an invitation for you and Mina,” he’s still talking excessively loud but you find yourself not minding but just grinning at his clear excitement. “Ooh, an invitation for what?”

“If I’m being honest, an invitation for a terrible hangover and quite possibly things you’ll regret. But no, seriously, a friend of Johnny’s friend is having a big ol’ party in his disgustingly large frat house for the end of the semester and it’s open invite. So,” Ten explains, “some of us are going and thought, ‘Hey! Let’s invite our bestest pals Mina and ___!’”

A frat house? A party in a frat house? This would be a precursor to every party ahead of you if you do in fact go to college.

“We’ll be there.”

You should have mentally prepared yourself for this kind of party. You aren’t a very big high school party-goer to begin with, so when you entered the large house with Mina at your side you couldn't get over the sheer magnitude of it all.

Everything was extra—from the extravagant chandeliers and metal railing along the marble stairs to the large rooms seemingly bigger than your own home, to the swarm of sweaty students bouncing to the incredibly loud music, and even to the amount of liquor on counters and tables and the intense smell of hormones.

It was quite suffocating at first and you found yourself clinging to Mina, the extrovert between the two of you, and followed her around like a puppy. Eventually, you warm up after two drinks she passes to you, starting to feel more relaxed in Mina’s navy bodycon dress she forced upon you.

“I think I see Jaehyun!” She shouts in your ear even though you can hear completely fine. You watch against the counter as she jumps up and down like an idiot, waving her arm to catch his attention.

You’re even more surprised when it works. You can tell the gears are short-circuiting in his brain until recognition finally lights up his features and he smiles brightly. He turns for a moment, but then looks back and waves you over.

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” you sigh, downing your fourth shot in a weak attempt to wash all your insecurities away. You slowly follow behind Mina, hopping along to take your heels off so you don't end up embarrassing yourself.

“I didn’t know you guys were here yet!” Is the first thing you hear and it’s Yuta, standing up and grinning beautifully before enveloping you in a hug.

“Surprise?” You draw out once he pulls away.

“C’mon, everyone’s downstairs,” he continues, intertwining his fingers with yours and leading you through the crowd. “Who’s everyone?” You ask on your descent down the steps. “Ugh, well. Me, of course. Taeil, Johnny, Tae, uh...” he trails off, “everyone but Dream members.”

You want to ask if Lucas was there, of course, but you also don’t want to seem clingy and instead kept your mouth shut. After all, you had been texting quite a lot and he never mentioned if he was going tonight. Poor Mina, you think, Jeno won’t be here and their date went well.

“God, he’s already staring and we just got down here,” Yuta mutters, and it takes you way too long to process what he means. “Who?”

“Yukhei. He hasn't stopped talking about you since last week, and now you’re here when he’s been drinking? You’re in for a ride,” Yuta explains as you near the group, but you already feel the anxiety blooming inside your gut. “What does that mean? What do I do?” You hiss, walking slower now.

“I dunno. That’s something you gotta figure out,” he says with a shrug, tapping your forehead with his free hand. You swallow the lump in your throat and just nod, your head suddenly throbbing and you’re not sure if it’s from the soju or what Yuta just told you. Or the fact that Yukhei looks like a whole meal and he’s staring at you just the same way.

Your stomach flips as he scans you head to toe and back again, from your bare legs, up to where the navy lace stops at the expanse of your thighs, to the way the dark material hugs deliciously at your waist and dips sinfully to reveal cleavage that could give a nun a heart attack.

And you can't take your eyes off him. Why did he always have to look so... so good? He could wear a trash bag and still look like a model.

He’s in regular denim skinny jeans that, although he’s sitting, show off his thick thighs and leave absolutely nothing to the imagination. The white, long sleeve tee he’s wearing has a low collar and you can see his collarbones and the way his Adam’s apple bobs. His fluffy hair is messily parted down the middle to show off his forehead and his eyes are so dark you feel as if you suddenly can't breathe oxygen and can only survive off him.

You don’t know how long you’re staring at him until Mina accidentally bumps into you on her way to sit down on the carpet, shaking you from your thoughts. “You good?” You ask each other at the same time. She laughs obnoxiously, the alcohol in her system already in effect.

“I’m good, but are you good?” She asks knowingly, twitching her head in the direction you were just entranced by. “Yeah, just peachy.”

You don't know if you really are good, but what you do know is that that was the hottest checking out experience you had ever shared and can't shake the feeling of excitement setting fire to your nerves.

“C’mon, sit. I’ll get you a drink?” Yuta speaks up again, finally letting go of your hand and moving it to your back to walk you over to an open spot on the couch. “Um, yeah. Sure,” you smile, trying to brush away the feeling that Lucas is still staring, “thank you.”

He only beams back in return before he’s off, and you’re left sitting between Taeil and Kun. “How’s the party so far?” Taeil shouts from beside you and you’re fairly surprised that he initiates small talk, considering you haven’t spoken with him much. “I don’t know, to be honest,” you answer, realizing your throat is going to be dead by the end of the night with how you have to shout, “I’ve only been here like, fifteen minutes. And I’ve never been to a place so big!”

“Really?” He asks, clearly surprised.

“Yeah, not really a party person. High school parties are always in smelly basements and all there is is cringey rounds of truth or dare, spin the bottle, or seven minutes of heaven.”

“Still happens in grown-up parties, sorry to tell you,” he laughs, pausing to take a sip of whatever’s in his cup, “it’s okay though, it’s always fun no matter what we do.”

“I can tell. Except I feel like I’m going to go deaf,” you exaggerate, spinning to look at the monstrous speaker on the wall. “At least they play good music,” Taeil replies and you shrug, “I guess. It’s probably better when your dancing, though,” you say, turning back to him.

Yuta returns moments after that, holding out a cup and you take it and smile appreciatively. When you take a sip, you practically choke on how strong it is but swallow it anyway with a grimace. Once the burn goes away you take another sip and deem it’s not as bad as you initially thought.

“Jesus, slow down before you give him a heart attack,” Kun hisses in your ear, and you glance at him with widened eyes. “Who? And what about me? What if I have a heart attack?” You joke.

“I swear you’re clueless, but I’m hoping that it’s just alcohol shutting down your brain,” he sighs in defeat, “Lucas, of course. He looks away for one second and then when he turns back you’re doing something that surprises him.”

You roll your eyes. “What, am I not allowed to drink?”

“Well, you are underage. But no, seriously. I can tell he thinks it’s hot. Plus, I can practically smell his jealousness from here,” Kun replies, side glancing for barely a second before looking back at you. “You should have seen him when you walked down holding Yuta’s hand.”

You swallow, suddenly feeling guilty.

“Don’t worry about it, he’s not one to stay pissed. He’s obsessed with you already,” Kun smiles, but hides it by taking a sip from his cup, “but hey, next time you sleepover, warn me? Please? I walked into our bedroom the other night and nearly shit myself when I saw you wrapped around him.”

