#the musical theater obsession is coming back full swing

[someonetooksendnoodles]

would it be absolutely irrelevant to the overall plot and pacing of the story? probably, but that won’t stop me from thinking about the potentials of a musical episode for willow

#the musical theater obsession is coming back full swing #no ok cause THINK about it #a love ballad between jade and kit #i just know boorman would absolutely body a solo comedic number that at its core is him exploring his insecurities in song form!!! #maybe an evil graylora duet????? #and willow is anti-song but will either be coerced into participating in a number (no singing tho) #oh my god a devastating airk ballad???? #im not saying i want it but im not saying i wouldn’t want it when the potential is right there…… #willow 2022 #willow #willow disney+ #kit tanthalos #jade claymore #tanthamore #willow series #thraxus boorman #graydon hastur #elora danan #airk tanthalos

[yehet-me-up]

Reboot

Pairing: Jongdae/Chen x reader (female)

Word Count: 26,971 😬 read it in a mobile web browser if it crashes! 

Rating: (PG13) for swearing + sexy vibes (nothing more explicit than a kiss on the page though)

Summary: Chen’s Electronics is a mystery, both how the store came to be and the man running it. When you start working as a receptionist for the enigma that is Kim Jongdae, you’re determined to be the one who unravels the mystery. You’re prepared for anything, except for falling in love with Jongdae himself. 

Part eight of the Exodus Mall series (Can be read independently, but you’ll get some extra backstory if you read the other parts first!)

A/N: I’m SO delighted that Jongdae is getting his IRL happily ever after and I’m so excited to wrap up his fictional counterpart’s story today, so he can have his ending as well 💕

March 15th, 1997

Capitol Hill is in full swing, the promise of spring drawing the sleeping city from its winter hibernation. The silver dress you wear is far shorter than you're used to, but the denim jacket is big enough to properly cover your ass, which is something at least. In your platform boots, borrowed from your roommate Liz, you're almost tall enough to see over the busy street to Cal Anderson Park up ahead.

'Come on,' Liz says with an excited glint in her eye. 'The club's just on the far side of Boylston.'

You nod distantly, eyes wide as you try to take in all the people around you. After spending the last two years buried in a book in the UW library or at internships or in class it feels startling to realize how much youthful, passionate energy beats at the heart of the city so close to where you've been existing. Not that you never go out, but now that you’re approaching the end of your master’s degree you feel like a diver finally reaching the surface to draw breath. You’re ready to celebrate.

A door opens to your right and music surrounds you. An impassioned man sings about an even flow, accompanied by an aggressive drummer and what you can tell is skilled guitar playing. The people on the sidewalk beside you press in, screaming and cheering and trying to shove their way into a club. A faded sign above announces it as Moe's Bar.

Your roommate's hand finds yours and she pulls you out through an opening in the crowd.

Once you’re free again you laugh and brush your hair behind your ears. Dozens of other clubs and bars and late-night restaurants you pass are the same. Men with mohawks in every color of the rainbow. Women in combat boots with plaid jackets tied at their waists. A group of teenagers skateboard down Broadway, hollering into the night as they fly by, the clack of their wheels muffled by the lingering rain dampening the streets.

Everyone seems taken by the revelry. It would be so easy - to disappear into the thriving mass of people celebrating music and community and being alive. Now, with graduation so close you can finally taste it, you surrender to the sensation. Tilting your head back you look at the round full moon above, peeking out through the clouds, and give a joyful, if tentative, howl.

This makes your roommate turn and squeeze your hand. Liz smiles with pride. 'Now that's the spirit!' she says with a fist pump and howl of her own.

The nightclub is unassuming, especially amongst the neon and metal venues you passed to get here. Two simple brass lamps spotlight the enormous carved wooden doors. Bass thumps from within, the slight rattling of the doors is the only indication that life exists within. Shari’s reads the hanging sign.

Liz practically glows under the lights, a North star leading you into a whole new world.

After so many years of keeping your nose to the grindstone - success gained through effort rather than extraordinary intelligence; advanced classes, extra college courses during the summer, every extracurricular you could pack in before you cracked, a high school diploma by sixteen, bachelors by twenty and MBA by twenty two - you would follow her anywhere as long as it didn't involve studying or a business suit.

She guides you through the heavy wood door into a small entry room. A large man with so many piercings he'd have a terrible time at the security scanners at the airport checks your IDs. It's stayed in your wallet, practically untouched, since the official one came last year on your twenty-first birthday.

Finally inside the club you bite your lip to hide a wide, giddy smile of excitement. Bodies fill the dance floor, joyously swaying to the beat. A DJ booth rises from a far corner like Sauron’s tower in the Lord of the Rings. A man with dark hair that falls in his intense eyes runs the booth; a king commanding his loyal subjects.

Liz finds her group of friends from the mall she works at spread over two successive tables with circular cushioned benches behind them. Their names and faces blur together in the low lighting, but everyone is welcoming, offering you a smile or a shake of a hand. A cheerful blonde-haired man, who you swear says his name is Bacon, takes you and Liz’s coats and purses and adds them to an overflowing pile beside him.

Before you can even think of sitting down Liz guides you onto the dance floor. Normally you’re the one in control. The one with the plan. The group leader or the one who organized the debate team fundraiser/supply closet at work/networking mixer. But it’s… nice, not having to be the center of everything, keeping it together with your effort alone. 

She gives you a teasing smile as if she can read your thoughts and you roll your eyes with a laugh. ‘No overthinking this!’ she commands with a raised brow as you find a good spot.

As if I have any other way of thinking. ‘I promise nothing!’ you shrug and smile at her.

Your movements are slow at first, awkward, and you laugh to yourself with amusement. Self-deprecation has never been your poison. Along with an unshakeable drive to make something of yourself you've always had a healthy sense of self-esteem. Who cares if you aren't the best dancer?

You get into the swing after the second song and shake your ass with delight at the energy in the room and the incredible job the DJ is doing loosening you up. He’s remixing “Semi-Charmed Life” with an older techno hit you don’t recognize.

Before long Jongin, Liz’s crush and co-worker from the KOKO exercise studio, captures her attention and you end up dancing with Baekhyun (tragically not actually named Bacon) and a girl who calls herself Hitchcock. You recognize each other from a seminar last school year at UW and take a long break to catch each other up on your lives over shots at the table. 

She tells you about her dual jobs at Microsoft and the movie theater at the Exodus Mall. You fill her in on your thesis project and she offers to look over your resume as you plan to apply to a similar track at the tech giant after you graduate.

When Liz said she was forcing you from your obsessive, ahem dedicated, studying for your research paper you didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t all of this. Reconnecting with a friend. A potential foot in the door at your dream job. Dancing so much that your back gets slick with sweat. Laughing with Liz so hard your stomach aches as Baekhyun attempts to breakdance, nearly falling backwards into no less than four people.

As if the night couldn’t get any better, something else catches your eye. Someone else - the DJ steps down from the booth on a break.

His black pants, white shirt, and tie would be overly formal and out of place in the nightclub, but his pushed-up sleeves reveal muscled forearms. The neon yellow sunglasses and loose piano pattern of the tie he wears make him look sexy, in an off-duty retro businessman kind of way. His face reveals none of his emotions as he slips off his shades, tucking them in his jacket pocket. But the corners of his lips tilt up with amusement as he scans the room.

Clearly he’s impressed with the atmosphere he’s created here tonight. As he should be, you think. You imagine for a moment what it would be like if he noticed you. If this was a meet-cute or the start of something. But his focus is on the bar now, not lingering on you or anyone else in the club. Dating for you was a rocky road and absolutely nothing like the way it looked in the John Hughes movies that were your guilty pleasure growing up.

Between your parents' support and your own innate thirst for success, you always felt like an outsider in terms of relationships. Extroverted and empathetic enough to make and maintain friendships, but boys were tougher. You could never figure out dating to your satisfaction in high school and you left when most of your peers were just finishing up Sophomore year.

In college there was hope. Studious and hardworking men with glasses and a love of Emily Dickinson and black coffee. Law school-bound guys who rowed crew and whose confidence was just on the right side of attractive instead of insufferable. John Cusack types with easy smiles and crates of vinyl they carefully collected, who performed at the Comedy Underground in hopes of ‘being discovered.’

It was both thrilling and irritating. You went after dating with almost as much determination as you did your school and career, set on experiencing everything possible.

But the English major wanted someone in a pastel dress and tights, who volunteered at an animal shelter and didn’t eviscerate him at Scrabble. The future lawyer was looking for his future trophy wife, to stand beside him at fancy dinners and fraternity mixers. And the Lloyd Dobler wannabe needed a muse, a beautiful and ethereal woman to be his object of longing, to laugh at his jokes and pass through life without worry about the future.

Not that you were jealous, or even bitter. Just because you weren’t what they were looking for wasn’t anything personal and you never took it like it was. The women they wanted existed and were wonderful in all their own ways. But it grated at you, how you always felt like a square peg in a round hole. Never being the right fit.

All your life you’d gotten used to knowing, and getting, what you wanted. It was insanely frustrating to not have found anything that stuck. Failure in any form made you frown, but thankfully romantic mishaps always took a backseat to school, friends, and your future, so it was easy to ignore. Until now.

The DJ passes close enough to you and Liz that you can see the echoes of dark circles under his eyes and the rich brown of his hair in the passing neon lights. For some reason that same intuition, that same hunger and drive that had propelled you to awards and scholarships and countless other successes, tells you to follow him. Whatever it is about him, your body and your desire react before your mind and conscious rational thought.

'I'll be back,' you yell to your roommate over the music. She nods and gives you a thumbs up as she's drawn into Jongin’s embrace once more.

Like a missile you weave through the crowd, target in sight. You watch as the DJ leans against the end of the bar, carefully positioning himself so he's at the end with no one behind him. You wonder if it's out of a dislike of people sneaking up on him or if he's a predator, sizing up the crowd.

With a casual hand he orders a drink from the bartender and surveys the crowd coolly. Too high on life to care too much, you take the seat two over from him, carefully avoiding eye contact, feigning nonchalance. ‘Self-possessed,’ that’s how your fifth grade teacher described you. Independent and old beyond your years. It always thrilled you, the praise and respect of adults. You wanted to earn more of it, to be seen as capable and mature.

But something about the man beside you makes you feel younger. Raw and playful in a way you’re not sure you’ve ever been before.

Admiring the cut of his jaw, you imagine kissing it. His hands on the bar are graceful, strong, befitting his profession. You want him and you want him to want you. The thought makes you inhale a deep breath, not even sure what that would mean. Adrenaline and delight fill your mind and you briefly fantasize about him holding you close on the dance floor like Jongin does to Liz. His hands on your hips and his mouth teasing your neck.

The bartender reappears on your side of the bar, his bald head gleaming in the lights of the club, and you snap back into reality. The flames tattooed across his knuckles shine as he slides a drink down the length of the bar, towards the DJ. An impulsive, reckless daring you've only ever felt before at debate tournaments makes you reach out and catch the glass of dark liquid before it can reach its desired recipient.

In one smooth motion you lift it to your lips and turn to meet the DJ's deep brown eyes. With a smirk you raise the glass. In two gulps you down the drink, the bourbon burning its way down your throat, reminding you how good it feels to be free, to be alive. 

To challenge someone who feels like a decent opponent.

He watches you, his eyes flaring with surprise before fading back to indifference. He looks like a tiger in a cage at the zoo, pacing in front of a glass divider. His fingers tap impatiently on the lacquered bartop and he tilts his head, watching as you lick the moisture from your lip, savoring the taste. You wonder if he'd be just as heady and strong on your tongue.

You have the feeling that with the slightest pressure in the right place and the glass would shatter, unleashing the beast within. The thought makes you clench your thighs together, a heat filling you that has nothing to do with the people pressing in on you trying to get the attention of the bartender.

The DJ seems just as self-contained as you are. A voice inside you whispers of unstoppable forces meeting immovable objects and you wonder which of you would cave first.

Before you can say anything, before you can even wipe the satisfied smile off your lips or ask his name or offer to pay for the drink, he drops a bill to the counter and slides off the stool. He pushes into the crowd, disappearing as if he'd never been there. As if he hardly noticed you.

But you didn't miss the interest, the arousal, the animal within him rising to your challenge. He slinks back up to the DJ booth and resumes his position of power, thirst unquenched.

You don't know his name, or anything about him. Aside from the fact that the way he looks at you feels so wrong it's right, and that his hands are the first ones you've ever wanted wrapped around your waist so badly you can feel it beating in your palms.

But you know one thing, as you rejoin your roommate on the dance floor, whatever has started between you and the enigmatic DJ isn't finished.

