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ja3yun · 1 month

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Melting Point | P.SH | CH.7

brother's rival!sunghoon x fem!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, oral (f. rec), fingering, spitting, dirty talk, praise kink, petnames (good girl, baby), anything else lmk. ch. 7 synopsis: minhee comes to you with the missing pieces of information you need, leading you to find the courage to speak to sunghoon, hoping you can reconcile. wc: 14.9k previous | masterlist | next a/n: hi! this chapter is filled with plot and answers to questions so i am hoping it all makes sense. again, thank you for the love on the last chapter! next week is the penultimate chapter so everything is starting to tie up so please enjoy <3

Scanning the next customer's shop, your shoulders are heavy with sadness. It’s not ideal to be working the day after you just lost the love of your life but reality doesn’t stop for your problems. If you weren’t in desperate need of the money, you would have just neglected to show up.

You haven’t slept, your eyes are a darker shade than before, and the smile you couldn’t stop plastering over your face the past couple of months is non-existent.

Last night, you went home just like Coach Lee had instructed but you don’t know if it was the best idea. The journey home with your mum was filled with her yapping about how true love never existed and how she knew his plan was this all along. There was no sympathy from her, not a surprise considering her face yesterday looked like she just won the lottery.

Minhee, on the other hand, sat silent, fizzing from head to toe. Honestly, you expected him to be fuming since Sunghoon was the factor in your current drift from one another, however, you did expect an undertone similar to your mothers gloating; he should be telling you ‘I told you so’ but instead he seems less boastful and more resentful.

"Your total comes to £54.35," you murmur in a monotone, extending your hand for the payment from the elderly woman. As she counts out each pound coin, you find yourself retreating into your thoughts once more, replaying the events over and over again.

Sunghoon looked so sincere when he told you it wasn’t him on the recorded phone call. The biggest question that twirled in your mind was how your mum got the audio in the first place. Sunghoon's assertion that he was only friends with Jay and Jake, who wouldn't betray him, seemed plausible, he hadn’t ever mentioned anyone but them in all the times you have spoken. So, who could have provided it to her?

That’s what you should have questioned when you had the chance, instead of letting your mind loop in on itself and confuse you to the point you didn’t even hear Sunghoon out.

You want to reach out and ask him to meet you but it wasn’t just you that got hurt yesterday.

If there’s one image that’s sticking in the forefront of your brain right now, it’s Sunghoon’s face when he found out you lied to him. Perhaps you should have questioned everything then, considering how shattered he appeared. Someone who set out to betray you wouldn’t look so devastated that you hurt them, would they?

You're also gripped with anxiety that getting in touch with Sunghoon would make things worse and he'll reveal Minhee's actions to the National Board. It scares you to think of your brother losing his chance to skate and being disqualified from competition.

Space might be just what you all need.

But finding that space is proving to be a challenge when your mind is consumed by these thoughts incessantly. You feel utterly overwhelmed, your mental state crumbling, leaving you feeling helpless.

The old lady hands over the money, and you mechanically carry on with your shift.

Once it's over, you contemplate your options for where to go next. Normally, the rink would be your refuge, but it feels too loaded with memories right now. Rina's occupied with her anniversary date with Allen, leaving you with no one else to turn to. The library, despite being open 24 hours, holds no appeal; the idea of sitting in silence, trying to study, feels like torture.

With a tired yawn, you realise there's only one place left to go: home.

______

Kicking off your shoes at the door, you trudge up the stairs, each step feeling like an effort as exhaustion weighs heavily on your limbs. The lure of your bed grows stronger with each passing moment as if it's calling out to you louder with every step.

You notice that your mum's bedroom light is off, signalling that she's already asleep, while Minhee's room emits the usual blue glow of his computer screen. If it weren't for the ache in your heart, this could easily pass for a typical Wednesday night.

Entering your room, you're greeted by an unexpected sight. It's not as you left it; the bed is neatly made, your stuffed toys lined up by the pillows, your desk reorganised the way you like it, and all your clothes tidily put away. Someone has cleaned for you, a rare occurrence unless you're sick.

The one prominent feature of your newly organised room is the gleaming glass trophy on your windowsill. It stands proudly, displaying your achievement to everyone as they enter the room.

This had to be Minhee’s doing, your mum would never go to these lengths.

Unfortunately, the award just serves as a memory to Sunghoon rather than yourself. It was the night you became officially his, the night you threw all guilt and caution to the wind so you could claim him as yours.

Taking the trophy, you toss it in your top drawer and shut it roughly, not caring about the damage you could cause it.

With no energy to shower, you change into pyjamas. It’s a bad idea to slip into one of Sunghoon’s hoodies but as it envelopes you in warmth on the cold night, you don’t think about it twice. The smell of him still lingering as you put up the hood punches you in the chest. You miss him, it’s as simple as that.

As you sink into the welcoming embrace of your bed, the weight of the day gradually begins to lift from your shoulders, only to be replaced by a hollow ache that settles in the pit of your stomach. Closing your eyes, you attempt to banish the tumultuous thoughts swirling in your mind and drift into sleep.

You toss and turn, trying to find a comfortable position, but your mind refuses to quiet down. Images of Sunghoon's smile and the warmth of his hugs dance behind your eyelids, taunting you. Every time you close your eyes, it's like you're transported back to happier times.

For what seems like hours, your heart and brain fight with one another, much like the night before. Your heart aches to be with Sunghoon, to trust him completely while your head rationalises the evidence presented to you by your mother.

Just as you begin to resign yourself to another sleepless night, a soft knock at your door interrupts your thoughts. Minhee's concerned voice cuts through the silence, drawing your attention, "Y/N? Are you still awake?"

With a frustrated huff, you turn your back to Minhee, a silent declaration of your anger and hurt. Acting this way may seem childish, but this is how you’ve always acted towards him when conflicts arise between you, like you regress back to being kids.

Minhee sighs, walking to the edge of your bed before helping himself to a seat beside you, “You don’t have to speak to me but you can listen.” He looks down at his hands, wondering how to broach the situation, the words aren’t coming so easily, “I…I know I did something really shitty, okay? I shouldn’t have fucked with his skate like that, Mum just…”

When he pauses, your intrigue is piqued and you twist your head to look at him. You can see his internal battle whether to tell you something or keep it to himself. The rooted anger towards your brother grows a little, “This is the only opportunity I’m giving you to explain yourself,” you warn him with a hidden urge for him to continue.

He breathes out slowly, his voice carrying the weight of a burden, "Mum just put so much pressure on me to win, like all she’s spoken about was how I need to place first,” his words quiver slightly, a reflection of the self-doubt flooding his body.

It's astonishing how one woman can make both her children feel so worthless.

As you turn to face Minhee, his expression mirrors the familiar blend of anguish and self-doubt that you've seen on Sunghoon's face countless times. It's a painful reminder of the weight their mothers' expectations have placed upon them.

"Mini, you could easily beat Sunghoon at Nationals. You didn't have to listen to Mum," you offer, your voice laced with both empathy and frustration.

The issue has never been Sunghoon or Minhee; it's always been their mums.

Minhee takes a deep breath, steeling himself to reveal the truth that he's been carrying with him all this time, "Listen to me," he begins, his voice tinged with bitterness, "Mum needs me to win."

Your confusion deepens, leaving lines of bewilderment etched on your face as you struggle to comprehend his words, "What?" you ask, all tiredness suddenly leaving your body.

"The odds of me winning aren’t in my favour, so she put on a bet. She'll get shit tons of money if I win. She put basically all her savings into it, all my money too," his jaw clenches as he recalls the conversation they had.

Your confusion escalates further as Minhee's revelations continue to unfold before you. "Since when was Mum into gambling?" you ask, the disbelief evident in your voice.

Minhee sighs heavily, his frustration palpable as he struggles to find the right words, "There's so much you don't know about her, Bubs," he admits, his tone tinged with regret, "The gambling isn't even above board. It's all underground-type shit with high rates. I swear I didn't know anything about any of it until she guilt-tripped me into going along with her scheme."

There was no denying your Mum was a little secretive, especially after your dad left, but this is not anything like you could have imagined. You had always wondered where your Mum got the money to support Minhee’s skating but his brand deals were good enough to keep you all afloat, so you just presumed it was that.

Minhee sees you calculating in your head and decides to continue, “Once she told me, I started practising like crazy, I trained almost every day just to be in with a chance but she wasn’t confident enough so she told me-”

"To break Hoon’s skate," you finish his sentence for him, the pieces of the puzzle snapping into place with a chilling clarity.

You knew something was off that morning - the way your Mum was extra harsh on him, telling him to make sure he ‘gets it done’. It was such unusual phrasing that you should have clocked on to it sooner.

This is exactly why you didn’t want to tell Sunghoon about it. You wanted to get to the bottom of it all because you were filled with suspicion from the get-go. The thought of your own mother putting Minhee in a position like this fills you with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

“Why did you go along with it? If she doesn’t get the money, that’s her problem, no?” you query, trying to tie every string of this situation together for your own peace of mind.

Minhee sucks his teeth and looks away from you, “You know how much effort and time she put into my career, she sacrificed everything for it, her old job, money, even the breakdown of her marriage was because of me. I owe her this.” He’s withholding some information, using this as the sole his sole reason for helping, but there is more to it, you can tell that much.

Your chest fills with hurt as you speak, “The divorce wasn’t your fault, Mini. Mrs. Park started that rumour and it drove Dad to leave. That has zero to do with you. Plus, she pushed you to go professional when you were a child, you didn’t exactly beg her to let you compete. You owe her nothing.”

You know for a fact it’s her words that have made him believe he is the route of all her problems. If only you paid closer attention to what was going on, maybe you could have counteracted her venom with something, anything, to help him believe he wasn’t tied to her like this.

Taking one of his hands, you scoot closer to him, the warmth of his presence a balm to your troubled soul. Resting your head on his shoulder, you feel the weight of the world pressing down on both of you. "You should have told me, Minhee. I could have helped you."

He shakes his head before encircling an arm around your back, pulling you closer to him as if seeking solace in your embrace, "I wanted to protect you. She would have dragged you into it as well if she could," he confesses, his voice tinged with regret, "I regret it. I wish I just didn’t let her manipulate me into doing that to Sunghoon. I can’t tell you how relieved I was when I saw him at the rink that day we were doing the peer reviews."

It shocks you to hear him say that, considering he’s usually cursing the boy's name every time he was forced within 10 feet of him.

There was one thing that didn’t add up though, “Wait, if mum put the bet on, wouldn’t the bet be just to beat him? Why did she try and knock him out altogether with the skate? Surely that would cancel out the bet and she wouldn’t win the money?” you query, hoping your brother has the answers.

He shakes his head, “She never wanted him out of competition, just to injure him enough that he wouldn’t be able to compete to his usual standard, y’know? I would be in with a chance of beating him then,” he tells you, stroking your side, “It was touch and go for a minute, I don’t know what she would have done if he couldn’t compete.”

Underneath your head, you feel his shoulders tense up again, causing you to lift your face to look at him, concern etched into your features. "Is there more?" you ask, dreading the answer but knowing you can't avoid it. He knows more than he is letting on, you can tell.

“Look, I’m going to say something that sounds so batshit crazy, okay, but you gotta believe me,” he says, his tone urgent, “And you know I’m not Sunghoon’s number one supporter, so you know I wouldn’t lie to make him look good.”

"Oh my god, Mini, just tell me, please," you plead, unable to bear the suspense any longer.

"The phone call was fake," he confesses, gingerly meeting your eyes as you give him a look of astonishment

Your mind reels at his revelation, struggling to comprehend the implications of what he's just said, "Fake? How? Don’t tell me you were a part of this too?"

“Fuck no, I was as shocked as you were,” Minhee protests, taking a deep breath before divulging what he knows, “I went searching after it all didn’t add up. Like, who the fuck records conversations like that in the first place, never mind sending them to Mum?”

You have to agree with him, the question also did come to your mind once you calmed down.

As he takes out his phone, Minhee's expression darkens with seriousness, his fingers tapping across the screen to reveal a series of emails. He shows you the correspondence between your mum and someone named Soohyun, highlighting the transactions and agreements outlined within.

"She paid him money to use some sort of AI to make it sound like Sunghoon was saying all that stuff about you and your relationship," Minhee explains, his voice laced with disbelief and anger, "It was one last attempt to fuck with him before the competition. She really needs that money, Bubs."

Shock courses through you, a tidal wave of disbelief crashing against the shores of your consciousness. The realisation sinks in slowly, each email adding another layer to the intricate web of deceit woven by your mother, "I-I can't believe this," you stutter, struggling to process the enormity of what he's just revealed.

Minhee gently takes the phone from your hand, returning it to his hoodie pocket with a sigh, "I know. It's like something out of a bad TV show, but it's true," he admits, his tone heavy with resignation. As his hand finds yours, a sense of solidarity washes over you, his touch offering a small measure of comfort amidst the chaos.

"To be honest, I had kinda knew it was fake," Minhee continues, his words slow and measured, "Don't get me wrong, I was livid at the idea of anyone using you that way. But on the drive home, I realized, this is Park Sunghoon we're talking about. He wouldn't dare to do that to you."

Confusion clouds your features as you furrow your brow, struggling to make sense of his words. "Huh? What are you talking about?" you ask, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Minhee's expression softens as he meets your gaze, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "He liked you for so long, like for years. You were just so oblivious to it," he explains, his tone gentle yet matter-of-fact. "If he has the chance to date you, he's not going to take it for granted, and certainly not use you just to mess with my head."

As Minhee's words sink in, a flicker of realisation dawns upon you. Memories of Sunghoon's lingering glances and subtle gestures flood your mind, painting a picture of unspoken feelings that had gone unnoticed for far too long, "Do you know he asked me for permission to date you when we were like 15 maybe? I can't really remember exactly…but anyway, I told him to get lost," Minhee adds with a wry grin, his words punctuated by a hint of nostalgia.

Now this was new information. All you knew was that Sunghoon had knocked you back when you asked him out about that age.

“I had my reasons.”

His voice echoes in your brain as you recall what he said at the ice rink on your first date as an official couple. All this time, you had believed Sunghoon's rejection was solely his decision, unaware of Minhee's influence behind the scenes, “You told him to say no to me? Did you know I was going to confess?” Anger rises within you, not real anger but the one that siblings have for each other when one steals the remote control or eats the leftover food they were saving.

"Whoa, yeah, okay, but you have to understand I was protecting you. I don’t even know what Mum would have done back then if you started dating him, especially because it was so close after Dad left," Minhee's voice is laced with remorse as he hangs his head. "I know I had no right to tell him to leave you alone, but…"

The anger in you subsides as you see him slump a little.

"You're the most important person in my life, Y/N. You're my little sister, my best friend," he continues, his voice trembling with emotion, "He took championships and brand deals from me, fine, but if he took you away from me, particularly back then, I think I would have died." He avoids your gaze, his admission laden with shame at his insecurities.

His words weigh heavily on your heart, the depth of his love and fear for you leaving you speechless, “I’m your sister, Mini. He could never tak-”

“Hasn’t he?” His interjection silences you, “You stopped coming to my practices, we don’t hang out anymore, it’s like I barely see you,”

His words strike a chord, piercing through the haze of your own emotions. Suddenly, the gravity of his words sinks in, and you realise the toll that recent events have taken on your relationship with Minhee. You were so caught up in yourself that you hadn’t factored in how the distance would affect him.

Being caught up in your newfound relationship, you inadvertently left behind the one person who had always been there for you, the one who needed you the most. Guilt washes over you as you realize the depth of Minhee's loneliness and isolation in your absence. You and Minhee had been each other's rock for so long, but now, it feels like you're drifting apart, and you can't help but feel responsible.

A heavy silence envelops the room, thick with unspoken regrets and untold truths. You feel the weight of Minhee's gaze upon you, his eyes pleading for understanding.

"I... I didn't realise," you murmur, the words catching in your throat, "I didn't mean to drift away from you, Mini. I just... I got caught up in my own guilt, and it was easier to avoid you altogether."

Minhee listens quietly, his understanding washing over you like a soothing tide. His empathy is palpable in the gentleness of his gaze. "I'm sorry for putting you in that position. I guess I hadn't realised that trying to keep you from him was actually doing the opposite of what I thought it would," he admits, his voice filled with remorse. Bringing you closer to his side, he rubs your waist in a gesture of comfort. "I pushed you away and blamed it all on Sunghoon."

"You'll always be my number one, Mini. You don't have to worry about that," you assure him, offering a heartfelt smile in return.

If there were such a thing as twin flames, you and Minhee would surely be just that. In every universe, you both burn together, facing every trial and tribulation that comes your way. You're deeply thankful to have him as your brother.

“Did he actually like me this whole time?" You can't help but beam at the thought of the Ice Prince harbouring feelings for you all these years.

With a groan, Minhee pushes you away playfully, "Ugh, yes. He would NOT let it go either. Even asked me if he could take you to prom," he recalls with a mixture of exasperation and amusement.

“PROM? He wanted to take me to my prom?” You squeal at the thought, imagining Sunghoon awkwardly mustering up the courage to ask Minhee for permission to take you to prom. It's a surreal image, but one that fills you with a strange sense of warmth, “I had no idea he was that into me back then,” you idly play with your hair, trying to stop yourself from reverting back to your 14-year-old self as you imagine Sunghoon crushing on you too.

Minhee shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Probably just desperate, to be honest," he teases, earning an annoyed gasp and a few playful slaps to his shoulder. "Ow! Look, just because I’m not against you dating him anymore doesn’t mean I want to hear you gushing over him, okay?"

Your eyes widen in surprise at his revelation. "You... you aren’t against it?" The words feel fake as if you've stepped into an alternate reality where Minhee's acceptance of your relationship with Sunghoon is not only possible but welcomed.

Minhee sighs, raking his fingers through his hair, “I’m still not happy that you lied to me about it, and I am not his biggest fan,” he starts, eyes pointed at you with annoyance, “But he makes you happy and that picture you accidentally sent me was…well he clearly loves you,” It burns him to say it, you can see it in how his mouth cringes, “And after everything that’s happened, maybe I should let go of some of the grudges.”

You might have to clean out your ears to make sure you’ve heard correctly.

In one swoop, you hug him tightly, “Thank you, Mini,” You hadn’t realised the weight that you had been carrying all over your body regarding this whole secret boyfriend situation, but it’s finally gone.

“Don’t thank me just yet, you need to make up with him first,” Minhee says, “That should be easy though.”

Ah, there was that little hiccup, “It’s a little more complicated than that,” you say sheepishly as you scratch the back of your hand. Your brother stares with questioning eyes, “When we argued at Belmore I might have accidentally told him you broke his skate and that I knew,” your shoulders rise as you speak, face spreading with awkwardness and guilt.

“You’re so fucking stupid, Y/N. Why would you tell him that?!” He is exasperated by you, his hands rubbing up and down his face to exhibit his frustration with you.

“It slipped out! Come on, I could have told him well before yesterday. Give me some credit,” you argue back.

Both of you stare at each other, and the room’s silence quickly fills with your outburst of laughter. The tension dissipates as laughter bubbles between you, the weight of the conversation lifting momentarily. Despite the gravity of the situation, there's something strangely comforting about being able to find humour in the midst of it all.

"Okay, okay, fair point," Minhee concedes, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips, "But seriously, you need to sort things out with him, if he tells the board I’ll never be able to skate again,” you look at him incredulously to which he just laughs, “Yeah, I am aware of the irony, okay? Just please sort it out. If not for me, for yourself.”

Nodding, you cross your fingers, “I will.”

“I love you, Bubs,” Minhee stands and kisses the crown of your head, smiling in relief that he has his best friend back, “Tell him if he hurts you for real, I’ll break his legs next time.” Your mouth hangs open as he walks away shrugging.

The weight of the situation settles over you once more, but this time, you feel a renewed sense of purpose. You just hope you can fix this.

______

You find yourself standing at Sunghoon's doorstep, your hand poised to knock, yet inexplicably frozen in place. Why has the simple act of chapping on his door suddenly become so daunting?

A nagging voice echoes in your mind, whispering doubts about whether he'll even care, convinced that the damage has already been done. The weight of the colossal secret you've kept from him bears down heavily, compounded by the regret of not believing him when he insisted the audio wasn’t him.

Yesterday, confusion clouded your judgment, leaving you unable to think clearly, grasping onto every detail at face value. But amidst the chaos, you failed to afford the same trust and belief in his earnest pleas and declarations of love.

Now, the fear grips you tight: What if he doesn’t want to mend things? What if, because of some senseless scheme concocted by your own mother, you've lost the love of your life?

But you’re a big girl, you have to face this no matter the outcome.

With that mindset, you finally chap the door, breathing out slowly as you do so. The nerves sit in your throat as it dries out, the idea of losing him was just inconceivable.

The door swings open to reveal Jay, clearly just awake. His hair is sticking to one side and he hasn’t bothered to put on clothes, boxers being the only thing keeping his dignity. You suppose turning up to the flat at 6am on a Thursday would grant some disturbance.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Jay asks, one eye still closed.

“I need to speak to Sunghoon,” you try to convey the urgency in your voice but it comes out breathlessly. You hadn’t realised you were holding in the air until you spoke.

Jay's sigh echoes in the room, his gaze drifting upwards as he considers your request. "I don’t think it’s a good idea, Y/N, he's kinda pissed," he cautions, his tone tinged with concern.

You understand Jay's apprehension, but you can't let the rift between you and Sunghoon deepen any further. The longer you both remain trapped in this mess, the harder it will be to mend your relationship. Time might heal some wounds but it won’t fix them.

“Can I just talk to him? I need to explain,” you plead, tapping your fingers together, you avoid his judgmental gaze.

Jay's response is swift, his conviction clear as he defends Sunghoon's character. "You didn’t actually believe your mum, right? Like anyone with a clue can see how much he loves you. He wouldn’t do something like that," he states, offering a comforting gesture by rubbing his shoulder slightly. It's evident that Jay is trying to rebuild Sunghoon's image in your eyes, a testament to the unwavering bond between him and his best friend.

As you stand there, you can’t explain your thoughts during your fight with your boyfriend because you still can’t make sense of them yourself; however he was right, you should have seen his love past the lies of your mother.

Nodding with a hint of shame, you admit, “It was all just too much to process, and I handled it poorly. But I have to fix it.” Despite the weight of your guilt, a steely determination underlines your words.

Jay sees it, he understands you didn’t want to hurt Sunghoon the way you did. Maybe he’s a bit more understanding of your own grief because his best friend neglected to mention that you lied to him about Minhee and his skate.

When Sunghoon arrived home, Jake and Jay greeted him eagerly, anticipating news from his check-up. However, their excitement quickly turned to concern as Sunghoon stormed in, slamming the door behind him with such force that it caused shelves to rattle.

Concern etched across their faces, his friends inquired about the situation with genuine worry as Sunghoon recounted the events involving your mother and the recording. However, he purposefully omitted any mention of the skate. He didn't want to tarnish your image in the eyes of his friends with his own anger-induced bias. He understood all too well that they might harbour animosity toward you for your deception, and the mere thought of it was unbearable to him.

So he didn’t bother to spill it, still protecting you even amidst his fury.

"I heard him leave this morning. I think he went to the rink, like he usually does to clear his head," Jay offered, unsure if he should disclose this information but feeling a strong intuition that both you and Sunghoon needed it.

Your expression softens with gratitude as you look up, "Thanks, Jay," you say, appreciation evident in your voice.

As you begin to turn, preparing to make your journey back to your side of town and into Belmore, Jay's voice suddenly pierces the quiet morning air, halting your movements, "Wait there, I'll give you a lift," he calls out, his offer catching you off guard.

Before you can even muster a response to decline his kind gesture, Jay is already striding purposefully back to his room to get dressed.

Left standing alone in the tranquillity of the early morning, the absence of Jay's presence allows your mind to wander freely. You had prepared yourself to talk to Sunghoon at this very moment but now you have a whole 40-minute drive to contemplate his reaction all over again. It’s scary, the idea of this being the end of you both.

When Jay finally emerges, dressed and ready to go, he motions for you to follow him as you both make your way to his car. You don’t know why he’s doing this but you’re thankful for the saved time, the time to get here was already long enough, never mind making the same painstaking journey back.

The drive begins in silence, the gentle hum of the engine merging with the rhythm of your own racing heart. Jay's quietness feels unfamiliar, a subtle shift in the energy between you since your last encounter, though not entirely unexpected.

With some courage, you figure talking to Jay might help you later on when speaking to Sunghoon, “I think deep down I knew he didn’t say it.”

It’s a simple confession but one you had to say out loud.

Jay spares you a quick glance before keeping his attention on the road, “He’s doted on you, like literally obsessed with you. Do you not see that, or?” There's a hint of irritation as he speaks. He can’t fathom why you would ever believe one shitty phone call rather than your boyfriend who would drop the world at your feet if you asked.

He hasn't witnessed every facet of your relationship, but from what he has seen, he can't help but envy it. He longs to experience the kind of connection Sunghoon has found with you, hoping to find someone who reciprocates his feelings in the same way. What frustrates him about the situation is the apparent disregard you show for his best friend's love. It's as if you fail to grasp the profound depth of Sunghoon's affection, while there are others out there yearning for even a fraction of such devotion.

You angle your body to face him before speaking, “I know. There was just a lot going on and…you should have heard it, Jay. It sounded so fucking real,” you almost plead with him to see your side.

Even Sunghoon had mentioned how authentic the audio sounded, so Jay knew what you were talking about. He simply nods to acknowledge you, his expression showing understanding, “What was it then? How did she do it?”

"Some AI guy. She hired him to grab snippets from Hoon's interviews and make the audio," you tell Jay, omitting any mention of the gambling or other family drama

Jay's eyes widen in surprise. "Damn, seriously? She stooped that low?" he says, his astonishment visible in his tone. All you can do is nod, aware of how absurd and unsettling the situation is, "AI is so fucking scary, man," Jay says, shaking his head in dismay.

You agree wholeheartedly, a shiver running down your spine at the thought of the lengths people would go to manipulate technology for their own agendas, "It’s so bizarre," you murmur, still trying to wrap your head around the whole ordeal.