“Sorry, I probably would’ve shit myself too,” you giggle and when something moves out of the corner of your eye, you frown to see Lucas walking away. “He’s getting away,” Kun sings and you look back to him in a panic. “If I follow him I don’t know what could happen,” you sigh honestly.

Of course, you want to go after him just to talk to him privately, but Lord knows what could happen when you have liquor in your system.

“Bullshit! Don’t let that stop you,” Kun smiles, slipping his hands to your back and shoving you to your feet. You sigh, finally standing up and chugging the rest of your drink. “Do I look alright?”

“You look stunning, stop worrying. He went upstairs, probably to piss. Go get ‘em, tiger,” he replies, and you smile and lean back down to squeeze him in a hug. “Thank you,” you whisper, and then you’re off.

You don’t know if it’s the sudden buzz in your brain or not, but going up two flights of stairs leaves you way too winded and dizzy then it normally does. You lean against the wall to catch some air while scanning over the crowd from a higher view. C’mon, where are you?

“___?”

You practically jump out of your skin when he says your name and slides his hands around your waist, tugging you around to face him. “Ha. Hi Yukhei. I was just looking for you,” you gulp, suddenly losing brain cells with him being so close again.

“You were?”

“Yeah, I thought we could, um, catch up. Or something,” you chuckle awkwardly, mentally slapping yourself for being so nervous again.

“Actually, I have something to tell you,” he suddenly says, standing taller and you feel so small when he does that. “You do?” You squeak, afraid it would be something terribly disappointing or terribly heartwarming.

“Yeah, c’mon,” he says, reaching for your hand and guiding you to an open door. Luckily it’s not a spare bedroom but just the bathroom and you can’t help but sigh in relief once he’s locked the door and flicked the light switch up.

“So, we recently had a meeting with our managers and stuff,” he starts, and you can’t help the quiet ‘oh’ that slips from your lips. That was not what you thought he would be talking about.

“What?” He stops, a look of worry crossing his face.

“Oh, oh. It’s nothing. I was just, ugh,” you pause, racking your brain to say the right thing, “expecting you to say something else.”

“I’ll get there in a bit, don’t worry,” he smiles softly, bumping into you until you’re pressed against the sink and straining to look directly up at him now, “just listen to this first, yeah?”

You nod quickly, your throat completely dry and brain on fire with his body so flush against your own. “Anyway, we were talking about backup dancers, for the most part. And it occurred to me that we don’t have any female backup dancers. So I asked why and they kind of just... ‘I don’t know’ed it, you know?” He explains, and you genuinely have zero clue where this is going. You nod anyway.

“So Taeyong asked what they thought about hiring some female backup dancers. Like, long-term jobs, not just a one-song-and-done. And they kind of did a little manager huddle and said why not and to let them know of anyone we know so they can do auditions and stuff,” he goes on, and by now you can’t think straight. He hasn’t said it yet, but what if?

“We all thought the same thing, but I said it first and, so, I told them about these two girls I know and how talented they are and how, well, sweet and smart and genuinely amazing they are. And pretty, but that’s beside the point. So I showed them some videos and stuff. Anyway, that’s not important,” he pauses to lick his plump lips, looking at you directly now, “and so they said that if you and Mina came in and auditioned it would be a delight to have you on the team. If you want, of course.”

You don’t know what to say, do, or think. You’re hyper-aware of his large hands cupping your face, index fingers rubbing soft circles beneath your ears but also still have the weight of what he just said sinking into your brain. You don’t know whether it’s the alcohol or simply shock but no words come out, your lips staying parted in complete and utter surprise at such a bombshell.

“I don't—I can’t,” you stammer, shaking hands gripping his shirt to steady yourself, “thank you. Fuck. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Holy shit. Oh my God. I don’t know what to say, holy fucking shit.”

You’re breathless, slumped against the granite and nearly pulling the lanky boy down with you. “I have more to say,” he says, quieter this time. You gulp, eyes searching his face. Still, you can’t comprehend anything besides you and Mina may have just fallen into one of the best opportunities of your life.

“Okay,” he sighs softly, his large hands still cradling your face. “My first thought last weekend when I woke up with you beside me was ‘Fuck, what did I just get myself into?’ but when you said something about never getting up and whispered my name in that scared little voice I nearly lost it,” he goes on, eventually looking away from your face and fiddling with the lace material on the neckline of your dress. He suddenly looked incredibly innocent and you wanted nothing more than to hold him once more.

“And then you didn’t leave, even though I know you wanted to. But it suddenly felt so right, you know? Like everything that had happened that night ended with such a perfect morning,” he sighs, glancing up for a second to check how you were taking it all so far. When you offer him a warm smile, heart beating wildly against your chest, he returns it with pink blush adorning his cheeks.

“I thought you felt it too, but then later when I woke you up you had said it wasn’t a big deal, and I was so sad because I thought it was. I mean, how often do you play fifteen rounds of Fortnite, share the same bed, and wake up cuddling with someone you don’t have feelings for? And then I got even more confused when you texted me during the week, and fuck, everything you said had me smiling at my phone and Kun was making fun of me,” Lucas goes on, never stopping to breath until now.

“So, my question is, what are you thinking? Because I know I was your bias, or whatever the heck you guys call it before we met, and you still act nervous around me. And those texts and even this is not something just friends do. And you look so damn kissable right now, and while I want nothing more than to kiss you, I won’t in case that’s not what you want,” he finishes, his voice noticeably lowering as he tentatively leaned closer, his face and nose and lips only mere centimeters away.

You swallow once more, finally letting the reality of his words hit you. You swipe your tongue over your lips once, just in case, and he glances down just in time to catch it.

And that’s it.

He quickly surges forward, and the cord holding you together suddenly snaps when his lips are finally on yours. It’s like a breath of fresh air on the first day of spring, filling you to the brim with new life and you can't get enough. You both are doing nothing but everything at the same time, hands not knowing where to go but stinging skin in their wake. His lips make it impeccably wet and messy, teeth and tongue, but you don’t care, and your hands finally find the collar of his shirt and yank him to come closer, allowing his tongue to finally swirl with yours and you feel as if you’re drowning in him and the way he tastes and feels. It’s like sunlight in the morning, washing over your skin until it’s warmed all the way to your very being.

After what feels like an eternity you pull away, your head swimming with the fact he just kissed you. He leans back, breathless but seemingly more alert now, blunt fingernails digging into your bare thighs. His eyes scan your face again, searching for any trace of regret and when he finds none he comes back for more, kissing you softer this time. It’s so raw that it hurts, adoration and admiration flowing from the depths of your heart and you can’t fight it anymore.

You’re practically limp against him when his warm lips move from your lips to your jaw, down the column of your throat and to your bare chest. “God,” he breathes, moving back up to suck the delicate skin on the side of your neck between his teeth before going back with his tongue to sooth the pleasant pain, “I didn’t know if I’d be able to wait any longer to kiss you.”

Your head lolls to side as he continues his ministrations against your throat, completely lost in his touch. Your grip on his shirt finally slackens and you finally find the confidence to slide your hands under the fabric, leaning into him so you can further trace the expanse of his torso.