May 21st, 1997

You straighten your blazer, looking in the mirror to make sure your outfit is perfect. It’s not your first interview this week and it certainly won’t be the last, but it is the one you’re the most curious about.

The position as a receptionist and accountant for an electronics repair store isn’t exactly how you pictured your first job after getting your MBA, but the pay and the opportunity to work alongside the enigmatic tech genius Kim Jongdae is a chance you can’t pass up.

All that’s left is the graduation ceremony in June and then you’re free. Your final exams are done, your thesis is defended, and you’ve completed a thorough and perhaps slightly obsessive spreadsheet documenting all your connections who might have an in at your most desired companies. Now knee-deep in the process of interviewing for jobs it strikes you all of a sudden that this is what you’ve been working for… almost all your life.

The lighting in the bathroom of the mall is stark and a moment of uncertainty makes your knees weak.

Since your test results in elementary school came back top of the class it’s been the same refrain. Get good grades. Impress your teachers. Study and diversify your interests and push harder every year and eventually it will all pay off, right? You’re damn proud of what you’ve done, but now, here in the after, all you can think as you watch your own reflection is - now what?

Frowning, you wonder how many other applicants there are for this job. Anyone in the tech circle in Seattle knows about Jongdae. Rumors abound that he was set to be the next Bill Gates when an investment deal went south. Or that he was kicked out of Harvard for embarrassing his professors with his superior smarts. Someone in your Econ seminar once told you she’d heard that he was contracted by the NSA to spy on foreign hackers.

Whatever his history, he currently runs a computer and electronics repair store in a very unassuming mall in Capitol Hill. You want to stand out, and what better way to do so than the track down the mystery of Kim Jongdae, the prodigy turned hermit. You infuse your veins with confidence, knowing you can handle anything thrown at you. Or so you think.

The mall is quiet and peaceful in the mid-morning on a Wednesday. A couple of tables in the food court are filled with older men and women playing cards and board games. A group of moms walks past you talking about a storytime at the bookstore in the mall.

The slow and steady hum of activity in here is a far cry from where you thought you’d be working. Professors encouraged you to head to IBM or Oracle. With your skills, business sense, and intuitive ability to pick up each new trend in technology they told you that you would have your choice of opportunities.

But while you’re no stranger to hard work and a competitive work environment, the idea of clawing your way to the top of yet another group of high achievers just sounds… awful.

You long to travel, to finally see some of the exotic and culturally rich places you’ve stuck photos of to your fridge. You want to be able to actually go out on the weekends and see your friends. Whatever your future holds you want to finally enjoy your life outside of school and work, even if it’s only for a year.

You could always recognize the friends who were interning at Amazon because they looked like they’d come off a week of no sleep. Many of your fellow MBA graduates were flocking there, as the company finally went public earlier this month. But something just felt - off to you. Like a canary in a coal mine.

Purpose, fulfillment, financial security, and a challenging work environment? Yes.

Burnout, no free time, and living and breathing for ‘the company’? No, thank you.

At the salary Jongdae had advertised you could easily continue to afford the apartment you shared with your two roommates and work on paying off the remaining student loans your scholarships hadn’t covered. And you could hide away a small amount of your check every month for the trip to Amsterdam you’ve been planning for years.

The gentle music in the wide, bright lobby of the mall makes you sigh in relief. This job is a win-win and you’re more determined than ever to get it.

You finally see the shop. If you weren’t looking for it, you’d have missed it between the black and neon purple exterior of KMS Music and the narrow security office tucked behind the lively pizza restaurant. There’s a line winding its way in front of the music store and you assume it’s for an album release. Until you realize that the line is leading straight where you’re going and stop in your tracks.

Chen's Electronics. The mall is full of colors and bright shop fronts. But this is almost bleak in comparison, as though it's resisted the outright displays of joy and liveliness that seem to be at the heart of the mall. The sign is red neon against a black and steel facade. A simple poster hangs in one of the two wide windows that frame the door.

We do: - Hard Drive Repair - Internet Connectivity Issues - Computer virus protection - Turntables, record players, and other portable home audio systems - Radios - POS/credit card system repair (For stores in the Exodus Mall only)

We do not: - Sell computers or computer parts. Don't ask.

You raise a brow at the last note. The harsh exterior of the store and the brusque tone definitely match with what you've heard of Chen's Electronics - that the man who runs it is a computer genius, but that his bedside manner leaves much to be desired. Perhaps that's why the job posting emphasized 'superior customer service skills.'

The line you join grows, others coming in behind you, and you wonder if Jongdae told everyone the same 10am time frame or if he staggered interviews throughout the day. As you wait the line slowly dwindles. A woman leaves crying a few minutes later, and you watch her go with surprise and attempt to peek into the store. You’re still too far back to see in, so you’re left to wait and wonder.

Finally you’re next, waiting just outside the store. A printed piece of paper is taped to the door. CLOSED FOR INTERVIEWS it says in big, bolded letters.

The tall man who was ahead of you in line isn’t visible at either of the two work stations set up inside the shop. There must be a back room of some kind. You take the moment to check out the space. The store is organized chaos. Rows of shelves line each of the two walls, full of equipment - computers in various states of disassembly, old transistor radios, a VHS player, a few turntables, and endless coiled stacks of cords interspersed.

The walls above them and the two walls behind the work stations, on either side of the hallway leading to the back, are blank. No advertisements or personalized touches to make the business seem welcoming. Just bland, empty beige walls. One desk has only a computer, keyboard, and mouse. The other is full of parts and tools that extend over the desk to not one, but two shelving units behind it. Like Jongdae was in the middle of a project and the interviews are a rude interruption.

A muffled angry shout comes from the back, behind the gray curtain hung up over the entrance to the rear of the store. The tall man moves it aside with a sneer as he charges across the floor. With a voice practically a growl he shoves open the door and you jolt back to avoid being hit.

He looks you up and down and shakes his head. ‘Good luck. You’ll need it.’

After a last straightening of your jacket you swallow and push through the door. It's quiet inside, almost reverent, as the door closes behind you. The fluorescent lighting overhead isn't the most welcoming and the tan carpet is terribly dated. No one comes to meet you. The man on the other side must be waiting, like a dragon in his lair.

Your hand closes over the strap of your purse and you hesitate at the curtain, not wanting to move forward without being invited. 'Hello?'

Footsteps come down the short hallway and a hand appears, moving the curtain out of the way to reveal a man. Your jaw almost drops. Oh, shit. It's not at all who you were expecting the famed Jongdae to be - a studious man with glasses and a bad tie.

No, this man is handsome in an aggressive way. His black hair is styled back in a neat wave. His high cheekbones and strong brows hold no humor or friendliness. Only the catlike upturn of his lips stands in rebellious contrast to his unwelcoming face.

This isn't the first time you've seen this face either, you realize, and it's like being run over by a train. He seems to connect the dots at the same moment and his eyes widen, eyebrows raising. It’s the DJ from the bar. The drink. The - oh, god.

He presses his mouth together, smothering his surprise and sitting down harshly in the chair at the crowded desk in the main room. 'What are you doing here?' He keeps his voice tightly contained, not minding in the least that the other potential job candidates are surely watching you both right now.

You give yourself a small shake and remember you're not here to hit on him. You're here for a job. 'I have an interview.'

Best case is ignoring the whole thing. It didn’t happen. Not here in the light of day. His poker face might be good, but yours is better. You keep your breathing even and hope that the racing of your heart isn’t making your cheeks red.

He tilts his head to the side, pressing his lips together in amusement. ‘Alright then.’ Turning to the side he stands and holds the curtain open, allowing you to pass by him into the small office behind.

Holding his focus, you pull out the chair in front of the desk and sit down. You place the resume and references on the table between you and fold your hands on your lap, waiting.

Jongdae takes his place opposite you as he slides the papers across the desk. His eyes dart faster than you can imagine anyone reading. He doesn’t seem flustered, but the tips of his ears are just slightly pink, his nose flaring a bit too much, and you realize he’s just as caught off guard as you are.

Finally, he finishes. 'I… don't think this is going to work.' He looks up, his hand resting on your paperwork on the desk. His face gives away nothing, but his eyes are wild and full of emotion you can’t decipher.

'Why is that?' You keep your voice steady, determined. He’s not going to dismiss you so quickly. Realizing the DJ and the tech wunderkind are one in the same has only heightened your desire to show him you’re the best person for the job.

Jongdae stares at you. This time, there's heat in his expression. You feel his eyes move over you, not taking in the professional attire, but clearly remembering the dress you wore from the club instead. 'I think you know why,' he says under his breath.

Clearing your throat you lean forward, drawn to him by some force you can't define. Like something is shoving you towards this job. 'I don't know what you mean. The posting was for an office manager and bookkeeper. I'm qualified in both and I have plenty of experience. Are you really going to decide I’m not a good fit without even asking me a single question?'

He groans and runs a hand through his hair, his composure faltering for an instant. 'Why do you want this position? You know nothing about me.'

He states it like a fact, not an opening for discussion, but you jump on it anyway. 'I know plenty.'

Satisfaction blooms in your chest when he narrows his eyes, raising a brow. 'I do my research, Mr. Kim. I’m top of my class at UW and I didn’t get there by accident. With such a small team I could get a far broader experience than I could being just another cog in the machine at Microsoft. I might not know you personally, but your reputation precedes you. I plan to excel in the tech industry. And to do that, I need to work with the best. Simple as that.'

'And I'm the best?' He leans back in his chair. Resting his elbow on the armrest, he drags a finger across his lips in appraisal.

His quick responses remind you of the competitive tennis you played growing up. The way it felt to thrive when paired with an equal opponent, someone who could match your speed and precision. Someone who gave as good as they got. How it made you better, sharpened your skills and reflexes up against someone who you couldn’t easily defeat.

'Are you trying to tell me you're not?' You cross your arms and look around, feigning surprise and curiosity. 'If you tell me who is, I'll happily go apply to be their office manager.'

He almost laughs in amusement. You can feel it. But he covers it as a cough instead and tilts his head to the side, sizing you up. 'And you know what this job entails?'

You repeat it easily from memory. 'Being the face of the business. Greeting walk-in customers. Helping them figure out if what they need is something we do. Conferring with you about pricing. Scheduling service appointments over the phone. Processing payments. Ordering supplies. Occasional advertising assistance. Other assorted duties as needed.'

'That about sums it up.'

In the charged silence you hear the muffled noises of the mall - children squealing with delight, orders being called out at the pizza restaurant next door, people talking - but it's all separated. You wonder if the distance is intentional. Many stores have roll up gates or at least have their doors propped open to draw in customers. But not Jongdae. It’s almost as though he’s actively trying to keep visitors out.

You favor boldness and decide to push him, what have you got to lose? 'So, when do I start?' Leaning forward, you give him a relaxed smile. ‘Unless you’d like to terrorize a few more applicants before you choose me? I’m happy to wait, Mr. Kim. But you can’t scare me away. And you don’t intimidate me.’

With equal decisiveness he cracks a lopsided grin and shakes his head, with both amusement and resignation. 'How's now for you?'

You give a passing thought to the other jobs, the ones you’d already interviewed for and the ones on your schedule over the coming days. They all go up in a whiff of smoke as you extend your hand across the table to shake Jongdae’s hand.

‘Now is perfect.’ His palm is warm against yours and you do your best not to react to the contact, but you can’t help the soft sigh that escapes you.

Jongdae withdraws his hand quickly, and you note with pleasure that he seems a bit shaken as he stands. ‘I’ll be right back. You can leave your things here.’ He motions to the coat hooks on the wall by the door and the tall, thin bookshelf with a few cubby slots.

Aside from a black scarf and a few extra office supplies on two of the shelves the rest of the space is empty. You wonder what he isn't saying. 'What made you want help, all of a sudden?’ He pauses and turns back to you. ‘From what I can tell you've been in business for a few years. Why now?'

He sighs. 'I'm too busy to keep doing this by myself.'

'Ah. And you hate that, don't you?'

The ghost of a smile graces his lips. 'Yes.'

Jongdae disappears through the curtain. You follow him after putting your coat on a hook and your purse in one of the spotless cubbies. The rest of the space contains a few filing cabinets, stacks of boxes, and a small safe resting on a narrow table.

When you appear back into the hallway you see a door to the left that must lead out the back. And on the opposite side is an archway with a kitchen sink, a microwave, a small fridge, and a few cupboards inside, along with a small circular table. The table has only one chair. You smile to yourself. Clearly he's accustomed to doing everything by himself.

When you emerge the other applicants are dispersing as he peels the taped sign off the door, balling it up in his hands.