The silence that settles between you both now feels different, no longer heavy with tension but rather mutually comforting. Each of you understands the gravity of the situation and the complexities it entails.

In this shared moment of understanding, surrounded by the quiet of the morning and Jay's silent support, you feel a sense of calm wash over you, in stark contrast to the turbulence that has plagued you since Tuesday. If Jay understands your side of the story, perhaps Sunghoon would as well.

Pulling up to Belmore, Jay stops the car at the entrance, “Y/N,” he pauses, collecting his thoughts, “You’re good for one another, and Jake and I like having you around, so fix this, yeah?”

You nod, determined and empowered by his words, “I will.”

_____

As you step onto the rink, your eyes lock onto Sunghoon, gliding with so much velocity that it sends a shiver down your spine. You can't help but feel a pang of worry, knowing he's pushing himself to the limit, risking injury once more. As you approach, beads of sweat glisten on his face, his hair clinging to his skin, a visual confirmation of your concerns.

He propels himself into a jump, the sharp sound of his skate slicing through the air, reverberating across the arena. However, his landing isn't smooth; his ankle bends awkwardly, causing him to fall onto the ice.

"Sunghoon, be careful!" you call out, running to be by his side. Ignoring the impracticality of your footwear, you shuffle onto the ice and kneel beside him, "Are you out of your mind?"

Much to your dismay, Sunghoon’s ankle is thumping, a superficial heartbeat pulsing through it. He might be able to go back on the ice but he’s over-exerting himself. He doesn’t look at you, focusing on his ankle, but he also doesn’t push you away, letting you undo the bandage to assess the damage.

Seemingly, his ankle is okay, nothing torn or hurt beyond what was already there, the bruise from a few weeks ago dying into a faded yellow, a promising sign but it still pains you to see.

Standing up, you offer him your hands for support but he shrugs you off, opting to stand on his own and skate over to the exit of the rink, “What are you doing here? Come to mess up my other skate?” His tone is sharp and accusatory, indicating that he’s still angry.

“It wasn’t me and you know that,” you defend yourself, slowly walking behind him trying not to slip.

You both successfully make it off the ice, Sunghoon plonking himself onto the bench outside. Going back to his ankle, you kneel and start the process of re-wrapping the bandage tightly, again with no protest from him. Hopefully, that’s a better sign of forgiveness compared to what his voice is suggesting.

Carefully, you discard his skate to the side and gather the bandage, your cold hand sparks a jolt in Sunghoon as you hold the start of the wrap to the back of his ankle. You take your time to eliminate any cause of discomfort which for the most part you succeed in.

“You kept it a secret, Y/N. Lied to my face,” he says through gritted teeth which you don’t know if it’s from anger or pain, possibly a mixture of both, “Everything wrong in my life seems to be because of your family.” The words sting because you know it’s true. As much as you would love to be excluded from the accusation, you know he’s right.

“I know,” You say lowly, putting all your attention on his ankle.

Looking at you, Sunghoon sighs, his body heavy with mixed feelings. Just looking at you now he wants to wrap you in his arms and tell you everything is okay, that he forgives you, but he can’t do that without some sort of explanation.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he asks softly, staring at you as if trying to reach into your brain and pull the answers out himself.

Adjusting the bandage with a gentle twist, you offer your explanation, “Honestly, I thought I was protecting you. You had so much going on; not knowing if you would make nationals, the argument with your mum, there was just never a right time.”

Sucking his teeth, he nods, “Feels like you were protecting your brother.”

“I was, in some ways. There was something so strange going on I wanted to try and figure it out before I told you. I wanted an excuse so you wouldn’t blame him for it,” you explain your thought process to him but he won’t get it, not unless he was you in that situation.

Yet, to your surprise, Sunghoon grasps the sentiment perfectly. Protecting your brother is second nature, ingrained within you, even on the first day when everyone discovered they would be combining the rinks, you tried to protect him from doing something stupid.

The only thing he doesn’t understand is why Minhee did it.

“Did you ever find an excuse for him? Or can I blame him for this?” he points to his ankle with his other foot so you see it. You haven’t looked at him once since you started to tend to his injury.

“You can blame him for it,” you start, pausing your actions as you wonder whether you should tell him what transpired, why Minhee did it, “Minhee…My mum put him up to it, to get you injured for Nationals so Minhee had a better chance of winning.”

“Shit, okay.”

Knowing Sunghoon, he’s trying to piece it all together to save you the explanation, but this is far too complicated for him to work out on his own, “This is going to sound so crazy, but I need you to listen. My mum is struggling to make ends meet and she got into some gambling scene. She put loads of money for Minhee to win, specifically to beat you and if she wins, it’s like thousands of pounds, enough to get her out of the debt she’s in. I don’t know how it works but it’s shady. She didn’t trust Minhee to get the job done on his own so…” You trail off, hoping he’ll put the puzzle together now.

Taking the safety pin, you secure the wrap and pull down his trouser leg, yet, you still don’t look at him, scared of his reaction. If you were in his shoes, you would not believe anything about what was just said.

But unlike you, Sunghoon knows what crazy sports mums are willing to do for their kids to succeed, his mum being a prime example, “Y/N, seriously, you should have told me.”

“I didn’t find out about the whole gambling thing until last night when Mini told me. Sunghoon, please believe me when I say he didn’t want to do it, he just…he thinks he owes our mum like he’s the one that put us in debt for chasing this dream, that he’s the reason for a lot of things outwith his control.”

“Sweets,” Sunghoon breathes out, grabbing your chin, forcing you to finally look at him, “I get it, I mean, I’m not particularly chill with it since my career could have ended but the way Minhee is feeling, I do understand.”

His eyes hold yours like they’re hugging you, trying to pull you from your worries and somehow it works. You feel a little lighter, his hand now etching its way to your cheek to cradle it. Instinctively, you lean into his touch, seeking his comfort.

“I’m sorry, Hoonie,” you state solemnly, angry and hurt that he was just a pawn in your mother's game, the relationship between you both strained because of her and yet you were the one apologising on her behalf.

You’re sorry for your own mistakes, but nothing was as bad as her tricks.

Sunghoon offers you a small smile, ushering you to sit next to him on the bench so he isn’t looking down on you. The symbolism of you feeling lesser is evident to him and he can’t stand it.

He turns to face you as you take a seat next to him, his hand resting comfortingly on your leg. “That phone call, I didn't say all that. That wasn't me, you have to believe me" he begs you to trust him.

"Yeah, I know," you respond with a bitter scoff, recalling the manipulative tactics of your mother. The skater's expression shifts to confusion as you continue, "My mum did that too, another thing that’s going to sound even crazier than breaking your skate."

You recount the incident with the AI recording, detailing your mother's desperate attempts to win her bet and her willingness to destroy your relationship in the process. With each sentence, his bewilderment deepens, his eyes widening and narrowing, and his mouth opening and closing in disbelief.

"Wait, seriously? It was AI?" he interjects once you've recounted every bizarre detail.

As he grapples with the revelation, you seize the opportunity to provide some comfort, gently wiping the sweat from his brow and pushing his dishevelled hair back from his face. The tension seems to ease from his features.

You pout at him, the weight of guilt settling heavily in your chest. "I'm really sorry for not believing you when all of this came out," you admit, your voice tinged with remorse.

He reaches out to take your hand in his, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin, "No, no, Sweets, it's okay," he reassures you, his tone soft and understanding, "She even gaslighted me for a second,” he suddenly starts to chuckle, “I thought my biggest worry was people making those ‘If Sunghoon sang Chase Atlantic’ AI TikToks.”

You laugh with him, knowing what he’s talking about. One day he came to you and showed you a video of him singing Slow Down which creeped you out and impressed you all at once.

The moment of laughter dies down, the break in tension creating much-needed relief for both of you. This whole scenario is so fucked up it’s hard to believe, you’re just thankful Sunghoon is so understanding.

“What about Minhee?” he asks suddenly, passing the confusion to you, “Like, how is he in all of this?”

Sunghoon’s concern for your brother, whether big or small, makes your love for him pound in your chest. Even after everything, he was still asking about Minhee which meant he might not hold a grudge, and more importantly, not go to the board.

Is it selfish to think that right now? To still be concerned about Minhee’s career?

Your boyfriend sees your eyes twitch, his telltale sign that your mind is racing, “Sweets?”

He breaks your thoughts, “Oh, he’s uh, he’s just stressed I think. I need to properly speak to him at some point and figure out what he wants to do,” you shake off the idea that Minhee won’t get to achieve his dream, scared that you might manifest it by accident.

Sunghoon nods, sighing deeply as he sheds any of the weight that was held over him. He wishes you would have trusted him when you heard the audio, but he does understand. Sometimes, he can be too understanding and he knows this, but it’s so easy to forgive or find reasoning for your actions.

Which will help you with your next request.

"Please don't go to the board," you finally confess, your voice barely above a whisper. It takes every ounce of courage you possess to voice the plea, but you know you have to ensure your mother hasn't irreparably damaged Minhee's chance at the Olympics. You need to see him succeed - he deserves it more than anyone.

Pressing his forehead against yours, he smiles, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, "I won't, I promise. For you though, only for you."

The weight that's been pressing down on your shoulders suddenly lifts, replaced by an overwhelming sense of relief. You almost cry at how patient and understanding Sunghoon is, you wonder if you’ve ever met anyone like him before.

There’s a comfortable calmness in the air, his nose nuzzles against yours as he smiles contently, happy to have you back beside him. The past two days felt like weeks. It made him realise just how important you are to his life. He can’t live without you and never wants to be apart.

“So is Minhee…cool with us?” he asks gingerly.

Your face lights up as you lean back, “Actually, he’s completely fine with it, well, he said he still doesn’t like you but you make me happy. That’s all he wants.”

Minhee and you will forever prioritise each other's happiness above all else. These recent events have underscored that sentiment, even if it took some time to fully grasp. Ultimately, you both want nothing but the best for each other.

Sunghoon appears genuinely surprised by your declaration, his eyebrows shooting up, "Really? No resentment or anything?"

"Really," you confirm, observing his reaction closely. "He... he actually told me about forbidding you from seeing me all those years ago," you add, realising his astonishment at the news about your brother being on board with your relationship likely stems from the years of Minhee pushing him away from you.

Flushed, Sunghoon shuts his eyes, “No, he didn’t,” he winces at the idea of you finding out about his long-term crush on you.

“He did. Told me how you begged him to let you take me to prom too,” you gloat, a massive triumphant smile on your face, “You loooved me all those years ago, you have to admit it now,” you joke and his face turns even redder.

Typically, Sunghoon is being chased, so to have this hanging over his head in your relationship, he knows you’ll never shut up about it. He will admit though, that the look of delight on your face is almost worth the embarrassment.

“Okay, yeah. But blame Minhee for making us miss so many years together, okay? He was shit scary back then. I thought he was going to skin me alive,” Sunghoon recollects asking him if he could ask you out to the cinema, an innocent tiny date and Minhee, the scariest 14-year-old there was to ever live at that point, well to Sunghoon anyway, practically ripped his head off.

Prom was a mistake, he was simply asking if you had a date to prom. Yes, he was going to ask you if Minhee said no, regardless of what your brother would say, but the fire in Minhee’s eyes wasn’t one to be messed with and by this point, he was a gym-attending 19-year-old with an extra protective layer over you. Enough said.

You giggle and take his hand, offering him a sympathetic smile, “He was scared to lose me.”

"Who wouldn't be," he responds without hesitation, his tone serious and sincere.

His immediate reply catches you off guard and you do a double take, surprised by the sudden intensity in his voice.

Sunghoon wasn’t just saying it; he was petrified at the thought of losing you, especially after your mother's deceitful phone call. The look of betrayal on your face had cut him to the core, a pain he never wanted to inflict upon you. He loved you too much for that.

As you process his words, you realise there's a deep emotion behind them that you hadn't fully grasped before. Sunghoon's admission hangs heavy in the air, revealing a vulnerability. Your heart clenches with empathy, knowing that his dread of losing you is deep. You softly squeeze his hand, silently expressing your empathy.

You felt the exact same way about him - terrified of losing one of the people who means everything to you.

"I'm sorry," you say quietly, your voice full of regret, "I never want you to feel like you're going to lose me."

Sunghoon's gaze softens as he meets your eyes, a flicker of emotion dancing in the depths of his own. He brings your hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss against your knuckles, "I know, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice filled with reassurance, “I’m not letting you go anyway, you’re stuck with me now.”

You laugh, shaking your head. There's a silent vow between you both to cherish and reassure each other whenever you have to, “Can we start again?”

“Yeah, of course, Sweets.” He plasters a genuine grin on his face, elated with the idea of putting all the negativity and lies behind the relationship and starting fresh.

You stretch out your hand, teeth showing as you smile, “Hi, I’m Y/N Kang. I’m your biggest fan.”

Sunghoon’s heart pounds loudly, you are his fan but to him, you’re more like an extractor fan. If you don’t have one of those, things go rotten and that’s exactly what it felt like without you. He needed you to such the poison and pain from his bones, he selfishly needed your love to make him feel alive.

He wants to provide you with that same feeling.

Taking your hand he smiles widely, mirroring your enthusiasm, “I’m Park Sunghoon. I am your biggest fan.”

________

The bleacher seats are your makeshift study space, textbooks and notes scattered haphazardly around you as you bury yourself in preparation for the looming winter exams. The chill of the air contrasts with the warmth of your determination; you had an award to uphold after all.

Meanwhile, your boyfriend is focused on a different kind of preparation. With just four days until nationals, he's dedicated himself to ensuring his ankle is in peak condition. Despite having twisted it just a few weeks ago, he's pushing himself hard, determined to perform at his best on the ice. When he pushes himself a little too much, you’re there to pull him back, or rather nag him to be careful

You steal glances at him whenever you can. Despite the injury, he moves with a fluid grace, his dedication evident in every precise movement. If you didn't know better, you wouldn't even guess that his ankle had been injured at all.

As you bury your nose in your books, a sense of admiration washes over you. His resilience and commitment inspire you to push through your own challenges. Granted, yours is a little less intimidating, the exams you’ll take will be confined to a week inside a study hall whereas Sunghoon is skating in front of thousands and being broadcast on TV.

Lost in your studies, you're suddenly jolted back to reality by a soft tap on your paper. Glancing up, you're met with a warm smile from your boyfriend, his eyes twinkling with affection, “You’re so serious when you’re focused,” He laughs, leaning over the barrier of the ice rink.

“Are you done?” You ask enthusiastically, hoping to get out of here and get the dinner he promised you 3 hours ago; your stomach wasn’t prepared to be denied food for so long that it started to speak to you about an hour ago.

"Just about, baby. You wanna go for Italian?" Sunghoon suggests, his eyes twinkling with mischief. His suggestion makes you smile; you've been raving about gnocchi for the past two days, and he's clearly been paying attention.

As you agree, his grin widens, and he leans in close, "Great, I'll go get changed and be right out," he declares, excitement bubbling in his voice.

Leaning over the barrier, Sunghoon puckers his lips in anticipation of a kiss to which you gladly oblige, pressing your lips to his in a sweet, lingering kiss. The brief moment of affection leaves you both with a warm, fluttering feeling in your chests. With a final smile and a promise to meet you outside, he disappears to change, leaving you to gather your books and laptop.

Packing the last of your highlighters into your bag, you hear the entrance door open. Peeking over the seats, you see a familiar face walking down with his gym bag slung over his shoulder and earphones in.

"Minhee?" you question, hoisting your bag onto your shoulder before walking over to him. "Mini?" you call out louder, ensuring he hears you.

Your brother jumps a little, clearly not expecting to see you at the rink. "What are you doing here?" he asks, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Sunghoon's taking me for dinner. I was just studying while he trained," you explain, hoping to alleviate any concerns he might have.

Your reasoning earns a thoughtful hum from Minhee. It's still strange to talk about Sunghoon so casually with him, especially after keeping your relationship a secret for all those months.

"Is he here?" Minhee glances around, searching for any sign of Sunghoon.

"He's getting changed," you reply, nervously biting your lip. Despite Minhee giving you the green light for dating, there's still a lingering apprehension about them being in the same room together, especially after "skate gate," as Sunghoon dubbed it in an attempt to lighten the situation.

There is still some part of you that dreads them in the same room together, apprehensive to what they’ll do. Minhee is overprotective of you and Sunghoon is, well, he’s got a wrap on his ankle thanks to your brother.

Suddenly, the door to the dressing room swings open, and Sunghoon emerges, looking refreshed and ready for your dinner date. His expression is bright, his tunnel vision for you renders Minhee nonexistent to him. It’s not until he gets closer that he notices your older brother.

Once his eyes shift to Minhee, Sunghoon’s smile falters ever so slightly. He also doesn’t know how things will pan out but he knows he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

“Minhee,” Sunghoon nods towards him which Minhee returns, “Are you training tonight?” You appreciate the civilness your boyfriend is trying to engage in, you know he’s doing it for you but hopefully, later on, he’ll do it because he and Minhee are actually getting along.

You can only dream of the day.

“Yeah,” he says sharply but there’s a wave of something in his eyes, something that happens when he’s thinking, “Actually, since you’re here can I talk to you? Privately,” Minhee glances at you as he says privately, indicating that he no longer wants you in the conversation.

Sunghoon looks to you for approval which you grant him obviously, hoping he’ll tell you what Minhee wants during dinner, “Sure. Coaches office is free,” he suggests, pointing with his head.

Your two boys stride over to the office and lock the door behind them.

Now, you could eavesdrop, and make sure no one throws a punch, but you’re trying to be optimistic about their relationship, so you leave them be.

Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself to trust in their ability to handle the situation maturely. After all, both Sunghoon and Minhee care deeply for you, they wouldn’t want to make this any more uncomfortable for you.

Fighting the urge to pace, you take a deep breath and try to distract yourself with thoughts of the upcoming dinner. Maybe you’ll have a glass of wine with dinner tonight, and try something new. You could get dessert if you convince Sunghoon to cheat on his meal plan for a night.

Who are you kidding? All you can think about is what is going on in that office, no attempt at distraction will help you now.

It’s increasingly difficult for you to resist chapping the door and pestering them to let you in on the gossip. What could be so important they couldn’t talk about it in front of you?

15 minutes pass but it feels like an eternity as you anxiously await their return. If one of them comes out with a black eye, you’re ditching them both, leaving them high and dry. You really hope it doesn’t come to that.

Finally, the door to the coach’s office swings open, all limbs and eye sockets intact, which is a good sign at least; however, their expressions are unreadable as they walk towards you. There's a subtle shift in the air, something lingering between them, though they try to maintain a facade of normalcy.

"Ready to go?" Sunghoon asks, his tone gentle as he kisses the top of your head lightly.

You nod and look between both of them, “What did you guys talk about?” There’s no grace of subtlety when it comes to you and your curiosity; you know it has something to do with you, you just wanted to know what.

Minhee and Sunghoon exchange a knowing glance before your brother answers, “Just giving him some brotherly warnings…right?” he says it so casually but his tone is cryptic. You know there is more to it than that.

Linking your fingers with his, Sunghoon grips your hand tighter, offering you some reassurance amidst the swirling thoughts in your mind. He knows you're probably considering every possible conversation they could have had.

"Nothing to worry about, Sweets. Minhee was just swinging his big brother ego around," Sunghoon says, his voice gentle but firm. There's a playful twinkle in his eyes that eases your nerves, if only slightly.

Rolling his eyes, Minhee sighs, "Whatever, Park. Remember what I said, yeah?" he tries to pass it off as banter, but there's a serious current weaving through his voice, catching you off guard.

Sunghoon nods in acknowledgement, a silent knowing between them, "I got it," he replies, his gaze locked on Minhee with a sense of respect and understanding. This newfound dynamic between Sunghoon and Minhee is unfamiliar, and you can't quite decipher whether it's a positive or negative development.

"Enjoy your dinner, Bubs. Make sure he pays," Minhee points to Sunghoon before waving you both off and heading to the changing room.

As Sunghoon pulls at your hand, leading you out of the arena, the silence hangs heavy between you. He doesn't offer an explanation so easily, much to your dismay.

"Your brother is a shark, can I say that in the most respectful way?" Sunghoon finally speaks up, breaking the silence with a hint of amusement in his voice.

You chuckle softly, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, he's super protective," you acknowledge with a touch of pride in your voice.

"He really is. He’d do anything for you…" Sunghoon trails off, his expression thoughtful. You want to ask what he means but you resist the urge to pry further.

"Are you guys okay? You didn’t fight or anything?" you venture tentatively.

Sunghoon offers you a reassuring smile, his eyes warm with sincerity, "I think we're besties now," he quips, trying to lighten the mood. You can't help but smile at his attempt to ease your worries, "C'mon, let's go eat, I'm starving," he suggests, kissing you quickly as you reach his car.

You are grateful they managed to have one discussion without throttling one another, even going as far as to make lighthearted jokes and playful jabs.

Baby steps, you suppose.

_____

Emerging from the restaurant and making your way to Sunghoon's car, your face radiates with laughter, tears glistening in your eyes.

"Did you genuinely believe she was asking for your autograph?" you tease, barely able to contain your amusement.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, “Baby, it isn’t that funny. She literally ASKED me to sign it.”

“Yeah, the bill because you used your card,” as you say the words, another heaved laugh comes out, “You were so confident to think she was your fan.”

Crossing his arms, Sunghoon huffs playfully, feigning annoyance, but he can’t stop the smile from creeping on his face as he looks at you. With your face so bright and that beautiful song of your giggles, Sunghoon can’t stop looking at you, admiring you in this moment.

As your laughter subsides, you catch him staring at you intently. "What is it?" you inquire, noting the uncharacteristically serious expression on his face, devoid of its usual sarcastic pout in situations like these.

"I just love you so much..." he trails off, halting by the passenger door of his car, his voice tinged with vulnerability, "The thought of losing you was terrifying."

Sunghoon understands that you've both overcome the misunderstandings and manipulations caused by your mother, and you're in a better place now. Yet, the prospect of almost losing you because of it still haunts him.

You pout at his words, bringing your hands up to stroke the apple of his cheeks gently, “I hated it too. You’re so important to me, Hoonie,” you whisper, eyes softening at his words.

The months you’ve spent with him have been the best of your life, you could never deny that. Your relationship with him hasn’t been easy, interference from too many outside parties threatened to ruin it all, to rip you from your soulmate, but you will never let it happen again.

You place a timis kiss on his nose, “I promise that nothing will ever take me away from you again, okay?” you look at him with sincere eyes, hoping he truly listens to your promise.

He nods, closing his eyes with a serene smile, his graceful hands enveloping yours, imparting a comforting warmth. Foreheads touching, he savours the moment, soaking in the palpable connection between you both. He just wants to feel your love.

Never in Sunghoon’s life did he ever imagine finding love like this. Although he always knew he loved you, he didn’t know how intense his feelings were until suddenly you weren’t there anymore.

He smiles, eventually opening his eyes to look at you, your gaze holding nothing but love, “Will you come back to mine?” he asks as though this is the first date and he’s testing the waters to see if you’re interested.

“Actually,” you smile, pulling away from him slightly, your hands trailing down to fix the collar of his coat, “Minhee went out with Jungmo and my mum’s recently been going out at night so…”

Sunghoon's heart skips a beat at your implication, "Are you inviting me over?" he asks, his ears buzzing with anticipation.

You nod, a hint of nerves sneaking through as you bite your lip. "Yes, if you want to."

Considering the offer, he weighs the options carefully.

On the downside: it's a risk with your mum potentially returning home soon, the early morning departure could be awkward if he encounters your brother, and there's the potential for discomfort in the morning.

On the upside: it's a shorter drive to your place, he's curious about seeing your room, and it's the only location where he hasn't fucked you yet.

"Alright, let's go for it," he grins, the allure of the last pro eclipsing the rest.

Sunghoon opens the door for you and you settle into your seat and fasten your seatbelt while he slides into the driver's seat, starting the car.

As the car glides down the dimly lit streets, Sunghoon steals glances at you, a mixture of excitement and nervousness flickering in his eyes. The anticipation within him builds with every passing moment, the silence between you thick with unspoken desire.

With a playful smile, you break the tension, "Why do you look nervous?"

Sunghoon chuckles, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel, "Not nervous, excited,” he corrects you.

You eye him up and down, “Okay then, why are you excited?”

Sunghoon lounges back as you hit a red light, taking the chance to look at you, “It’s like I’m entering enemy territory, like on those video games Jake plays all the time. I’m entering the red area, risking my life while I got on stealth mode,” he explains, getting even more giddy as he speaks about it.

“Hoonie, no one else will be home, I’m hardly sneaking you in.”

“Shhh, it’s no fun if you put it that way,” he chuckles, placing a hand on your thigh, “When I forward roll into your entrance, leave me be,” he plays.

Luckily for you, when you both arrive, Sunghoon refrains from spy rolling into your house like he’s an elite operative. Instead, he is waiting to be invited in like Stefan Salvatore.

“Baby, come on in, nothing gonna bite you,” you giggle as you take off your shoes.

Following your orders, he walks in and takes a look around the familiar entranceway. Nothing has changed since he was last here, just before your ceremony; aka, he’s noticed not one of your award pictures has taken pride of place next to your brothers.

You hadn't shown your mother the pictures, nor did she inquire about how it went. Her indifference was something you had learned to accept, albeit reluctantly. It wasn't the ideal situation, but like Sunghoon, you had found solace and love in other places where your mother left a void

Coming to that acceptance was cathartic.

You lead him up to your room, a bright smile on your face. It was surreal to have this opportunity to have him amongst your creature comforts, like finally all the pieces of your life have come together.

Sunghoon stops you as you go to reach for the handle, “Wait!” he rushes out. Inhaling deeply as he jitters around like a boxer about to walk into the ring, each little jump and hand tremor making you laugh. You would mistake it for nervousness again if he wasn’t beaming at the door like an idiot

“Will you calm down, this isn’t anything spectacular, It’s just my room,” you shake your head, looking at him as he continues his jumps of glee. Nothing you could say to him would stop him from acting like a child on Christmas morning, “You’re such a dork,” you snort, placing your hand on the handle.