“Stop,” he suddenly hisses, pulling away to grab your wrist, “you’re going to give me a terrible boner and I’m not fucking you in this dingy house.”

His words made your stomach squirm even at the possibility and he clearly notices, lips quickly finding yours and hands holding your waist once more. You’re almost too busy trying to slip your tongue within the confines of his mouth to notice his right hand slowly descend until it’s resting between your thighs, pushing them apart and you gasp into his mouth.

You feel his mouth quirk into a sly smirk and can’t help but smile too, that is until his fingers slip past the hem of your dress and brush against the cotton of your underwear.

He breaks away and laughs at you when you whimper at the loss of contact. “Don’t frown,” he mumbles, keeping eye contact even as his fingers drag agonizingly slow along your clothed folds and it’s the most sensual thing you might ever experience.

A loud knock on the door quickly interrupts your faintest of moans and you suddenly feel incredibly exposed. “I swear to God, if you two don’t get out of there soon, we’re leaving without you. We’re going home, they ran out of Malibu and that’s apparently the only thing Jaehyun likes!”

You swallow, looking away from the door and back to the panting boy leaning on you, irises blown out and lips pink and plump.

“Do you want to have another sleepover?” He asks quietly and you can’t fight the smile that tugs at your lips.

"Oh my God,” you wake up with a low groan escaping your lips, a headache throbbing painfully in the refines of your skull as soon as you gain consciousness. Is this what a hangover felt like? You sigh, squeezing your eyes to shut out the sunlight. You turn away from that direction only to not-so-gracefully bump into something.

By the entanglement of limbs and bare skin pressed flush against yours, you can only assume something is actually someone and everything from last night crashes back, your headache increasing tenfold. Your eyes are open in a flash, not because you're scared or regretful, but just to make sure you were correct. And safe, not in some stranger’s bed.

Just like last week, Wong Yukhei is beside you, cheeks flushed pink against his warm honey skin and lips pouty as always. Except, this time, he’s awake, lying on his side and staring at you with wide eyes full of something you could only pinpoint as adoration.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he replies, and not until now do you notice his hand on your very, very bare hip. “Do you want something for your headache?” He asks, voice low before leaning inches closer and pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, but I can wait—”

You don’t get to finish because he’s already rolling out of bed, taking most of the sheets off of you and you’re left completely naked, forcing you to grasp for the white duvet crumpled at your feet to cover your body.

Except, not that it matters, because he’s incredibly naked too, and you’re amazed at how tall he is when he’s like this, no matter the circumstances. You quickly look away in fear he’d catch you staring, a blush working its way up your cheeks as you suddenly become aware of the pleasantly dull ache throbbing in your abdomen.

He’s back at your side moments later, this time with pineapple print boxers on, holding out a half-full water bottle and two Advil’s. “Thanks,” you sigh, swallowing them quickly.

“This wasn’t just a one and done thing, right?” He asks suddenly, and you look up at him where he’s leaned against his dresser, fingers tapping the edge. You could quite literally cut the tension between the two of you and suddenly want nothing more than going back to sleeping in his arms.

“No! No, I hope not. I mean, unless you want it to, in that case, I’ll go n—”

“No, please don’t go! I just wanted to make sure, in case... in case I completely misread this whole situation,” he sighs in relief, finally moving away from his dresser and rolling back into bed beside you. “Did you mean everything you said last night?” You say quietly once he’s settled and pulled you back against him.

“Of course.”

“Okay,” you let out a sigh of relief, reaching up to play with a strand of his caramel hair. “I’m sorry, too. For when I said this wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t realize that you—you felt something. For me. Which is dumb, because it was kind of obvious. But it’s kind of scary assuming things when it comes to someone who didn't know who you were when you’ve been in love with them for months,” you talk absentmindedly now, not realizing the words are spilling out of your mouth until they’re already out. After all, you were a NCTzen before any of this and there was no way to avoid that when it came to your love for not only him, but the rest of the group.

“I knew who you were,” he laughs above you and you glance up in confusion, quirking an eyebrow. “One of your videos came up on my recommended one day and I was kind of obsessed with you guys since,” he admits and it’s by far the cutest thing you have ever seen.

“No way.”

“I swear on my life,” he grins brightly, wrapping his muscular arms around your back and pulling you up beside him so you were face-to-face. It’s quiet again, and you find yourself once again tracing the outline of his face; his defined eyebrows, big doe eyes, his cheekbones, his chin, his lips—everything.

“What now?”

“Well, we probably should have gone on a few dates first and fallen in love, even though I’m already full of adoration for you already, and then I would’ve asked you to be my girlfriend and then we would’ve had mind-blowing sex. But we kind of went backward and already had the mind-blowing sex, so how about grabbing lunch as our first date? I mean, even though you’re a younger girl.”

You’re grinning like an idiot now and can’t help but kiss him. It’s soft and gentle and sweet and makes everything inside of you warm and fuzzy only because it’s him.

“Okay, I like the sound of that,” you whisper against him, kissing his cheeks, his nose, his forehead and finally his velvety lips again, “only because I’m full of adoration for you too.”

After all, Wong Yukhei was the warmth you so desperately craved for and needed in your life.

#wong yukhei #yukhei #lucas nct fanfic #lucas nct u #lucas wong #lucas wong yukhei #yukhei fanfic #nct u #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #nct fanfic #nct u fanfic #nct 127 fanfic #nct dream fanfic #taeyong nct #yuta nct #ten nct #kpop #kpop fanfic #nct oneshot #nct u oneshot #nct 127 oneshot #nct dream oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction #lucas nct #kun nct #jeno nct #taeil nct

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The Simpsons Season 32 Episode 14 Review: Yokel Hero

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This The Simpsons review contains spoilers.

The Simpsons Season 32 Episode 14

The Simpsons season 32, episode 14, “Yokel Hero,” is an alternate take on the “small-town talent goes nowhere” trope. Cletus Delroy Montfort Bigglesworth Spuckler, voiced by Hank Azaria, picks and grins his way to the edge of country music stardom, prodded by true believer, Homer Simpson. Yes, this isn’t the first time Homer’s discovered a country singer, which is addressed in the episode. But he was drunk then, and had to drive miles off the beaten path. In “Yokel Hero,” he is also drunk, but this time he is walking.

The episode opens auspiciously. The gang is assembled at Moe’s Bar celebrating Carl’s birthday, which leads to an inspired melodic addition of “and Lenny more” to the greetings. It’s a special day, like Canadian Thanksgiving or Jewish Arbor Day, and Moe does things right. He even oils the barstools. Marge doesn’t appreciate it when she calls asking for Homer, which sets up the groundwork for the subplot. What price is freedom? Homer has someone at home angry that he might crash his car and die before dinner. But single guys, like Carl, Lenny and especially Moe, can drive off a cliff free as a bird. In a way, this is a foreshadowing to Cletus’s impending dilemma, which makes it something to sing about.