Jongdae gets you set up on the computer at the other desk. It’s a relatively simple customer management software and payment system, both of which you pick up in no time. He runs you through the pricing list, pulling a laminated form from the top drawer. His filing system for customer accounts is simple and alphabetized.

Neither of you speak about that night again, but oh, do you feel it - the electricity between you when he stands too close or you meet his eyes.

Until lunch he alternates between training you and assisting customers who come in every so often. It's all straightforward, nothing you haven't managed before, and by the afternoon you're already scheduling appointments in the large old-school appointment book he keeps open to the current week.

Despite the passion and intensity in the music he plays, he keeps an even keel throughout his day job. It's almost as if you went to sleep last night and somehow woke up as someone who's worked here for years. Before closing at 5:30 he remembers other things and hands you a packet on the way out. Tax forms, an employment agreement listing the salary and benefits, and a non-disclosure form. Most of it is standard, but you wonder what kind of secrets he needs to protect at an electronics store.

You gather your things and wait outside while he closes down the shop, turning off the lights as he goes. It’s still quite sunny outside and with a shock you realize that there’s nothing waiting for you, now that the work day is done. No papers to write or projects to finish or internship to head to. The idea makes you feel unexpectedly buoyant, and when Jongdae steps out to lock the doors you give him an easy smile.

He returns it, giving you a small one of his own in response. ‘So, I normally take Tuesdays off and keep the shop closed. Wednesdays are normally pretty slow. How does Thursday through Monday sound to you? I know today is Wednesday, so if you wanted to take tomorrow off instead that’s fine with me.’

‘I’m happy to come in tomorrow.’ You want to wince at the eagerness in your voice, but instead you stand firm, holding your purse in front of you with both hands.

Jongdae slides his hands into the pockets of his jacket and nods, looking at you for a long moment before speaking. ‘Sounds great, I’ll see you then.’

You nod at him too, turning back towards the department store to head out to your car. After a beat you look behind you and see he’s still watching. His gaze is unfocused on the floor before he shakes his head, seeming to come back to himself. He heads the opposite direction, towards the movie theater. In a few seconds he’s disappeared behind the pizza place, out of sight.

Jongdae takes the longer route home today. His apartment overlooking Lake Union is the one he grew up in, his grandfather’s place. When he passed away a year ago he left it to Jongdae and it never occurred to him to move. He walks along the water, breathing in the early summer air, wanting to laugh at himself. How long has it been since he let himself be impulsive? To act on instinct. To want something.

He’d settled into a routine these past few years, since everything changed after graduation. Working at the store. Reading. Playing Go and chess with his grandfather and the other older men that lived in the building. They’d go fishing out on the peninsula or to the local symphonies that his grandfather loved. Routine had saved him when his world fell apart once, but now, with his grandfather’s absence, he’s not sure how to pick up the pieces anymore.

The seagulls on the pier are loud today, hungrily gobbling up the bread and Ivar’s french fries tossed to them by the kids gathered around. They giggle and laugh, running to their parents for more offerings. Jongdae frowns for a moment, the sadness that he doesn’t often acknowledge creeping into his heart.

His parents were gone before he really even had a chance to know them. His father to lung cancer, from the awful smoking habit he picked up in the Navy. His mother moved back to Korea to be with her family, unable to cope being in the city without her husband. Jongdae didn’t blame her, but the distance grew and they drifted apart as he became an adult himself.

Jongdae’s father’s father settled here after World War Two, along with a few of his friends. From what he remembers there wasn’t a discussion about it after the funeral - if he’d stay or go back to Korea with his mother. One day when he was young he knew his father had passed. His mother left. And with two duffle bags slung over his shoulders and little Jongdae in his arms his grandfather had moved him into the apartment with the pretty view of the water. 

And that’s the way it was, ever since.

In school his friends might have joked that Jongdae was an old man himself. Doing the New York Times crossword puzzle on Sundays, getting his hair cut at the same hole-in-the-wall barber shop in Chinatown as his grandfather, and hanging out with more octogenarians than people his own age. But he loved his grandfather and the two of them were so close that he never stopped to question whether he should change to fit in with the rest of his classmates.

The only aberration came when he started DJ-ing at eighteen. The crowd he fell in with and the partying he did was short lived; they crashed and burned, went up in flames. Everything else faded as quickly as it had come, but the club scene was his escape and it stayed with him.

These days it feels like the only time he recognizes himself, now that his grandfather is gone, too. Until you walked into his store today, that is. You looked him dead in the eyes, unafraid. Just like the night all those weeks ago in the club when you came up to him, flirted with him and challenged him.

He doesn’t know how to move on with his life.

He doesn’t know what’s next.

But wanting you, inviting you into his life, is going to change everything. He knows it in his bones and for once change excites him, instead of frightens him.

June 18th, 1997

For an achingly slow two hours on Thursday the only sounds in the shop are your typing and Jongdae’s tools hitting the metallic insides of the radio he’s fixing. You should be processing yesterday's supply orders. Or cleaning up the books to get everything ready for the days' billing before you make a run to the bank.

But instead you watch in your periphery the way the muscle in Jongdae’s jaw moves when he's focusing. How his brows pull together and his lower lip sticks out slightly, making him look as though he's perpetually pouting. You wonder if you would have gotten along with him in school. If he was always so... uptight. Or if he was freer, looser. Not that you’re the picture of ease yourself, but he seems to almost vibrate with tension.

You watch as he turns back to the computer, his fingers fly across the keyboard and you admire the absolute focus he shows toward the screen in front of him. The past few days he’s handled repairs and projects for businessmen and women, families, and two gentlemen in suits that screamed ‘government’ to you. He could be repairing a nuclear warhead in front of you and you imagine his expression would remain the same.

His standard white button-up shirt bunches around his biceps while he works. A mischievous part of you wonders what it would take to make his robotic exterior crack again. What it would take for him to show joy or anger or arousal. Emotion from him is a precious, rare thing and you want to grab them when they do show, holding them tightly as proof they exist.

You jolt, realizing the unintended destination your thoughts have arrived at. Arousal. Where did that come from? With a cough and a shake of your head you refocus on the financial statements in front of you.

If you hadn't seen him that night at the club you'd have wondered if he ever enjoyed himself. He wasn't smiling that night, but the music and the dancing and the palpable energy seemed to soften the hard lines of his face. You want to see more of that Jongdae, the one that feels so much closer to who he really is, underneath it all.

However he started in this business, in the tech scene, he works away at it as though it's his sole purpose in life. He's clearly talented enough to fix anything, code anything. You’d asked him last week how he knows what to do, as you looked into a complicated mess of wires sticking out of a broken CPU as though it were gibberish.

All he’d said, in a gruff voice, was that his grandfather liked to tinker and take things apart before putting them back together, to see how they worked, and that he’d picked up the habit.

'Why do you work by yourself?' The sound of your voice is much louder than intended, breaking the hush in the store. You want to swallow the words, unsure why you didn't stop them from escaping. Instead you bite the skin on the inside of your cheek and watch as he lifts his head to look at you.

Jongdae raises a brow. 'As opposed to?'

You stop typing and lean back in your chair. 'You could have worked for anyone, I bet. After you graduated college. I’ve heard a few of the rumors about you. It sounds like you could have done anything you wanted. What made you want to start your own business?'

He mirrors your pose. 'What makes you think I went to college?'

You blink. For so long your parents' idea of a prosperous life - good grades, extracurriculars, graduate from a top college, get a lucrative, secure job - had been so ingrained that it surprises you to imagine that someone like him didn't go to school. 'You didn't?'

He smiles, the dimple appearing briefly in his cheek. 'Alright, fine. Yes, I did. I went to M.I.T. and I, uhm, graduated at seventeen.'

'Seventeen?' The competitive drive that buried itself in your bones early on wants to prove itself to him, awed by the size of his intellect.

'With my PhD.' He winces. Just for a moment, but you catch it.

'Oh,' you say with a stunned laugh.

He goes back to work with a quick shake of his head and a sigh. 'Yeah, that right there is why I don't tell people.'

You’re surprised by his assumption that you’d view it as a bad or repulsive fact. 'It's amazing. You should be proud of it. Why would you want to keep that a secret?'

His lip pouts again and irrationally you think about what it would be like to kiss him. 'Because now you'll look at me differently. Like I'm some kind of freak of nature.'

'I don't think it makes you a freak.' Your answer is immediate and emphatic.

'Oh really?' He gives you a side-glance, keeping his tone neutral.

'No, it makes you a genius. And intelligence is never a bad thing. Quite the opposite, in fact.' It does nothing to help the attraction you feel for him. Rather than dousing the flames, it pours gasoline on them.

'Tell that to -' he stops himself, pressing his lips together. The bitterness in his voice makes you jerk back in your seat. ‘Nevermind. It was a long time ago. Forget I said anything.’

But you can fill in the gaps, no stranger to the judgement of others. 'Clearly you need better friends.'

He blinks, vulnerability filling his eyes. 'Like you?' His expression softens and he gives you a half-smile.

You blush, realizing what it must look like that you’re so passionate about defending him. 'Sorry, I didn't - all I mean is that it’s attractive.’ You curse yourself and cough delicately, trying to appear impartial. ‘An attractive quality. I just got my master’s and I thought I was advanced for my age. So I just meant to say… I get it. And you’re not a freak.’

The moment stretches out between you, the air in the space seeming to pause. The muted, reverent silence fills the distance once more. But this time it’s charged, tense. Waiting. He breathes in deeply, the shirt he wears stretching across his chest and yet again you long to touch him. For a beat his gaze drops to your lips and he swallows, opening his mouth to speak.

But he’s interrupted by the door opening. The ding of the motion sensor makes you both jolt, turning to see who it is. An older woman comes in carrying a heavy looking bag. She coughs and leans against the door to rest.

Jongdae bolts up from his desk, clearing his throat. 'Here, let me help with that.'

He bows to her with a warm smile, holding his hands out to take the bag. She nods and Jongdae slings the bag over his shoulder, wincing when it collides with his back. With a gentle arm around her back he helps her into the chair opposite his desk.

'Thank you, young man,' the woman says with a smile.

'Not at all,' Jongdae says, resuming his post on the stool. 'How can I help you today?'

You're certain your mouth has fallen open. To difficult customers he's brief, almost condescending, and for the nice ones he’s reserved and polite, but nothing like this. For over an hour he patiently connects the woman's computer to his power strip and walks her through how to use it. 

Again and again he shows her the links and how to work the web browser. Installs a complimentary virus protection program. Makes sure she can find the Solitaire application she loves. And only charges her $20.

But after she leaves the next customer is a businessman dressed in what looks to be a very expensive suit. Jongdae spends the laughably short visit practically sneering at the man. And he charges him at least twice what it says on the pricing list he gave you.

As soon as the door closes you release the laugh you’ve been holding in. 'You know, for someone who runs a business, you seem hell bent on driving some of your customers away.'

He shakes his head, hair falling in his eyes. 'He was a moron. You don't buy the Rolls Royce of computers if you don't know how to drive it.'

'So the only exception here is kind old ladies?'

Jongdae barks out a laugh, meeting your gaze and looking younger than you’ve ever seen him. 'Exactly.'

June 28th, 1997

Moments after you walk out the door for lunch during a bustling Saturday it pings again, announcing yet another customer. This one is probably his scheduled twelve o’clock appointment, Jongade thinks as he looks distractedly at his watch.

He turns to greet them and his entire body recoils. 'What do you want?' Jongdae practically hisses, but he keeps his tone even with all his might.

Since you’ve taken over scheduling Jongdae hardly looks at his calendar anymore. If he’d known Julian Danforth was seeking his help he would have told him to fuck off. Unfortunately Jongdae’s hesitation in talking about his past means you could have no possible idea how much the man standing before him used to matter.

Julian strolls in with a computer in his arms and a smugness on his mouth that Jongdae wants to punch off. His sunglasses are perched on the top of his head and his khaki shorts have neatly pressed lines, clearly not done by the man himself, who drips with privilege.

He'd thought these feelings were long buried, but they roar in Jongdae’s chest. The friendships and the future he almost had are now scattered behind him like a trail of carnage, all the fault of this man. The burn of sadness and embarrassment that fills Jongdae’s stomach was supposed to be gone, relinquished to ashes. But seeing one of his former best friends again Jongdae feels like he's ten years old, stuck in a class with far older students. Young, inexperienced, an outcast.

‘Good afternoon to you as well, old friend.’ Ignoring the daggers Jongdae is staring at him, Julian steps forward, setting the computer down on the desk. 'Like I told the woman on the phone I'm having a problem with some computer virus.'