Before opening the door, you mentally hope you tidied up before meeting him today. To your relief, the room is cleaner than you recall, albeit with a stray sock and some shoes strewn where your wardrobe is. You signal for Sunghoon to come, and he enthusiastically skips inside, looking about with inquiring eyes.

His attention moves across the shelves filled with books and trinkets, the cosy bed with its assortment of plushies, and the desk cluttered with papers and pens. Sharing this space with him creates a sense of intimacy and vulnerability, as well as elation among you both. Having him here feels like you can finally call this your home.

Sunghoon's smile widens as he takes it all in, his eyes sparkling with delight, "This is nice," he remarks, his voice soft with appreciation.

You nod, feeling a surge of happiness at his reaction, "I'm glad you think so," you reply, watching as he moves further into the room, exploring every nook and cranny as if it holds some secret treasure.

Just looking around your room is giving him further insight into your life. As your boyfriend, he knows a lot more than most, yet, seeing your soul laid bare in these four walls is opening him up to understand you deeper.

From the 2 minutes he has spent in your room, he has just found out that you collect far too many earrings, your favourite highlighter to use is pastel pink, you had an emo phase that you neglected to tell him, and you’ve been to 4 fan signs for TO1. It’s tiny, insignificant details, but Sunghoon wants to know it all.

His eyes happen to fall on a picture of you and Minhee when you were kids, “I remember this!” he exclaims, fangs showing as he twists the picture to show you as if you don’t see it literally every morning, “This was the Youth of Skating competition when we were 13,” he reminisces.

"Wasn't I just adorable?" you remark, playfully cupping your cheeks and flashing a wide grin as you try to mimic your younger self captured in the photo.

With a laugh, Sunghoon gently sets the frame back on your desk, nodding in agreement, “The prettiest one in the crowd by far,” he murmurs in a soft tone, mirroring your joy. It's as if your face radiates sunlight, and he basks in your vibrant glow.

Closing the distance between you, he replaces your hands with his own, leaning in to kiss you. His lips are tender as they meld with yours, his touch gentle as he affectionately squishes your cheeks, “You’re still the most beautiful person I have ever seen.”

Your heart quickens as he whispers sweet nothings into your mouth, his words mingling with the gentle exploration of his tongue, "I don't buy it," you tease, playfully pushing his hands away from your red cheeks, "You'll have to prove it to me," you challenge with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

A playful smirk dances across Sunghoon's lips as he accepts your challenge, his eyes sparkling with determination. With a soft chuckle, he gently captures your hands in his, intertwining your fingers as he pulls you closer.

"Oh, I intend to," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. Leaning in, he presses another lingering kiss to your lips, his touch sending shivers down your spine. Slowly, he trails his lips along your jawline, leaving a trail of feather-light kisses in his wake.

He takes off his jacket, tossing it on your desk chair all the while he’s nipping at your neck. As his hands swiftly remove his t-shirt, revealing his sculpted bare chest, your eyes are drawn to the faded hickeys scattered across his skin. You had really done a number on him a couple of weeks ago, the purple still tinting his pecks.

Before you can fully appreciate the sight, he bends down, effortlessly scooping you up, his lips showering kisses all over your face. Your breath catches at the warmth of his touch sending a flush to your cheeks, "Sunghoon," you gasp, feeling his urgency mirrored in your own desire.

Laying you gently on the bed, his chest pressed against yours, he trails his hands up and down your body, igniting flames of longing with each touch, "I know, Sweets," he murmurs, his voice laced with possessiveness, "You want me to fuck you, yeah? Prove to you that you’re the most gorgeous girl?"

“Yes,” you huff out desperately.

“Then be a good girl. You can do that for me, baby, can’t you?” he whispers into your neck, licking a stripe up your vein.

His words dance down to your pussy, arousal pooling between your legs as you eagerly nod in agreement. His confidence mixed with his praises only fuels your desire, the promise of being his good girl setting your pulse racing.

In a flurry of movement, his trousers and boxers are discarded, and he wastes no time in removing your jeans and underwear, leaving you bare and exposed to his hungry gaze. As he kisses up the tender skin of your inner thigh, his proximity to your centre sends waves of anticipation coursing through you.

“My beautiful girl, you’re all mine,” Sunghoon’s voice is low and smooth like butter.

The vibrations from his words send a jolt of need straight to your core, the ache for his touch almost unbearable. As he teasingly presses a delicate kiss to your clit, you whimper in longing, your body yearning for the fulfilment only he can provide.

His hands slide up to the top of your thighs, holding them down and apart as he nibbles gently at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. A shiver of anticipation courses through you as your hips instinctively push up, yearning for the touch of his mouth where you need it most.

Sunghoon responds with soft, warm kisses across your core, each one sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. Then, with deliberate slowness, he traces his tongue upwards, sending a shudder of delight through you as he explores every inch of your pussy.

Kneading your hands through his hair, you grip tight as you beg for more and Sunghoon has no problem granting your wishes, kitten-licking your slit as he laps up your wetness.

When he is going down on you, he is like a man possessed but now it’s much worse. He hasn’t tasted your essence properly since the breakup/makeup. Your boyfriend doesn’t like to go too long without your taste on his tongue, so here he is making up for lost time as he lays his tastebuds flat against your cunt, savouring every drop of you.

You pull his head back by his hair, eliciting a moan from him as you do so, the sensation of each strand being in your command causes his dick to jump in, “Fuck, Sweets,” he hisses, licking his lips clean as he looks up at you through hooded eyes, “Tell me what you want.”

But he already knows what you want, because, without your answer, he’s gathering saliva in his mouth before spitting it on your throbbing pussy, his fingers lathering you in it, “Go on, tell me,” he mutters onto your clit, digging his teeth onto it just enough for you to buck your hips onto his face.

“Fingers, Hoonie, I want your fingers. Please,” you plead, holding your hips up to his mouth in a desperate attempt to get some release of your friction.

“Not only are you gorgeous,” Sunghoon’s fingers find their way to your entrance, circling it teasingly, “You’re my obedient, perfect girl.”

Sunghoon smoothly slides his fingers inside you, opening you up and filling you with a sweet sensation. His attention never leaves your face as he looks for your reactions, making every movement pleasurable for you.

He sees your lips falling wide and your head cocking back in ecstasy as an indication to continue. His fingers hook into you, gliding back and forth in a smooth and luring pace that matches the rhythm of your desire, and caressing you just the way you like it. Each stroke sends waves of pleasure through your body, creating a fire of passion that becomes hotter with each enticing movement.

You're a moaning mess as Sunghoon expertly finds your sweet spot, thrusting his fingers harshly as he works it with precision, "Let it all out, baby," he encourages, his voice sending your head into a tizzy, "Show me how I'm making you feel."

His words alone could send you tipping over the edge, but it's the sensation of his tongue flicking your clit and the gentle suction that has you screaming his name loud enough for the whole neighbourhood to hear. Sunghoon doesn't stop you, revelling in the melodic sound of his name falling from your lips like a symphony of desire.

"That's it, angel, you're doing so good for me," he praises, his words only spurring you on further. The two fingers inside you continue their relentless rhythm, driving you to the brink of ecstasy with each delicious stroke.

Your hands instinctively push him further into your cunt as you ride his face, Sunghoon's skilled ministrations bring you closer and closer to your climax, and his tongue and fingers dance in perfect rhythm, driving you to contentment with each delicious motion. The overwhelming sensation clouds your thoughts, leaving you lost in a haze of pleasure that makes your mouth water with anticipation.

With a final, electrifying thrust of his fingers and a gentle nibble at your clit, you hit the edge of release, your chest and tummy tightening. And then, with a guttural moan that bounces throughout the room, you finally succumb to the overwhelming wave of pleasure that crashes over you, leaving you trembling and breathless in its wake.

Sunghoon continues to worship you with his mouth and fingers, guiding you through the aftershocks of your orgasm with tender care and devotion. Each touch, each kiss, each whispered word of praise only serves to deepen the connection between you.

He sucks and swallows your juices, smiling as he does so. Your walls have trapped his two digits inside you as you squeeze him tight, “Baby, relax for me,” he kisses up your stomach in an attempt to get your body to yield but your orgasm is too intense, “Shh, Y/N, breathe out for me beautiful,” he whispers as his face meets yours.

Opening your eyes, you see his gentle smile and etch a blissful one onto yours, his adoring gaze instantly rippling through your bones, helping your muscles to unknot themselves. The power he has over you is crazy.

"Told you I would prove it," Sunghoon chuckles softly, pressing a peck on the tip of your nose as he finally frees his hand from you. Shaking your head with a satisfied smile, you exhale deeply, prompting him to tilt his head inquisitively.

"Oh? Have I not done enough?" he questions, his expression filled with amusement.

"Nope," you reply smugly, popping the 'p' for emphasis, "You could do more to prove it."

Sunghoon feigns contemplation, his lips quirking to the side in mock thought, "I see, hmm…" he muses, his gaze scanning you from head to toe before he suddenly sits you up and onto his lap, taking your useless top off.

His favourite playthings are now sitting directly at eye level and Sunghoon feels spoilt for choice of what one to show attention to first. Left has always been his favourite, there wasn’t a particular reason as to why, he just instinctively went for it every time.

Before he can delve his mouth to attach to your perky nipple, you surprise him by gripping his shoulders with one hand while the other strokes his cock between your bodies. In reaction, his shoulders and back hunch over, his head now buried between your mounds.

Your slicked hand pumps him at a vicious pace, yet the gentleness of your hand causes no discomfort. After all these months together, you know how he likes it, fast and rough with extra attention to his tip; so that’s what you do, after every fourth stroke you swipe your palm over his head, the soft skin now tinted red with need.

“Sweets,” he murmurs between your breasts, his tongue licking the valley like a helpless dog, “Let me be inside you, fuck I need it so bad,” he almost whimpers as you squeeze him.

Part of you wants to keep going and tease him but your heat is leaking for him, crying out to be stuffed by his cock.

You lift your hips and guide him to your entrance, slowly sinking onto him, “Jesus,” you hiss out, his cock stretching you much wider than his previous fingers.

The pace you set is deliberate and unhurried as you savour the feeling of his thick shaft piercing into you, battering your cervix each time you slam down onto him. Sunghoon groans at the way your channel is enveloping him, moulding around him like a perfect fit.

With each withdrawal, the tip of his cock catches on your entrance, teasingly, before he plunges back in, eliciting desperate pleas for more from your lips, "Hoonie, please, faster," you beg, your desire driving you wild.

It’s time for Sunghoon to take charge, his hands clasp around your back as he pulls you further into his chest, gripping onto your skin as he goes at you relentlessly. He delves so deeply inside you that the sensation becomes overwhelming, a heady mix of pleasure and need. Sunghoon's hand moves from your back to brush against your overstimulated clit, sending jolts of electricity coursing through your body, causing you to writhe on his lap, "Sunghoon, please," you whimper, your voice laced with desperation.

"What is it, baby?" Sunghoon's voice, soft-spoken and tender, stands in stark contrast to the force of his thrusts, each one pounding relentlessly against your core.

"Close," you gasp out, the intensity of your impending climax threatening to overwhelm you once again. If it were any other time, you might feel embarrassed by how quickly you're reaching the peak of ecstasy, but you know Sunghoon would understand. And he does because he feels the same way.

Both of you have tangled in sheets for long enough that you both know one another’s body like the back of your hands. That, added in with the withdrawals, of course you were both cumming quickly. Neither of you particularly minded since it wasn’t exactly a hindrance but rather served as just another notch to add to the endless list of climaxes you could potentially have.

The day that one orgasm halts your sexcapades for the night, is the day Ghostface will stop being hot. Never.

Sunghoon spits on your folds, his movements primitive but intentional. His fingers rubbed saliva into your delicate skin, focusing their attention on your swollen clit, pushing you to the verge of your high. These sensations are almost too intense to take, with his rough touch on your bud and the power of his cock ramming into your walls battering you in the most delicious way possible.

The other hand on your back trails its way to your left hand, clasping it in his as he intertwines your fingers, kissing your knuckles as he stares at you, love shining through, “I love you so fucking much,” he whispers out, his hips faltering slightly as he declares his adoration for you.

Nodding, you bite your lip, prying your eyes open to look into his, “I love you too, Hoonie,” you confess back to him, hips also losing their rhythm as you struggle to focus on anything other than the coil in your stomach.

You bring your lips to his hand, mimicking his earlier actions, “Cum with me, Sunghoon,” you whisper into the back of his hand, your lips parted as you suck in a deep breath, ready for release.

Your body convulses with pleasure as waves of ecstasy wash over you, leaving you trembling and breathless in their wake. Sunghoon holds you close, his touch gentle yet possessive as he guides you through the aftershocks of your climax with tender care.

Sunghoon kisses you hungrily, his lips engulfing yours in a passionate embrace as your words push him over the edge. With feral zeal, he releases his seed in you, the white strands of his desire flying straight into your depths and blending with your own release.

Your bodies melt together in the heat of passion and you both cry one other's names along with a stream of curses, lost in the throes of pleasure and need. Sunghoon punctuates each passionate proclamation with two simple utterings of "I love you," ensuring that his words are conveyed sincerely

As you come down from the euphoric high, you find yourself enveloped in Sunghoon's embrace, his love and adoration surrounding you like a warm blanket on a cold night. In this moment, with him by your side, you feel truly complete, knowing that you are loved and cherished beyond measure.

Laying you down, Sunghoon, slides out of you gently, making sure he doesn’t hurt you, “Sweets, where is your bathroom?” he asks but you’re still too fucked out to comprehend his question, leaving him to figure it out on his own, “Stay here, baby, I’ll be back,” he instructs, putting on his boxers and tucking his semi-hard cock into them.

Leaning an ear to the door, Sunghoon assesses if anyone magically came home while you two were going at it like animals. The silence he hears elicits relief into his body as he opens the door, confident no other member of the Kang family will see his practically naked figure.

Opening a few doors through trial and error, he stumbles into Minhee’s room. The curiosity within him leads him to look around, hand searching for the light. Once he switches it on, he sees exactly what he was expecting, a clutter of mess placed in every corner. It’s similar to his room, decor-wise, but there’s one thing that he notices, standing prominent on Minhee’s nightstand.

Sunghoon reaches for the picture of you at 3 years old, sleeping next to your older brother, hugging one another tightly. You’re wearing matching pyjamas and smiles with no cares in the world. He knows your bond with Minhee is strong, stronger than most siblings; he thinks perhaps that’s why it was so easy to forgive you for lying to him. Seeing this picture now only punctuates his thoughts.

And after his conversation with Minhee today, he knows you would both do anything to protect one another.

“What are you doing in here?” you ask, hugging him from behind. Your eyes stare at the picture in the frame and you laugh, “Oh my days, Minhee and I were so young back then,” you fondly pout.

Sunghoon wraps an arm around your shoulder, “I was looking for the bathroom to get you cleaned up but I came across his room,” he admits sheepishly, rubbing your shoulder.

“Hmm,” you acknowledge, taking the frame and placing it back on the desk. You pause your motions as you look around his desk. It had been a long time since you had been in your brother's room, possibly 2 years, but you don’t remember all of the clutter on his worktop.

Picking up the paper fortune teller, you can't help but laugh at the whimsical relic of your childhood, "I didn't know he kept all this stuff," you say wistfully, your fingers tracing the faded creases of the paper. Memories flood your mind as you recall the countless hours spent crafting these simple yet cherished treasures with your brother.

Your gaze then falls upon the painting, a colourful masterpiece that holds a special place in your heart despite its simplistic charm. "And look at this," you remark, your voice tinged with nostalgia. "I remember making this in nursery. It was supposed to be a house, but I’m clearly no Picasso," you chuckle, the memory bringing warmth to your heart.

Putting it back, you see the picture you sent him from your award ceremony, sitting proudly next to his mouse, “He printed this out?” you ask no one, “I thought this would be the last picture he would want to see every day.”

The picture didn’t just represent your achievement, it represented the lies you sat in for months without Minhee knowing. This picture was amongst the bunch that had you and Sunghoon sitting happily in love, an accidental click that exposed your deceit.

Sunghoon kisses your temple, “He’s proud of you, baby,” he says, trying to ease your tense shoulders, “That night, sure, the aftermath was a shitshow. But you still achieved something amazing, and he’s proud.”

His words lighten you a little, a smile creeping on your face as you put it back. Shaking your emotions away, you look up at your boyfriend, “Let’s get out of here, I’ll show you where the bathroom is.” You push him out of Minhee’s bedroom, closing the door behind you.

“While you’re up,” Sunghoon follows you, hand in yours, “Why don’t we just take a shower?” he suggests, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously.

You roll your eyes and open up the bathroom door, “Fine, but only quickly, last time I started to shrivel up like a prune with how long you kept me in there,” you joke, turning the light on.

Sunghoon smirks, “I promise, I’ll be quick,” he leans down to your ear, “I’ll just make sure I go at you rough and hard, hmm?”

taglist (closed!!): @heelee-01 @zerasari @beomgyusonlywife @iwaplant @monstanctiny21 @chiiiiiiiiis @minniejenseo @run2gyuz @jngwnlvs @haelahoops @capri-cuntz @nctislifue @jaehoonii @weyukinluv @skzenhalove @enhypenlovre @cherriruto @bambangan @who-tf-soddhi @nxzz-skz @nshmrarki @hotsforikeu @enhastolemyheart @erehkinnie30 @judeduartewannabe @neosexual @fakeuwus @positivelyinlovewithjungwon @tobiosbbyghorl @kimsunoops

#enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #aj writes #melting point #enhypen angst

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pandawriterstuff · 3 years

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Pinehallow Summary & Character List

This is my main WIP, if I'm complaining about characters doing whatever they want, this is them.

Pinehallow Summary-Monty, an eleven year old boy who has spent most of his life traveling from place to place with his in-demand lawyer mother, Irene, is sent to live at his uncle's horse ranch because she thinks he needs roots. Used to nearly everyone but his mother not being around long enough to get to know, Monty is more than a bit uncertain about this. But in scrambling to find his place in a town different to anything he's ever known, he finds friends, both human and animal, makes discoveries, and even manages to foil a plot against Pinehallow Ranch itself.

Character List

Monty (Montgomery) Cade Waller- Main character, 11, white. Monty is curious, bright, and more than a little awkward. He has a tendency to state the obvious, which can be endearing or annoying depending on your perspective. Big vocabulary and grown-up way of speaking because he’s spent more time around grown-ups than other kids. He’s quietly stubborn, particularly when it comes to being told he’s wrong when he knows he’s right. Insecure about socializing and friendships because of constant moving and traveling. Can’t hold a grudge for the life of him, even when he likely should. He likes bugs, birds and turtles, would rather read nonfiction than a story. Fills lonely afternoons with sketching, nature sketching on the ranch.

Irene Waller- Monty’s mother, 36, white. Irene is a powerful corporate lawyer, either full of energy or exhausted, never in between. She loves using words to sway minds and deciphering documents to find exactly what the opposition doesn’t want her to find. Sometimes Irene wishes she was using her skills in more meaningful ways, but also really likes the money, the traveling, and the competition. Has an almost encyclopedic knowledge of show tunes from musicals. She has a hard time letting people get close. Would stab someone for her baby, but knows it’s better to teach him to stab for himself. Only partially joking. Dolly Parton is her hero, and as much as she loves her music, it’s Dolly the business woman and Dolly the philanthropist that she strives to emulate.

Keith Waller- Monty’s uncle, 34, white. Horse Rancher. Keith loves working hard and getting dirty, and if he’s not exhausted at the end of the day he’ll be looking for something else to push him there. Otherwise he gets antsy. Loves animals and absolutely will not tolerate anyone mistreating any of the animals on his ranch-ordinarily he’s very careful of his size and strength, in that situation, all bets are off. Times that by about ten for any of the ‘barn rats’ that help around the ranch for riding lessons/time. Loves romantic comedies and telanovas and doesn’t care who knows it. Keith doesn’t read a lot, it never came easy to him, but if he’s taking a long trip he’ll always check an audio book or two out of the library instead of just relying on the radio.

Juniper - Keith’s goddaughter, 15, white. She has a calm, confident personality with a smile for most everyone she meets. If she doesn’t have a smile for you and it isn’t because her head is in the clouds over a girl, you’ve probably earned her scorn and will be ignored as much as possible. Juniper raises rabbits and it’s taught her patience, and a lot about unfairness when a kit doesn’t make it. She helps out with riding lessons at the ranch in exchange for riding time of her own, and has become a fixture, spending more time there than she does at home, and when she can get away with it, school. Loves sunflowers and her sunflower comforter is probably her most prized possession.

Nell - Caretaker/cook for the ranch house(would cooking lunch for the workers still be a thing on a modern ranch?). 38, white(?). Not about to put up with nonsense. Will make you cookies if she doesn’t have to put up with nonsense. Please. At one point she wanted to be a chef and has a year of culinary school under her belt, but quickly decided the super fast paced and competitive environment wasn’t for her. Anything that was making her hate one of her favorite things that fast could not be good for a person. She intends to live a long, long life and that kind of stress can just walk right out of the door. Loves to go on long walks, often into the hills (BLM land) behind the ranch. (maybe she was taught/took a class on foraging, and teaches Monty to find wild onions and stuff? But this would mean *I* have to learn about foraging in Idaho.) This leads to a contented, if often silent, companionship between her and Monty, who desperately wants to explore/record/sketch everything about the natural world of his new home, particularly the parts that are off limits to him without an adult along.

Ray- Family Friend/Co-Owner of R & M General (designed to feel vintage, but shiny. Bit of a tourist stop now, they decided to lean into it.), 50, Black. He uses his background in chemistry to make amazing looking candies and chocolates, using that to deal with a time he used it in less pleasant ways when he was in the military. He never expected anybody outside of his small town, or maybe the folks at the county fair to make so much fuss over them. This might embarrass him, if he weren’t so delighted. A cheerful man with a dreamer’s heart, a magazine once referred to him as a small town Willy Wonka. He dotes on his wife, often making and gifting her small surprises. An amputee in honor of my Grandpa (missing left leg at the knee, possibly missing one arm as well, but I’m not sure how that would affect candy making.). Has certain parts of his past he just doesn’t talk about.

Mavis- Co-Owner of ____ with Ray, 48, Black. Fierce and kind in equal measures, Mavis believes in protecting what’s hers, and as far as she’s concerned the entire town of (oh my god, it needs a name) is included in that. Mavis is very selective about the battles she fights, but when she chooses one she throws herself in whole-heartedly. On several committees around town, she’d be on more, but then she wouldn’t have enough time to really get into the work of the ones she loves. She knits in her limited free time, often while listening to the news, but sometimes opera. Has started knitting stuffies in the shapes of the more unusual candies Ray makes, it’s silly, but fun, and tourists and the local kids love it. Still head over heels for Ray, even though his often dreaming about things for ages instead of just doing them is also still baffling to her.

Leanna - Juniper’s sort-of girlfriend, 15, Vietnamese. Quiet, a little cynical, but very empathetic. She avoids the news because it’s that or be mad and want to cry all the time-until she hears about something she can’t not research, and goes on a 24 hour google search and learns far more than is probably good for her about a species going extinct due to logging in prohibited areas, or genocide being covered up by claims of violent uprisings. She loves manga and comics. Leanna sometimes tries for a cottagecore* type aesthetic, but mostly thinks it's too much work. She’s starting to worry about what she’s going to do with her future, and people telling her that she’s only 15 and doesn’t have to worry about it yet is NOT HELPING.

*even though cottagecore isn’t a thing in the early-mid 2000s this is maybe/vaguely set in. Shh, let me have this. Anne of Green Gablesesque maybe?

Winnie - Leanna’s mom, 45, Vietnamese. Widow? A little ditzy, but a lot loving. Everyone in town is convinced she’s the stoner type of hippy, but no one minds as she’s someone who truly wants to know how you’re doing when she asks and strangely almost always has very spot on advice. She’s rarely on time anywhere, but that’s because she’ll have stopped to talk, and often to help, whoever she’s run into. Leanna and her bicker over this when she’s late picking her up. Always wears bright colors. Loves Agatha Christie books. Calls everyone, even people 50 years older than her, hon.

Logan - Juniper’s stepdad, 40, white. Kind of a jerk, but most of the jerky things he says are actually jokes that fall flat or have simply gotten old. Tries really hard, like *really* hard, but has a tendency to get annoyed if people don’t appreciate his efforts right away-more in his personal life than professional, possibly because of his profession. A contractor, hard worker, loyal, has worked for the same company since he was twenty even though they don’t often treat him right. Sometimes tries to buy people’s affections. Wants to have better communication with Juniper, but it’s gotten really hard the last few years and he’s never quite sure why.

Candice - Juniper’s Mom, 39, white, works at a nursery that sells seedlings and baby fruit trees, has a cheerful, calm personality, but a lot softer and more lowkey than Juniper’s version. Very house proud, but has a ‘maximalist’ approach to decorating-everything is in its place, but there are places for lots of things. Loves spending time outdoors, but would rather spend it tending her garden than hiking or riding, preferably with a cup of tea by her side. On the weekends, a fruity beer or wine instead. Wants to go on one of those train rides where you get to drink wine, eat canapes and try to solve a mystery, thinks Winnie might be a good candidate for someone to go with her.

Ura - a ‘barn rat’, 12 and a half, white(maybe a Czech immigrant? 2nd generation?) . A cheerful, rough and tumble boy who is always climbing things, and often being told to stop when he gets too high for other people's comfort. Ura is fearless when it comes to physical feats, but has a fear of ‘slimy’ things like worms and frogs. He has a thick layer of pudge and a big appetite, but is athletic and strong enough that anyone bullying him over it would be doing it at their own peril. Not that he’s the type to start fights, or even finish them most of the time. Doesn’t feel he quite fits in with his family, who are all more serious, reserved people. Redwood is his favorite of the horses, and Keith has all but given up on telling him that sitting on the floor of Red’s stall to talk to the horse isn’t exactly safe.