The episode is filled with songs, as this season has been generous with. It opens with Homer’s homage to “Singing in the Rain.” He dances like a tipsy Gene Kelly, while singing lines like “peeing in the drain … what a glorious feeling I’m blotto again,” and even finds a rhyme to bond him in friendship with Kirk Van Houten. The scene is ample evidence never to try and dance your way out of a public intoxication stop.

Homer first realizes the depth of Cletus’ music while in the drunk tank. The off-the-grid Hillbilly from Rural Route 9 is locked up for moonshining, and has deep blues. Of course, every small-town jail has a guitar, so Cletus gets not only a chance to countrify his emotional turmoil, but turn down a chance to electrify it. His simple melodies and lyrics which both rhyme and apple blossoms with tasty possums resonate with Homer, who vows to turn his life around, or at least take a detour.

This all happens very quickly, even the opening theme and couch gag are skipped, and the episode begins closing credits before the opening ones. We get a lot of information about Cletus’ family. Some it is contradictory to what we’ve thought we knew. He says still loves the gal he got pregnant when “they was 16.” In “Yokel Hero,” Cletus says Brandine Spuckler is his cousin, but in earlier episodes he’s said “of all the cousins I could’ve married, you was my sister.”

You might think Cletus is from a family of Goobers, but that’s his wife’s side. Cletus comes from a long line of no-accounts. He may not be able to resist a good pyramid scheme, but he knows BTS’s Jungkook. Cletus is the character who points out there are still two more acts to follow, and specially whittled credits to boot. Cletus is much more astute than the surface shows. There is a deep knowledge underneath his wisdom that has nothing to do with information.

He is, of course, a graduate of the Mississippi Institute of Trailer Trash. He also got a cultural education while squatting inside a closed Blockbuster, where he conceived his kids Be Kind and Rewind. Cletus knows the Andy Griffith-starring vehicle A Face in the Crowd is far closer than Homer’s insistence he is living A Star is Born, whichever version. Cletus is, however, of the opinion the 1932 film, What Price Hollywood?, which all four A Star Is Borns were based on, is the better movie.

The country singer in A Face in the Crowd was also found in a drunk tank, and had an inordinate amount of clout when it came to what his fans would do for him. The scene where Wiggum’s car is overturned by Cletus fans mirrors a scene where Griffith’s character tells a whole bunch of people who are listening to him on the radio to go down for a swim at a wealthy local household.

It is amusing how, in his management notebook, one of Homer’s first revelations is “people like good songs.” For an audience which has jars for both tips and teeth, songs about kids and a bellyful of ribs are as golden as Cletus’s first true love. This guy is the real Yokel Ono. Of course, his songs reach the audience. They are simple, painful and forged on generations of moonshine swilling. Cletus is immediately the cover boy on “Washboard,” “Backwoods” and “Entremanure” magazines. The show makes commentary on the country music industry only obliquely. Cletus now considers his family to be the Taylor Swifts, Carrie Underwood, all of them Mumfords.  

Cletus is right about being afraid of success. He’s heard the celebrity stories. Even though Lurleen Lumpkin (Beverly D’Angelo), the country singer Homer managed before nationwide fame, sold 12 gold records, she spent the end of her career headlining a series of famous rehab centers. The Simpsons has never been above a little name dropping, but they really score big on Mr. Ed. Repurposing Saturday Night Live’s “the horse is a corpse” wordplay, we learn the beloved TV legend was a heroin addict. “This horse was on horse? Of course, of course” is a classically twisted line.

Even though Cletus notices, in person, “Elin” looks nothing like she did in the Nemo movie, we learn the actor/standup/talk show host is exactly as she seems. When she’s not dancing alone in her dressing room, she’s making the audience dance in punishment for not applauding loud enough. God forbid you look her billboard in the eye. 

The story rises and falls so quickly, it might appear rushed, but it does play out fully, and was probably arranged this way so Albert Brooks could take over the final act. There really is no one who talks like A. Brooks. When he says he loves you, you feel loved. When he tells you you’re going to be bigger than Campbell’s Soup, you can believe Tomato Soup is an unreachable pinnacle. His spiel about how there are so many Netflix specials they should call them “Netflix normals,” and riffing on the Obamas is standup sitting down. He pitches a dinosaur animated musical to his basketball client because he could jump out of a tree and sing a song like a small dinosaur. Part of this tells us what a bullet Cletus dodged, but most of it was just to let a veteran guest mouth off. The Simpsons love Brooks, and usually reserve this kind of off-course riffery for Dan Castellaneta.  This is the reason there is no couch gag or opening, this may have been tagged on but it had to be.

Moe continues his sad sack journeys. He makes two sets of keys for Homer’s car, which he is holding until Homer isn’t drunk. The unspoken punch line to this is that it could be years before Homer is sober. Two more seasons have been added to The Simpsons, and that’s enough to drive anyone to drink. Moe turns that around by taking Homer’s car to be washed because it makes him “feel like a man who owns a car.” A very sad comment on an already sad life.

Both Cletus and Homer grow in this episode. Brandine shows Cletus how he was seduced by “promises of short underwear and professional haircuts.” Homer learns not to pause too long when Marge asks if he wants to disregard his wishes. Even Chief Wiggum learns you just might have the next national superstar locked up in a holding cell. As long as the evidence room is filled with cellos and hacksaws, he is a captive audience.  

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The Simpsons delivers an extremely nuanced take on several well-worn themes. We know “Yokel Hero” will come to a predetermined end, because Cletus is a series regular and forever stuck in his local role. He will never see his dream of an all-American family moonshine distillery with not a single American employed come to fruition. But the concluding factors are unique. Homer makes a great point when he says he wasn’t playing god. This is an original character. Even though it is a role he played before, he learned nothing from it. This makes the episode fresh. Homer continues to hold on to the emotional purity which bonded him with the message and messenger of the music. Cletus’ final advice, “What happens in jail stays in jail, unless you’re breaking out of jail,” is classic down-home, common sense comedy.

The post The Simpsons Season 32 Episode 14 Review: Yokel Hero appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

top five places to drown

1) It is your wedding day. After a long, dramatic, harrowing and passionate courtship that would leave the most iconic written love stories dragged in the dust, this wedding feels like a Triumph. This is something you truly deserve, it will be the happiest day of not only your life, but also that of everyone who knows you. Jonathan’s wealthy parents pay for the entire ceremony, as your parents had tragically been lost at sea when you were an infant and you grew up penniless and on the streets. You adjust your veil and look in the mirror in wonderment, thinking back on your previous life. Your dress, elegant and form-fitting, ivory satin with lace flowers around your slim shoulders, the shade matching your skin just perfectly enough to give you a soft glow. Your long, thick, shining, dark chestnut hair gorgeously braided and twirled into a loose knot at the base of your neck, with gleaming diamond-embedded silver flowers intricately woven throughout your tresses. Your makeup, expertly applied and bolder than you’ve ever felt in your entire life, but still managing to accentuate your natural beauty, your doe eyes made to pop, your long lashes looking endless, your lips the deepest shade of red you’ve ever seen in your life. You’ve never felt so beautiful, and your eyes lightly well up with crystalline tears as you realize in just half an hour, you are going to finally marry the man of your dreams and win your Happy Ever After once and for all. Your entire life has been leading up to this moment, you’re positive of that. you can hear the orchestra playing lightly under all the excited chit chat of the attendees pouring into the tent the main event will be taking place in- your almost-in-laws had put gorgeous, chiffon tents all around their acres long back yard and filled them with starlights. One for dancing, one for swimming, one for food and drink, one for pictures, and the main tent was strung around the huge, strong, proud oak tree where you and Jonathan first met all those years ago, only eleven years old, when you accidentally wandered onto the property whilst running from the organization your parents had angered long before your birth. You’re really, truly tearing up now- how far you’ve come! You and Jonathan have made it through it all, and happy endings are real! Someone slips into your dressing room with a big grin on their face, and oh, it’s one of the people in this world you trust the most! You two embrace in a tight hug, exchanging pleasantries, and they ask you to come with them for a minute, there’s something important they need to tell you, don’t worry, it won’t take more than a few moments. You happily oblige.