He says it like it’s a slimy, living thing that had crawled into his machine. Displeasure colors his expression; annoyed at the mere thought that his money and status don’t render him immune from such commonplace problems. ‘You know I don’t trust anyone else with my system.’

After what you did I should smash your computer open. Jongdae doesn't speak as plugs the machine into the power strip he rigged to his desk, not willing to risk what he’ll say.

It's a far more expensive model of computer than most of his clients bring in. Those who purchase such a high end version fall into two camps - enthusiasts like himself who know what they're getting, or the rich and famous who buy them as status symbols and have no clue how to work them. Julian, unfortunately, falls into the latter category.

The computer starts up and Jongdae’s mind goes into work mode, tuning out Julian. The virus has rendered it unusable, only a blur of symbols and lines of code flit across the screen. None of the normal exit keys brings up the desktop. Jongdae purses his lips and slides in the floppy disk he keeps beside his own monitor, an anti-virus he designed.

He leans into muscle memory as he runs through the start up and sets the program to do its job. With any luck the idiot just found some simple malware from some incredibly obvious email spam or downloaded a bug on a porn site. In all social and business sense Julian is a shark; he'd never have fallen for such an obvious scam in real life. But when it came to computers and technology he was hopeless, and thus Jongdae had come into his life years ago.

'How long have you been set up here?' Julian asks with a dismissive glance at the machines and equipment stacked on the shelves.

'Why do you care?' The question comes out harsher than he intends, but the emotion isn't entirely unearned.

Once upon a time he and Julian met in Seattle, after Jongdae was fresh out of M.I.T. and Julian had flunked out of yet another University. They were determined to build a business together. If he had more energy Jongdae would wear this store and his reputation proudly, built from no family connections or money, just his own intelligence and drive. After how thoroughly Julian severed Jongdae’s life he should rub his success in Julian’s face with pride.

Instead he ignores him, determined to move on.

The program finishes its run in rapid time, as though it knows how quickly Jongdae wants this moment to end. The virus dissipates and the desktop loads like normal. He's tempted for a second to indulge his curiosity to see what Julian has been up to. Last he knew Julian had gone to work at his father’s investment bank, dreams of standing on his own cowed by the reality of the world outside of his comfortable bubble. Without Jongdae there’s no way the business and the program held up to scrutiny. 

For a second Jongdae stares at the screen, remembering how good it had felt to have found his people. Tech nerds, hungry to build something that would change the world. Julian, who wanted to cast off his father’s legacy and strike out on his own. Julian’s girlfriend Marissa and her soft heart, who wanted to help people. Their friend Albert, with the plan. 

Once he knew them so well he hardly knew where he ended and they began. But now, all these years later, they’re strangers.

Jongdae looks up and watches Julian as he absently admires the collection of turntables on the wall behind the desk. He knows Julian well enough to know this might be an act of contrition, his way of bridging the gap he created to reach out the olive branch of friendship once more. But Jongdae’s curiosity already killed the cat once, spectacularly, and he has no desire to repeat the mistake.

He unplugs the machine and watches the screen go dark, shoving it with both hands across the polished wood surface towards Julian. 'There. It's fixed.'

For customers who are far more polite and far less acquainted with Jongdae he might have explained what caused the virus or recommended an anti-virus software or even shared best practices to avoid getting one in the future. But, for Julian, he'll do what he was hired for and nothing more.

Julian stands and clears his throat uncomfortably. 'How much do I owe you?' A hint of guilt as he pulls out his wallet.

The motion reminds Jongdae of vacations to Marissa's family home in the San Juans or partying with Julian, Albert, and the rest of them in Capitol Hill. When they turned on him it was like the sun went out. He managed to take his pride and his love of music and DJing and escape. Once Jongae rebuilt his life the doors to the past firmly closed.

Anger finally peeks through as he waves a dismissive arm at Julian. 'I don't want your money. Not spending a second longer in your company will be all the payment I need.' He stands as well. Their business today is done and he lets his memories of the past fall before him like ashes.

An awkward beat passes between them and finally Julian breaks eye contact. With a nod to the ground he pushes out the door and disappears, carrying his computer.

He breathes out a sigh of relief, folds his arms, annoyed at how his position and his continued presence here in Seattle occasionally brings him into contact with people like Julian. He should have moved, he thinks. Gone to Singapore or Berlin or London or New York. But for some reason, he stayed.

Through the front window he watches you laugh with your friends in the food court and smiles to himself, thinking of how you call him Scrooge. It should unnerve him, how quickly seeing you or speaking to you or simply thinking you makes his day better, more hopeful; chases away the shadows that linger in his mind when he's left alone for too long. No, left alone isn't the right word. When he isolates himself.

Jongdae doesn’t really know you, not yet. But already he wants to make all of your dreams come true, he wants to make them real. 

The thought is so sentimental and kind and soft that it brings him up short. He bites the inside of his lip and tries to fight the warm feeling in his chest as he watches you laugh. But as he resumes his work he acknowledges that maybe there was a reason he stayed in Seattle, after all.

The mall is packed during lunch; it’s one of the only days you and your roommates and Hitchcock all work together so you’ve christened it Saturday girl’s lunch time. But Baekhyun and Chanyeol of course crash in, as they always seem to. Loud and raucous and happy. Others from their wide circle of friends drop by to grab slices or to make plans for tonight.

Baekhyun sticks two straws in his nose and makes what are probably very scientifically inaccurate walrus noises. As you laugh so hard you almost snort you can’t help but feel like something is missing. Someone is missing. You look back to the shop, drawn to Jongdae as always.

He works away, resuming his repairs after chasing another customer away with his attitude. You sigh, watching the blonde preppy man carry away his enormous computer, muttering to himself. You rest your foot on the edge of your chair and drop your chin to your knee. From this angle, surrounded by the stark design of the store and the fluorescent lights from above, Jongdae looks like he’s trapped inside of a screen himself.

You bite your lip, debating. He’s made it clear that whatever happened between you at the club isn’t something he will discuss, or repeat. But friendship? Community? You work together five days a week and it wouldn’t kill him to get out of his enclosure once in a while. It’s done you good this month, to be out and about with people. Like you can finally breathe for the first time in a long time. And you decide that it’s high time Jongdae do the same.

Liz and Jane, your roommates, call you ‘determined.’ But they say it in a way that clearly means ‘like a homing missile,’ when you want something. Your nature has served you well; you can cut through the bullshit and figure people out almost instantly. It’s helped you both professionally and personally. Allowed you to know immediately which friendships would last, which ones were worth the effort.

Maybe it’s how Jongdae looks like an island, all alone in the shop. Maybe it’s the large Coke that infused you with far too much caffeine. Maybe it’s your insatiable curiosity. But you can’t keep watching him from afar, not when there’s something you can do about it.

‘I’ll be right back.’ Pulling on your denim jacket, you march over to the store. You lean inside the glass door, holding it open with your shoulder. ‘Hey, you.’

Jongdae looks up at you, confusion tugging his brows together, making him befuddled in the cutest way. You tell yourself to stop thinking of him like that, even if you want to.

He blinks and refocuses on you. ‘Back already?’

‘No, but we’ve got more than enough pizza. Why don’t you join us?’ You grin, making a show of looking around the empty office. ‘It’s finally slowed down, and you deserve a break.’

‘I’m on a deadline with this.’ He gestures to the modem that is scattered around him.

You fold your arms and lean against the door. ‘You can fix that in twenty minutes. I know you.’ He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it. ‘And before you throw another excuse you should know I’m very persuasive when I want to be. I don’t think you have another option.’

Jongdae barks out a laugh, dropping the tools in his hand to the desk with a thud. ‘Determined to drag me from my lair, huh?’ He holds your gaze, his expression filling with something akin to heat. Finally he gives you a rueful smile. ‘You’re not going to give up on this, are you?’

You meet his eyes and raise a brow, smiling with satisfaction. ‘Nope. Absolutely not.’

The certainty on his face turns into sadness, so fast you can’t be sure it was really there. Then he closes off and he’s quiet, more so than normal. ‘It doesn’t come easily to me.’

Wondering what could have changed so quickly you step forward, letting the door close behind you. ‘What, pizza?’

It shakes you how desperately you want to know. To peel back his skull and see inside his brain, just to understand what makes him tick. His history and where his future is headed. That small voice inside you whispers that once you figure it out, it still won’t make you care less about him.

‘Friends.’ He says it on a gasp. Looking at the floor fixedly, avoiding your eyes, he seems haunted.

The silence surrounds you both and he finally meets your focus again, chewing on the inside of his cheek. The pieces start to come together. He’s intelligent, preternaturally so, and so advanced in school you can’t imagine he’s had much experience with people his own age. And now that he’s in his mid-twenties he’s built himself a fortress. Close enough to the rest of the world, but distinctly separate.

Irrationally you want to reach across the space and wrap his hands in yours. Tug him into your growing group of friends and fix the ache in your chest his expression gives you. Not sympathy and certainly not pity, but some sensation that’s like butterflies in your stomach. But- he’s your boss. You’re not his keeper and you don’t think whatever dangerous emotion lives in you is what would help him.

He’s not yours and you don’t have the right to push, much that you want to.

‘Ah,’ you say. ‘I see. Well, more often than not we have Saturday pizza out there. The offer always stands. I’ll leave you be if you want to be alone, but just -’ you swallow and give him a tentative smile. ‘Just know that we’d be happy to have you join us. I’d be. Uhm. Happy if you joined us.’ It comes out in a rush and you groan.

With a shake of your head, an uncharacteristic gesture of uncertainty and embarrassment, you wave at him and push back out the door into the noise of the mall.

It’s a shame you don’t turn back. Or no, he thinks, it’s better this way. Jongdae feels far too much for you to keep it contained behind his normally stony expression.

You seem like the kind of person who would take that moment of openness and pull on it, until he unravels in front of you. Fear tells him you would take everything and when you're gone he'd be even more alone than before, now that he knows what it's like with you here.

Looking out through the glass he watches you rejoin the lively group. Always he’s felt like a science experiment, or some kind of circus exhibit when he was growing up. If he didn’t have his grandfather’s steady support and gentle guidance he surely would have become even more isolated.

With a shake of his head, he attempts to refocus on the project at hand. For some reason it doesn't fill him up like he wants it to, his usual joy and satisfaction is missing when he picks up the screwdriver once more. This is where he thrives. Computers and the internet and coding.

To other people it's a labyrinth, impossible to figure out. A world and a language they can speak and learn with effort and intention and study. But to him it's always been as easy as breathing.

His grandfather took his skills from the military and parlayed them into a business as a prolific handyman. It was the world they shared. A place where Jongdae’s creativity and his intelligence could soar. Anything he wanted to build or make, he could. Coding a rudimentary game to pass the time after school, when he could hear the neighborhood kids playing soccer outside.

It took him many wonderful places that he wouldn't have been able to reach if he was, for lack of a better word, normal. As a child and even in school it was so easy to hide behind his grades and his projects and the pride and hope of the adults around him. But now, at twenty five, there’s nothing to keep him hidden anymore.

When lunch is over you return and join him with a nod. He hopes you don't regret asking. He nearly hopes you'll try again. Maybe next Saturday.

For how confident he feels in some spaces - DJing at Shari's, here in his ‘lair’ - at the thought of joining a group of friends he feels again like a nervous thirteen year old sitting in his first college course. Like everyone around him knew how to do things he couldn’t comprehend.

He keeps his thoughts and his feelings to himself; he’s already shared more than he planned. But you draw him back into conversation easily enough, asking about the afternoons orders to be picked up. You don't shy away from him or give him an angry offended air. Inexplicably you still look at him warmly, openly, and he wants more than he's dared to let himself want in a very, very long time.

July 11th, 1997

He doesn't normally leave the office at lunch, preferring to eat his meals in his back office alone, but today Jongdae braves the food court.

It’s a Friday not a Saturday, but it’s a start. He makes brief, yet friendly, conversation with Chanyeol at the pizza place. The taller man smiles at Jongdae, easily, as though he doesn’t second guess the action. He asks if Jongdae had caught the Mariner's game over the weekend and they talk about how Griffey might finally lead Seattle to a World Series this year.

For once he doesn't feel like going back to the office and burying his head in his work. Jongdae awkwardly pulls out a chair in the cluster of tables between the bookstore and the record store. As he takes a bite of his pizza he hears a familiar laugh. Turning around he sees you through the glass of the bookstore.

You speak to the woman who owns Greyhame Books, standing beside someone he thinks is possibly called Jane. It all seems so… easy for you. Tucking your hair behind your ear you lean against the counter, discussing the stack of books in front of you with your friends.