Elliot - Ray and Mavis’s son, Black, 19 and a college student-maybe/probably at U of I. Lives on campus, but comes home at least a couple weekends a month. Has an older car that he and Ray fixed up together, that is his pride and joy. Quiet, with an irreverent sense of humor that he unleashes somewhat at random. Interested in robotics, engines and mechanics and generally has some project he’s working on, a piece of which may or may not be in his pocket. Often has oil, grease, or ink on his hands, either from working on or designing a new project. A bit of an overachiever, he can spread himself thin trying to live up to all his responsibilities at once. He’s best friends with Randy, a friendship his parents want to disapprove of, because the few times Elliot’s gotten into trouble not only was Randy there, but 99% of the time whatever it was is Randy’s idea, but never quite manage too.

Randy - Handyman at the ranch, mixed race Hispanic and white, 21. Technically head handyman, because the old head retired six months ago, and is a little young/inexperienced for the job, but he’s not the type to back away from a challenge and has risen to the occasion beautifully. Loves rock and metal music, and spends a lot of his free weekends at concerts, the ones crammed into little venues and bars where people are practically on top of each other and the beat is so loud and solid it throbs through you, connecting you to everyone even before you hit the mosh pit, are his preference. He’s been working at the ranch since he was 16, and feels like he has a claim on it, not afraid to speak up if he thinks a decision Keith is making isn’t right or that he isn’t taking something important into consideration. Can be a bit wild when he’s not being the responsible one, definitely doesn’t always think before he acts.

Alma - Local artist/worker at R & M’s, Hispanic, 25. Alma is a painter and poet, a confident young woman who’s figured out that half of surviving as an artist is being your own agent/a salesperson as well, and in addition to several shelves at the R & M that hold postcard prints of many of her pieces, both the coffee shop and cafe have some of her larger paintings displayed, and she always has a booth at the Saturday market, though the majority of her sales come from her website. Alma is cheerful, and likes to tease, and growing up the middle child of four brothers, is very able to hold her own in verbal sparring. She’s close with her family, still living with her parents, and while at first her father was dismayed at her choice of career, he now hands out her business card to basically everyone he talks to.

Miriam - Nell’s Mom, white, 71, a little deaf, speaks loudly, partially because of the deafness, partially because she spent too long letting other people push her around and when she hit about 50 decided she was going to be the one talking over people now. She’s earned it. Age has made her more delicate than she likes, bruising and scraping easily, but she’s determined to do most things for herself. Those that are beyond her she has no problem loudly ordering someone else to take care of. Volunteers a lot, often fosters kittens for the local animal shelter. Used to chain smoke, quit when Nell was a teenager because she kept leaving pictures of diseased lungs everywhere. Still uses the candy ones as a substitute.

Places

Unnamed Town- Somewhere in Latah County, Idaho, where there is not already a town in the way. Around 200 years old and has grown and shrunk and grown again, and currently has a population of about 12,000. Having grown out from a traditional mainstreet, _______ no longer has the western style boardwalk seen in old pictures, but it does have a large cluster of local businesses and ‘hot spots’ still along that old main street, a coffee shop, a diner, a combination bookshop and independent library, a hardware store, a bar, a few places I haven’t thought of yet, and of course R & M General. There is a historical barn half a mile or so away from mainstreet that has been converted into a theater/meeting hall/dance hall, and a community center was added onto it in the early 90’s. During the summer there is a farmer’s market on the property every Saturday. The elementary school and junior high are all on one property, several miles out of town, because the majority of families live on farms, ranches or small rural properties rather than in one of the neighborhood clusters in the town itself. The junior high is 7th, 8th and 9th graders, in a newer two story building, and the elementary school is divided into lower and upper elementary with the bracket shaped building basically being cut in half, K-3 on one side and 4-6 on the other. The high school is outside of town on the other side by several miles, and actually serves kids from another town(s) as well. There is also a trailer park with about forty units, not exactly sure where it is yet, but Miriam(Nell’s Mom) lives there. There is also an animal shelter, a vet’s office, a cemetery, and a couple churches, and I’m sure more things to come.

R & M General (working title?)- Ray and Mavis’s store, a general store with a candy focused twist. A vintage Pepsi sign, neon still bright, and a charming green glass juke-box filled with hits from the 1940’s onward grace the front porch of the R & M, along with a long bench that locals are encouraged to use for a spell or to listen to a couple songs, provided they can behave themselves (teenagers arguing over who their favorite member of the rat pack is might be amusing, considering they were already ‘mom and dad’, or at least older brother and sister, music by the time Mavis and Ray were teenagers, but when they get loud it also gets annoying.). The store itself still has the original wooden counter up front and built-in shelves along the walls, but all refinished and polished to a high shine. A mixture of display types going down the middle of the store, barrels and baskets filled with skeins of colorful yarn and cloth or Mavis’s knitted stuffies(and during winter sometimes socks and mittens), other sewing and craft supplies, display racks with local arts, postcards and carvings, sometimes wind up toys made by Elliot, and of course many, many displays of candies and chocolates. They also have a lot of dry goods, and some of the simpler candy types have little instruction booklets and the ingredients it takes to try out making them yourself stocked in the same display, drink coolers, and sometimes have local produce available. Basically, they have a bit of everything, except for building equipment/home repair supplies, and that’s because of the hardware store across the street.

Pinehallow Ranch-A sprawling 100 acre ranch in Latah County, Idaho where the Waller family has been doing something or other with horses for four generations now. Originally it was a horse breeding ranch, but Keith and Irene’s grandfather felt the money was in training horses, and offered boarding as well, and Keith has continued to build that up, offering lessons for a variety of styles, ages, and skill levels. Butting up against BLM land that allows additional grazing and trail riding, the ranch has four pastures, a large corral, a medium sized indoor arena and two horse barns, one for boarded horses and one for the ranch's own stock, and an equipment barn, an old bunkhouse that is mostly used to store feed-though Randy has slept there when in between places, mostly unbeknownst to Keith-and some smaller equipment sheds, placed where they’re needed. The main house is an L-shaped ranch house with a porch that goes around the entire long front of the house with a large herb/kitchen and rock garden arranged around that. There are treed pockets scattered here and there, left alone as the rest of the ranch was developed, but the creek Monty and Juniper sometimes hang out at is on BLM land, as is most of the forested area around the ranch.

Pinehallow Taglist @sleepysera @enchanted-lightning-aes @odysseywritings @thegreatobsesso @writing-is-a-martial-art and @hiitsolivia If anyone else wants to be added just interact with the post :) (My more advanced tumblr knowledge has led me to believe this is better than asking people to reblog/comment to be added, but if I'm wrong just let me know.)

#character list #oc list #someday I'll do a proper series introduction #and an introduction for me #but today is not that day #pinehallow ranch #original writing #I tend to build my world around the characters #backwards I know

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onyourzeus · 3 years

Text

• certainty | kyh

ykcyj ➝ arskyh

title: certainty pairing: kang younghyun (youngk of day6) & you genre: FLUFF words: 2.6k

author’s note: requested by @strxwberrifields :’) thank you so much for fueling the idea for this prompt. i think i strayed away a little, though, i’m sorry! i hope it is still enjoyable. also, youngk’s cover of when you love someone was playing while i wrote this, it helped set the mood a ton. (listen to it, you won’t regret it)

any requests? check my pinned post if i’m accepting any at the moment, thanks!

there’s something about being in love

that you can’t put into definitive words

it’s so sickeningly cliche, you know that

there’s nothing more annoying than hearing

someone gush about their significant other

over and over and over— we get it! you’re in a relationship and it’s great and just

don’t rub it in, please

kidding aside

—you don’t think your relationship with younghyun is like that

if anything, you feel somewhat lacking in telling him how much you love the guy

dating a pretty famous bassist, idol, vocalist, business admin major—

scratch that. dating someone like younghyun is already out of the ordinary for you

and so you can’t help but feel… insecure, at times

or feeling left out from his idol circle and the fact that

you can never bring yourself to fully immerse in it like he does

you don’t blame him!! you never blame younghyun for who he is

it’s just a bizarre concept to find yourself even crossing paths with the now love of your life

for almost a year, might you add

the thought still sends goosebumps all over your skin

and a silly smile that gets you weird looks when you’re in public

man, if they knew who that smile was about

who your heart is for

they’d be jealous, duh

or judge you because—

you? with a guy like him? scoffs

you should get out of your head sometimes, it’s healthy (try it, please)

you’re good to younghyun, right? you think you are

a guy like him is smart enough to know what’s good for him… right?

STOP IT STOP you have a mission to do today

and that’s to bring the very same guy—

(plaguing your mind and disrupting the rhythm of your heartbeat every waking second)

—his lunch today

it’s just him in the studio; him and his bandmates have been doing their own thing for a few months now

which is a refreshing change of pace for everyone, you heard

but work is still work; and younghyun is recording yet another single to upload sometime soon

you’re excited, and jealous of how his mind works 24/7

but with that much thinking and execution comes a lot of hunger; and younghyun is not immune to not having an appetite

man’s stomach is the blackhole, anything that goes in there is nowhere to be found

(as if it never came in the first place)

you text him you’re by the entrance, and there’s a lot of typos

“hrre> i hv lunch. its heavy”

you know he won’t respond because there is no second wasted recording; you still do it, anyway

just in case

you’re greeted by a few people working in the bldg, some of them recognize you already which you’re still shy about

finally, you enter his studio, careful not to topple over the take out stuff you have in the bag

as expected, younghyun is inside the soundproof room where the ~*~magic~*~ happens, eyes closed and headphones on

immediately, your heart soars at the sight of him. it’s not a new thing for you to see him in his workspace

but it’s always a new feeling to watch how he lets the music flow in his presence

he can’t hear you but you’re careful in taking out bowls of ramen, broth, rice, and other side dishes on the coffee table. he’ll probably be done in a few minutes—

door opening louder than you anticipated

“you’re here!! and there’s FOOD,” younghyun exclaims, the headphones slung around his neck with the cord hanging in midair

you’re shook at his speed, but then again the one thing he loves the most is right in front of him

yep: food

you laugh, greet him with a kiss on the cheek (that warms your own face up, you’ll never get used to doing that) and let him know about his probably expensive headphones just dangling around

“eh who cares,” younghyun casually shrugs but you keep reprimanding him with an expectant look

“fine fine, i’ll put them down safely”

“good, have you eaten today?”

“yep but that was like an hour ago”

that’s younghyun for you, and you expected it. so you tell him to dig in

“it’s from the ramen place we tried a month ago, thought you’d want some soup since it’s getting colder”

his eyes light up like a kid opening his birthday present which he already knew what would be inside

“this is amazing, babe, thanks!” he reciprocates your kiss on the lips this time: short but sweet

you squeal, and temporarily feel calm and collected about his “approval”

you sit next to him, just watching him attack the noodles first, then slurping the broth with utmost grace (spoiler alert: he is chowing down like it’s his last meal)

and yet you’re falling so deeply in love again as you try to picture the image of him happily eating in your mind, framing it and keeping it stored there safely

“you’re not eating?” he asks in between bites of kaarage and takoyaki. it was practically a meal for three

you shake your head. “i ate before coming here” which wasn’t a lie, and he’d know if it was since he’d hear your stomach grumble

but that takoyaki sure looks tasty…

“wh—” younghyun shoves one right inside your mouth, chuckling as he watches you struggle to chew it so suddenly

“you know you wanted some,” he teases. pouting, you finish the takoyaki before trying to defend yourself

but younghyun had something else up his sleeve; or rather he grabs a tissue and dabs it on the side of your cheek

“someone was hungry,” he sing-songs, slanted eyes glinting with amusement

“you have the nerve to say that considering you finished a full course meal!” you sneer at him, feeling his gentleness as he wipes your cheek clean

you keep bantering back and forth like that; it’s natural, it’s what you like about your relationship

he finishes and it hasn’t even been an hour since you got here. someone can study this man’s digestive system and find new wonders of the human body in him

buuuut you kinda wanna keep younghyun to yourself for now— as much as you can, really, seeing as he’s an idol…

“that was sooo good,” he sighs, leaning back against the couch with one hand around your shoulders

you rest your head against his, cradling up to his warmth

he’s so cuddly when he’s just finished eating

not to mention

“zzz”

“younghyun, you have a song to record!” you shake him awake, and he’s not kidding either

the man just falls asleep!

“mm five minutes…” he dozes off, hugging you even closer to him. both arms around your frame this time

now that you’re face to face, you can clearly see the exhaustion smearing his perfect features

without make up on, his eyelids are veiny, there’s a shadow underneath them and his face just physically looks dull

the more he eases into you, the heavier his body feels sinking into the couch

and your heart sinks with it

younghyun works so incredibly hard— literally every single day, there is no stopping him from creating and doing and sometimes

you just want to tell him to slow down, pause for a moment

it makes your chest tighten, to think that younghyun thinks time is moving so fast for him

that he needs to accomplish so much before time runs out

you lift your hand up and card your fingers through his hair (he had it dyed black recently, and you’re all for it)

he hums in satisfaction and nuzzles his head against you even further

then, you move your hand over to his cheeks, tracing its height and going over the tip of his nose

boop

and steal kiss

he can really fall asleep like this, right next to you

you might doze off with him too

but, just like younghyun, true to his word—

he’s awake and back into recording mode less than ten minutes later

he stretches like a cat, and leaves you bewildered at the amount of energy he’s recharged himself with in such little time

“you give me energy, what can i say?”

“shut up”

he tries to clean up the empty bowls and used utensils, but you shoo the musician away

“go. work, i’ll handle this” he knows he can’t argue with you on that

it makes you feel useful to him, somehow, just doing these little things to accommodate for his lifestyle

you wonder if it’s enough

you spend the rest of the afternoon in the studio. while he records and edits and goes back to recording, you brought your laptop to do some work remotely

he lets you hear some of the recorded lines he’s done, and you nod your head all the time and say they sound perfect, they sound like him

he doesn’t really like that

“there’s bound to be something that’s missing. what else would you have liked to hear from this verse?”

he looks so serious, brows knitted, lips curled forward whenever he listens to himself in the audio

you feel bad; you don’t know much about music mixing and all that— plus you’re not lying when you say you like what you hear

but maybe in this area, there’s not much you can contribute in his life

and these are the moments when you think you fail as an equal partner

younghyun realizes the abrupt quiet in the air as you make yourself feel smaller than you do

“just a little more and i’ll be done for the day,” he tells you, patting your head reassuringly

you give him a meek nod, not meeting his eyes, and go back to some work

at least, you try. for distraction

he sounds disappointed— maybe you need to learn how to analyze beats and harmonies and such next time?

before you know it, younghyun finishes up and saves his progress

you’ve also fallen asleep a little there while sitting down on the floor, and your head on top of your laptop

“babe?”

when you wake up, the take-out bags are nowhere to be seen and your laptop is inside your messenger bag

“can i hang out at your place tonight?” younghyun asks, and you try to regain your senses

“yeah, yeah of course,” you say absent-mindedly, concerned thoughts swirling your consciousness

younghyun doesn’t bring a lot when he goes to the studio, he leaves the instruments in the room and only carries his phone and USB on him

upon exiting the place, he grabs hold of your bag and slings it on his arm

on the other, he invites your hand in his

you don’t say anything, still feel guilty for the incident a while ago, but accept his intertwining fingers

he squeezes yours tight, and gives you a slow, reassuring kiss on the cheek

“i’m sorry if i pressured you back there,” he apologizes firmly, looking at you straight in the eye

it’s a little intimidating, if you’re being honest

because when younghyun owns up to something— or even when he’s just determined about his words

he wants you to look at him, and see the truth in what he’s telling you

in retrospect, that’s how you fell in love

as that’s how younghyun confessed his own feelings

but now, he’s saying sorry for something you should be sorry for

before you even feel the tears well up, he has his hands cup your face, rubbing alongside your temples

the air is still outside, and there’s a faint noise of people chattering, walking, and existing in the world

but what you see is younghyun, and the way he presents you all of who he is at the moment

“it’s not you,” you start off the cliche, so you stop yourself

“i just feel like i don’t do anything…”

“anything?”

“in this relationship… that’s beneficial to you…” finally, words that explain some of your true, insecure feelings

you shut your eyes as tight as you can as to avoid confronting younghyun’s gaze

he’s quiet

probably mad

possibly about to break up with you

realizing that you’re right

instead, a slight pain on your forehead and you mutter a surprised, “ow.”

“that’s what you get,” younghyun says, seriously but his eyes show that of worry

you pout, and he tries to resist but he can’t so he kisses you

“for thinking the opposite of who you are to me,” he continues, letting go of your face and sliding his fingers in between the crevices of yours once more

you leave it like that, feeling just a tad bit calmer than before

but younghyun keeps looking at you, poking at your side which causes you to be ticklish

and he knows that

“you hungry?” he asks once you reach downtown

“just a little,” you say, thinking of what to cook dinner for the both of you soon since he said he’s coming over

“let’s get some galbi,” he urges, tugging you towards the restaurant with the glowing sign

“but you just ate…” you say quizzically, and as if on cue your stomach grumbles

well it has been a few hours for you

but for younghyun, technically he should already be full for the rest of the day!

“c’mon, my treat,” he doesn’t take no for an answer and you guys sit at a table with the stove in the center

for the rest of the night, he grills you your meat

doesn’t even let you put them on your plate, it has to come from him as you feeds you some of your favorites, galbi, gobchang, hangjusal; the whole nine yards

of course, he’s eating too, and laughing, and making you smile

“room for dessert?” he asks, and you shake your head no too many times

“get yourself some, i know you want to” you tell him, and he’s already calling for the waiter to bring him a mochi or two

he eats it while walking back to your apartment with you; and he seems like such a satisfied kid

you can’t go on throughout the day being all sullen with younghyun; it’s impossible

back in your apartment, you ease into the familiarity of the place

and so does younghyun

you ready some clothes for him that he’s left in your dresser to prepare a warm bath

but he calls you in the living room

“just a moment, younghyun”

“no no i need you now :(“

well, can you resist that tone? no

“what’s up? don’t you want to freshen up first?”

“i want you first”

:( “okay,” you say as shyly as your pounding heart can let you say

and you’re back in the same position as in the studio, right after he ate

arms around you, and he coaches your legs to rest on his

basically you’re koala-hugging him on your couch

“what’s this?” you say embarrassed. even in your own goddamn apartment, he makes you feel so many things at once

“being extra clingy”

“i can see that— but why?”

“so you don’t doubt yourself”

you’re taken aback

“there’s nothing that you need to change or do in front of me, or for me to make me love you more,” he starts off, and there goes his eyes again. staring, watching you. steady, serious but.. calming, in a sense

“because i already love you, so much. for everything that you do for me. all the little things.”

“i love you too,” you whisper, finding it hard to find words to describe how lucky you are to have him

again

but this time, you know he doesn’t mind

just having you right here by him is enough, having him recognize the small yet appreciated gestures that you do

and how he manages to check up on your own feelings so quick, and remedy the sadness just like that

there’s just something about being in love with younghyun

that words can’t express

but this moment with him right now can at least make you feel

that much loved by him too

#young k imagines #young k scenarios #day6 imagines #day6 scenarios #young k x reader #brian kang imagines #brian kang scenarios #day6 au #by:jiae #dot series

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p1harmonyofficial · 3 years

Text

[📰] K-Pop Rookies P1Harmony Are Writing Their Own Coming of Age Story

By Crystal Bell

K-pop group P1Harmony debuted three months ago with their audacious single "Siren," and member Jiung is already dreaming of the perfect solo vacation. The 19-year-old singer wants to emphasize that this is a trip he'd like to — no, needs to — do alone, when he can safely do so. ("You need to bold the word 'alone,'" leader Keeho adds in English, a knowing glint of mirth in his eyes. "Put it in italics too.") So, more about this excursion: "If possible, I want to go to a foreign country," Jiung tells Teen Vogue from an office in Seoul, South Korea. He doesn't have a specific place in mind, just somewhere new and exciting and, most importantly, a place where he can be alone to freely organize his thoughts without any other responsibilities.

It sounds like a lyric ripped from the pages of his notebook, or the plot of a coming-of-age movie his 17-year-old groupmate Intak would enjoy: a young man on a voyage of self-discovery, chasing a feeling to a faraway land to escape his adolescent ennui. For now, however, it's just a lofty resolution for the new year.

"I also want to travel alone because I've never done it before," youngest member Jongseob, who recently turned 15, enthusiastically offers in Korean. Jiung, always one to help the younger sort out his feelings, is quick to quash the teenage rapper's theoretical plans. "That's not very realistic," he says. "You're too young to travel alone." Undeterred, Jongseob carries on: "Then my goal this year is to drink more milk."

"He wants to grow taller, but I don't think milk helps that much," Keeho comments, shaking his head while his teal quiff stays firmly in place. "I heard that's a myth."

Technically, they're not wrong. Unaccompanied minors can't travel internationally without a parent's formal consent in South Korea, and there's no proven scientific correlation between dairy and height. But spoken aloud, this interaction sounds more like playful goading among good friends. It's a testament to Keeho, Theo, Jiung, Intak, Soul, and Jongseob's comfortable dynamic as a group that the copper-haired youngest just earnestly smiles through the minor sting of his hopes being swiftly dashed.

For all of the training that goes into a K-pop artist's career, perhaps the most vital lesson is learning how to symbiotically coexist in close quarters with someone who is unfamiliar to you. Like most things, it is a process. Harmony isn't achieved overnight, especially among six teenage boys who have differing definitions of the word "clean." Cultural differences present unique challenges, too. When Keeho left his home in Canada to pursue his musical dreams as a trainee at FNC Entertainment in Seoul, he didn't have much trouble fitting in. Or so he thought. "He was funny," Jiung says in retrospect. "But I don't think we were able to communicate well." It wasn't that they couldn't understand what Keeho was saying — the soulful singer grew up speaking Korean with his family — but rather they couldn't understand him.

"Everyone would be stressed out, and I would be like, 'Guys, relax. Why are you stressing out over this?'" Keeho says animatedly with his hands. "They couldn't understand why I was so relaxed. How could I not care about anything? And I couldn't understand why they were always so stressed about things. It took a while to get on the same page."

That's where communication comes in. "The key is being honest," Jiung explains. "We have a lot of talks." These regular conversations allow the members to resolve potential issues before they spiral into larger, more disharmonious problems. Keeho is refreshingly open about this. "We're always stuck together," he adds. "We live together. We see each other 24 hours a day. Seeing anyone 24 hours a day, you'll eventually be, like, ugh, get away from me, but because we communicate so much, that [feeling] is reduced." Establishing rules and boundaries also helps. "We have a basic rule that you clean up the mess you've made," Jongseob says from where he's perched behind Jiung. (This rule is especially important to methodical Jiung.) And then there's vocalist Theo, the eldest member who also takes on the role of the group's even-keeled mediator because he's a good listener, and he likes giving advice.

"I'm not very opinionated," the blonde says. At 19, he's a few months older than Keeho but harder to read. He's both lighthearted and enigmatic. "I'm not good at expressing my feelings," Theo explains. "But the members are really good at expressing themselves and their emotions, so I'm learning how to open up because of them." According to Keeho, Theo is "bad at being serious," adding, "We'll have to have a serious talk, and he won't be able to take it. He's always trying to lighten the mood. He's the comedic relief."

Keeho makes a habit of describing the members' various idiosyncrasies in fervent detail. It's a very leaderly thing to do, to make sure that everyone feels understood. Occasionally, he also jumps in to help interpret their answers into English, or to encourage others to speak. Soul, who is half-Korean but was raised in Japan, could be described as a quiet person: an introvert who wears a lot of black, listens to metal, and has a particular obsession with massive skull rings and accessories. But he's also acutely perceptive. He'd rather listen and observe than be an active participant in the conversation. "I like when the rest of the members are discussing an idea," he says quietly in Korean (he's still learning the language). "I like watching them talk." It's not that he's not involved, but as Keeho puts it, "He's always supporting us silently and observing us." For Soul, it's more fun to sit and watch.

You can get a sense of these dynamics as they unfold on the last track of the group's debut EP, Disharmony: Stand Out. It's a skit, or audio recording of the members — then, just trainees — as they talk candidly about their dreams to perform and contemplate the implications of such aspirations. "I work hard here for the debut, but when I go to school, I wonder, 'What am I doing here?'" Intak says on tape, recalling how strange it feels to not have the same priorities as his classmates who are all preparing for their college admissions. Theo quells his concerns, telling him how lucky he is to already be working toward his dream. "That's a cool thing," Keeho adds, as Soul silently listens in the background.

While his peers prepared for their academic futures, Intak was spending his evenings dancing, rapping, singing, and writing lyrics, while also stunt training alongside his groupmates and preparing to become a… movie star. A few weeks before the release of their album, P1H: A New World Begins hit theaters across South Korea in early October. The first K-pop origin story to hit the big screen, the feature film introduced P1Harmony and their sci-fi lore to the masses. Long story short: After a deadly virus spreads chaos and violence around the globe, six boys with extraordinary gifts are humanity's only hope for survival. The filming experience was invaluable for the artists, who until that point had only ever studied music and performance. "Acting training really helped with my facial expressions," Intak says. "I learned how to portray my emotions on stage." Keeho agrees, adding, "We got very friendly with the camera."

Singers who rap, rappers who sing, dancers who act — the boys of P1Harmony forgo clearly defined roles in favor of being versatile and, well, good at everything.

As for their music, Disharmony: Stand Out is a snapshot of Gen Z unrest, simmering with angst ("Siren") and bucking wildly, vibrantly against convention ("Nemonade"). Teenage turmoil has been fueling the K-pop industry since the very beginning, and there's a certain nostalgia to P1Harmony's no-holds-barred approach. Members Soul and Jongseob both credit B.A.P and their hard-hitting style with inspiring them to become artists, with Zelo influencing Jongseob to pursue rap in elementary school. You can hear those more aggressive, hip-hop-tinged influences on Disharmony, as well as softer, more lyrical R&B flourishes ("Butterfly").

"We wanted to convey feelings and situations that are not harmonious," Jongseob says. "We want to say don't be afraid to stand out and to say what you want to say — speak your truth, and do it with courage and confidence." Despite his age, the young rapper carries himself like a veteran. By all accounts, he's earned the title, having won the competition series K-pop Star 6 at age 12 in 2017 and competed in YG Treasure Box less than two years later. These experiences, he says, helped him feel more comfortable performing. By the time he came to FNC, he was already a prodigy with the confidence and flow of a performer twice his age.