The ceremony begins, Jonathan bouncing slightly with an infectious grin as the orchestra starts the wedding march…but no one walks down the isle. A solid five minutes of waiting, when Maid of Honor runs in saying she can’t find the bride! Everyone is taken aback and in a panic- surely, surely Jonathan isn’t getting left at the alter? Not after everything they’ve gone through? Jonathan is suddenly hit with a deep, life-altering feeling of dread, however. He knows, deep in his soul, that something is not right, and he knows where to check for his love. He races down the isle, wedding guests rushing after him, confused and concerned and not wanting to miss out on any drama. Jonathan and the crowd entire the pool tent, and with a horrified gasp from the crowd and an anguished sob as Jonathan drops to his knees, the find you floating in the exact center of the pool

You are on your back, arms folded gently across your bosom, a pink rose in your dainty fingers, veil pulled over your peaceful expression. As your eyes are closed, you look as though you could be sleeping, but they know, they all know what truly happened here. Your chest does not rise and fall with the breath of life, your skin is already pale and glowing in the romantic lighting, a single drop of blood can be found on the rose grasped in your hands. The room is sobbing in horrified loss. There is a peaceful smile left on your face. Days later, the coroner tells Jonathan that your lungs were full of water, but there were no signs that you put up a struggle. She also informs him about the baby, the baby you were waiting until the honeymoon to tell him about. Portraits of you hang in his mansion for the rest of time, and Jonathan never finds love again.

2) Your bitter Hollywood rival is throwing a gala at their home overlooking the mountains. You attend solely because your career is beginning to crumble and you’re hoping you can make connections and secure a fifth chance in tinsletown. You wear a gown of deep, deep emerald with shimmering sequins and your hair is effortlessly flipped over one shoulder with a diamond butterfly clipping it in place and long, silk gloves run up your toned arms and stop above your elbows. The golden rings on your fingers match the large, golden sphere necklace that hangs delicately below your breasts and above your navel. You’ve never felt so elegantly, classically, unashamedly Hollywood before as you do tonight. On your third glass of champagne, you look longingly out at the Hollywood Hills sign- it was all you ever dreamt about as a young girl, for all of your life really, and the thought that it might not love you back is heartbreaking. On your sixth glass of champagne, you get a call from your manager that the movie you recently signed on for cut your role. On your eighth glass of champagne, someone mistakes you for the help and doesn’t recognize your name when you correct them. On your ninth glass of champagne, you read no less than six articles about your dwindling stardom. On your tenth glass of champagne, you find your husband in the throws of passion with your bitter rival. On your eleventh glass of champagne, walking alone outside of the party, heels in your hand and wind ruffling your hair, looking at the gleaming lights and hearing the happy noise from inside, you decide you’ve had enough. You fling yourself into the pool and never reemerge

They find you, hours later, face down. Everyone is horrified, but also confused because your rival’s pool has no lights or fountains in it, how did you manage this? The Hollywood sign is visible in the distance. No one ever forgets your name.

3) A group of bright, innocent, happy kids are out exploring Tide Pools one day. They are all having the time of their lives, exploring, messing around, learning about marine life. Little Janie and Timothy just shared their first kiss over one not fifteen minutes earlier and keep giggling at each other and shyly avoiding eye contact. Everyone is singing and laughing, chasing each other from pool to pool, thrilled with life. They climb over a particularly high sand dune, eager to see what’s beyond it- when to their horror, they find you. Legs crossed, arm splayed dramatically over your head, on your back, but your face is tilted to the side in underwater in one of the tide pools

Seaweed is twisted into your hair. Starfish are all over your body. You are wearing a Batman bathing suit. No one ever gains any answers, not even your identity. It becomes a cold case and fades away in history.

4) A new, previously undiscovered or charted island has been discovered, and the world is buzzing about it. A team of some of the greatest researchers in the world is made up and sent there to explore, to learn, to document, to determine what the wildlife is like and whether or not humans can last there. They are so excited, truly, to realize they are the first people to ever set foot on this soil! They are going to go down in history! They spend weeks, months there mapping out every single inch of the land and documenting everything they see. Nearing the end of their trip one day, the discover what appears to be a cave, and excitedly venture in. The underground landscape twists and turns, and the team is all baited breath waiting to see where they end up. After what feels like hours, it finally opens into an even larger cavern, with a breathtaking lake glittering in the center of it.

 In the bottom of the gorgeous and clear water, to their collective horror, lies you- just a mere skeleton at this point, in a 15th century ball gown, but also modern day sunglasses and a Phillies baseball cap are laying haphazardly over your skull. Large, skeletal wings extend from your back. As the team gets closer to examine your confusing remains, your skeletal hand slowly reaches up and grasps a man around the ankle. Screaming, terrified, they flee from the cave, from the island altogether. No one ever comes back, much to your disappointment.

5) You’re traveling the world with your fiancé and you’re in a country you can’t pronounce the name of going on a hike. You come across this truly breathtaking site

While you’re fawning over it, taking pictures and all but singing from the love in the air, you don’t notice your fiancé sneaking up behind you. He smacks you over the head with a branch, dazing you, and shoves you over the cliff. You go down the waterfall and fall into the lagoon. Maybe he had deep, dramatic reasons for this act. Maybe he was just a dick. You’ll never know, because you can’t seem to remember the movements of breathing or swimming. The last thing you see before you go under is the beautiful way the sunlight falls onto the leaves and water, making everything around you sparkle, as if it’s trying to say goodbye. That’s not the case, of course. Nature doesn’t care about you. Your fiancé returns home and collects your life insurance.

#what am I supposed to tag this? #death tw #just girly things #drama #lol #asks #molly mumbles

[viraljournalist]

Ten NBA things I like and don't like, including the Luka Doncic-Dwight Powell dance

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Ten NBA things I like and don't like, including the Luka Doncic-Dwight Powell dance

How about a fresh serving of 10 NBA things:

1. The tricks of Ja Morant

Morant’s athleticism and fearlessness strike you first. He is so fast. He wants to dunk on everyone — to humiliate victims, the bigger the better.