Jongdae gives a rare laugh to no one but himself.

When he imagined hiring an accountant and administrator for his flourishing business he thought he'd get someone older. A person with experience and a similar level of wanting to be left alone. They could ignore him and he could ignore them, delegating filing and payments and customer questions and not have to think about them again.

An employee was supposed to reclaim the silence and peace that his work used to bring. Technology is so much simpler and predictable than humans and he’d really prefer to cut other people out of the equation entirely.

But you are the opposite of simple, and you absolutely aren’t someone he can ignore. From the moment he recognized you he knew he had to hire you. With your intensity and your impressive resume and the way your mouth pulls to the side when you’re trying not to smirk.

He doesn't regret it. But he feels raw in a way he hasn't allowed himself to in years. Jongdae doesn't let people get close. Not anymore.

'Hey, Jongdae!'

With a pizza slice halfway to his mouth Jongdae spots Junmyeon approaching, waving, a large Starbucks drink in hand.  He wants to turn away and hide in his pizza. He isn't good at this - making friends. For months Junmyeon has asked him to join in their monthly networking events here at the mall, or asked him to get a drink at Flanagan’s after work to chat. Jongdae’s all out of excuses.

He imagines his life as a circuit board. There’s his life now - pieces and wires scattered around him - and there’s the life he could have. If he’s brave and if he tries. He imagines the pieces fitting together and what they might build. He wonders if you might fit in, if you’d want him or let him.

His knee is jiggling and he’s nervous, but he takes a deep breath and waves back. ‘Hey Jun! Want to join me for a bit?’ Jun’s expression is surprised - the man doesn’t know how to keep back any of his emotions. ‘If you have time, I mean. No pressure.’ He stutters, pulse racing and cheeks reddening.

Jun grins and sits down opposite him. ‘Absolutely. About time! I thought you’d turn me down forever,’ he laughs. ‘Thanks again for helping me with that broken radio last month. You’re a pro. So, how’s business?’ He sips his coffee and waits patiently.

They can talk about business, something so easy? Jongdae wants to laugh with relief. Maybe he can do this after all.

Junmyeon is amused.

After ten minutes of talking shop with Jongdae he watches as you and Jane leave the bookstore next to their lunch spot. He’s owned a business two doors down from Jongdae for years, but he’s never seen him smile before. When you pass by it’s like someone flipped on a light switch. Jongdae has always been somewhat quiet, somewhat serious, except when he DJs. Now he sits straighter, his face softens, and his eyes fixate on yours like a magnet.

The two of you claim the other seats at the table, showing off the books you purchased. In between sips of his coffee Junmyeon balances his own flirtation with Jane and observing - okay, spying - on you and Jongdae.

He’s warmed by not just the caffeinated beverage. There’s a soft energy here- It’s a warm summer day and he’s discussing books, one of his all-time favorite topics. His mind whispers the words ‘double date’ and he smiles to himself for a moment before blinking.

“Are you alright?” Jane asks, gently resting her hand on Junmyeon’s wrist on the table.

He blushes and gives her a reassuring nod and asks if she’s read the Octavia Butler book on top of her stack yet. It’s an attempt at distraction and he knows it. But thankfully Jane’s eyes crinkle in the corners when she talks about the author, not pausing or seeming to notice the way he was fantasizing for a beat.

Across from him you and Jongdae are arguing about the merits of Isaac Asmiov. Jongdae is more articulate, more animated, more alive than he’s ever seen him. Gesturing emphatically and saying something about how robots are friends, not foes as you interrupt him by reminding him about Terminator. Neither of you seem to acknowledge the attraction between you. It’s been months since you started working at Chen’s, if Junmyeon remembers correctly.

In his periphery he sees Temptation, the chocolate store, and thinks of how Yixing and his girlfriend met on the job. One of his favorite poems mentions how love mirrors the lover; that everyone falls in love in a way akin to their personality. Yixing, passionate and insatiable and spontaneous, fell for Lavender in minutes and days. He saw what he wanted and after a slight pause to make sure it’s what Lav really wanted, he made the move.

Jongdae is nothing if not the complete opposite. Calculating and reserved and inscrutable.

His potential new friend is falling, if the lingering looks he gives you and the way he’s almost touched your shoulder not once but twice are any indication. But it’s a mystery to Junmyeon if, or when, Jongdae will ever make a move. You aren’t the same kind of romantic as Yixing’s girlfriend, someone playful and open with your emotions. You’re driven and witty and warm in your own way. Clearly you care for Jongdae, but in a quieter sense.

Junmyeon imagines this will be a marathon of love, not a sprint.

Eventually lunch hours end for all of you. There’s clients to see and paperwork to do and as he waves to you and Jane he wonders what will become of you and Jongdae. If you’ll stay as co-workers, always flirting and secretly wondering what might be. Or if either of you will push the other into action. The chess board is laid out, pieces waiting to be moved. It might just be his imagination, but Junmyeon hopes that one of you gets the game going.

He does also, perhaps, focus on you and Jongdae as a way to ignore how his own heart beats a bit faster around Jane. How he can’t stop staring at her dimple when she smiles or the head tilt she gives him when she’s really listening. Like he’s the only person in the world. No, he absolutely doesn’t think about Jane’s feet i n his lap as they both read on the couch in his living room. He doesn’t wonder what it would be like to kiss her or hold her hand. Absolutely not.

Instead he invites Jongdae to the monthly Settlers of Catan night he has with Minseok and some other folks from the mall. Much safer territory than wondering about his own love story and if still waters truly do run deep where he and Jane are concerned.

August 11th, 1997

On a surprisingly rainy yet unsurprisingly dead Monday morning Jongdae forces you away from your insistent attempts to organize his paperwork to the market a few streets over. The quiet bakery on the hill above Pike Place has a view of the misty Sound beyond. He sits close beside you, carefully keeping his knees away, lest he bump yours and you do the same, perhaps letting them linger a moment each time they collide.

It’s nice here, you notice suddenly, as you take the first sip of your coffee. The smell of dark roast and fresh almond scones. The breeze coming in through the open door. The soothing, distant sound of jazz from the overhead speaker. The pleasant warm lighting, far different than the aggressively bland fluorescent kind he chose for Chen's. Everything puts you at ease, wraps around you the way you wish Jongdae’s arms would.  

'This place reminds me of Amsterdam.' You smile, looking down into your cappuccino to avoid Jongdae’s eyes.

‘Have you ever been?’ he asks, voice softer than it normally is.

With a shake of your head you trace the edge of the teal and white ceramic cup in front of you. ‘No, but I’ve seen pictures. I used to love photo books growing up. Atlases and travel guides. It’s always been my favorite section of the library.’

He hums for a moment, considering. 'If you could go anywhere in the world, is that where you'd choose?'

Tucking your hair behind your ears you bite your lip to avoid grinning at him. He’s making you remember long-forgotten parts of yourself. Before school and work became the end point, the be-all end-all that your life was funnelled towards. Back when you imagined exploring every country on the planet. Taking photos and making memories. A long time ago, in the days before you realized how expensive it is to actually be a wanderlust-filled adventurer.

Finally you look at him. Something in his irises makes you swallow; an endless, nameless emotion that lives in him you can never seem to place. Elusive and frustrating and tempting all at once.

‘Yes,’ you admit. Voice dry and heart racing you look back to your coffee in avoidance. ‘It’s my dream to travel there. I’m a bit obsessed with it, really.’

'You? Obsessed?' Jongdae smirks, a boyish grin you want to cover with your own mouth.

You roll your eyes, tracing the handle of your mug. 'Hush. It's such a beautiful city with all the canals and the architecture and history, and the food is to die for. Every quaint European city fantasy in one. What about you, have you done much traveling?'

He shakes his head. ‘Not personally. But - my grandfather went everywhere in Europe, after the war.’ His admission is so quiet you almost miss it. But it’s as if your soul is waiting for every crack in the door to Jongdae you can find, and you don’t pass up the opportunity. ‘What was he like?’

It happens sometimes, when you’re working together. The times there’s no customers around and the mall gets empty and you can’t help but be aware of him. Against your skin and with your hands, eyes feasting on him when the rest of you is forbidden from doing so. In the moments when he isn’t putting on airs of being the tech mogul or the reclusive jerk or the awkward, secretly friendly nerd around Jun or Minseok.

Those times when Jongdae meets your eyes and you see the real him, beneath it all. Wanting and alone and scared. Your breath catches in your throat just as it does now and you long to ask him plainly if he feels the way you do. Being honest with your words and not just your jokes or looks out the corner of your eyes when you catch him watching you too.

But those feel too fragile, too dangerous to utter. So instead you ask him about his family, someone close enough to Jo ngdae’s heart to glimpse the core of him; like a sun during an eclipse you can only look for a moment, lest you get burned.

'My grandfather?’ Brows furrow, the corners of his cat-like lips tilting down for a moment. You nod gently, cupping your drink for something to occupy your hands.

Jongdae looks out at the water for a moment, his mouth tugging to the side as he ponders. ‘You know when you finally solve a puzzle you’ve been working on for ages? Hours of struggling to find the right combination and finally it’s all laid out, perfectly in alignment.’

You nod, trying not to smile and ruin the moment, but softened by him nonetheless. ‘Yeah, I know what you mean.’

When his gaze lands on your hands he pauses, like he’s wondering if the two of you might fit in a similar way. But it’s gone before you can grasp onto the moment. Sadness colors his features then. Not the aching kind that gnaws away like a feral monster, leaving nothing in its wake, but the beautiful, bittersweet sadness of a love greater than grief.

His voice is thick when he next speaks. ‘My grandfather was that person for me. We just - fit. He understood me better than my parents did. More than any of my classmates or the few people I’ve ever gone out with. We didn’t even need to speak.’ Jongdae pauses and taps his fingers on the counter.

You give in and reach for his hand, not to hold it - not yet. But to cover it with your own for a moment of understanding, of comfort.

He smiles at you, the crease between his brows disappearing for a moment. ‘He was fifty one years older than me and he was my best friend.’

‘I’ll bet you miss him quite a lot?’ You realize how incredibly inadequate the sentiment is and shake your head, moving to withdraw your hand. ‘Sorry - that’s - of course you miss him.’

But Jongdae doesn’t let you retreat. With his free hand he holds yours in place. Warmth floods your body from the connection point and you’re unable to take your eyes off him. ‘It’s alright, I know what you mean.’ He traces your thumb with a barely there motion, seemingly without intending to. ‘Thank you.’

‘For what?’ You ask, a bit breathless and unable to mind.

‘For always asking. For always listening.’ He says it simply, as though it’s a novel concept. Perhaps, given what you know of his life, who he is, not many people dare to ask. Or bother to listen.

Soon paperwork and customers and regular life draw you back to Chen’s Electronics. He doesn’t mention the way you reached for him and you don’t either. But when you go to leave that afternoon Jongdae holds out your jean jacket for you to slip on. And when you thank him he gives you the soft, secret grin you’ve learned he saves only for you.

On the way home you think that Amsterdam might be the most beautiful city you can imagine, but that it pales in comparison to a hole-in-the-wall cafe in Seattle, as long as Jongdae is seated beside you.

September 9th, 1997

The summer turns into fall and one Monday evening, seemingly without his noticing, Jongdae realizes that his appointment book is full to bursting.

On Tuesday night he's playing Settlers of Catan with Minseok, Bookworm, Kyungsoo, and Junmyeon. They meet up in the food court after the mall closes at nine, second Tuesday of every month.

Wednesday he has lunch with Jun and some other business owners in the mall for their monthly networking/commiserating 'sesh' as Yixing calls it. That afternoon he's promised to help Minseok install the new upgrades to his store's database software that 'make him want to rip out his hair' in exchange for a few coveted LPs Jongdae's had his eyes on for a 70’s/grunge remix set at Shari's.

Thursday night there’s a L.A. Confidential screening at the theater that Baekhyun talked him into, after their argument about whether or not Russel Crowe could actually act or if he was just handsome.

Saturdays are pizza and raucous laughter to break up the busy weekends full of work and clients and deadlines, followed by long nights of DJ-ing and circling you as if you are a sun, drawing him in with the pull of your gravity. He’s merely a comet attracted by the force you give off and he’s not even upset at the realization.

Sehun, Jongin, and Yixing practically bribed him into joining their 'Sunday morning brunch and biceps' workout group, saying that they need a fourth and everyone else is normally sleeping off their hangovers or works the opening shift.

It’s other people’s names all over his schedule, but what he feels is you. Everywhere, all over him. He knows it’s you. Not intentionally, perhaps. But you opened a door for him with your ease and generosity. One Saturday pizza lunch and somehow he’s gotten to know more people in two months at the mall than he had in the years before combined.