"There are so many people, our age especially, who aren't always able to speak courageously and confidently," Keeho adds. "So we wanted to encourage everyone, especially ourselves, to never be afraid to say what you want to say."

And they practice what they preach. All of the members are credited lyricists on the album, with all six collaborating on the roaring hip-hop track "That's It." Part cypher, part vibes, "That's It" is teeming with boyish swagger and possibility. "Even though it was the first time all six of us worked on a song together, surprisingly we were all on the same page from the very first meeting, and it came together quickly," Jiung recounts, adding that each member wrote their own verse. "It was fun," Keeho chirps.

That creative energy is also channeled into their performances. "Because we do take part in a lot of the songwriting, we also want to convey that in our dance," Intak explains. Though he's part of the group's rap line, his first love was dance. He started taking lessons as a child. "My mom is a dancer, so she's where I got my love of dancing," he says. As such, he's well-versed in conveying emotion through motion. "We always have an idea of how we want to portray these emotions with our bodies," he says. The members choreograph their own center gestures. These movements are a small but significant part of any performance, because this is where their charisma and individuality shine brightest.

"I wanted to become a singer because I wanted to perform onstage," Theo says. "So being able to be on music programs performing on real stages, surrounded by bright LED lights and visual backdrops, I feel like a main character. When all of the lights are on me, I feel like a star."

Unsurprisingly, even when he's offstage, he's still singing. He even likes to call his friends and take song requests. "I like to sing to my friends through the phone," he says. "I'll sing anything they want. I play piano for them, too. They're very open to listening to me." Next to him, Keeho adds, "My friends would not want me to sing to them." (The internet respectfully disagrees.) Meanwhile, Jongseob turns to making music and writing lyrics in his downtime. It's a great way to relieve stress, he says. These days, Intak turns to animated films to ease his mind. He's a fan of Studio Ghibli films, and he really likes the Japanese manga characters Doraemon and Shin Chan.

"I watch a lot of coming-of-age stories about these innocent kids who are in the process of becoming adults," he explains. "I get inspired by watching them. I don't want to lose that innocence, so watching those animations make me feel youthful." It's hard to imagine Intak without his boyish sensibility. It's seeped into every social media post and YouTube vlog (or, #PLOG). Yet, as an artist, as a teenager, it's an unusual phenomenon to be perceived by thousands of fans before having the clarity to perceive yourself. It's something no amount of Miyazaki or training prepares you for.

Initially, Theo had a hard time opening up on camera. The mere thought of it made him nervous, but the more he did it, the easier it was for him to parse his own feelings. "I'm not very good at expressing emotions like thank you and I love you," he says. "But it's a lot easier to express those feelings now because I feel them so sincerely. I can say thank you for loving me [to fans] because I truly mean it."

"There are people from all around the world who leave me messages, and that makes me so happy," Intak says. "It drives me to do more and to give more to them."

And there will be more to give. Disharmony: Stand Out was just the beginning, and Keeho already has some very big goals for 2021. At the top of the list? "Rookie of the Year, come on!" he says spiritedly of the K-pop industry's coveted award. "It's definitely possible. I'm manifesting it right now." He also wants to make more music, maybe release more covers. "We want to come back a lot," he smiles. "I'm thinking [of] at least three releases next year."

Then there are more personal goals, like Jiung's solo travels. "I want to take better care of my mental health," he adds, noting that it starts with a more positive mindset. "I want to be a better person overall." Intak wants to, for the first time in his young life, maintain a consistent routine for a healthier lifestyle. That includes getting enough sleep when there aren't any schedules. ("He could sleep, but he chooses not to," Keeho jokes.) After monitoring his fancams, Theo has decided that he wants to build more muscle. And Soul hopes to go home to Japan to see his dog, a Frenchie named Mochi.

As for Keeho, in true Libra fashion, he wants to maintain a sense of balance: "I want to stay true to myself," he says. "I don't want to be like, oh, the fame is getting to me. I don't want to change. I want to stay grounded and stay thankful and be grateful, always. I also want to make some more money." He laughs, then adds, "I can't lie!"

No, he can't. Honesty is the key to harmony, after all.

#p1harmony #ot6 #t:news #era:disharmony : stand out #210123

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hoseoksactualass · 5 years

Note

Could we pls get a smutty IE!jk and oc drabble?

hello and YES

this is also @taespired‘s idea she be my queen since we were 16 we want the same things we dream the same dreams alright take it away zayn

where jk is in a (boring) meeting, and a homebound oc sends him v important photos during

Jungkook has a habit of drawing T-minus doodles on torpid meetings like this. For now, he does it with a phony smile on his face and makes it look like he actually cares. The interns’ eyes are glazed. More because he looks just as young as them and dashingly handsome than how overbearingly loud the internship coordinator is being right now.

This was supposed to be over five minutes ago. He’s in the middle of drawing cat ears when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He makes it look calculated—the way he perks his head up, draws eye contact with an intern who couldn’t take her spec’d eyes off him, and purses his lips slightly.

Secretary sent a message:

If you need me, I can still be over.

Sent 10:19 a.m.

He doesn’t stop the way the first thing he thinks of is what you might be wearing. The coordinator makes a joke everyone fake chuckles to.

And like everything else, you will not have his head for it. You know he thinks of you at wee hours like this, and you take advantage of it, already hiking your booty shorts up your ass like you know how it’ll feel when he does it.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

if you call in sick you call in sick. dw about it

Sent 10:20 a.m.

You can hear his voice through the message, and it’s instantly something you smirk to.

Meanwhile, Jungkook already has a mental chant about you being the perfect distraction playing like a ruined record in his head. He nods at something that went in one ear and exited the other, humming in false agreement. He lowers his phone’s brightness simultaneously.

Secretary sent a message:

Do the interns have life in their eyes?

Sent 10:21 a.m.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

an amusing amount i feel sick

Sent 10:21 a.m.

You chuckle to it, roll on your back, but before your thumbs type away, the pending screen dings again.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

show me what you’re wearing

Sent 10:22 a.m.

Then you’re off your shorts like you knew nothing of them, praying to lighting and an old thong to give you something you can nod to. For now, it’s a dim snap of your stomach down, shirt lazily tossed over the skin before a perceiver’s gaze will catch the strap of your thong hugging tight atop the curve of your hip. Not Pinterest-esque, but it’s honest work; it’s like you instantly know what Jungkook sounds like groaning to the sight.

He smiles at the coordinator before dropping his gaze to his phone again, tucked under his table and the weight of the company, but now he couldn’t care less.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

woa shit im never used to it

sexy

Sent 10:24 a.m.

The reminder to relax your body now that a camera isn’t pointing you doesn’t cross your mind.

Secretary sent a message:

Sent 10:24 a.m.

Jungkook finds himself giving advice he’s given millions of interns before, and it’s to keep a peeled eye. This goes for his board. His peers. It’s the emergency CEO talk he pulls out of his ass, but he knows everyone fawns over it, lowering his voice like he’s building an intimate rapport with the listeners. He’s still thinking about your skin. Keeps it brief, ends his attractive ment with something the coordinator can pick up on.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

that was my futile attempt to ask for more while i got called for advice

be back later, i look suspicious

Sent 10:26 a.m.

And it’s childish, but you always have a craving to divert his attention towards you. That’s the thrill, the sparkles in champagne, and when you down it and still walk in a straight line, you’re prideful. You’re an ace. And if you can juggle work and posing in front of a mirror with your teeth biting your shirt up, so be it. He’ll receive it and do something about it. That, you know.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

you

you minx

pls

save that for later

not noww

Sent 10:28 a.m.

You smile at it. It only makes you take a photo with your leg propped up your desk and your free hand teasing your inner thigh, enough so he’ll see more of your curves and lines despite the dim lighting that makes you look short on hemoglobin.

He receives it with a bite to his lip, an itch to his loins. He tugs at his dress shirt lest he wants his interns eyeing at his nipples.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

_____ behave

are you gonna listen or not

Sent 10:30 a.m.

You can hear him say it, let yourself feel his baritone ring at the seemings of your inner thighs. Then you take another photo, playful with your shirt draped all over your body enough that he has to make out your parts through the translucence of it, panties dangling by a teasing pointer. You don’t put text. Leave him with that raw photo, a prelude to complete nudity you’re sure he’ll hint at asking for.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

gonna regret acting like that when i get to you baby

if you wont let me sit through this meeting without a fucking hard on you have something coming to you

Sent 10:32 a.m.

In his challenged unease, all he receives is a video this time. He flicks his phone’s ringer silent, and it vibrates in his palms. He clicks on it, 5 seconds of shit quality and you placing an arm over your splayed tits, shifting in bed as you had just propped yourself there.

It’s trial for Jungkook not to make a growl at the back of his throat. But he’ll never stop to admit he fucking loves it. While an innocent intern is all eyes for him, he only has his for a secretary with a kink for hanging how hot she is over her boss’s head and making him eat it.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

later baby

pls

wait it out for me

Sent 10:34 a.m.

And he’s sure you won’t obey. He stares until you reply.

Secretary sent a message:

Can’t.

Sent 10:34 a.m.

Within the span of time you know he waits for what you have in store, you fish for a box under your bed, grabbing the familiar texture you know too well of your bullet vibrator. Hot pink and all sorts of taunting when you send a clip of you ghosting the toy over your thighs and across.

Jungkook waits a second before clicking on it, a breath held taught in his chest.

He replays the video directly, eyes on for that second he gets a good look at your pussy. Replays it again with his thumb adjusting the player position so he could slow it himself. It’s his dick or his soul that jumps in his pants.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

fuck

Sent 10:35 a.m.

He’s typing, but you send a message before he can even proceed.

Secretary sent a message:

If you’re hard, show me.

Sent 10:35 a.m.

What you receive is a video. Rowdy with the intern coordinator’s voice and the rustle of the audio. His phone stills, and you see the strain of his thighs under navy blue dress pants, ascending enough so you see a prominent shadow bulging at his crotch. He has the audacity to squeeze at it, too, watch blinding at the sight. Your breath hitches.

It’s nearly involuntary—how you press the vib harder, making your nerves frolic before you allow it to hover lightly over your skin again

Jungkook still has a gnawing fright for adjourning meetings he’s invited to sit through, so he sighs through the agony and makes sure no one hears. Thinking about what you must be doing to yourself. What you’re thinking.

You have a lousy grip on your phone, a stupid front cam angle to show what you’re doing from the neck down. You huff a heavy breath and kick your hips like it’s script.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

fuckkkkkkk

i have to leave here

Sent 10:37 a.m.

You’re quick to play, corner him.

Secretary sent a message:

If you don’t stay put, I’m not sending any more.

Sent 10:37 a.m.

It’s like he hears your voice against his neck, telling him to sit his ass down and live with the shear in his Brionis.

If Jungkook was the type of guy who would bust a nut over just about anything as much as Victorian men sexualized ankles, he’d lie to you and crawl to the bathroom of his office just to jerk it off. But he isn’t like that. Not close. He likes the tease, the tickle in his guts, the sound of your voice he conjures in his head with every text.

Before he can get himself together, sit in a way his dick doesn’t poke at his zipper, his phone vibrates again. Another short clip. Back cam, sheets like a painting under your body, you rolling your hips against the toy. God, he wants to hear you; he feels his ears go red.

Secretary sent a message:

Proof

You’re still in the meeting.,

Sent 10:39 a.m.

You get a selfie. It’s not proof, but he looks serious. And he looks hot. Exactly how you want him to look. Hair swept over crimson ears. Faking unfazed eyes. Then a video pops in. Same angle, but his eyes are directed somewhere in the room, scanning, reading, pretending to listen. Then a message.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

am i good at pretending i dont wanna fuck you so bad

Sent 10:40 a.m.

You hum to that like a toast to the soft hum of the vibrator against you. You shut your eyes for a bit, sigh to the feeling boiling in your loins before your toes start to feel tickly and you’re kicking.

Secretary sent a message:

So good,

Sent 10:41 a.m.

You send a video too long. Front cam again this time. A stretch of you squirming and being unable to stay still, camera panning up for a few seconds to taunt him with the moans he won’t be able to hear, down again and showing how your hand ever so languidly motions the toy against where you’re pulsating for it. Your limbs are sweating, and it’s hotter where the sheets meet it.

When Jungkook watches it, he presses down on his dick a bit, more unbothered than he could be about the fact probably everyone in the room has figured out his attention span is stretching nowhere towards them. He replays the part he sees your tits move with the heaving of your chest. Replays it again before replaying the part he sees how evidently wet you are.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

fuck holy shit

god

how good does that feel

describe it

Sent 10:42 a.m.

Secretary sent a message:

Feels

So tingly

Sent 10:42 a.m.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

god yes

stay with me

tell me more

Sent 10:42 a.m.

There’s a vivid visual in your head, of his tight fist around his cock, too listless to take off his watch, a mess. Biting the hem of his dress shirt up lest he wants cum all over it, biting to keep quiet and another tight fist around his phone, flashing a playlist of all the media you’re sending in at this blessed hour. Your insides jump, tumble, then the sparkle on the surface of your skin follows. You make sure to film this bit, show him how your head’s restless, shaking from one side to another as if pushing an orgasm away. Then a separate clip for where he craves you. Your hips rolling against the toy, coaxing.

Jungkook tries to look for a sign this meeting’s fucking ending in the coordinator’s eyes but to no avail. He replays the shit out of that second clip, wondering how wet that’d feel against him. His dick aches.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

so wet

do you enjoy this

making me harder than anyone could ever

in the middle of a meeting

Sent 10:44 a.m.

He knows what he’s doing, feeding your kinks like that, making your eyes roll into your head. You want to lose yourself in it, but it’s never as much as how much you want to stretch out the anguish of being nothing but witness to your bliss for him.

Secretary sent a message:

Want to cum.

Sent 10:46 a.m.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

do it

show me

gonna stroke my cock to it later

Sent 10:46 a.m.

At this point, he’s not even looking up, in heated anticipation for that One Thing he knows is coming. He feels himself throbbing, wishes he could make you feel it, but for now, he’ll let you bathe in it.

2 minutes and nothing, leaving him with a clean slate and your previous ministrations to imagine what your body looks like. How you sound. How you roll your hips, cry his name or something along the lines of Sir and throw his last name in, how you veer the vib away from your cunt unless you want your body spasming into nothing. Laboured breathing. A smile.

He gets the video, obsesses over it until the interns are rustling into a stand, ready to mark their thanks and congratulations before he could even take his eyes off you.

Mr. Jeon — Jeon Corp. sent a message:

motherfuck _____

fuckmeetings over

brb

Sent 10:48 a.m.

Along with the boring connotation of a brb, you get two clips ten minutes succeeding your orgasm. First video is a lazy front cam, exactly how you pictured, bringing the hem of his shirt to his teeth, hair falling over his eyes, all the other lights but one switched off. The screen flips, and he’s undoing his belt, a palpable bulge where you know it is.

The second video is unstable; his belt almost rattling to how hard he pumps himself, and you hear him straining. Then it’s cum and tattered breaths.

You have a second orgasm that morning.

#this took forever #ie #ask:ie #jungkook drabble #jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenario #bts drabble #bts smut #bts imagine #bts scenario #namjoon #seokjin #yoongi #hoseok #jimin #taehyung #jungkook #bts

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crue-sixx · 4 years

Text

Title: Oracle

Fandom: The Dirt (CastxMadison)

Summary: Madison is a soldier with psychic powers. She and another woman, Katie escape the Compound that they were forced to live in since childhood to find help for the younger prisoners, and split up. Madison stumbles to New Orleans where the Dirt is currently being filmed. There she meets a male with psychic powers-a rarity.

Note: All caps are telepathic messages

A/N: Happy birthday @crue-sixx! Used her name with permission for this imagine! (Katie is me)

Throughout history, there have been people with psychic abilities that vary in occurrence and strength. Most people who have them don't even know they do and go their whole lives without so much as a peep from their abilities but others have used them to their advantage. For a time they were called witches and hunted down and slaughtered in the name of various gods. Some were seen as gods themselves, and they used their power to dominate the masses into unquestioned obedience.

However, when the witch hunts came around most of those with psychic abilities had died out-some cases entire bloodlines were snuffed out. In the present day, roughly about 20% of the population have psychic abilities, the most common among them being telekinesis or telepathic. 98% of those with abilities are women. Some of the more uncommon abilities are an elemental power-fire. water, earth and air. The rarest of abilities was precognition, those who possess this kind of power were once revered and called oracles.

In today's world, those with abilities are captured and exploited for the personal gain of people in power. Madison and Katie were such psychic soldiers, Madison having telepathic powers and Katie with telekinesis. They were sisters, biologically and mentally. Katie was the older one, and after her birth the Ghost Division (a top secret organization that pulls off assassinations and influence the decisions made by politicians) kept a close eye on the family to see if they would produce another person with an ability.

When they did, baby Madison was whisked away in the night. The retrieval unit left a trail of corpses in their wake, as was expected the mother and father put up a valiant effort to protect the child. From birth, Madison and Katie were pumped full of drugs in an attempt to make their abilities stronger, or even able to wield dual abilities. They were separated for most of the day, having been put with other prisoners who shared their abilities. The only time they were allowed contact was during mealtimes.

The Ghost Compound was a refurbished prison, with 24/7 audio/visual surveillance and everything automatic. Like a smart house, everything could be remotely controlled from an outside source. Even the rings on their fingers could be triggered at anytime. The rings were more like shackles, if they were to try to take them off, then an electric shock would go off. It was during lunch one day that it was found out what would happen if someone were to cut off their finger.

A young girl of about 12 had taken her steak knife and started to chop off the finger, but right before the blade hit the skin the ring let out a piercing scream and a second later the poor girl was convulsing on the floor with a pink foamy mixture of blood and saliva oozing from her mouth. When she stopped convulsing, an announcement went over the intercom "That is what happens when you defy my authority. Defiance equals death. Remember that, my Beauties, and we'll get on just fine". Madison and Katie just stared at the dead girl, who was now being taken away to the incinerator to be disposed of.

Of course the younger inmates were terrified and kept eating as if nothing happened. Madison locked eyes with Katie and sent a telepathic message- CANT KEEP LIVING LIKE THIS. Katie nodded, her being unable to send a message back. She then extended her fingers on the hand the ring was on and with her other hand she motioned to a knife. Madison gulped, knowing full well what her sister meant.

They were planning an escape for sometime now, and the events at lunch just made them more aware as to the importance of their situation. Madison would send telepathic messages to Katie, and she'd just shake or nod her head- the walls had eyes and ears. Any spoken or written word would be their downfall. Katie had made the camera in her cell burst so recording couldn't be completed. They had to act fast, since that would surely sound the alarm.

They met in the recreation yard, Madison able to get away with the pretense of getting sick in the bathroom-the only places in the whole compound that didn't have audio or visual recording. She had gotten a tape recorder and set it on play, the sounds of vomiting echoing through the cells. They each had an axe that used by a fireman to cut through burning wood to save people's lives.

Katie held out the hand that had a ring on it and with only a moment of hesitation, Madison swung the axe and the thing came off. Katie let out a scream of pain, and Madison held out her own hand, and Katie cut it off as well. Blood was getting everywhere, so Katie tore her shirt to make temporary bandages for the both of them.

"I'm going to lift us over the wall" Katie said, the blood loss already getting to her. She pulled Madison close to her and they lifted up and over, landing on their knees.

"Katie" Madison said "stick to the plan...you go one way and I'll go another..." she helped her older sister up and touched their foreheads together. WE HAVE TO GET HELP FOR THE OTHERS. GOOD LUCK, SIS. LOVE YOU.

"I love you too" Katie kissed Madison's forehead and ran off in one direction. Madison wasn't worried about Katie at all-she was a tough woman who knew how to use her abilities to protect herself.

Madison went off in the opposite direction, the alarms from the compound could be heard for miles. She had to slow down, her loss of blood getting to her. She was able to make it to New Orleans when she just couldn't keep moving anymore. She plopped down next to a dumpster in an alley and drifted off to sleep, her mind opening and sending psychic SOS signals in hopes that someone would be able to hear them.

Filming had wrapped up for the day, and they all were dog tired. Daniel and Douglas were leading the way to the bar that was next door to where they lived for the duration of filming when Daniel felt a tickle in his head. He ignored it at first, but soon became more invested when the tickle turned into words.

HELP ME.

He looked around confused, Coleson and Iwan giving him funny looks. "Did you lose somethin'?" Coleson asked.

"I don't think so..." Daniel said, but as he walked nearer to the source he heard the voice in his head louder.

DANGER. HELP ME.

He turned into the alley and was surprised to see a young woman covered in dirt and leaves slumped against the wall, her hand wrapped up in a bloody bandage. The others followed him and Douglas exclaimed "Bloody Hell! Is she alive?!"

Daniel reached down and felt a very weak pulse and without hesitation he lifted her up and said "Yeah, but just barely..." the hospital was a five minute walk, but he made it there in less than three minutes, shouting that he needed help for his friend. A nurse quickly got her into an operating room, while the recording technician talked to Daniel.

"Sir how is this woman related to you?"

"She's not" he answered "I just found her like that" he suddenly had so much nervous energy that he tapped his foot while sitting.

"So you don't even know her name?"

MADISON L/N. His head twitched.

"Madison L/N" he said confidently, but surprised at himself.

"Right, and how about her medical history?"

He said all the relevant information as you were subconsciously feeding it to him directly in his mind. When the tech asked about insurance policies for you, you sent a message to her.

INSURANCE IS NOT NEEDED.

"Insurance is not needed" the tech repeated out loud, and shook her head. She suddenly felt tired and excused herself to get a cup of coffee. He was directed to her room and she had been cleaned up and a proper bandage had been applied to her stump.

"Madison" he brushed her hair from her eyes "How do I know so much about you?" you couldn't even send a telepathic message to him, the drugs the hospital had given you had completely blocked your ability to reach into people's minds had kicked in, sending you into a dreamless sleep.

Over the next few days, he'd called every few hours or so while he was filming to check on her, and was dismayed when the staff had told him she hadn't woken up yet. They had replaced the blood she lost, and her body naturally helped the healing process. It was the middle of the next week that she finally woke up, the first person she saw was a rather strapping young man with a stubbly beard. "Madison?" he asked in a thick Australian accent.

"Yeah" she responded and sat up "Who're you?" she was still groggy from the drugs so she couldn't just pull his name from his memory, not that she wanted to do that anyway. She used her ability sparingly and when she had to.

"I'm Daniel Webber" he said as he sat himself closer to her "I'm an actor from Australia in New Orleans for a film I'm working on" he put a gentle hand on her good one and asked "How do I know so much about you? I've never even met you before..."

She contemplated telling him the truth, but it sounded so farfetched that she'd probably end up in the psych ward. and the Ghost Division could easily find and recapture her there. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you" she looked up at him, those big doe eyes catching him off guard and making his heart skip a beat. In that same moment, it seemed that he had left his body and was in a totally different scene-he was on a beach and a small gathering of his friends and as he turned to face a person coming up to him, he was back in his body at the hospital.

"Daniel?" she asked "Are you okay?" she was shaking him lightly, him being cold to the touch.

He blinked and color came back to his skin "What the fuck was that?"

"What was what?" she asked him confused "You went catatonic for a full minute there!"

"It felt like an out of body experience" his whole body shook, as if his mind was getting re-acclimated to the physical shell.

Her eyes widened as she said "You're a pre-cog..." a person with the precognition ability was a very rare sight. A male pre-cog was rarer still. These were among the beings that people in ancient times thought of as gods.

"A what?" he asked dumbfounded.

"Erm" she started "We can go into that a different time" you looked up into the hallway and saw two guards from the Compound ask the charge nurse something at the desk. She could tell they were from the Compound by the caged bird tattoos on their hands. "We gotta get out of here..." she jumped from the bed and looked them right in the eye.

She grabbed Daniel's hand and bolted from the room, the rest of the patients and staff in a panic when the guards drew their weapons and began firing. She threw him behind a desk for cover as she tried to reach into their minds and have them shoot each other, but the drugs were still in her system. "What the Hell is happening, Madison?!" he shouted over the bullets hitting the wall behind them.

"I'm a psychic with telepathic abilities that ra.n away from a government facility and these men are here to take me back" she said quickly, he didn't believe her at the time but accepted the explanation for the time being. Just then, the elevator pinged, and Douglas, Coleson and Iwan stepped out into the hallway. They had heard Madison had been showing signs of waking up, so they bought her a bouquet of flowers. They walked right into a war zone and the vase that Iwan was carrying had dropped to the floor, shattering.

They all ducked for cover, they all demanding an explanation. She rolled her eyes and relayed what she had just said, them not believing her either but accepting it just like Daniel. The adrenaline had purged the drugs from her body and she sent a message to each guard simultaneously.

SHOOT EACH OTHER.

The gaurds turned and shot each other in the leg. Madison went over to one of them and asked "Where's my sister?"

He spat in her face and snarled "I'm not talking!"

She sighed and invaded his thoughts. He gasped as he felt her pull the memory from his mind. He didn't know where Katie was, she looked over to the other guard and did the same to him-nobody knew where she was. She were both relieved and concerned. She couldn't let the higher command know where she was so she completely wiped their minds, leaving them living vegetables.

The four men stared at you in shocked amazement. "Time to go" she said as she left the battlefield. "You could stay if you want, but I'm calling deuces" you turned to run, but Daniel grabbed her arm.

"Please don't run off!" the other three looked at him like he had just committed a murder.

"Since they know I'm in the city, they'll keep coming after me, and that puts you and your loved ones in danger" she took her arm back "I am NOT willing to risk innocent lives..."

"Then please stay with-" he was about to say 'me' but quickly changed it to "us". The others protested that it was dangerous to let such a person like her live with them, her even joining in. He pleaded "Please..." he felt like he had to protect her.

They all threw up their hands in defeat and she not so graciously accepted his offer. She would have to stay cooped up in his room with him. "So I basically traded one prison for another" she pouted, to which his heart skipped another beat.

"Very well" he sighed contentedly "You can sleep in my bed, while I take the floor..."

"We can share the bed" she said "It must be uncomfortable on the floor" Coleson, Iwan and Douglas giggled while seeing Daniel blush.