All that is cool. But what is most impressive about Morant — the runaway Rookie of the Year — is his veteran craft. He already knows how to start and stop with a live dribble, and keep defenses guessing until the best option reveals itself. He sees every pass. He imagines passes no one else sees, and conjures them with dribble moves designed to shift the defense in some specific way.

You just don’t see rookies doing stuff like this:

That fake spin — the Smitty — dusts damn near the entire LA Clippers team. The one-handed lefty gather into a reverse layup is borderline pornographic. That insta-gather is already a Morant trademark — useful in tight spaces.

He has a mean pass fake:

He busts it out on the perimeter to freeze help defenders:

A lot of ball handlers turn statuesque when someone else takes the controls. Not Morant. He weaponizes his speed as an off-ball cutter.

Morant isn’t the only reason the Memphis Grizzlies — 13-6 since early December — have improbably surged into the Western Conference’s No. 8 spot. Their three core big men — Jonas Valanciunas, Jaren Jackson Jr. and Brandon Clarke — are balling, and their bizarro bench is obliterating opponents.

But Morant is driving it. He is real. He is a superstar in the making playing winning basketball. He belongs at the edges of the All-Star conversation right now.

2. Drivin’ De’Aaron Fox

After two months of injuries and uneven play, Fox is back on his ascent toward becoming the Sacramento Kings’ franchise point guard. In seven January games, Fox is averaging 24 points and 8.5 assists on 50% shooting. He is driving more often, with more guile and ferocity.

Fox is earning seven free throws per 36 minutes — easily a career high. He is piling up almost 29 drives per 100 possessions, second among rotation players — and up from 15 and 18 in his prior two seasons, per Second Spectrum data. He has drawn fouls on 13% of those drives, 16th highest among 173 guys who have recorded at least 100 drives.

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Fox is still searching for the right pass-or-score balance, and the Kings under Luke Walton haven’t landed on a coherent identity. (Injuries to Fox and Marvin Bagley III have stalled progress there.) They are playing at one of the league’s slowest paces, though they amp it up some with Fox on the floor.

The next step for Fox is dialing in on defense, where he has disappointed this season. The Kings won’t go anywhere too serious until the Fox/Buddy Hield backcourt proves it can survive on that end.

3. Forfeiting mismatches

A pet peeve:

This isn’t about the Orlando Magic. Every team does this now and then: Spot a juicy mismatch, and default into a pick-and-roll that allows the defense to switch that mismatch away.

The Utah Jazz are stuck with Emmanuel Mudiay on Aaron Gordon. If you want to post Gordon up, do it when he can mash a smaller dude. Instead, D.J. Augustin and Gordon gift the Jazz a switch.

Come on. Disengage autopilot and read the game. The right kind of post-up can still be an effective scoring option. They also are fun to watch. The league needs stylistic diversity.

You know who rarely bungles this? The Indiana Pacers with Domantas Sabonis. Their old-school mentality serves them well when they earn a switch, or when the opposing power forward is stuck defending Sabonis. The Pacers in those scenarios are ruthless. They are surgical. They abort whatever plan they had and hunt that mismatch.

4. Shai Gilgeous-Alexander, off the glass

The notorious S.G.A. is already one of the league’s shiftiest ball handlers — a long-limbed, change-of-pace phantom who seems to move at two or three different speeds at once. Guarding him is like trying to catch a fish with your bare hands.

He also is a premier bank shot artist, smooching from unconventional angles:

That is a little close to the baseline for most players to go glass. Gilgeous-Alexander has the touch to pull it off. That one hits pretty low on the backboard, but Gilgeous-Alexander will kiss the ball off the tippy-top if need be.

The straight-on banker is underused — a tricky work of depth perception that can increase your margin for error on harried floaters. Gilgeous-Alexander has it in his bag:

Only 10 players have attempted more glassers than Gilgeous-Alexander, per Second Spectrum. (Russell Westbrook has tried by far the most — almost double the No. 2 guy.) Coming off a ridiculous 20-20-10 game, Gilgeous-Alexander has a fringe All-Star case: 20 points, six rebounds and three assists per game, decent shooting, solid defense.

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It is a hard case to parse. Each member of Oklahoma City’s three-headed point guard monster has sacrificed something. Gilgeous-Alexander has stepped back into a secondary ballhandling role behind Chris Paul (probably a better All-Star candidate) and Dennis Schroder (in the running for Sixth Man of the Year). Gilgeous-Alexander has logged only 40 minutes as solo floor general — without either Schroder or Paul.

I recently debated with a few non-Thunder executives whether Gilgeous-Alexander would grow into an All-NBA player. That they framed the question in those terms — and not around whether Gilgeous-Alexander will make All-Star teams — is indicative of how good he has been.

5. Still waiting on Aaron Gordon

Boy, did Gordon need this recent mini-hot streak: 60 points on 23-of-39 shooting over Orlando’s last three outings, and a last-second game-winner Monday in Sacramento. It has otherwise been a stilted, disappointing season for Gordon.

I thought this was the year it might finally happen for him. I predicted Gordon would make the All-Star Game.

Instead, Gordon’s production on offense has dipped across the board, though he remains engaged on the other end. There are three theoretical Gordons: the player Gordon wants to be; the player Orlando wants him to be; and the player Orlando needs him to be because of their roster construction. The actual Gordon is paralyzed in some sort of existential tension between all three.

The first player — Gordon’s dream for himself — is a ball-dominant scorer. Orlando indulges that Gordon by calling occasional post-ups for him and giving him some freedom to go rogue. Gordon can make hay against smaller players. He has done well on scripted duck-ins. But too many of his forays into would-be stardom end with bricked fadeaways:

A player this powerful should not spend so much time spinning away from the hoop. He rarely draws fouls. The Magic have scored 0.826 points per possession anytime Gordon shoots out of a post-up or passes to a teammate who fires right away — 74th among 96 players who have recorded at least 25 post-ups, per Second Spectrum data. He is not much of an inside-out playmaker. A full 77% of those post-ups have ended with Gordon shooting — the second highest such rate in that sample.

The best version of Gordon on a good team is something like his take on Draymond Green: screening and rolling as a power forward, spraying passes (Gordon is an underrated playmaker), defending like all hell across every position. The Magic have never put Gordon in optimal position to find that role. They shoehorned him onto the wing next to Serge Ibaka and now Jonathan Isaac.

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That is not on its face unworkable. Some of those ultra-big Magic lineups have performed well — including last season. Talented frontcourt partners render positional designations irrelevant. What position would Gordon play next to, say, Kevin Durant and a traditional center in Brooklyn? Isaac has some blossoming all-around skill on offense.

But Isaac also is very young. Before Isaac’s injury, it felt — from the outside — Orlando was reaching the point at which it would have to make a final call on Gordon. There are teams who would give a lot for Gordon. Isaac’s knee injury may have put off those decisions. The Magic don’t have to rush. Gordon is still just 24.

But stasis often becomes untenable.