You’d wave him off if he mentioned it or thanked you. With that adorable tilt of your head you would smirk and tell him that all he has to do is give people a chance. That they don’t bite.

Irrationally he wants to do things for you - not just as a friend but in the romantic sense - like buy you flowers or have you by his side at Thursday movie screenings or take you to Amsterdam, just to watch you bloom among the flowers. But that would be… crazy, right? He sits in his favorite armchair unable to focus on the book in front of him and runs agitated hands through his hair.

He’s not your boyfriend or your partner. He’s your boss or your co-worker and possibly your friend. Why does he think of holding your hand and walking along the canals of some foreign city every time you look in his direction?

Why does the once-comforting quiet of his apartment feel more and more empty when you’re not laying on the couch across from him, reading and teasing him? Why does he wake up and wish that someone besides himself filled his bed? Someone with your expressions and your joy and your stubborn insistence.

He briefly makes a mental note to ask Yixing how he ended up dating Lavender before suddenly tossing the book to the floor, standing with a groan.

‘What a ridiculous idea!’ he yells aloud to the empty apartment. Jongdae paces circles in the carpet of his living room and wonders if part of being in love is going slightly insane, if everyone who manages to do so finds the madness enjoyable or if love is simply folie à deux?

He looks at his calendar, spread open on his grandfather’s old, wooden desk and tries to comprehend how his life could be so different one year to the next. Like he’s grasping at straws or wisps of air. Aside from work and his grandfather and music, what did he have before? The occasional alumni event or guest lecture at his alma maters?

For a minute his chest feels too full to breathe, unable to let in anything more. Panic tugs at him for a second. It’s too much, all at once - too many people and too many events. Too many opportunities to mess up and these people? He can’t sever his life completely like he did from Julian and his friends. They're so connected to this space he's made his business in. What will happen when he inevitably falls out of favor with them?

He imagines himself shunned and the idea hurts worse than before. Back then he had chosen isolation; to have it thrust unwillingly upon him, unasked, is too much to comprehend.

Once he walked naively into friendship, believing it was easy and that it would last. That there was no rug that would be unceremoniously swept out from under him. But people change, faster than he can believe.

Jongdae sits on the floor, his pajama pants brushing his crossed legs, and forces himself to steady his breathing. These people are not his old friends at Microsoft, he reminds himself. Nor are they the kids in school who teased him, or his classmates in college who resented him or treated him like an annoyance.

Like he’s always practiced, he turns to facts to calm his mind. He’s safe - the apartment is his and he has plenty of money. Not just from his business but from his grandfather’s life insurance. If he wanted to leave - if he was forced to, he thinks he could do it. But something within him howls at the idea of leaving what he has now.

For the first time in ages he has ideas, plans, and dreams for what to do with his life. Now he has people he cares about, people who he trusts to be kind rather than fearing they’ll betray or leave him. You’re at the center of it, if you let him. Determination takes hold of him and doesn’t let go. After a few moments his panic subsides, washed away by the bright promise of a future he’s never dared to imagine before now. Before you.

September 13th, 1997

By the end of your second drink you contemplate being the one to risk it all and ask Jongdae out.

In the months you’ve worked together you stopped seeing him as a challenge and started viewing him instead as the push to your pull. The yang to your yin. The - you sip on your rum and coke and get lost in the tug of his brows and the set of his lips as he spins rather than finding another apt metaphor.

The first time you met him you knew there was something underneath his hard exterior, but you had no idea how correct you’d be proven. Somehow he walks the tightrope between being harsh and being softer than you thought possible. But rather than turn you off you find you’re drawn to his bewildering mix of wry humor, nerdy fixations, and raw emotion. It unlocks all the jagged parts of you that you try to keep so nicely pressed together.

For someone who has been deemed too much to handle finding a man who seems to do it with ease is staggering. He loves your bossy, charismatic nature and your ideas about new things to try at the store. He listens intently when you rattle off obscure facts about your favorite books and movies. He sees your dreams of traveling, of being part of community here, as a complement, not a detriment to your professional career.

A voice startles you. “So when are you going to jump his bones?” Baekhyun is the kind of puppy dog, glowing cheeks, wide-eyed endearing drunk you wish you could hate.

He waggles his brows at you and you snort, shoving him away with your shoulder. “I have zero idea what you’re talking about.”

You weave your way around the perimeter of the dance floor, trying and failing to not fixate on Jongdae with every step.

“Come on. Admit it. You’ve got a thing for the DJ.” His mouth tugs into a smug grin and you groan. “And word on the street is he wants you too.”

“He’s my boss.” The last of your drink burns your throat and you belly up to the bar to order another. “Get real.”

Always a hoe for gossip, Baekhyun leans one elbow against the bar and drops his chin into his hand to watch you. Rather than speak and risk your wrath again he merely looks between you and Jongdae, waiting.

You pride yourself on not giving into temptation for all of ten seconds and then blurt out - “What are you doing?”

Baekhyun presses his lips together to suppress a grin. He raises a finger and holds it up. “You’ll see.”

The bartender is tied up with a group at the far end so you sigh and turn, resting your back against the bar top. With folded arms you observe the club. “We’re about to be abducted by aliens? Jongin’s going to breakdance? Minseok and Bookworm are -”

He clicks his tongue. “So impatient. You two really are a match made in heaven.”

“Me and Jongdae?” If you weren’t already buzzed you’d deny it more. But the permission to speak openly about your feelings for the DJ is too tempting. “You think so?”

Before he can tease you again a motion up ahead catches your focus. Jongdae looks up without tilting his head. His eyes cut to the left, to the two overflowing booths that are filled with the usual crew from the Exodus Mall. With amusement you follow his eye line as he scans the dance floor, looking for something. He never breaks the movement of his hands, spinning the vinyl and working the controls.

Finally his focus lands on you and Baekhyun at the bar. Jongdae’s eyes widen and that unreadable expression settles on his features, no emotion escaping. Your heart picks up, cheeks heating with awareness. There’s nothing to do but hold his gaze for long seconds while the club pulses with life around you. Isolated and together, even across the room.

And then Baekhyun ruins it.

With a comically large wave he smiles at Jongdae. The motion breaks Jongdae’s focus and he rolls his eyes, shaking his head at his friend’s ridiculousness. A smile tugs at his lips and he gives you a look of commiseration and you laugh, reaching over to ruffle Baekhyun’s blonde hair.

The song changes and Jongdae finally looks away. A second later the bartender appears, asking you for your next order. Baekhyun waits patiently beside you, arms folded against the bar, his smugness a tangible thing in the air between you two.

You bite your lip and look at yourself in the mirror behind the bar, visible between the clear shelves of liqueurs and syrups. Could he feel the same way? Does Jongdae imagine holding you, kissing you, being with you the same way you do with him in your unguarded moments?

The two of you already do so much together - work five days a week. Meals alone or with friends. Nights here, separate but still united in the bubble of the dance club. It strikes you just how thin the line is between friends and coworkers and … something more. A four-letter sinful word that starts with L and implies dangerous things like hands touching hands followed by lips and skin and teeth. A different four-letter word full of softness and commitment that has no place being in your mind at the same time as Jongdae’s name.

A hand rests gently on your shoulder. “I told you,” Baek says sincerely. He disappears after waggling his damned eyebrows one more time and leaves you at the bar, wondering.

Half of you wants to confess to him out of genuine affection and desire for connection; you can’t escape the way he makes you long to be reckless and daring and bold and romantic in the kind of grand gesture sense that you’d have rolled your eyes at before you met him. The delicate balance makes your palms sweat and your glass shake slightly as you raise it to your lips. From nerves or excitement or a mix of the two.

You could make the first move, but the logical half of your mind wins out. Instead you swallow your drink in three gulps and head over to the DJ booth to talk to him and nothing more. Close enough to be comforted by his nearness but keeping your desire closeted behind your fear. Tonight that’s all you can manage.

Passing by Yixing and Lavender dancing is a reminder of all the good love can bring. Yixing’s hands holding her close, her arms folded around his neck and their foreheads together. Intimate words are shared that aren’t meant for your ears, even if you could hear them over the sound of the music.

But just beyond is Baekhyun and Hitch. She laughs and dances out of his way as he tries to tickle her. They’re obviously in love to anyone who watches, so why haven’t they admitted it and had a go at being together? Maybe it’s for the best, you wonder. If trying and failing and ruining what you have it worse than never trying at all.

Before you can wander too far down the road of doubt and consequences you remember how it felt to have Jongdae’s hand on top of yours. The thought of tomorrow and the days after disappear altogether when you feel Jongdae’s eyes on you once more, drawing you closer to him, whether he knows his effect on you or not. When you reach the booth you decide to stop thinking in general, and let yourself feel instead.

Saturday night and he's in his element. In the booth, far away from the rest of the crowd but still a part of it. Adrenaline in his veins. Music is Jongdae’s therapy. An alter ego much like the comic book characters he read about growing up. It's the skin he can put on when he's tired of being himself. A place where he can set down the baggage of his identity for a night and get lost in the beats.

He closes his eyes, savoring the pattern of the vinyl beneath his fingertips.

Suddenly, he feels you. Of course you're here. He's never free from you, he thinks with a rueful smile. First you invaded this place, his escape and his temple. Then you wormed your way into his business as though you always belonged there. Now you're occupying his senses the way you occupy his thoughts at all hours.

For a beat he admires you, standing at the bar rolling your eyes while Baekhyun waves dramatically. He drinks you in with a last look at your fabulous legs before reluctantly turning back to switching out one album for the next. Lately you’ve taken to joining him for a bit while he spins and he hopes that once again you’ll come up to the booth tonight.

He's not a patient man, or a subtle one. If he wanted to be rid of you, you'd be gone. Severed with the kind of brutal finality he showed to anyone from his time after M.I.T. There are no second chances as far as he's concerned. But still, you remain. Infuriating, exhilarating. Never far from his consciousness.

'You look like you're having a good time!'

Sooner than expected your voice breaks his trance and he lifts his eyes to look at you. His heart thumps painfully in his chest and he swallows harshly. He doesn't know how you do it - how you effortlessly change to match your surroundings.

One minute you're his office manager, polite and respectful and skilled. Already he sees the business taking shape, becoming more cohesive and smooth beneath your talented mind and heart. And your feisty insistence that he upgrade and finesse his marketing and finally finish putting together a website for Chen’s.

The next minute you're leaning over the edge of the booth, chest coming forward and revealing your neckline. The red is fitting on you. It brings out the natural flush in your cheeks and makes you look perpetually alive. He feels stagnant by comparison, a man of stone who remains unchanging while the world passes him by.

The tumble of hair across your shoulders and the delight in your eyes are so beautiful he wants to reach for you. To reach for more, be more than who he has been - afraid and alone. Bitterness lives in his heart, swatting away anyone who gets too close. But here you are, knocking once more on the door of his being.

He finds his voice, his hands thankfully moving on muscle memory as he drops in the next remix. 'It's good energy tonight,' he fumbles. 'I love this song.' You nod in agreement.

It’s easy, being with you. Together you talk about work and the music he plays and your group of friends. Chanyeol and Bijoux, who finally got together again after what seems like months of back and forth. Bets on how long Minseok will wait before he proposes to Bookworm, now that they’re an official item. Joking about Baekhyun and Hitch like always.

He shows off for you, just a little. Spins 'Scream' by Michael and Janet jackson with a bit more pizazz than usual. It strikes him as amusing how much he always hated being watched before this. Not that many people pay particular attention to him as a DJ, but he thinks he might like the way it feels to be watched by you.

He wants to watch you, too, for as long as you let him. He already can’t take his eyes off you. No matter how much that idea might terrify him. When he drops the next mix and the crowd cheers at ‘Tubthumping’ he gives you a rare broad smile and it's like being punched in the chest when you return it with an unexpectedly shy one of your own.

Jongdae almost invites you into the booth. He sees it as though it were one of the romantic comedies that are so popular right now. You would take your place in front of him. He'd get to rest his hand on top of yours, guiding your movements. Maybe as you got the hang of it he would slide them to hold your hips, keeping your back to his chest as his mouth finds your neck.

Liz invites you to dance and Jongdae wipes the probably awed look off his face with effort. He needs some cold water, immediately.

Friday September 19th

Jongdae is upset about something. It’s not so much that you now seem to be able to pick up his moods with ease, which is true, but the fact that he is nearly tearing his hair out. A piece of paper sits in front of him on the desk but it’s too far away for you to read.

By the time he groans for the fifth time you finally speak up. ‘Are you alright?’