"It would be ungentlemanly of me to share a bed with a lady that I'm not in a romantic relationship with..."

She didn't want to displace him from his sleeping area but he was insistant so she reluctantly agreed with "So long as you don't try anything funny..."

A few more peaceful weeks passed, without so much as a word from or about Katie, and Madison was getting worried. One day after filming, Daniel came into his room and she felt a somber air about him. "You okay?" she asked, gently touching his shoulder.

"Yeah" he gave a sad smile "Just filmed the Skylar bits today..." she had known about the little girl who had died from various publications, and from what Daniel had told her about the actress portraying her she dominated that role.

"I see" she touched her forehead with his and sent a calming message to him. YOU DID GOOD, SLEEP NOW. His eyes grew tired and he laid down on the bed. She turned to sleep on the floor when he objected.

"Come sleep in the bed with me" he asked her "Just until I get a sound sleep going?" he sounded like a frightened child and in some ways he was. He had had more visions of the future, and she had slowly been teaching him how to make them stop so they wouldn't interrupt anything important.

She awkwardly cuddled into his arm, her stump brushing the skin on his chest. After a moment of silence he sleepily asked "Hey Mads?"

"Yes?" she answered

"Wanna date me?"

She looked at him "Date? Like romantically?" she had never had such experience with dating or relationships. She didn't know the first thing about dating.

"Yea you goof" he laughed "I want to take you out sometime. Can't keep you locked up here like Rapunzel forever" he closed the gap between them and she could smell his cologne- a smokey wood scent. She loved it.

"Where do you want to take me?" she asked, but he was softly snoring. She smiled and kissed his cheek "Sweet dreams, Daniel" she settled into the crook of his arm and fell asleep as well.

Over the next few weeks, she had tried to reach out to Katie, but she got no response still. Her and Daniel were now officially boyfriend/girlfriend and they were taking things slow. It was on a Tuesday that Katie showed up from out of nowhere. "Katie!" she flung her arms around her sister and sent WERE YOU ABLE TO FIND HELP?

"No" Katie replied "I tried the local authorities in Baton Rouge, but they thought I was crazy and locked me up in a mental ward. Some guards from the Compound came and tried to take me back, but they ended up with various sharp objects in their bodies" she smiled at Madison.

Daniel was excited to meet Madison's sister, she had told him so much about her with so much regard. "Hello! I'm Daneil, Mads' boyfriend!"

Katie raised an eyebrow at Madison "Boyfriend? Has he been treating you well?"

"More than well" she answered "he's a pre-cog" Katie stared at him and had so many questions it wasn't even funny.

"So hearing your voice in his head triggered his ability?" she asked.

"Yes" Daniel answered "Madison's been teaching me how to control it. She has me imagine a lockbox, and if I keep it closed I can't see what the future holds" he squeezed her hand for reassurance, her returning the gesture.

"So you guys were attacked here too?" Katie asked, not being able to resist the chance to hear the story. After the story was told, Daniel pulled Katie aside and asked.

"Are they going to keep coming after Madison? And you?"

"Until they have us back" she answered honestly "or we're dead."

He was almost about to cry at that, he took a moment to collect himself and asked "Is there anything I can do to help you two?"

"Since you're a pre-cog, you can stick close to her and can see an attack before it happens" Katie suggested "Your visions are only POSSIBLE outcomes, they can be changed" he thought a moment and asked a very important question.

"Hey, ask my sister" Katie smiled at him.

Madison came in their bedroom later that evening, rose petals making a path to the bed. She giggled, her loving that sensation that she never got to experience as a child. "Daniel? What is all this?"

"Mads" he gulped, he was nervous and down on one knee "I've loved you since the first time I heard you in my head...and since I know you better I want to keep you safe...will you be my wife?" he showed a silver band with a diamond on it. She looked at the thing with awe.

"Are you sure? I've explained that with me around it'll be dangerous..." he stood up and shushed her with a finger.

"I know what the dangers are" he softly kissed her, his stubble tickling her "I accept them, just as I accept you and your sister. I want to keep you safe, and if it means that I have to give my own life to save you...so be it..."

Madison was breath taken, only her sister had shown this much concern when they were growing up. On more than one occasion, Katie had taken punishments at the Compound for the stupid things she did. "Yes, Daniel" she finally said "I'll marry you..."

It was a small beach affair, Katie helping Madison into a bridal gown. The men managed to get some rental tuxes last minute and they had raided the bar of all their booze. They had "borrowed" a priest to officiate, despite not having filling out the forms needed to make the marriage legal. Jeff Tremaine had walked Madison down the aisle, while Katie stayed in the back on alert. Thankfully nothing out of the ordinary happened.

The vows were said, the rings placed on the fingers and the new Mr. and Mrs. Webber were introduced. The reception almost everyone got hammered, save for the bride and groom. Even Katie eased up and was using her telekinesis to make people fly. The newlyweds stayed sober because they wanted to be able to be in control of their love making later.

When they finally had some alone time, he pulled his new wife into the honeymoon suite of the hotel they booked. He kissed her gently at first, but grew hungrier with his kisses. He undid the dress in the back and she let it fall to the ground. She was totally nude in front of him, this being their first time together. "Fuck..." he sighed, his erection growing at the mere sight of her.

After their love making they were sticky and glistening with sweat. They both were panting when he asked "What the fuck was that?"

"What?" she groaned into his clavicle, planting a soft kiss on it.

"I've had sex before, great sex but what we just did I've never felt anything like that before. It was like I was feeling your pleasure as well as my own..."

She giggled "Sorry, that was me. I can't control my ability when I can't concentrate. You made me feel so good, that I just let go" he played with her hair out of affection.

"Does that mean its always going to be like that when we make love?" he looked down at her.

"Only if you want me to" she answered.

"If it brings me closer to you, then I want it like that all the time" he cuddled with her "I love you, Madison" and interlocked his fingers with hers.

"I love you too, Daniel" she returned the feeling.

"What about them trying to take you and Katie?" he turned serious.

"Bring 'em on" she said boldly "We can take 'em" with that they turned out the light and slipped into a peaceful sleep.

#daniel webber imagine #daniel webber fanfiction #daniel webber fanfic #daniel webber fic #daniel webber one shot #not mine #submission

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mr-michael-kyle · 3 years

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BEDMINSTER, New Jersey — Former President Donald Trump informed Breitbart News exclusively he thinks “there’s something wrong” with his successor, President Joe Biden, as evidenced by Biden’s cognitive impairment on public display.

Asked during a nearly two-hour exclusive interview last week at his golf club here in northern New Jersey, the place he has been residing and working for the past several months, if he runs in 2024 whether he would rather face Biden or Vice President Kamala Harris, Trump informed Breitbart News he thinks Biden is not up to the job. Even so, he was unsure if he does decide to run in 2024 whether or not he would face Biden or Harris—or maybe someone else the Democrats would put forward.

“I don’t think you’ll face Biden,” Trump stated. “Biden is not an old man, by the way, but there’s something wrong. But he’s not an old man—he’s going to be 79; that’s not old. I know folks that are a lot older than that, and they’re as sharp as they were 40 years ago. Biden is just not an old person. They talk about age. If you’re in your 70s and even your 80s, I know so many people even in their 90s, like Bernie Marcus of Home Depot and so many others; they’re in their 90s and sharp as can be. However something is wrong. Something is going wrong there. I don’t wish to predict that far ahead. It’s such a long time, and I don’t know—things are happening left and right.”

Biden’s approval rating is sinking nationally and in key states from coast to coast, dropping to the lowest levels of his presidency thus far in most recent surveys. That sinking approval rating—and rising disapproval—comes amid a series of crises most notably in his failed withdrawal from Afghanistan but additionally in his mishandling of the coronavirus pandemic, his open borders policies resulting in record surges in migration across the U.S. border with Mexico, and a flagging economy that’s seeing soaring energy prices and inflation across the board on everyday household products. Polling out this week additionally reveals a solid majority of Americans think Biden’s withdrawal from Afghanistan was a failure and {that a} solid majority of Americans similarly blame Biden personally for it.

Asked about Biden’s unwillingness at the start of his botched withdrawal of U.S. forces from Afghanistan to take phone calls from foreign leaders—reports poured in that leaders from Europe frantically tried to no avail to reach Biden in the immediate aftermath of the Taliban overtaking Kabul—Trump stated Biden was likely not in the mood to do his job.

“I would imagine Biden was not in a mood to take phone calls at that point because he was getting hammered,” Trump stated.

Trump also mentioned he has received calls from some foreign leaders who expressed dismay with Biden’s performance. “Yeah, I have,” Trump stated when asked if some foreign leaders are calling him about Biden, without identifying any specifically:

US President Donald Trump speaks on the phone as he answers calls from people calling into the NORAD Santa tracker phone line in the State Dining Room of the White House in Washington, DC, on December 24, 2018 (Photograph by SAUL LOEB / AFP) (Photograph credit should read SAUL LOEB/AFP via Getty Images).

“They can’t believe it,” Trump added of the foreign leaders expressing concern to him about Biden. “They can’t believe it. Just like you can’t believe it. Just like any sane rational person can’t believe it. We were going to get out—however we were going to get out with dignity and with honor. We were going to get out with all the people. And we have been going to take all of the equipment.”

Trump also ripped former Afghan President Ashraf Ghani, who fled the country as the Taliban encroached on Kabul in mid-August, as corrupt and inept.

“I’ve always stated Ghani was a crook and Ghani had total control over the U.S. Senate and to a lesser extent the House,” Trump stated. “That was his power. As soon as it became obvious we were leaving, I always stated he would leave just prior to us, and I also stated probably he’d take whatever he could take, and he took a lot of money. However Ghani was a total crook. He was a bullshit artist. He had a great line on bullshit, even when I met him: ‘Oh, thank you, Mr. President.’ Thanks for what? I didn’t want to be here in the first place. But Ghani left”:

President Joe Biden, right, meets with Afghan President Ashraf Ghani, left, in the Oval Office of the White House in Washington, Friday, June 25, 2021 (AP Picture/Susan Walsh).

Interestingly, this week, a transcript and audio recording of one of Biden’s last telephone calls with Ghani before the Taliban took over leaked out. It showed Biden caring more about the “perception” of which side was winning rather than who was actually winning. The explosive transcript, according to Reuters, shows Biden pressing Ghani to present a false picture to the world of the Taliban not winning.

“There’s a need, whether it’s true or not, there’s a need to project a different picture,” Biden reportedly advised Ghani in the 14-minute telephone call on July 23, less than a month before Ghani’s government fell and he fled the country.

Trump, in his interview with Breitbart News, also stated the now fallen Afghan government’s military was not fighting for their country or a cause—however instead for a paycheck—something he said led to their not being able to stop the Taliban.

“The soldiers had been among the highest-paid soldiers in the world. You know who paid them? The U.S. taxpayer,” Trump stated. “When [now-former Secretary of Defense James] Mattis used to come up to me and say, ‘Sir, they’re fighting for the country,’ I would say, ‘No they’re fighting for a paycheck.’ That’s why we had so much of the blue on green and green on blue. We had a lot of that, the shooting of our own soldiers; we had more than we’ve ever had. These have been highly paid people, and that’s why they were doing it. As soon as the payments were going to stop, once we were leaving, they basically were going to stop fighting. They went to the other side with our equipment.”

Asked about Harris—and her decision in the first week of this crisis to abscond to Vietnam and other Asian countries on a foreign trip for several days while Biden was twisting in the wind—Trump stated that he doesn’t blame her for abandoning Biden:

US Vice President Kamala Harris waves as she departs from Paya Lebar Air Base in Singapore on August 24, 2021 (Picture by Roslan Rahman / AFP) (Picture by ROSLAN RAHMAN/AFP through Getty Images).

“It’s not a great time,” Trump stated. “It’s not a great time. She probably wants to get away. Who can blame her?”

Trump stated that Harris—whose net approval rating according to NBC News, is by far the lowest any vice president has had in the first 12 months all the way back to Al Gore in the 1990s—is not doing well in the job.

“If you go by the polls, she hasn’t been doing too good. She definitely hasn’t been doing too good,” Trump stated:

VP Harris has lowest feeling thermometer of any first year VP going back to Gore in 1993 … with an unprecedented “very negative” rating on @NBCNews survey tracking. pic.twitter.com/Ii3AlR5EZ2

— Bill McInturff (@pollsterguy) August 25, 2021

Trump also stated Harris’s handling of the border crisis has been a “disaster,” adding, though, that the border is “looking great” compared to Biden’s mishandling of Afghanistan.

“If they gave her the border, which supposedly they did, that’s a disaster,” Trump stated. “The border is a disaster. The border is looking great now because in comparison with Afghanistan, the border is being well-run. But it surely’s the worst border we’ve ever had, and I gave you the best.”

Trump also stated that “fortunately,” however, the U.S. Supreme Court upheld his administration’s policy of the Migrant Protection Protocols forcing Biden to reinstitute the Remain in Mexico plan—something he stated is “actually a favor to the Biden administration because it’ll make them look better.”

“It’s incredible. By us winning, it’s a favor to them because the news in the coming year won’t be as bad as it could have been otherwise,” Trump stated, referring to the Supreme Court case relating to litigation that Texas and Missouri brought against the Biden administration’s border policies. “But it’s not easy to get, as I understand it, and it’s great news it was just upheld by the Supreme Court.”

#donaldtrump #joebiden #kamalaharris #usanews #worldnews #afghanistan #bidenadministration

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secretradiobrooklyn · 3 years

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HALLOWEEN RADIO | 10.31.20

Secret Radio | Halloween special 10.31.20 | Hear it here.

Artwork by Paige, Liner notes by Evan except * means Paige

1. Sam the Sham - “Little Red Riding Hood” *

I had to make the case to Evan that this was a Halloween song, but I justify with the fact that 1.) this song uses the phrase “spooky ol’ woods” and 2.) many years ago, Sleepy Kitty played a festival on Cherokee Street that wasn’t a Halloween show but it happened to be the Saturday before Halloween. Recognizing our responsibility, we scrambled to throw together costumes and realized that if we just got a wolf mask and paws we already had everything in our wardrobes to throw together the Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs LP cover drawing of Red and the wolf. Evan says he doesn’t like Halloween but it’s only because once he commits, he commits completely. One of my favorite moments of the night was spotting Evan that night, several hours after our set in the afternoon, having a completely serious and sincere conversation with a friend – wolf nose and paws still intact. This was pre iPhone days, but I tracked down an image and I’m gonna put it on our fake radio insta. Thus, Little Red Riding Hood is in fact a Halloween song.

2. Roky Erickson - “I Walked with a Zombie”

Every year, reliably, Paige’s dad Ned tells us we should cover “I Walked with a Zombie,” and each year we somehow don’t do it. So this live version of the song is for him, just in case this is the closest we ever get.

Halloween tag

3. Steve Martin - Little Shop of Horrors soundtrack - “Dentist!”

Sure, an alarmingly large and hungry, sharp-toothed plant is scary. But is it as terrifying as a dentist who delights in the pain he inflicts? “I thrill when I drill a bicuspid” — shiver!

4. Hocus Pocus soundtrack - “Sarah’s Theme”

Our definition of a good Halloween movie is way less horrifying than it is lightly spooky, so “Hocus Pocus” is just about ideal for our purposes. This is the sound of Paige’s delighted Halloween youth… though we also just watched it again. Holds up!

5. The Beatles - “Mr. Moonlight”

Paige pointed out that this is essentially a religious song to the moon — a song of praise, devotion, and submission to a greater power.

6. Quasi - “Ghost vs. Vampire”

I know that Quasi has had a long and illustrious career, but my fandom is frozen at this pinnacle of mystical bummerness. I learned so much about being creatively sad from Sam Coomes.

7. Rocky Horror Picture Show - “Sweet Transvestite”

8. The Velvet Underground - “The Gift”

Didn’t realize this was a Halloween song until tonight. If Hitchcock is proper Halloween, which I vote a definite yes, then “The Gift” is ultra Halloween.

9. Bauhaus - “Bela Lugosi’s Dead”

I feel like I have to say psychic hello to my friend Joseph Grady, who first introduced me not just to the coolness of Peter Murphy but to the allure of vampires generally. I wore my nails and my coats long. We talked about what the vampires were up to that night. We had some truly perfect nights together.

10. The Bitter Tears - “Murdered at the Bar”

An invaluable prize from being in a certain scene in a certain set of years in Chicago with the School of the Art Institute crowd — grad and undergrad. We all loved this song, and 15 or so years later, “we all” turns out to be a very specific and much-loved crew of people I miss and love. Except for Chris Shea, who I love and get to hang out with here in the city. This song is for him especially.

11. Phantom of the Opera - Korean cast - “Point of No Return”

We had this epiphany accidentally. As I recall, we watched the movie version of “Phantom,” and I was distinctly not impressed, but then Paige put on the French-Canadian version and we were both fascinated by how different it was. That led us into Phantom Internationalé, wherein we just looked up versions from all over the world. It is amazing: each version is both militantly like and distinctly unique from the others. The Korean Phantom emerges as the most singular from among the versions we heard, and “Point of No Return” an emotional height.

Meet Me in St. Louis - “Tootie the Horrible”

One of the greatest Halloween scenes in the history of cinema in our book.

12. Donovan - “Season of the Witch”

13. “The Dweller of the Cave” * I Found this tape at my parents’ house this summer while we were delayed in Illinois between March and whenever the van got fixed and we drove back. Rediscovering this tape may be why you’re listening to this whole fake radio spooktacular tonight. Hi to Stewart and Jill.

14. Science Fiction Double Feature *

15. Dr. Who Theme Song*

16. Red Dwarf Theme Song*

The previous 3 songs were woven into a medley for Sleepy Kitty’s KMNR Freaker’s Ball. It’s one of life’s great pleasures for a band to play Freaker’s Ball, we literally wound around a wooded road to find some Elk’s Lodge or something full of college kids DECKED THE HECK OUT in EPIC COSTUMES ready to freakin’ get down. Never have I been closer to being the band in the prom scene of a 90s movie than at a Freaker’s Ball. We met some rad folks through the KMNR scene, and if I’ve ever told you about my custom vocal pedals, Colin of CroyTone Audio was one of those rad folks we met one of those magical nights. Also, raise your hand if your love Red Dwarf!

17. Ghostbusters

Paige: “I had this reflector, this flat reflector that was some scrap of something that Ned got from Honeywell. I would play Ghostbusters, and I was like: ‘This is a ghost trap.’ It was SO REAL to me. It was this flat reflector, like a bike reflector, and I would like, like, set traps. And I’d be like, ‘Don’t move my ghost trap!’ I would set the ghost trap, and it was like fishing for ghosts. But that was me playing. I would, like, wait. …I don’t know if it worked or not.”

“I’m not sure if this is me imagining this or not, but I’m pretty sure there was a day where I was like, ‘I feel like this trap’s not working.’ But I also feel like I was like, ‘But how would I know? They could be all inside. This is either full — or empty.’”

Vertigo soundtrack

18. The Fall - “Frightened”

“I don’t wanna dance, I wanna go home” — Fri-dund!

19. Goblin - “Zombi” Title Theme

20. Karen Elson - “The Ghost Who Walks”

I think we got this record at Third Man Records when we were playing in Nashville. Sean’s new residence!

Paige: “Karen Elson is tall, beautiful, an interesting musician, AND she has red hair. That’s crazy. What are the chances that you would have all of those things? Talk about a blue moon!”

21. Eartha Kitt - “I Want to Be Evil”

“The only etchings I’ve seen have been behind glass.”

22. Jeffrey Lewis & Los Bolts - “The Pigeon”

“Old skies you flapped through are no more.”

We would like to give a heartfelt hello to Yona Schimmel, mostly out of reach for now. We mourn every missed knish.

23. Scott Walker - “The Seventh Seal”

Paige didn’t know this was a movie, she thought this was just a cool song about a guy playing chess with death.

24. Groovie Ghoulies - “(She’s My) Vampire Girl”

I love that he puts two Bazooka Joe jokes right in the middle of the song.

25. Black Sabbath - “Paranoid”

Sometimes you need priests to summon spirits.

26. Fantasia - “A Night on Bald Mountain”

This is a song that seriously disturbed Paige when she was young. She thought that they did this whole demon thing every single Saturday. For me, it made such an impression that, when each of my young friends and I improvised who we were — “I’m Darth Vader!” “I’m a Cylon Raider!” my take was “I’m Night on Bald Mountain”! And I would open my arms wide and pretend that I was an entire sharp mountaintop transforming into a giant demon with wings, and I would always be the biggest and baddest and scariest creature of all, no matter what they thought. Bald Mountain beats Batman every time.

29. “Jump in the Fire”

Or as I say whenever the occasion warrants: “Jump in the show-AHH!”

28. Rogers & Hammerstein “Pore Jud Is Daid”

29. Barry Adamson - “Something Wicked This Way Comes”

I cannot recall what brought this album to my ears… I suspect it was something I got in my inbox when I worked at The Rocket. This whole album is full of heavy musical grooves and heavy mental movement. It’s a rare pleasure in

30. Screamin’ Jay Hawkins, “I Put a Spell on You”

This is straight-up one of my favorite recordings of anyone ever. And when I eventually saw it enacted in “Stranger than Paradise,” I was blown away by how fundamentally Eastern European it sounds. Every sound he makes with his voice creates new characters.

31. The Shining, “Midnight, the Stars & You”

Happy halloween my friends, I wish we were all at an otherwordly dance together.

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rightsinexile · 6 years

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Inside Britain’s asylum appeal system – what it’s like to challenge the Home Office

The following article was first published under creative commons license at The Conversation on 18 December 2017.

New evidence suggests that where an asylum seeker ends up in Britain could have a significant impact on the likelihood that they are granted refugee protection, regardless of whether their life is in danger. From an Afghan child fleeing forced recruitment into the Taliban, to a Ugandan lesbian fleeing police violence, geography seems to be affecting the justice process that asylum seekers often depend upon for their safety and their lives.

Freedom of Information data obtained by the BBC’s Victoria Derbyshire programme pointed towards the legal “lottery” asylum seekers face depending on where their appeal is heard. The new data related to 36,000 asylum appeals heard between January 2013 and September 2016. It showed asylum seekers were almost twice as likely to win an appeal at Taylor House in Clerkenwell, London (47%) than Belfast (24%) and significantly more likely than in Glasgow (28%).

As part of a recent research project, we observed over 400 asylum appeals and saw firsthand the inconsistencies in the system.

Asylum appeals are a chance for people whose application for refugee status has been rejected by an official in the Home Office to argue before a judge that their case should be reconsidered, or be granted further leave to remain on human rights grounds. The overall success rate on appeal in 2016 was over 40%, meaning that more than two fifths of the government’s initial refusal decisions that year were found to be wrong – an astonishingly high figure within the strict terms set out in British law.

There are various reasons why London courts might have higher appeal success rates. London offers some of the best quality immigration law firms in the country and has the densest network of such firms. Often London lawyers are not keen to make the long journeys to courts outside London for hearing that can take all day.

The problem is that asylum seekers are not usually offered a choice on where they are housed and if they refuse to move, they could become homeless. For many poor asylum seekers, this means moving away from London, thereby often foregoing their access to the widest network of legal firms in the country. The UK’s politics of austerity have created new legal aid deserts in many areas outside of London. These disparities in success rates are therefore particularly worrying for poorer asylum seekers. Especially as the chances of winning an asylum claim as an unrepresented appellant are painfully low.

Read more: Legal advice for asylum seekers disappearing due to legal aid cuts

It’s hard to convey the gravity of the appeal hearing from the perspective of those whose lives may depend on it. An unrepresented male asylum seeker from Gambia, interviewed in Cardiff in February 2014, told us:

This is stressful. I am alone, I have no family, so it is me alone fighting for my life. The Home Office solicitor was saying I was [lying]. But it is all on the judge – let him decide now. I’ve got no solicitor, no one to speak to, so I go and speak [for myself], that’s what I do.

For many the process of the appeal is re-traumatising. In the course of our research we observed appellants sobbing and retching in the toilets. One woman counted rosary beads, another fainted.

Inconsistencies

Many asylum seekers meet their representative just minutes before the hearing. The shortage of consultation rooms means it is common in busy centres to observe asylum seekers recounting traumatic incidents of persecution to their lawyers while squatted in a public, crowded corridor next to a vending machine, sometimes in tears.

The quality of interpreting is also variable, and often also worse in centres outside major urban centres. In one case we observed, an appellant revealed that the interpreter had misinterpreted “I escaped” with “I was scared”. Because of a well-documented “culture of disbelief” towards asylum applicants on the part of decision-makers, even small mis-translations can put people at risk of being refused asylum on the grounds of poor credibility.

A lack of consistent process from judges both within and across the different centres is particularly concerning. In a recent study we found that female immigration judges tended to be more helpful towards appellants on the day of the hearing in comparison to male judges. Female judges more frequently explained the nature of the proceedings to appellants and reassured them that they could ask if they did not understand anything. Overall, the judges – both men and women – tended to provide less guidance to female appellants. We did observe some judges going beyond the call of duty to make appellants feel comfortable.

When some judges follow best practice and others do not, disparities are compounded. This level of discretion is inappropriate. This could be tackled with measures as simple as developing video introductions to the procedure in a range of languages. Individual judges are currently largely left to their own devices during the hearings, with no audio or video recording of the hearing to hold them to account, and members of the public are rarely present to scrutinise what happens. One judge told us, asylum tribunals are “not the Old Bailey, we don’t need to cross our ‘i’s’ and dot our ‘t’s’”.

Without a proper explanation of the process at the start, many appellants were confused about what was happening in their hearings. An asylum seeker from Iraq told us that he was desperate for the toilet but unaware that he could ask for a break. In the two-hour appeal, he had recounted watching his brother’s murder and was twice reduced to tears. Another appellant had thought that their whole hearing was a practice.

An unfair situation

Fatigue, repetition and scheduling are important elements that shape the judges’ behaviour towards the appellants. We found that the helpfulness of judges declined throughout the week. One judge who came to speak to us after a hearing confessed that the “compassion fatigue” of observing multiple hearings per day can be difficult to manage.