6. The Bucks, going under

Almost every team scurries under picks against bad shooters, but Milwaukee does it more dramatically and against many more players. The Bucks treat every so-so shooter like Ben Simmons. Present Milwaukee with Kris Dunn or RJ Barrett (two recent examples) and its on-ball defenders hang almost in the paint — a step or two further back than most teams prefer. They form a shell that is really hard to puncture.

They don’t deviate if some Dunn type hits a couple of long 2s. The Bucks understand math. They know their scheme plays mind games with opposing shooters — even non-terrible ones. They’re going so far under. This is embarrassing. Am I really supposed to keep shooting? Boom — the shot clock is down to 8, and you’ve accomplished nothing.

This is such low-hanging fruit. Every team should imitate Mike Budenholzer’s exaggerated “go under” ethos.

Of course, later playoff rounds offer very few awful shooters — and almost none beyond Simmons who handle the ball. It would be interesting to see Milwaukee’s approach in a series against the Miami Heat and Jimmy Butler — shooting just 27% from deep this season and 36% for his career on long 2s.

7. When young guys forget who is guarding them, Part I

Oh, Jordan Poole.

That’s Kawhi Leonard. At his apex, the mere act of possessing the ball within a 15-foot radius of Leonard was dangerous for anyone outside the league’s most deft point guards. Forget dribbling. Poor saps held the ball close to their chest — terror sweat pouring from their brow, eyes darting in search of some passing target — until Leonard would simply reach out and take it. It was cruel. It was bullying.

Leonard isn’t the same impenetrable wall today, and he saves his best stuff for high-leverage playoff moments. But you can’t be Jordan freaking Poole and dangle the ball in front of him. This is like living next door to Thomas Crown, buying a masterwork, and leaving your front door wide open all night. What do you think is going to happen?

There has been much fretting of late about the Clippers’ underwhelming performances against the dregs of the league. Meh. One of Leonard and Paul George has missed most of those games. Wake me up when the real Clippers struggle.

The Clippers also seem like a mortal lock to make a win-now trade. They have use-it-or-kinda-lose-it assets ticking toward evaporation. They can trade their 2020 first-round pick, but that is the last one they can move (as things stand now) before their 2028 selection. They have Maurice Harkless’ $11 million expiring contract, and a few semi-expendable midsized salaries.

The Clippers would rather add talent (via in-season free agency) without trading anything. Harkless is solid — a starter most of the season. That 2020 pick represents one of LA’s only means of acquiring a young player who might help Leonard and George as they age.

But the Clippers are all-in. George and Leonard can hit free agency in 18 months. They should prioritize this year over everything.

Part II of young guys failing to respect their elders is coming next week.

8. Respect the Mavs’ other big men

I never got the mostly quashed rumblings Dallas might be interested in Andre Drummond. Kristaps Porzingis should eventually play more as the Mavs’ lone big man, and in the meantime, Maxi Kleber and Dwight Powell are doing just fine alongside him.

Skeptics in the preseason perceived the Mavs roster as top heavy: two stars and a motley crew of bench guys. It’s true (it’s damn true!) Dallas does not have anyone like a third member of past championship Big 3s. But they do have (by my count) seven guys you might describe as quality fifth starters — seven fifth-best players, all but one (Tim Hardaway Jr.) on value contracts. There is power in giving zero minutes to below-average players.

Powell has always been a dangerous rim-runner, but he has exploded as Luka Doncic’s go-to pick-and-roll dance partner. Only three player pairs have teamed up on that play more often. (For trivia purposes, the top three in volume: Spencer Dinwiddie/Jarrett Allen, Damian Lillard/Hassan Whiteside, and the Lou Williams/Montrezl Harrell symphony.)

The Mavs average a ginormous 1.18 points per possession anytime Doncic or Powell shoots out of the pick-and-roll, or passes to a teammate who launches — ninth-best among 226 duos who have run at least 100 such plays, per Second Spectrum.

Powell has improved as a passer on the move — crucial when teams trap Doncic:

Kleber does a little of everything. He’s a serviceable screen-and-dive guy. He is hitting 41% from deep on a career-high attempt rate, and he makes canny plays off the bounce when defenses rush at him:

Kleber is a sturdy, smart defender across multiple positions. Rick Carlisle has trusted him to guard extra-large ball-handlers, including LeBron, Giannis Antetokounmpo, and Simmons. He’s a solid rim protector with some hops.

Dallas is starting Kleber and Powell in the absence of Porzingis, and the Mavs have outscored opponents by 13 points per 100 possessions with both on the floor.

Kleber and Powell earn $18 million combined this season — $9 million less than Drummond. Drummond holds a much-discussed player option for 2020-21. Kleber and Powell are under contract through 2023. Leaving aside money and whatever assets Detroit might demand, it’s unclear whether giving Kleber/Powell minutes to Drummond would even make Dallas any better.

9. Miami is one player away, but who?

This is a minor quibble considering the Heat are 28-12 and a robust 10-6 against teams at .500 or better. Maybe the “one player” is Justise Winslow, who is still out with a back injury after returning for a single game last week.

Winslow is (in theory) the well-rounded small-ball power forward to unlock lineups featuring Bam Adebayo at center. Meyers Leonard is shooting 45% from deep as Miami’s nominal starting center, but there are lots of games in which he never sees the floor after his first stint in each half. Kelly Olynyk is barely playing.

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Right now, Derrick Jones Jr. and James Johnson are holding down that Winslow slot. Johnson looks feisty after a long stint in Heat purgatory. He’s 10-of-20 on 3s. But his jumper is unreliable, and he is regaining the team’s trust.

Jones has taken the lion’s share of these minutes over the last month. His arms are everywhere. He is the keystone of Miami’s zone defense. Lineups with Jones and Adebayo at power forward and center have done well.

But are you trusting Jones to close playoff games? He’s shooting 23% from deep. Defenses ignore him on the perimeter to muck up Miami’s spacing.

Miami has tried to solve the equation at times by going super-small, with Jimmy Butler at power forward. That is a little too small. Adebayo is so strong and athletic, you forget he’s only 6-9. Miami has been a middle-of-the-pack defensive team after a stingy start. They have to be careful.

They are one player away from being really dangerous. They know. They are looking, sources say. A lot of speculation about the Heat — and other teams — has centered around Jrue Holiday. He’s good. The Pelicans may opt to keep him and push for the No. 8 seed. (This is what suitors expect as of now — which could of course change.)

But I wonder if Miami has a more pressing need for a stretch power forward with some defensive chops to fill that Winslow/Jones/Johnson slot. (Winslow returning to form could render this moot.) Danilo Gallinari would be a worthy rental, but the Thunder might be too good to trade him. It’s also unclear whether Miami has any appetite for surrendering any players who are or could be (i.e., Winslow) key parts of their current rotation.

Regardless, keep an eye on Miami.

10. Marcus Smart is coming at you

What in the hell is this?

I’ve seen defenders close out low to distract shooters, but they usually resemble football tacklers. They aim for the stomach. I’m not sure I’ve seen anyone crouch toward the shooter’s foot. Smart looks like he’s trying to pick something up off the floor.