His head jerks up and his eyes are tired when they meet yours. Not ‘it’s been a long week’ tired, but something sad in his expression that makes him look fragile and younger than his years.

For a moment he shakes his head. Then he picks up the paper and waves it in the air, opening and closing his mouth in rapid succession. The confusion on his normally self-assured face would be comical if it wasn’t such an obviously distressing situation. Finally he drops the paper and leans back in his chair, rubbing a hand along his jaw.

‘I just got word that they’re demolishing the apartment building I live in. I have to move by November 1st.’

Instantly you want to hug him or hold his hand. ‘Your grandfather’s apartment?’

Jongdae nods. ‘They’re tearing it down so they can put in some luxury condos. Yet another classic neighborhood about to be wiped out in the name of progress.’ He sighs, looking at the ceiling to compose himself. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be so-’

‘No, it’s -’ you start, unsure of your destination. ‘It’s an important place. And it’s your home. Don’t apologize for being pissed off about it.’

He nods, taken aback. ‘Exactly. It’s where I grew up. I’ve also never had to look for an apartment or move, either. So this will be dreadful.’

You bite the inside of your cheek. The offer to help practically leaps from your mouth and you hold it close for a moment, making sure you don’t rush into something that’s out of your depth. But as always your logic overrules your fear.

‘I could help, if you like?’ He’s just your boss slash co-worker. It’s innocent. It’s harmless, right? ‘I’ve moved so often with school and everything. I know my way around the city.’

In the ensuing pause Jongdae’s solemnity returns, his mouth and the lines of his face don’t give away any emotion. But, as always, he holds you in place with his expression. And his eyes have that fire within that he seems to only show to you. ‘That would be wonderful, thank you.’

You nod, case closed. Turning back to your computer you lie to yourself further, pretending not to notice how his voice lowered. As though he knew you weren’t just offering for help with his living situation. But something more raw and painful that he isn’t prepared to hold on his own just yet.

For how picky you thought you were about apartments, Jongdae has you beat by a mile. Student housing accustomed you to wonky flooring and cramped kitchens and the charming yet ancient windows on many older Seattle homes. But his grandfather’s gorgeous pre-war unit had made Jongdae’s tastes quite particular.

On Tuesdays and on weekends you pulled up listings and showed Jongdae around the city by way of it’s apartments, condos, and houses. He enjoyed the nature surrounding Greenlake, the affordable houses north of UW in Ravenna, and the vibe of Ballard and Fremont. But he ruled anything north of 520 out quickly as ‘too far from the store.’ The luxury of walking to work on nicer days was something he wasn’t willing to part with.

The same unfortunately ruled out a townhouse in Alki that you had salivated over, a block from the beach. Pioneer Square had some great lofts that would have been perfect for a music-lover like Jongdae, but he vetoed those as well. Along with all the trendy industrial lofts near the stadiums, claiming he hated all the construction going on nearby.

It should have been frustrating, to spend endless hours watching him nix perfectly wonderful places. In Queen Anne he hated the hills. Westlake he disliked the mall. Madrona, Leschi, Montlake, Magnolia, and Lake Union all came close but still he shook his head and said ‘thanks, but no thanks’ to landlord after landlord.

It should have driven you mad, but all it did was make you like him more.

Falling in love with Jongdae isn’t what you had planned. But from the first night you saw him at the club some part of you knew it was inevitable, the way the rain in autumn starts off as a light drizzle and before you know it becomes a torrential downpour, blanketing the city and saturating every exposed corner.

He always brought you coffee and insisted on buying breakfast or lunch. He always picked you up, right on time. Held doors and made sure he didn’t walk too fast and did the thing where his arm hovered over your back when the two of you were in crowded spaces. Not touching, but close enough you could feel him protecting you. On anyone else you would have absolutely hated that, but of course from him, you craved it.

Day after day you listened to music in his car as the two of you drove around little neighborhoods hoping to find something, complaining about how tight and ridiculous the parking situation always is. Joking about your friends or the news or the latest books you’re reading. They hardly felt like dates. No, they felt like something even more insidious. Like being in a relationship with him. Easy and warm and friendly and the kind of thing you could get used to.

But eventually it had to end, before it seemed like either of you were ready.

On a surprisingly warm Tuesday in October the two of you walk into a place that no one could object to. The building is in south Capitol Hill, close to Cal Anderson and only a fifteen or twenty minute walk from the mall. It’s designed in the classic Victorian style of the neighborhood, but was completed just three years ago. Small pane windows and a fireplace with a carved mantle and dark spires on the roof, all with brand new insulation and appliances.

Sunlight floods the corner unit on the top floor and you gasped as soon as the door opened. Jongdae stands beside you as the landlord goes over the details of the square footage and the building amenities, but neither of you are listening anymore.

‘What do you think?’ he asks softly. The five-story building sits on a slight hill and overlooks the rest of downtown, with a partial water view around the tall downtown skyscrapers.

‘I think it’s as close to perfect as you’re going to get.’

He moves closer and rests his palms on the window sill, looking around for a moment before turning his head to watch you. ‘Good.’

After a long pause Jongdae pushes off the windows and politely interrupts the landlord, who is currently opening every single cabinet in the kitchen and giving a detailed run down of his wife’s favorite tupperware, asking about the deposit. The way he phrased it along with the attentive way he waited for your approval makes you wonder if he wasn’t just picking this apartment for himself.

Imagining yourself there scares you. If he was seeking your opinion… surely he would be hoping you’d come over? Neither of you have spoken a word about the bizarre yet undeniable attraction you have, but that hardly forms the basis of a relationship. A boyfriend who wanted to be sure you liked his new place would be one thing, but your friend and co-worker who has never admitted to even liking you is quite another.

You lean against the edge of the window and run a finger along the ledge. A small part of you whispers that you’re supposed to be doing something else, eventually. You won’t work at Chen’s forever, but it wasn’t meant to be this hard to leave. It’s just a stop on the way to your final destination. So why do you want to get off the train altogether and make a home here?

Would it be so terrible, to be with him? It’s been a fantasy for so long that imagining real life with him makes you suck in a breath as though you’ve been punched in the gut. It could be a fresh start for you both. The end of one adventure and the beginning of a new one. You remind yourself that being in love doesn’t mean you can’t travel or change the world. Being with Jongdae would hopefully only encourage your dreams, not stifle them.

As they discuss deposit and applications and timelines for moving into the apartment you wander into the other rooms.

The bathroom has a large tub and dual sinks. You can only imagine what your expression must be like right now, given your swirling emotions, and avoid the mirror altogether. The second bedroom is more like a cozy office, narrow enough for a desk and a couch and perhaps some bookshelves. In the bedroom you hesitate at the doorway, reaching up to play with the pendant of your necklace.

Windows run along both sides, meeting in a corner. You think of plants lining the wide ledges and going to sleep with the setting westward sun and how short of a walk it would be to get breakfast from your favorite bagel shop that’s just a block away. It’s close to the mall and the club. It’s truly perfect.

As you watch cars pass and people walk by down below you space out, the image blurring and becoming Jongdae on a bed in this room, leaning back against the pillows with a book in his lap. Smiling at you and pulling you close since he knows you refuse to get up earlier than you have to on your days off.

Inexplicably you want to cry and you huff out a laugh, squeezing your eyes tightly only to find that they’re damp. It’s not anger that the vision inspires in you or even sadness. It’s frustration and amusement that war inside you as you think about how you fell in love with him without your consent. Rational thinking should have stopped this long ago, but all you can think as you stand there is how nice it is to be with him. And how you wouldn’t mind being with him for a long while.

The only thing that helps ease the tension in your chest is how he looks at you on the drive back to your place. You fill the time with discussions of moving trucks and hiring a company to help with the heavy lifting, but you’re both clearly distracted by other thoughts. He pulls his car up to your apartment and you try to avoid looking at him as you say goodbye, but he briefly rests his hand on your knee to get your attention.

Your hand stops in its motion to grab your bag and ends up nearly on top of his, but you make no movement to break the contact. ‘Thank you,’ he says softly. ‘I mean it.’ Jongdae turns his hand and holds yours, giving it a quick squeeze and looking like he never wants to let go.

October 12th, 1997

You’re eating cheesy bread at Barada with Hitch, but today she’s different - evasive and nervous in a strange way. 'So I - uhh. I have news,' she finally says. She sips her drink and looks at the table rather than at you. 'I don't know if I should tell you though.'

Pausing in your chewing you raise a brow. 'You can tell me anything, you know that.'

She awkwardly runs a hand along her neck. 'No I know. I just -' she huffs out a breath and blows her hair off her forehead..

'You and Baekhyun finally had sex and you're pregnant?' You smirk at her as she chokes on her soda. 'Come on, just spit it out.'

She waves and hand and very quickly says - 'There's a project manager position open in the gaming division. Some new big thing and they're looking for an upstart to head up operations.'

You frown and tear off another slide of bread, not understanding her odd behavior at all. 'Okay… and you're thinking what, thinking of applying?'

'No, you dork. I'm thinking you should apply.' She tilts her head like she assumed your reaction would be more immediate. 'You wanted me to keep an eye out for you, right? I didn't want to say anything since - '

'Since?' you ask, both afraid of what she'll say and dying to know. Terrified it will have to do with Jongdae and the swirling mess of feelings you have for him.

It’s her turn to be wry. 'Since you and Jongdae have been attached at the hip.'

'Really?' You stall, taking an enormous bite.

Hitch tosses a balled-up napkin at you. 'Yes. When I met you in college I thought 'there goes the most intense person I've ever met.’ And then I met Jongdae after he opened Chen’s and he gave you a run for your money.' She dusts off her hands. 'You both could be making millions someday. Taking over countries or saving the world or something. We all know it. I don't know, I didn’t want to mention this because together you guys seem happier. Softer? Something like that..'

'And you think me getting a job there would ruin that?' Her words mirror your fears exactly and your stomach drops.

'It's taken me years to get Jongdae to even look at me after I told him where I worked. He hates Microsoft. With good reason, from what you've implied. I'm sure you could make it work, but trust me when I say if you get swept up into that upper management spiral, we probably won't see you again.'

'I won't completely abandon you guys just because I get a new job.' But doubt whispers in your mind. The long hours and the endless meetings and the extra work to always be the best, to always be ahead. 'Okay fine, I see your point. I still have to try, right? I should at least apply.'

She rests her hand over yours where you have your napkin in a death grip on the table. 'You don't have to do anything, babe. We'll always be here for you even if you become a tech mogul overnight. But will it make you happy? Whatever comes next... do it for yourself, okay? Not just cause you think you should.'

You smile and hold her hand for a moment, wrinkling your nose. 'Thank you, Hitch. I needed that. What about you? You said you were going to apply for that transfer to the NYC office, are you still considering it?'

She blows out a deep breath and pulls her hand back, dropping her forehead to it for a moment. 'God, I don't know. My whole life is here. And I'd have to leave the theater.' She rests her chin on her palm and looks up at you with a dramatic frown. 'My friends are all here. My family. I love where I'm at, but I know that something eventually has to change.'

'Baekhyun?' You grin at her, wondering if the move might finally force them to admit their feelings.

Hitch straightens and looks across the food court to the movie theater. 'Yeah, something like that.' She gives you a dramatic waggle of her brow. 'Jongdae?'

You groan and fold your arms, sinking lower into your seat. Even your roommates ask about him now. Everyone can surely see how you light up around him. The way you gravitate towards the DJ booth on club nights like a moth to a flame. The way you draw him into conversations and brag about him. It should be forbidden territory, as untouchable and unreadable as he is. Not to mention he's your boss.

But worst of all he still hasn't said anything about it, nothing more than the occasional flirtatious comment or lingering look. Even after all your time together and the way he looked at you in the new apartment. For all you know he sees you as a very stubborn employee who happens to force your way into things.

You cover your face with your hands and sigh. 'Something like that.'

Hitchcock stands and takes your shared tray of dishes to the bus station with a throaty laugh. 'That's what I thought.'

November 1st, 1997

Jongdae is frantically packing up more of his bookshelf when the doorbell rings. He smiles on instinct. It's not something he can help anymore, not when he knows it's you on the other side. Right at nine in the morning, just when you promised the movers would be here. With a last look around his living room at the organized chaos he wipes his hands on his sweatpants and stands.

It surprised him how quickly you agreed to help with - well, everything, really.

When he told you about his move he didn’t expect anything would come of it. It's his problem, not yours. He didn't imagine for a moment you'd give the announcement more attention than a sympathetic word or two. But you stepped to his side. Put up with his grouchy persistence in believing that there's no place in the world, let alone in Seattle, that would be as amazing as this apartment. As it always seems with you, he found himself proven wrong.