Although most judges were attentive to and respectful of appellants, on several occasions, the fatigue manifested itself. We overheard judges requesting legal representatives rush hearings – in one case because they were going on holiday. One judge repeatedly nodded off. Another looked on when a Home Office representative repeatedly swore at the appellant.

Representatives for the Home Office in the hearings we watched often made it difficult for appellants to put their full case forward by using aggressive styles of questioning or letting simple misunderstandings by the appellant go uncorrected. One Home Office presenting officer told us that they used this as a deliberate tactic to make the appellants appear evasive. She explained that in her long career she had never met an asylum seeker she believed, commenting that, “they all lie”. Other Home Office representatives were much more sensitive in their questioning style which allowed the appellants to recount their stories with greater ease.

These newly documented inconsistencies in success rates across tribunals and in procedure undermine faith in the fairness of British law. Failure to do right by those in fear for their lives is shameful and will only result in ever higher appeal rates and a waste of taxpayers’ money.

#january #january 2018 #2018

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epiphany-in-exile · 6 years

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Billboard Taylor Swift's 2017: The Timeline 12/18/2017 by Allison Stubblebine From the record-breaking 'Reputation' to speaking out against sexual assault, Swift continued to change culture in 2017. Taylor Swift didn't do a lot in 2017... until she did. Following months spent attempting to fly under the radar, and the Instagram blackout of Aug. 2017, Swift took the rest of the year by storm, with a not-so-traditional album rollout for Reputation and a series of larger than life visuals to accompany the first singles. Fans got a sneak preview at what was to come from her personally curated Secret Sessions, but those were hidden away from the lens of the media. Now that Reputation is here to stay, Billboard has taken a look back at Swift's action packed year. Jan. 27 - “I Don’t Want to Live Forever” music video release Swift kicked off the New Year with the release of the visuals to Fifty Shades Darker track “I Don’t Wanna Live Forever.” Swift and former 1D artist Zayn trashed a hotel room for the video, lit by flashing shades of blue and red. The song peaked at No. 2 on the Billboard Hot 100. Feb. 4 2017 - Taylor Swift plays “only show of 2017” Swift broke some disappointing news to fans during her pre-Super Bowl set for DIRECTV Now Super Saturday Night. "I have to be really honest with you about something: As far as I know, I'm doing one show in 2017. And as far as I know, this is that one show," Swift said long before the announcement of Reputation. She added, “You're the crowd in my most recent daydreams, when I'm thinking about being onstage, so I was wondering: If you don't feel like dancing for yourself or screaming for yourself, you don't feel in the mood or whatever, you're like stressed out, would you do it for me tonight?" Feb. 15-16 - TAS Rights Management, LLC filed nine separate trademarks for “Swifties” Swift’s brand nailed down the things most true to her: Swifties. Nine separate trademarks were filed for the word alone, including one involving “a website featuring non-downloadable audio recordings [and] video recordings.” The idea that Swift would launch her own streaming service was debunked. Mar. 2 - Ed Sheeran teases Swift’s upcoming album The singer revealed that his pal would be putting her music out quite late on in the year, saying, “Taylor [Swift] isn’t going to be releasing until probably the end of this year—Christmas is the smartest time to release because that’s when everyone buys records.” Looks like he was right. Mar. 10 - Man arrested for stalking/burglary inside Swift’s apartment building A man was arrested in Swift’s New York City building on charges of burglary, stalking, and trespassing. According to a Page Six report, the man allegedly hoped to meet the singer face-to-face. While the man was initially held on $20,000 bail, he was found unfit to stand trial and reportedly “placed in the custody of the New York State Office of Mental Health” as of late September. April 4 - “Busy working” on new album in Nashville After the singer had been spotted driving around Nashville, a source confirmed to ET that she’d come “to get away from the paparazzi,” and also that she had “been busy working on her upcoming album.” May 15 - She’s really in Nashville! Swift celebrates Mother’s Day at home with her mom TMZ did the heavy digging and proved that Swift really had been in Nashville - though she may have been hopping back and forth, as she was spotted getting onto her private jet after a spending the weekend with mama Swift for Mother’s Day. July 4 - Keeping it low-key for the first time in years on the Fourth of July Paparazzi were very upset that Swift didn’t have an Independence day blowout tailor-made for media, even though she'd been keeping a relatively low profile all year. Aug. 14 - $1 Countersuit Win The long-drawn-out legal battle between DJ David Mueller, who was accused of reaching under the pop star’s skirt to grope her during a photo shoot in 2013, was finally put to rest. After Mueller attempted to countersue for damages that occurred following Swift’s accusation (which was quietly made to the station, who promptly let him go), the singer was awarded a single symbolic dollar in damages. Swift’s attorney Douglas Baldridge explained the value, “It means no means no, and it tells every woman that they will determine what is tolerated with their body." Aug. 18-20 - Bye bye, old Taylor… and old posts In the internet-breaking fashion Swift seems to have perfected, the singer’s social media accounts went into full blackout mode. No old posts were to be found anywhere, signaling that she was gearing up to launch something huge. Aug. 21 - She’s back, but only with some snakes In one of the best social media moments of the year, Swift posted a three-part series of glitch-y snake videos without captions to her Instagram to break her short-lived blackout. The image of the snake had become synonymous with Swift’s internet-meme identity, following the drawn-out beef with Kim Kardashian and Kanye West regarding West’s “Famous” lyrics and video. Aug. 23 - It’s an album! After five days (AKA an eternity in Swiftie time), Swift revealed the project behind the social media madness. Continuing in the three-part posting style, Swift announced “FIRST SINGLE OUT TOMORROW NIGHT,” posted the cover art, and announced the release date for then-upcoming album Reputation. All posts were still caption-less. Aug. 24 - Look what you made her do. Swift released Reputation’s lead single “Look What You Made Me Do” with a clever caption on Instagram: “..ready for it? New single #LookWhatYouMadeMeDo out now.” Of course, the forthcoming track title remained an inside joke to the singer’s team upon posting time. Aug. 27 - Look what you made her do, part two. The singer premiered the visuals for “LWYMMD” at the 2017 MTV VMAs, snagging 43.2 million views in the first 24 hours alone, now standing with over 783 million views. The Joseph Kahn-directed visual is loaded with references to the “old Taylor,” including a tombstone for Nils Sjoberg, her songwriting pseudonym on ex-boyfriend Calvin Harris’ 2016 hit “This Is What You Came For,” nearly all of her most iconic outfits, more snakes, and nearly all her besties’ names scribbled on a new version of her “You Belong With Me” music video costume. Sept. 3 - “…Ready for It?” released Swift released the second track off Reputation after she previewed it on Saturday Night Football the night prior. It followed suit with the darker, much more dramatic new Taylor, yet gave no clearer picture of what was yet to come. Sept. 5 - No. 1, again Taylor Swift's "Look What You Made Me Do" tops the Billboard Hot 100, where it would reign for three weeks. The song was her fifth Hot 100 No. 1 and broke the weekly streaming record for a song by a woman; it also stopped the record-tying 16-week reign of "Despacito." Sept. 7 - TayTay On Demand Ever wanted to know what Swift is up to at any given moment? Well this isn’t exactly that, but the trailer jokes that it will be. Swift announced her new video-on-demand channel in partnership with AT&T and DirectTV called Taylor Swift NOW, accompanied by a hilarious play-by-play of Swift’s day in the studio (complete with Andy Samberg cameo). Oct. 11 - The Swift Life app announced Stans will finally have a one-stop-shop for finding out everything there is to know about their fave singer. It is said to function as a social network of sorts, leaning into Swift’s hobby of “lurking” and replying to fans on social media, and also offering an opportunity to “collect Taymojis, stickers, pics, and more.” Oct. 20 - “Gorgeous” released The predictable yet addicting pop track the world was waiting for finally arrived. Swift sang of a romantic interest that was somehow too gorgeous for even a superstar like her to talk to. James Reynolds, two-year-old daughter of Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively, was later officially credited in album liner notes as the voice at the beginning of the track. Oct. 27 - “…Ready for it?” returns with visuals The fans surely weren’t ready for it, yet with the Joseph Kahn directed video packed with hidden messages, it wasn’t long before Swifties decoded them all. Among the most obvious are Swift’s birth year spray-painted on a wall, the Chinese characters for “Year of the Snake,” as well as a similar lightning strike in the intro to Calvin Harris’ “This is What You Came For” album art. Nov. 2 - “Call It What You Want” lyric video released Fans started to get a fuller picture of what was coming from Reputation in just over a week. Swift seemed to be finding her way to happiness in the first ballad to be released from the album, but she was still attempting to rid herself of the drama she’d endured. The day was special for more than one reason, coinciding with the 13th anniversary (Swift’s lucky number) of meeting Scott Borchetta, the Big Machine Records executive who signed her and gave her the fateful big break. Nov. 7 - Track list revealed on Swift’s Instagram Account Three days prior to the Reputation release date, Swift posted the back cover to the album, featuring the track listing. Nov. 8 - CMA Win Even though she's left country in the dust on her own albums, Swift's song for Little Big Town, "Better Man," nabbed song of the year at the 2017 CMAs. Nov. 9 - The album was leaked, and this is why we can’t have nice things In this day and age, so many albums leak prior to release date, but not quite in this fashion: missing from the leaked files was track no. 13, “This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things.” Whether it was at the hands of Swift’s team, Swift herself, or a sneaky fan, it was quite the clever move. On the same day, an intimate recording “New Years Day” from what looks like a secret session was premiered on ABC during an episode of Scandal. Nov. 10 - Reputation is out everywhere, except for streaming services Reputation hit shelves and online retailers; a Target exclusive version included a magazine with poems and photos from Swift. She announced 20 days later that Reputation would be available to stream at midnight on Dec. 1. Nov. 11 - SNL Swift plays Saturday Night Live, busting out "...Ready for It?" and an acoustic "Call It What You Want." Nov. 13 - Tonight Show Following the death of Jimmy Fallon's mother, Taylor Swift agreed to appear on The Tonight Show to play a moving version of "New Year's Day." Nov. 20 - Reputation Is No. 1 Swift's Reputation becomes her fifth No. 1 album on the Billboard 200. Reputation notched 2017’s biggest week for an album, as the set earned 1.238 million equivalent album units in the week ending Nov. 16, according to Nielsen Music. Of that sum, 1.216 million were in traditional album sales -- the largest sales frame for an album since 2015. It would hold the No. 1 spot for three weeks. Nov. 28 - Grammy Time The Taylor Swift-penned "Better Man" from Little Big Town is nominated for best country song -- which is a songwriter(s) award, so Swift will get a trophy if it wins. She's also nominated for best song written for visual media for her Zayn collab "I Don't Want to Live Forever." Dec. 1 - Taylors In the Stream Reputation appears on the major streaming services. Dec. 4 2017 - Reputation, but make it fashion (UK Vogue cover) Vogue UK revealed its first cover of the new year would feature Swift. Newly appointed Editor in Chief Edward Enninful styled the singer during his second cover after taking the reigns from Alexandra Shulman. Mert Alas and Marcus Piggott, also photographers for all Reputation visuals, shot the twelve-page spread. Two days later, the high fashion mag revealed a poem Swift wrote exclusively to run with the feature, titled, "The Trick to Holding On." Dec. 6 2017 - Swift is one of Time’s “Silence Breakers” Her summer court case was not meant to be a media spectacle, but it was meant to prove a point with the symbolic $1 request. As Time gave the platform to “The Silence Breakers,” women who helped bring sexual assault and harassment to the forefront of the national conversation, as its 2017 Person of the Year, Swift was among the individuals highlighted. The Time interview is the first time Swift has done press about the court case, and in it she detailed reaching out to Kesha for support, as well as her feelings as she sat in the courtroom. "I was angry. In that moment, I decided to forego any courtroom formalities and just answer the questions the way it happened,” Swift said. “This man hadn’t considered any formalities when he assaulted me, and his lawyer didn’t hold back on my mom -- why should I be polite? I’m told it was the most amount of times the word 'ass' has ever been said in Colorado Federal Court." Dec. 8 2017 - Swift Plays iHeartRadio’s Z100 Jingle Ball in NYC The pre-Super Bowl performance wasn’t her only concert of 2017, after all. Camila Cabello and Lindsay Lohan were Swift’s biggest fans at the show, posting videos dancing the night away to various social media platforms. Dec. 11 - Reputation Continues to Be Big Swift earned her 55th Hot 100 hit with Reputation album track "End Game," featuring rapping from Future, Ed Sheeran and herself. Dec. 13 - B'Day & Tix While some fans were able to buy tickets in advance, the general public tickets for Swift's Reputation Tour went on sale Dec. 13, 2017 -- not coincidentally her 28th birthday. She released a tour trailer to celebrate. Dec. 14 - Still Getting 'Ready' Swift dropped a lyric video for BloodPop's bouncy remix of "...Ready for It?"

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theonceoverthinker · 7 years

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My Weekend At Once Con (Part 1)

...All I can say is wow. ...Just WOW. I'm sitting at my desk at work, just trying to figure out how the hell I'm supposed to go back to normal after this weekend. I'm equally parts at peace, freaking out, and so tired that I'm ready to crash and burn. And I'll tell you all why. ()()()()()()()()()()()()() About Me ()()()()()()()()()()()()() Before I start, I feel like to really understand my feelings about this con, you need to know a little bit about me first. That said, I'll make it fast because I know that's not what you're here for. 1. I'm the weirdest mix of introvert and extrovert that you can imagine. I want to talk to everyone, but at the same time, I'm so freaked out by it, but at the same time, I'll actually do it and jump in. 2. I'm what I call an omnishipper. If it's not incestual, I ship it at least a little. That said, I don't love all ships equally. I play favorites, and can even rank them per character. For example, I like Swan Queen, but I like Captain Swan and Dragon Queen a lot more. I like Violet Believer, but I like Henriella more. You get the drift. 3. I'm pretty positive about the show, and unless it's coming from a place of love, I hate saltiness, towards the writers, towards the characters, etc. I have likes, dislikes, and concerns of course, but there’s a line that I just don’t care to cross where it stops being fun, 4. I say I'm sorry way too much. 5. I recorded hours and hours of audio and video footage. It is all pretty flawed, but I promise, it's real. 6. Now, I'm going to reference questions, but I'm going to specifically focus on mine, since this is my con experience I'm reporting about. Look, I'm biased. It's human nature, and I'm literally writing this less than 24 hours after getting back.That said, if another question or comment really spoke to me, I'll do my best to include it here. Also, I'm doing my best to quote my questions from what I actually said, using the questions as I originally wrote them as well as my own memories, but I'm not trudging through my footage to get them. 7. Apart from Once, I've never really seen the special guests in other works. I saw Jen's play, The End of Longing back in May, but that was about it. This convention has convinced me to go forward and watch more of their works!

Okay, no more waiting! Here we go!!!

()()()()()()()()()()()()() Thursday ()()()()()()()()()()()()() I drove to the con on Thursday. I took a half day at work to finish packing and wait for my carpool buddy. We'd met on a Facebook page called "Once Upon a Time NJ Con," a Wall Street of sorts for the convention run by two lovely ladies. If you're looking to go next year, I can't stress enough just how good this page was. We arrived that evening for preregistration, and after my own adventures in the hotel down the road, I was all ready to get going. My roommate for the evening and I were on line, and already, there was so much excitement to be had. I met a beautiful young woman with crimson hair and a beautiful Swan Queen necklace who had Steven Universe buttons (A rare crossover of fandoms), and after we talked, I affectionately called her "Buttons" for the entire weekend. I entered the vendors room and took it all in. I immediately scoped out everything that I wanted, promising myself that I wouldn't spend too much money. ...You'll see how that ended up later. Thinking quickly, I immediately bought a Captain Swan shirt. There was a mug that looked like Henry's book that I promised myself I would buy on Sundays, but that was it. Don't get me wrong: I WANTED other stuff. The artwork table looked so nice, but I was sure I'd be selling my life savings for it (Something I was proven wrong about on the car ride home). Also, there was a big model of Emma's bug also available for purchase, but for like $50. It's funny because I was actually about to give my model of the bug (which was about 1/10 of the size of the one available here) to a Tumblr friend who I had grown really close to over the course of six months. Really, there wasn't much to say after that. Once my roommate and I had our fill of the Vendor's Room, we headed back to our room, chilled out, and then went to sleep, eager for the con to truly begin. ()()()()()()()()()()()()() Friday ()()()()()()()()()()()()() I've always been an early bird. That wasn't going to be an exception here. My first event wasn't until noon, but I was up at seven, and out the door by eight-thirty. My roommate, or at this point, ex-roommate, and I parted ways, but promised to meet up during the con. Thankfully, this is one of those stories where that actually happens. She and I at times were each others greatest forces of support and friendship in what was already a really friendly convention. We get there, and bond with a couple of people. Eventually, I ran into my carpool buddy and her friend. We killed time talking, reading books, and examining cosplays. Michael Coleman (Happy) and Chris Gauthier (Smee) passed by the lobby a few times, and I actually said hi to them, one time each. I was totally freaked out, but still, it was fantastic! Eventually, the theatre did open up, I parted ways from my friends, and went to my seat. I gotta say, knowing no one (for the moment, at least), it felt really lonely to be waiting for seatmates. Thankfully, a young teenager who had a GA ticket came by and provided a fun amount of conversation! Creation's house band Samurai Fish, accompanying Michael Coleman and eventually Gil McKinney (Eric) opened up the show. I never expected to like classic rock versions of my favorite Disney songs, but they were a lot of fun. XD Gil McKinney's panel, which I thought would originally set the stage for the rest of them, ended up, while doing it to some extent, being its own separate beast entirely, but in the best way possible. I compare it more to a stand up comedy routine than a proper panel. Gil walked around the room, commenting on guests, guessing kid's ages, losing a $20 bet that he would remember a guest's name, and even Face Timing with one of the guest's friends. I was blown away by how charming he is. There was a bit of a Q&A, but it only took up about the last five minutes of his panel. Fortunately for us con-goers, Gil would show up to a LOT more events and do a full-on Q&A the next day with Lee, Chris, and Michael. After Gil came Chris Gauthier. Let me tell you, I was hyped. I had been preparing questions for NJ con for six months now, but from the second I saw his name on the guest list, I knew what I wanted to ask. Chris' panel was more of a traditional panel with one big twist: Instead of going up to the mic, Michael, dressed as the Evil Queen (Heels included!), was going around with the mic to bring it to guests for their questions. This added a fun level of quirkiness to Chris' panel that I and the other guests really appreciated. Ready for my question? Well, at first, I wasn't. Believe it or not, I was terrified at first. But, I told myself that I wanted this and that I could do it. Michael eventually took a seat in the row in front of me, extended the mic to me, and I started to speak. "The last time Smee and Killian interacted in the present timeline, it was before Smee got his memory back and remembered that Killian sold the Jolly Roger and left his crew to go save Emma. What do you think that Smee and the rest of the crew think of their former captain now? Are they happy for his redemption or are they bitter at him for their abandonment?" Chris' response (To quote the man himself, "A little of both," and was followed by a more thorough explanation of why he thought so) was detailed, charismatic, and spoke of how much thought he puts into his character. By the end of it, I really wanted to see Smee on screen again! After Chris' panel ended, we next went into a Trivia Game. I actually participated in the last set of 30 contestants and made it to the top 15! Not half bad, especially because the question was from "Tallahassee" and Season 2 has always been my weakest season. I actually talked to two of the three winners after the contest, and both were scrambling to use their $200 winnings! XD The panels resumed at three sharp with Michael! Sadly, he was not wearing a costume, but what he lacked in that regard, he more than made up for with a bright and cheeky personality. I actually asked him, while something I never explicitly wrote out, about how he came up with the idea for the "Happy Little" series that he has been putting on for the past few conventions. He explained his reasoning in three parts, but I'll just tell you my favorite: He likes wearing dresses! The final panel of the day was the one and only Raphael Sbarge (Archie). What I like about Raphael is how he answers his questions. I'll demonstrate what I mean by discussing my own. So, my question was "In the Once Upon a Time fandom, shipping to many is as natural as breathing. However, Archie was never brought into a romantic relationship over the course of the series, or at least hasn’t been up to this point. Do you have and ideas of a character who you would have liked for him to chirp off into the sunset with?" Rapahel's response? "Who do you think he should end up with?" Now, it is definitely flustering to be asked a question in response to your own question, but give the man credit, that is brilliant when it come to responses. It does a couple of things. First, it's kind of like having a conversation with him. Raphael gets to react to what you think. Second, it buys him more time to respond, which, for a celebrity being put on the spot, is pretty clever. Now, that was the end of the panels, but not the end of the day, not by far. First came autographs. I'm going to hold all of my thoughts on autographs until the end of this series of posts, but for now, I'll say this: They were LONG. Second came...Dani. So, I've been chatting with a friend on Tumblr for close to half a year now. I always admired her posts, and we actually bonded over convention preparations. And she was coming to Jersey Con for Friday night and all of Saturday! I swear, I was just as excited to meet her as any of the celebrities appearing here. After the autographs, I messaged her to meet me in the lobby, and she responded immediately that she was on her way. And for the first time ever, we met. Readers, it felt like a scene in a movie. As soon as I saw her, I knew her, she knew me, we rushed to each other,...and we hugged. Fiction itself is seldom as beautiful. We went up to her room, talked about a million and one things, shared stories and pictures, and then... Part three!!! You may have forgotten in all the excitement, but there was a brand new episode of Once Upon a Time!!!! It is incredible watching a show you love with someone who is as big of a fan as you. The episode in and of itself was pretty great! So, the episode ended, and with a million and one thoughts and theories, Dani and I headed down to the final portion of the day: Karaoke! Karaoke was hosted by Michael, Chris, Karen David (Jasmine), Beverly Elliot (Granny), and Gil McKinney. In it, our talented stars sang and danced alongside the lucky people chosen to sing pop, Disney, and rock songs! I had entered for Shut Up and Dance With Me, but sadly I was not selected. That said, the person chosen was quite talented. Some numbers that stuck out to me were "These Boots Were Made for Walking," "Sweet Caroline," "I Want It That Way" (Which my friend performed in), the aforementioned "Shut Up and Dance with Me," and "How Far I'll Go." The energy of the crowd was really something to see. Us Oncers definitely know how to rock a house! I bid Dani adieu and left during the final number because at that point, I was dead tired, and of course, I knew that I'd have to be at my best for everything that was to happen tomorrow... Nice cliffhanger, right? Stay tuned for Part 2!

#once upon a time #ouat #ouat con #creation con #once upon a time convention

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ursafilms · 5 years

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PureBS

KQED, the local PBS affiliate in San Francisco, hired me on three separate occasions. Perhaps my first four month stint of lambasting pledge; mocking the union slugs; and wearing a “I Hate Public Television” button didn’t alienate enough of the self-righteous to not ask me back.

During the second stretch at KQED, Yan Can Cook, a favorite cooking show of mine, ended up as one of my management responsibilities. Martin Yan, a charming and energetic man, had still not mastered the English language. While this elevated the whimsical personality of the brand, it did cause some consternation amongst his underwriters and sponsors.

One day, after rousing the stage manager from her stupor, we shot promos for the show.

Angry Stage Manager: “Fisherman’s Wharf Consortium. Promo! On. 5, 4, 3 . . . “

Martin Yan: “And dis time of yee-ah, you can take a trip to Fishahman’s Woof, where you can enjoy fresh Dungeness CRAP! And—”

Angry Director: “Cut!”

Martin Yan: “Problem?”

Legend has it that KQED lost the Fisherman’s Woof sponsorship. In the interest of keeping the stupid racism accusations to a minimum, I won’t cover the shoot day with the guest Thai chef who came on Yan Can Cook to make something with peanut sauce.

And if Martin Yan’s questionable diction were the only issue at KQED, and by extension PBS, the very concept of public broadcasting wouldn’t be so irksome. But in addition to top-heavy management, labyrinthine union rules, and the whiny production personnel, KQED’s programming, more of it on the public dime than any stooge at MSNBC will ever admit, ran tried and true to its appeal to aging hippies, angry minorities, guilt-ridden Caucasians.

In other words, less than 50% of the potential market at best.

A typical spate of an evening’s fare, consisting of 99% national feed and 1% of the pathetic excuse for local programming, laid out, with some embellishments as follows:

6pm – 7pm – The McNeil-Lehrer News Hour(of some clone thereof) – Tonight our two Woodward and Bernstein Wannabes present the news of past week with an emphasis on sticking a thumb in the eye of traditional Americans. Our field reporters, recently returned from their internships at the Kremlin, go on location to cover obtrusive American Imperialism in the four corners of the world.

7pm – 8pm – TWIT BAY AREA – This Week In The Bay Area.A series of featurettes on the topics that interest the residents of Kooktown, USA (In fairness, KQED does refer to the city as San Francisco) and its environs. Among tonight’s topics: The concept of White Privilege will be beaten to death by a KQED producer of color who couldn’t make it in the private sector. An inside look at the local burgeoning activist community. And our weekly expose on some rich, white people who just don’t pay their fair share of taxes.

8pm – 9pm – Beverly.A documentary produced by our sister station, WGBH/Boston. It’s the story of a young hermaphroditic transsexual who always felt, deep down inside, that they were a little ‘different.’

9pm – 10pm – Enrico.A documentary produced by our sister station, WGBH/Boston. It’s the story of a young hermaphroditic transsexual who, in addition to being an undocumented person of color, always felt, deep down inside, that they were a little ‘different.’

10pm – 11pm – Masterpiece Theater, Midsommer Murders or Agatha Christie Mysteries.

****

The beauty of KQED programming, and by extension PBS, is that you could fill out the viewing schedule in a matter of minutes for all seven days of the week. A name or title change here and there for the documentaries produced by WGBH, and a veryshort list of the topics that The MacNeil – Lehrer News Hour (Or some clone thereof) and TWIT BAY AREA dared touch and whoever had the job of scheduling at KQED had a very cushy job.

As mentioned earlier, KQED hired me twice in the early 90’s. They also brought me back in the mid-90’s for one more go at mind control assisting with The MacNeil – Lehrer News Hour, but after a third lunch with the local producer of the show did not yield the appropriate responses from Yours truly, the Che Guevara fan club, also known as Human Resources, gave up.