I honestly don’t know how anyone shoots 3s against Boston without worrying what kind of goofy closeout awaits. Jaylen Brown jumps straight up and down with all his might, and reaches both arms as high as he can — a technique Al Horford mastered, and something the Celtics teach. Brace for that, and Smart comes nipping at your ankles.

What��s next? Jayson Tatum running at shooters, screaming gibberish and waving his arms? Kemba Walker experimenting with some kind of drop-and-roll technique?

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[kyukurator-blog]

DEBBIE AND CARRIE COSMIC DANCING

It has been less than a week since the tragic passing of both Debbie and Carrie. Both made an indelible mark on Hollywood and American Culture from Reynolds’ turn in Singin’ in the Rain to Fisher’s embodiment of Princess Leia in Star Wars. 

We like to imagine that since last week they have been singing and dancing with Prince, Bowie and George Michael while discussing spirituality with Leonard Cohen. 

This week our list celebrates their work, leading up to Bright Lights premiering on HBO this weekend.

 BRIGHT LIGHTS (2017)

Directed by Alexis Bloom and Fisher Stevens, this doc premiered at Cannes last year. “These women were more than mother and daughter,” said Bloom and Stevens, “they were an expression of exquisite humanity in all its travail and triumph.”

The film was slated for broadcast later this year on HBO but, with their untimely passing, Sheila Nevins thought it appropriate to pay tribute to the two legends by moving it up to this coming Sunday.

Bright Lights manages to balance the oversized personalities of the two legends. Fisher and Reynolds each provide enough charisma and talent — not to mention personal drama — to fill a whole TV series.

And while we get do some of that, from touching footage of Fisher bonding with her Star Wars fans to an 83-year-old Reynolds wowing the crowd with a song-and-dance number, the movie succeeds by applying itself to a larger theme, family.

At its core, Bright Lights is an homage to mothers and daughters. Spanning many decades and partners, it tells the story of a movie star mother and her extraordinary daughter.

POSTCARDS FROM THE EDGE (1990)

Directed by Mike Nichols and based on Carrie Fischer’s memoir and screenplay, “Postcards”  stars Shirley MacLaine and Meryl Streep as Debbie and Carrie, respectively. With some fact mixed with fiction, the result is highly entertaining, ultimately moving, and always insightful.

Mike Nichols brings his comic touch to Carrie’s novel concerning a woman’s struggles with drug addiction and mother-daughter rivalry. Meryl Streep plays Suzanne Vale, a popular movie actress well on her way to a Hollywood crack-up. Suzanne suffers from blackouts and memory lapses and is a barely-functioning wreck on the set of her latest movie. When a coke dealer who delivers stops by her dressing room between takes, she swiftly finds herself being rushed to the hospital.

While in detox, Suzanne attempts to piece her life back together, but her confidence is shattered when her mother Doris Mann (Shirley MacLaine) arrives at the rehab clinic. Doris is soon soaking up the adulation of Suzanne’s fellow recovering addicts. Upon Suzanne’s release, she must compete with her mother for attention and fame as she tries to walk a thin line as a recovering drug abuser.

There is no question, though, that the real star in this film is Fisher’s honest and revealing perspectives on a child who was born into the Golden Age of Hollywood.

         SINGIN’ IN THE RAIN (1952)

Gene Kelly, Debbie Reynolds and Donald O’Connor star in Singin’ in the Rain, one of the greatest and most successful musicals ever filmed – filled with memorable songs, lavish routines and Kelly’s fabulous song-and-dance number performed in the rain.

Set just before the arrival of “talkies,” Don Lockwood rises to stardom during Hollywood’s silent-movie era — paired with the beautiful and jealous Lina Lamont. When Lockwood becomes attracted to young studio singer Kathy Selden (Debbie Reynolds), Lamont has her fired. But with the introduction of talking pictures, Lockwood finds his career in jeopardy after audiences laugh when they hear Lamont speak in her shrill voice… until the studio decides to use Selden to dub her voice.

Debbie was 19 at the time and was taken under the wing of Donald O’Connor who mentored her in her first major role…. The rest is history.

         THE UNSINKABLE MOLLY BROWN (1956)

Meredith Willson’s second Broadway hit, after “The Music Man,” proved a lucrative vehicle for the equally unsinkable Debbie Reynolds. Based on a true story, the film casts Debbie as the rambunctious Molly Brown, who wangles her way into Denver Society when she marries “overnight millionaire” Johnny Brown (Harve Presnell).

When the local social arbiters give Molly the brush-off, she pulls off a coup by bringing a representative of European royalty, Prince Louis de Laniere (Vassili Lambrinos) into the Colorado community. Her appreciation for the prince causes a rift in her marriage; it takes the sinking of the Titanic–wherein Molly heroically commandeers one of the lifeboats and is responsible for rescuing several of the passengers–to bring Molly and Johnny together again.

Reynolds earned her only Oscar nomination for this film. In between film work and until just a few years ago, Reynolds practically lived on the stage, performing at 83 in Vegas. She never slowed down or lost her passion for performance.

         SHAMPOO (1975)

Hal Ashby directs Carrie’s screen debut in one of the most Hollywood of all Hollywood productions, Warren Beatty’s masterpiece Shampoo.  Her next film would forever seal her fate as a timeless icon, Princess Leia in Star Wars (1977).

This film is set the day after Nixon’s election in 1968. George (Warren Beatty) is a promiscuous Beverly Hills hairdresser whose services to his female clients sometimes extend beyond a mere snip. George borrows money from his lover’s husband, who in turns requests that George escort his mistress to an election night party.

In her brief performance as Lee Grant’s daughter and another one of Beatty’s conquests, Carrie outmaneuvered two of the most lecherous, manipulative and selfish grown-ups that any adolescent in safe, rich, white suburbia might ever encounter—Warren and her mother.

If you have not watched this film then we highly recommend you do!

         WISHFUL DRINKING (2010)

Randy Barbato and Fenton Bailey direct the TV version of Fisher’s autobiographical stage show, Wishful Drinking, which became the basis for Carrie’s 5th book. Her earlier novels— Postcards from the Edge, Surrender The Pink, Delusions of Grandma, and The Best Awful There Is predate her memoir.

Fisher details her complicated yet eclectic extended family tree in Hollywood Inbreeding 101, employing a blackboard and wooden pointer. Her father Eddie Fisher’s very public affair with Elizabeth Taylor ended what had been perceived and celebrated as a “storybook marriage,” and she and her brother Todd later watched both her mother’s and father’s “once white-hot bright star of celebrity slowly dim, cool and fade.”

Fisher’s mordant humor shines as she recounts her experiences with electroshock therapy, dealing with bipolar disorder and addiction, and life in the spotlight.

Carrie Fisher’s final book, The Princess Diarist (2016) left no detail in the vault. Detailing her time on the Star Wars sets, the autobiography spins eye-popping tales of an affair with Harrison Ford and her own coming to terms with her newfound fame as Princess Leia.

         DEBBIE AND CARRIE COSMIC DANCING was originally published on FollowTheThread