My last lunch with said producer went as follows:

Edward R. Murrow: “I just love Bill Clinton.”

Me: “He’s a lecherous, morally-repugnant layer of veneer. Putting him the White House was bad enough, but now that we’ve lowered the bar for entry, I think anyone can get in.”

Edward R. Murrow: “Check!”

It may have lasted longer than that, but by the time Ed Murrow stomped out of the sad excuse for a watering hole in which we dined, my membership in the Go Along to Get Along Club had been officially rescinded.

****

The sheep mentality engendered by employment within PBS aside, another aspect of working at KQED involved dealing with NABET, the labor union at the station started by the Cromwells. Given the work ethic and attitude with which the membership approached their jobs, the acronym stood for Not A Bit of Effort, Toots.

KQED’s scheduling department, with I which had to deal on an hourly basis, presented the only upside to this situation. The three main people, Jim, Jerry, and Simon must have gone home every night and beaten the dog, given the obstacles consistently put in their way. Their boss, Larry, should have been canonized during his tenure.

Requesting even an hour’s time of one of the 682 skilled laborers present at the station on a daily basis generated enough paperwork, Prilosec, and Sturm Und Drang to mount a summit meeting between superpowers.

Simon: “Scheduling. Dis is Simon.”

Me: “Simon, it’s George in unit managers. I need an hour of audio this afternoon.”

Simon: “I don’t have anybody.”

Me: “I saw a couple hundred of the NABET guys down at the Slo-Club, great name for a hang out for them by the way, having a 27 course lunch.”

Simon: “Yes, Dey on break.”

Me: “I get it. When dey back from break, can I get one of the audio guys or gals to record some V.O. in the booth at three o’clock?”

Simon: “Two.”

Me: “Okay, two o’clock, but I don’t think they’ll even be through the soup course by then.”

Simon: “No. You need two people to run audio in booth.”

Me: “First of all, I didn’t think you hadanybody. Second, that booth isn’t big enough for one person, let alone two. What are theygoing to do?”

Simon: “One to adjust microphone. Other runs tape machine.”

Me: “Are you F&$KING kidding me?”

Simon: “No. Is in NABET rules book. Section 22, para—”

Me: “What does the microphone adjuster do while the other person is running the tape machine?”

Simon: “Fills out timecards for session.”

Me: “Okay, fine.”

Simon: “Send me FAX, two copies of session script, name of actor on AFTRA contract, AFTRA contract in triplicate, radio and TV buy, and name of good place to buy miniature television set.”

Me: “What?”

Simon: “Kids want TV for car. It runs off cigarette lighter input. Very clever. I—”

I made up the part about the 27 course lunch. Might have only been 22.

****

KQED’s staff of producers, as befits the personality of a bunch of touchy-feely Marin County types, had zero interest in actually lodging consistent complaints about NABET. As such, when any of the production people complained to me in Unit Managers, I requested that a discussion with scheduling and the shop steward might be in order.

No one ever wanted to do that. In time, and long after I left, the union, the feckless producers, and their helpmates in top-heavy management cratered the station’s General Ledger and led to even less effective local programming and even fewer documentaries for which the station could claim credit. That trend continues to this day.

But by golly, trotting Bill Moyers, or some clone thereof, out to slam conservatives, and binge-running(No one binge watches PBS, except for Downton Abbey) alternative lifestyle short films, satisfies the sanctimonious and the self-proclaimed superior types.

And I ain’t talking about the viewership.

****

Can’t properly say farewell to this section without a few words on Pledge, the scourge of anything worthwhile to watch on PBS. It is the interrupter of any rhythm and appreciation of public television. If Pledge could be taken outside and shot, I’d be breach loading the shotgun and walking into my backyard to do it.

Pledge runs about 52 weeks out of the year, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Or, perhaps it just feels that way. During whatever air time is left, the local affiliate or national feed consists of worthwhile educational programs and family oriented fare that crosses all borders of gender, faith, ethnicity, and sexual orientation. Hah!

And, as much as I’d like to post a typical Pledge Pitch, I haven’t taken nearly enough Xanax in my life to pull myself out of the pit of despair into which I would plummet. I don’t think I can bring myself to recount the dialogue from the usual tag team combination of the effeminate Castrati and the cloyingly solicitous Manhattanite doyenne trying their level best to separate us from $50 for a copy of The Mario Lanza Diet Book.

I am moving on from PBS. You should too. I realize there is a dearthof educational, activity, and alternative viewing stations out there such as The Discovery Channel, NatGeo, Hallmark,

SCI, The History Channel, Ovation, Animal Planet, NASA TV, C-SPAN (Cough), The Travel Channel, The Golf Channel, NFL Network, MLB, NHL, and the various international feeds from other countries that any basic cable package will provide.

And there’s just so darned little On-Demand and on PPV that making a $50 donation to the elites seems like a fair trade. That and the Gazillion Dollars sent to those losers every year, some of which is hoovered out of your taxes, whether anyone at the CPB will confess to it or not.

Yes, the American public should just keep falling for the “Could you really take Sesame Street away from your children.?” Or as the sanctimonious PBS Pledge hosts would put it, “Can you allow the blood-thirsty, evil Republicans to take away the only access to fine, commercial-free programming poor little children of minority parents have? Can you? To those same programs also available to the spoiled-rotten, glow-in-the-dark, pale and washed out spawn of Satan? Can you?”

And now back to the private sector.

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davidfostercomedyblog · 5 years

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How I Got Into Stand-Up Comedy - A Personal Memoir

I got into comedy because my Probation Officer made me stop smoking weed.

Alice Corrigan, a wicked witch of a corrections officer whose reputation was well known in my high school. “You got Corrigan?! Fuck, sorry dude.”

I loved weed, and continued to smoke through my first year after sentencing, carelessly trying to fool the tests via substances like Goldenseal, Test Pure, and/or gallons of water the night before each meeting. I’d strain to abstain from my beloved herb for 24 hours, then on the ride home from the Corrections office light up in joyous release, rapping along to some rap lyrics that denounced authority.

But Corrigan was no fool, probably why everyone hated her. After about 18 months of our cat-and-mouse game of urine testing, my mother woke me up one morning holding the (portable) phone in my face.

“It’s Alice Corrigan.”

Rude awakening.

“Hello?” I answered, trying to invoke sounds of maturity and sobriety all into two syllables.

“Hi, David. I need you to come in today by 2:00 for a random drug test.”

Long pause: Random drug test. Isn’t that an oxymoron?

It was my friend, Nick’s birthday the day before, and we spent the night on my porch listening to the new Cypress Hill album, attempting to match their lyrics in actual smoke. Alice filled my reflective gap.

“These are mandatory, so I’ll see you as soon as possible.” She was so cold, so adult, so stern and unforgiving. I hated her so much.

“Oh, okay, no problem,” I answered, trying not to reveal my devastation.

“I’ll see you later,” she hung up.

I proceeded to pound gallons of water, desperate for a miracle, only to be told at our next scheduled appointment that my hyper-hydration was for naught. I came up positive, much as I apparently had in many tests for several months prior. One more positive test would constitute a “violation,” which meant at least a brief period of jail time, which was a line for me.

I enjoyed the adrenaline rushes of graffiti writing and shoplifting but wasn’t cut out for prison. I was rambunctious and experimental, arguably damaged and angry - but with a 1240 SAT (imagine if I hadn’t smoked weed all night the night before) I knew I was better suited for zoot suits than jumpsuits. A prison sentence, no matter how brief, was out of the question. I quit smoking weed.

For a while I was bored and depressed, confused as to how to fill this void that copping, rolling, smoking and occasionally selling weed had done before. Fortunately it was around this time that I met E and moved into Manhattan.

The 90’s were arguably New York’s “sweet spot,” when it was becoming safe enough to always go about your business and enjoy yourself, but also pre-7-11 stores and gentrification, and the culturally rich neighborhoods that once made the city into the capital of the world still retained their integrity. The Lower East Side was still inhabited by broke artists, and E had grown up in Greenwich Village, which believe it or not still boasted some shady blocks where you had to be street smart.

E’s crew of friends could have shown up in a picture under “cool” in the dictionary. They were the best of both worlds, mostly private school educated, but equally street savvy: A racially diverse group of 18 year olds who’d grown up as much on downtown pool halls and hip hop as they did on independent film study and fine literature. They had nicknames for one another and secret handshakes and genuinely scoffed at ideas of style or dialectic parameters based on skin color. I thought they were perfect. I was as quickly accepted by them as I was influenced, and before I knew it my wardrobe was more urban, dialect more slang, and for the first time in my life I wasn’t embarrassed about sounding smart.

E and I became inseparable besties, literally overnight (on a magic mushroom trip), and frankly, I wanted to be him. He was mixed, Hispanic and white, but when you grew up in New York, dressed in all Polo and North Face gear, and referred to all guys as “niggas,” you’re just “Spanish.” He was the most charismatic, which made him the unofficial leader of our crew. His energy dominated every cypher, and he was as popular with the film nerds as he was with black thugs and girls of all backgrounds. Handsome and stylish, E didn’t need to be hilarious to get laid, but he was – funny bordering on psychotic even. We had many drunken nights downtown with the local pool hall crew that would leave my head spinning the next morning, not only in literal hangover, but also psychological reflection of who I was, who I’d been to this point, and wanted to be going forward.

Without weed I felt mentally clearer, sharper and wittier, more creative. E’s words began coming out of my mouth and mannerisms through my body. I noticed people laughing more at my jokes, gravitating more to my energy and deferring to me in conversation, and what 18 year old wouldn’t enjoy this?

Funny is a muscle like any other. We all have it, though some of us with a greater potential than others. Two guys can go to the gym together every day for two years and do the same exercises and will come out not looking the same. One’s biceps will be bigger than the other’s. Maybe the other’s legs will be stronger. One will have lost a lot of hair. The other did not. They look at each other constantly, almost as much as they do the mirror, coveting that which contemporary women deem more attractive. They go home and listen to bad music. They have simple jobs and terrible conversations, small penises and an embarrassing medicine chest. They’re unhealthy, too big, uninformed. I digress.

E introduced me to Manhattan Public Access, which up until the advent of Youtube and iphones, was a reputable vessel amongst our generation. Everyone who was anyone was up on the few dope shows that aired weekly on one of the free (uncensored) networks. Spic N’ Spanish, Sam Kellerman Live (RIP), and most close to home, Baby Show, which was produced by another crew of arrogant Greenwich Village kids that E knew from childhood. They would run around town with their video camera making comedy sketches, then air them as a half hour variety show, a pre-recorded, low-budget, uncensored SNL, if you will. Skits were hit-or-miss (also like SNL), but they were always interesting, vulgar but smart, and obviously having tons of fun. I decided for the upcoming Christmas to ask my parents for a video camera.

Over the next two years E and I made about 50 sketches (with the help of our crew). We wrote our first (awful) screenplay and laughed harder with one another than either of us had before in life. We worked hard and often, and my mind’s generation of ideas seemed infinite in the absence of weed. I understand many other artists have the opposite experience, which is just one example of how one size can never fit all, whether with diet, medicine, or otherwise. Marijuana became as distant a memory as an ex-girlfriend you know you’d made the right decision about.

We became instant stars (within our crew). Everyone looked forward to seeing the next joint. We’d hold screenings at crew headquarters, and a subtle “sibling rivalry” even developed, i.e. Who do you like better? Q-Tip or Phife? Havoc or Prodigy, etc.? E or Sauce?I knew I could never compete with E, though others would occasionally say otherwise.

Sadly, I don’t think our friendship was as emotionally rewarding for him, but served as more of a temporary band-aid for his own inner turmoil. When we turned 21 E got more into alcohol and girls, and who could blame him? Girls loved him and he loved liquor, and apparently handled them both very well. I was slightly less tolerant of booze and much less attractive to the opposite sex, subsequently less enamored with the bar and party scene that didn’t seem to reflect the urban identity I’d always aspired to anyway. For the first time a divide had formed between my best friend and I that I didn’t know how to respond to. E would regularly wake me up in the middle of the night with drunken messages on my answering machine, often times a girl’s equally intoxicated laughter in the background; a live audio reminder of my un-coolness and unattractiveness, and worst of all, the inception of my falling out with my brother.

“Saaaaauce! Where are you, Sauce?

Hot, drunk girl: “Where are you Sauce?!”

“Come out, nigga, we miss you!”

Long pause, as I lay in the dark room staring at the answering machine, feeling 40 years old at 20, probably angry that I didn’t believe he really did miss me.

“Aight… pussy-ass nigga,” and I feared that he meant it, or that I agreed, or it was objectively true.

Was I was a pussy-ass nigga?

E became an alcoholic. He would black out and have episodes where he’d insult or try to fight me, spewing whatever resentments he apparently harbored in sobriety. I never knew how to respond, whether to laugh it off as brotherly jabs and repress the upset I felt, or react more alpha, consistent with the hip hop culture we’d all immersed ourselves in. Usually I’d get stuck in the middle, leaving me more confused and insecure in my identity than I had since freshman year high school. E’s behavior grew more erratic and I would shut down, unable to compete or keep up with his intoxicated mania that would occasionally embarrass me in front of mutual friends. After one such incident that took place in my room I looked out the window at the sun coming up on another drunken night and saw him and Tre still downstairs on 13thStreet, leaned up against Tre’s car smoking cigarettes. I was unable to fall asleep, too angry and hurt and unable to make peace with how insulted I felt. Finally, I ran downstairs with the intention of attacking and fighting him, but by the time I got to the block they were gone. I was glad it apparently wasn’t meant to be. Eventually my anger transformed into sadness, and although our tight knit crew continued to chill, our brotherhood was over. E was the worst best friend I’ve ever had.

As I sought to fill the void left by the video camera collecting dust in my closet, my college Film Writing teacher suggested to me: “There are other routes to success in entertainment besides improv skits. Have you ever tried stand-up?”

It sounded preposterous, and I was naïve enough to think my teacher must not have been aware of the shy little boy that still existed within me – also young enough to believe that shyness or anxiety are mutually exclusive to courage.

One year later I started dating a girl whose mom had been a heroin addict for 17 years. Over the course of our time together I heard many stories from both sides, of the hell Mom put her daughter through growing up. They were probably the biggest fans of my jokes I’d ever had, hysterically laughing at nearly everything I said and did, thus encouraging me with their loud Nuyorican flamboyancy. We dated just long enough for me to realize how funny I was, also how lucky I’d been to have the parents and opportunities I did. I was given everything (tangible) a human being could ask for. Why should I not pursue the most difficult thing in the world?

One night shortly after we’d broken up I stayed home to watch a Richard Pryor special, in hopes of lifting my spirits. Not only did it obviously achieve said goal, I was mesmerized by his ability. While on stage Pryor seemed to me to personify “alive.” He looked so free and engaged, so courageous and perfect in his proverbial dance with the crowd and his material. I watched him take risks and rule his space, all the while exhibiting the joy of a child, and thought to myself: That’s it. That is the perfect vessel by which to taste life. I had no choice. The following week one night while E was out drinking I hit my first open mic.

If you’ve never waited three hours to do three minutes for three angry people in a dimly lit room devoid of any energy then you’ve never lived. Actually you’ve never metaphorically died the comedy death that is most open mikes. Truly it is awful, piercing deeper into our souls than just performance nightmares, but as existential crises, stomping on our egos, leaving us with the indigestible knowledge that we can never get back those few minutes of life. For the moment all worry and doubt of our talents are replaced with a bittersweet conviction that we are in fact definitely wasting our time.

A number of comics seated gaps apart from one another around the periphery of the room, faces buried in their notebooks, preoccupied with their own creative agendas while your material through the microphone resonates as nothing more than white noise. Every joke seems to receive the same one or two laughs from the same two or three sweethearts, their sympathetic contrivances bouncing around the room, ironically transforming its tone from awkward to dismal. Once in a while pops in a more veteran comic, unforced to wait his turn and the nerds perk up, temporarily uncovering their faces to actually pay attention. Consistent with their greenness, laughter is given as automatically as it is from laypeople to the Chappelle’s and Seinfeld’s of the world. They either assume his punch lines to be funny before they arrive, are just desperately attempting to connect with the comic in any way, or both. As soon as the popular guy leaves you can practically hear the plunder of energy, the re-separation of attention, sighs plunging back into future discarded material and half-attention (at best) to the poor schlep forced to go next.

The only thing harder than performing for fellow comedians is performing for fellow comedians who are waiting to go on stage; and the only thing harder than that is performing for comedians who are waiting to go on stage and don’t know you enough personally to give your new banter any shred of credence. These are not real people, for all intents and purposes, which can make it impossible to get an accurate read on how your new material or yourself will ever be received by real people. Maria Shehata once posted a joke (on Facebook) I’ll never forget. Some well-built, grown man challenged her to punch him in the stomach as hard as she could. She did so, and caught him off guard with her strength. “He didn’t realize how many open mikes I’ve done.”

Wednesdays’ “Train Wreck” at The Parkside Lounge on Houston and Attorney St. was appropriately named. Located so distally on the outskirts of the Lower East Side, by the time I arrived I barely felt like I was any longer in New York, especially because the inside of it always reminded me of some Midwestern bar. Fat, old, white men in beards and plaid shirts lined most of the bar in front of a thin, buxom blonde who looked good only at first glance, the TV’s above her head showing sports highlights or the News. The occasional Bud Light-guzzling, 50-year old black guy walks by, his afro not at all kept to uphold any of the standards of contemporary urbanites. The jukebox played a lot of Lynard Skynard, or maybe it was just stuff I thought was Lynard Skynard, and my post-adolescent mind could do nothing but define myself via harsh (silent) judgment of it.

As if some illegal black market we partake in, the comedy room was located through a dark narrow hallway of bathrooms, then behind a curtain in the back room. Sign-up was at 5:30 with “showtime” at 6, and I can recall some weeks walking purposely slow to the venue so as to convince myself that I’d tried my best, but arrived too late for sign-up. The handful of times I braved to punctuality ended up being awful bombs of silence that ate at my core for the remainder of that night.

“Sauce, have you ever been racially profiled as a wigger?” the host once asked after my set, and everyone laughed for the first time since I’d gotten on stage.

I wasn’t prepared to feel so small and didn’t know if I should risk retorting. Instead I remained mum, and it reminded me of the drunken, belligerent insults I’d had to absorb from my best friend during the past year. I felt like the new kid being pointed and laughed at by all the other cookie-cutter students who’d known each other for years. I felt I was being made fun of by the lames for being different, but I had no way to prove so, and was unable to laugh at myself.

In my 15 years in comedy to come, at the Parkside was the only time I was heckled by a comic. It was an Indian girl, a bit older than me, a regular, familiar face in the front row, who interrupted midway through my set: “Do you know that you’re white?”

Her remark got only a couple of laughs from the room, I assumed because even if the majority appreciated her sentiment, her timing was inappropriate. You don’t heckle fellow comics.

“I do,” I responded to her, able to muster only a hint of sarcasm through my lack of confidence. She’d hit a nerve. As my blood boiled I quietly finished my set, minutes later walking home, cursing out the Indian girl, as well as myself, rationalizing that I was “too real,” too authentic, and the act of stand-up was too contrived for me. It wasn’t for me. I figured I’d return to improve. A few months would heal this wound, and eventually I made my way back in time for sign-up.

At home life was worse, as I’d made the mistake of moving in with E. Our dynamic was fractured, probably by both of our hatreds for him, and I’d completely lost track of my voice. I felt like I was always bombing. I had no confidence, no sense of identity, and practically walked on eggshells when E was home, for fear of being derided in a way that emasculated my vulnerable ego. I’d gone from expressing the best version of myself to the worst version of myself and it was the inception of my anxiety disorder: An overwhelming head rush that would come on either at random and linger throughout the day, or during acute moments of social anxiety. I had no idea how we’d gotten to this place, and at 23 years old even less of an idea of how to climb out of it.

I consider February 13, 2002 to be when I actually started doing comedy. It was a different open mike, Gladys’, on W. 46thSt. in Times Square, known to be “one of the better mikes” in town – a spot I’d already bombed at once the week before.

For some reason beyond my awareness, for the first time in my life I killed from the first sentence out of my mouth. Something must have clicked, or maybe it was just dumb luck of the first joke hitting then riding the wave of confidence instilled by the unanimous laughter. From start to finish the entire five minutes was an out of body experience, watching myself delivering my words and the crowd responding as if I knew what I was doing; almost reminiscent of how it feels to lose our virginity. It isn’t that we’re unable to enjoy the moment, but the experience is clouded by the mental joy for its significance. It is literally unbelievable.

As I walked on air to the back of the room, overhearing my name repeated into the microphone by the host and the sincere applause that followed, I was stopped by a tall, friendly black dude, Max.

“That was great, man.”

“Thanks.” This must be what happens when you don’t suck.

“Are you available tomorrow night?” he asked.

Huh? “Sure,” I responded with a contrived calmness, and he booked me for a $25 spot on a Valentine’s Day show at some local bar in Castle Hill in the Bronx.

He’s gonna give me $25 to do comedy?! Literally 10 minutes ago I had under my belt about 15 shitty spots over the course of two years and no clue as to whether I could ever have a good one. Ha… sucker!

“Thanks, man, I’ll see you tomorrow!”

I invited Tre to the show, and it wasn’t only because he’s black. He was also my other roommate, had nothing else to do and a car, which would save me a late night train ride home from the Bronx (something I had no idea would be in store on a weekly basis for years to come). I purposely did not invite E – not that he would have come if I had – but his presence would have made me that much more nervous. Instead, Tre was neutral.

The show was at a typical Castle Hill neighborhood bar, probably 60% Puerto Rican, 40% black, and one white person. Familiar hip hop blasted from the DJ booth as the majority of the patrons all fraternized and flirted, or freaked each other to the funky rhythms filling the fortress. How fun! A quaint little room, though not offensively so, the “stage” was set next to the bar and facing out to a handful of tables while the rest paralleled the bar traveling stage right.

The bouncer was friendly enough, and gratitude washed over me when I saw Max immediately after walking in the door. Like I’d just spotted my friends’ table in the school cafeteria, I gave him a pound and hug that I hoped everyone else in the room noticed. He greeted Tre and directed us to two empty seats at the bar, almost directly in front of the wooden box they’d be using as a stage. We ordered a couple of beers and I tried to act like I wasn’t terrified.

I was told I’d be going on second and instantly wished I could get up and walk around, go outside to pace, or just be anywhere besides the confined physical position I was in. I learned later in my career that I absolutely could have. Instead I sipped my beer and felt it mildly settle my nerves as I struggled to pay attention to one word anyone before me said. I remember a Puerto Rican comedian making a joke about my being the only white guy, though amiably padding it with a compliment and head nod of camaraderie. He had a decent set, and none of this had any impact whatsoever on my internal state. As he finished and Max came back up my panic set it, and I realized I wasn’t seated far enough way from the stage for this degree of nervous energy to be walked off.

As Max introduced me the DJ played the new hit single by Jadakiss and Bubba Sparxxx, a white rapper from down south (surely not a coincidence), and for some reason I felt like I’d look more nervous if I didn’t dance. My nerves produced some idiotic, upper body dance moves that had to be atrociously caught somewhere in between serious and mockery. I was a damned fool, surely looking as amateur as I did white, but I got lucky. The crowd bought my faux confidence, misinterpreting it as organic from this goofy white boy with whom they were too unfamiliar to detect the difference.

I did the same jokes as I had the night before, which was really the only jokes I had, which was five minutes about the perks of dating a girl who already had a boyfriend (the ex-heroin addict’s daughter). It was hacky and simple and delivered with a hokey animation, but for the setting it was perfect. Every joke hit even harder than the night before. I got laughs on set ups and punch lines, and in between bits even my defense mechanism persona of laissez faire facial expressions sent many of the women into hysterics. I “had them,” as we say, and it became fun. I was killing.

I’d never experienced anything like it before. Once killing, we reach a point where the crowd no longer cares how clever each joke is, but instead they’ve fallen in love with us. Who we are begins to shape our material instead of the material shaping who we are, and our listeners reward us with a benefit of doubt not dissimilar to what we get from close friends. I’m sorry to break the news, but this is also why it’s erroneous when laypeople take pride in having just “made the comedian laugh.” First, we’re not necessarily funnier than every non-comedian in the world. We’re just the ones who chose stand-up comedy as a pursuit. Second, and more to the point, in a social engagement there’s a good chance that welikeyou,your personality and energy. We might even love you and/or are warmly responsive. This doesn’t mean our laugh is sympathetic or your joke is not funny, but “making the comedian laugh” is not the equivalent of knocking out the boxer. In the exchange of humor the importance of connection cannot be overstated. I digress.

Tre and I stuck around until the end of the show, basking in my glory. Max paid me the $25 in cash, and it felt like $25,000 in my hand. I couldn’t believe someone had just given me money to do comedy, but even more appreciated were the pounds and hugs I received on my way out. I could feel Tre proudly walking behind me; also some of the women in the room eyeing me, and I didn’t want the night to end. I suggested to Tre that we go to Club Passion, downtown. “My treat!”

Club Passion was a ghetto strip club on 8thAvenue. For clarification purposes, “ghetto” strip club does not imply only the strippers’ ethnicity, but also the nature of the club. Instead of a traditional strip club setting, Passion functioned basically like a party filled with male customers and extremely forward, sexy women in thongs and lingerie whose job it was to “work the floor.” Whoever happened to be on the stage and pole at any given time was usually the least paid attention to, as fly girls were all over the room grinding on guys for dollars at a time; and most touching was permitted, if not encouraged.

It was one of the greatest nights of my life, instilling in me a pride and self-confidence that seemed to heal all of my wounds from my fractured friendship with E, and filled the void left by our defunct skit productions. His habits and lifestyle continued in the same direction but our friendship began to feel like a friendship again, mostly because I’d discovered in myself a strong sense of purpose and pride, and even my anxiety symptoms got a lot better and less frequent. I was a comic, better yet an “urban comic,” and (thought) I was good at it! I felt happy for the first time in two years, and we developed a new dynamic, where the student had sort of surpassed the teacher.

#stand up comedy #friendship

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