You didn't let him wallow and guided him with your decisiveness through the checklist of everything he'd need to do. A few months ago he would have waved you off. Decided you were being bossy or nosy and turned down the help with a cold shoulder. 

But now he wants you around for everything and the thought makes him pause with his hand on the doorknob.

He made sure you like his new apartment too because - when he isn't expecting it he imagines you there. Not just as his co-worker or employee or even as his friend. As someone more permanent. Lasting. It's not that he needs you to run his life for him, he's perfectly capable of doing things on his own. It's just that he loves how you barge your way into his world and refuse to let him be alone.

Jongdae doesn't know how yet, but he wants to show you how he feels in return. It's like trying to run with a blindfold on, but he desperately hopes that he can figure out how to care about you in the way you deserve. Bringing you coffee and asking about your day and giving you all the freedom you want at work are a start, but they barely scratch the surface of how much he feels for you.

He's got one idea. A big one. An insane one, that you'll probably call him nuts for suggesting. If he ever gets up the nerve someday.

The buzzer sounds again and he shakes himself out of it. Finally he pulls it open and is greeted by your smiling face in the morning gray light. Hair pulled back in a ponytail and dressed in a long black shirt and faded overalls. He leans against the doorframe, wondering if he's ever seen anything more beautiful than you on his doorstep.

'So, I have a surprise,' you start. With a free hand you nervously brush your hair behind your ear. It's so unlike you that he immediately wonders if something is wrong.

'What is it?'

Before you can answer, noise in the parking lot draws his focus. His front door faces the open-air walkway that leads to the stairs down to the parking lot. He expected a moving truck and several buff men in logoed shirts. Instead it's a scrappy group of your friends - his friends now, he supposes - looking tired but ready to help.

Junmyeon and Jane drink coffee and pull furniture dollys and heavy blankets out of a Uhaul truck. Liz and Jongin are leaning against the cab of Sehun's car and laugh at him as he and Yixing sleep peacefully in the backseat. Chanyeol and his girlfriend are paused on the landing below making out, a tape gun in each of their hands. Another car catches a break in the flow of traffic and pulls into one of the guest spaces. Minseok and Bookworm step out and yawn, tying sweatshirts around their waists.

Jongdae repeats his question. Or at least he tries to, but emotion catches his throat and all he can do is stare at you with a mix of surprise and what he's sure is a very naked expression of affection.

'How did you do this?' he asks when he can finally breathe again.

You tilt your head and grin at him, pride making you radiant even in the dull mist of the morning. 'Is this okay?' For a moment you look worried, tucking your hands in the pockets of your overalls and taking a step back.

'I know I said I'd hire the movers, but I thought this might be better? I didn't think everyone would be here, especially after the Halloween party last night. Soo and Sunshine are working, but I think - wait,' you turn and yell down to the group in the lot. 'Has anyone heard from Baek and Hitch?'

Chanyeol reluctantly pulls away from his girlfriend and replies. 'Yeah, he messaged me at the ass-crack of dawn. He said he and Hitch are fine, but they won't be able to make it until later.'

With a curious look you thank Chanyeol and turn back to Jongdae. 'Okay, so almost everyone came.'

'It's because you're incredible,' he agrees, heart warm and in awe of you. Stepping back, he shoves the door stop in with his foot to prop it open and gestures for you to come in.

He doesn't get two steps before your hand finds his bicep, stopping him. 'No, I'm just absolutely amazing at organizing things,' you laugh. ‘But they didn't just come for me Jongdae, they came because they're your friends. They wanted to help.'

The intensity in your voice makes him pause. Like you're trying to say far more than your words. He gets lost for a moment in your beautiful eyes and swallows harshly. His past, the negative parts, haven't come up much - his failed first business, the trail of broken friendships he's left behind him, the ensuing guard he's had up since - but you've paid far more attention than he realized.

He doesn't miss the meaning behind your words, or the look in your eyes; what you're asking of him. To trust you, to trust them. To release his death grip on the walls he keeps up to protect himself. But no matter how determined you are he knows he has to be the one to dismantle them. His heart is nervous and he instead focuses on your hand on his arm.

For a beat he wants to kiss you, then and there with almost all of his and your friends just outside. Instead he lets his actions speak when his mouth isn't able to and pulls you into a hug. You freeze for a moment, stiff with surprise. But after a moment it melts away and you hold him back, wrapping your arms around his waist. His head spins when you rest your forehead against his shoulder, unable to process the fact that you’re in his arms in reality, not just his dreams.

'You're the most amazing person,' he murmurs against your hair.

The sound of loud voices and thumping of boots on stairs make him pull back. You give him another smile, warmer and softer this time. Something that's private for him only. 'I know.'

He barks out a laugh as Sehun and Jongin come in through the doorway. 'Let's do this!' Sehun calls, clapping his hands together.

'We promise we won't steal anything,' Jongin jokes, looking around Jongdae's place with obvious fascination.

Bijoux organizes the packing party while Chanyeol grabs Jongdae's keys so he and Sehun can take the first load of boxes over to the new place while Junmyeon, Jongin, and Jongdae load up the bigger furniture pieces into the Uhaul. Jongdae lets out a rusty laugh as Junmyeon dubs them ‘the J squad.’ You work around them, collecting all the random trinkets and knicknacks that have escaped other boxes.

He closed Chen’s today to hopefully knock this entire project out in one swoop. Ripping it off like a Bandaid. After the first big load everyone splits up into teams. Sehun and Yixing pack and load the rest of the boxes and smaller items into the cars. Jongin, who is absolutely not trusted around breakable items, goes with Junmyeon to return the Uhaul to the rental shop and pick up lunch and drinks for everyone with the cash Jongdae insisted they take. 

And Minseok leads everyone else on a cleaning checklist he’s created with military precision. It's been so long Jongdae doesn't even know if he has a damage deposit. His grandfather took excellent care of the place and he kept it up in his absence, so he hopes it's not too much work to tidy.

Yixing’s boombox keeps up a steady flow of music throughout the morning and lunch time. With everyone’s help, and of course with the added fuel from the pizza and beverages, things are just wrapping up at the old place. You stay behind with Jongdae to take a last look around and turn in the keys, forcing him to take a few photos in the space to remember it.

‘This is it, I guess,’ he says, holding out the key and laying it on the kitchen counter with a small metallic sound.

‘How do you feel?’ You lean your hip against the fridge and drink from a water bottle.

Sunset over Lake Union is his favorite time of day and it’s hard to stand the thought of missing out on a last one. It’s barely two in the afternoon and it’s hours until golden hour. Rather than lie he simply says the truth. ‘I wish I could see the sun go down one last time.’

You come and stand next to him, close enough he can smell the light scent of your perfume and see the flush of your chest from the day’s exertion. ‘We can wait.’

He thinks of everyone at his new place, unloading boxes. ‘But everyone-’

‘Jongdae,’ you start. ‘They’ll be fine. You know Sehun has probably fallen asleep on your couch already. Baek and Hitch and the openers from Barada will be heading over soon. Some people have to head out for closing shifts but it’s already been decided that we’re doing movie night and Chinese take out tonight at your new place.’

‘Oh really?’ He presses his lips together to try not to laugh.

‘I don’t think you have much of a choice,’ you tease. ‘Trust me, they’ll be fine for another few hours.’

‘Alright then,’ he says after a pause.

The two of you sit on the bare hardwood floors and talk until the sun finally sets, just before five pm. He doesn’t yell his feelings for you at full volume like he wishes he could. He doesn’t dance with you or kiss you slowly in the empty apartment, there’s far too many emotions in his heart today to try and cope with more. But after he locks up and leaves the keys behind he does take your hand to help you into the car. And he does hold it for far longer than necessary before pulling back to shut the door. 

It’s not much, but like his new apartment it’s the start of something.

November 3rd, 1997

You’ve got to tell Jongdae now, but nerves eat away at you and your resolve lessens minute by minute. Since the move he’s been warmer, more open, and you don’t want to ruin that. But you can’t keep this from him any longer.

Applying at Microsoft was supposed to be a long shot, a shot in the dark, or some other kind of shot that never meant to lead anywhere. But still it’s one you took and one that ended up paying off way faster and more successfully than you’d planned. After two interviews last week you sit with a job offer on your answering machine back home and a choice to make.

They need your decision by tomorrow and as Monday winds into early afternoon your deadline approaches. You bite your lip and vacillate wildly between thoughts. On the one hand this could be a good thing - if you’re no longer working at the same place, there’s nothing stopping the two of you from being together, right?

But what if Jongdae can’t see past his hurt and freaks out, assuming you’re leaving him like everyone else has? Or worse, what if he never cared about you that way at all?

Your stomach drops at the thought of walking out of here into your dream job, but feeling empty, leaving behind someone who has come to mean so much to you.

Your roommates Liz and Jane, Hitch, hell even Baekhyun weaseled the truth out of you at Shari’s on Saturday. Stone cold sober and still you let out everything to him sitting in your group’s favorite booth. About how you might in fact love Jongdae and how badly you want this opportunity, how utterly terrifying and exhilarating change can be simultaneously.

None of them told you to choose one way or the other. They didn’t say ‘take the job’ or ‘turn down the job,’ they all said that the decision is one only you can make and that they’d support you no matter what you picked. And maybe each time you cried a little and all of them were good enough friends to just hug you and not mention it.

But all of them told you one thing that now sits lodged in your throat. Whatever else happens, you both deserve to know. Jongdae deserves the truth about what you’re considering, and you deserve to finally know once and for all how he feels about you and what he wants.

After he locks the doors and starts cleaning up, you rise, holding your hands behind your back so tightly your knuckles are most assuredly white. ‘Hey, can we talk for a minute?’

Jongdae nods. ‘Of course. I’ve got something I wanted to discuss with you as well, actually. But you go first.’ He folds his arms and leans against his desk, giving you that affectionate close-lipped smile of his. You desperately hope what you’re about to say doesn’t wipe it off his face.

Not one to beat around the bush you dive in. ‘I applied for another job.’ The words sound blunt and harsh. You swallow and try again, hating how his brow furrows in confusion. ‘Not because I don’t like it here. But Hitch told me about an opening and it sounded - sounds perfect for what I want to do in the long run. It’s on the new gaming system division… at Microsoft.’

He doesn’t say anything for a long pause. Instead of meeting your eyes his have dropped to the ground and you wish you could reach out and touch him. Anything to make sure he hears you, understands you. But a whisper of fear makes you keep quiet, worrying the connection you had wasn’t meant to last, if something so trivial could break it.

‘I thought you were happy here,’ he says finally.

You hold your hands out in front of you, palms up in a gesture of entreaty. ‘I do, Jongdae. It’s not that at all. I thought this might - be good for us. If we’re not working together, then -’

When he finally looks up his gaze is distant, his mouth a thin line. The shutters have fallen over his face. ‘By going to work at the one place I despise?’

Anger makes your skin hot and you fold your arms as well, in defiance. ‘But you talk to Hitch and Baekhyun? They haven’t turned into the devil incarnate yet.’

He gives a quick, harsh shrug. ‘I like them both, sure. But being friends is one thing. This is quite another.’

It’s almost a declaration, yet so far from how you dreamed this moment might go. ‘What are you saying, Jongdae?’ You need to hear it. After so many weeks of trying you need him to at least do you the courtesy of speaking it out loud.

‘You know how I feel about you.’ There’s hope in his eyes. But it’s so buried amongst hurt and suspicion it’s not even close to reassuring. ‘I want you to stay. Here.’ With me, he doesn’t say, but you feel it.

Nothing drives you more up the wall than being told what to do. His words fall against your own shield and the plea within goes unnoticed. ‘Would you really shut me off if I took this job? Does hating them mean more than wanting what’s best for me?’ You finally step forward, reaching a hand for his arm.

‘I’ve supported you in everything,’ you start, unable to stop now that you’ve started. ‘In finding community here. In your move. Even in the business, who was the one who pushed you to keep growing? I don’t intend to stop being there for you, but I need you to support me in this. Please.’

He just watches you, not saying a word. The clock on the wall ticks loudly in the silence. People outside the glass doors go about their day, shopping or getting an early dinner, unaware of the standoff taking place merely feet from them. You wonder what it would take to make his guard truly ever come down.

With how quickly it snapped back into place you feel tired all the way down to your bones. Maybe it will never be enough, even if you did stay here forever.

‘I’ll pay out your PTO in these next two weeks,’ he says softly. ‘No need to come back into the office. If that works for you?’ His last statement is thrown on as a hasty addendum. Like he’d realized how harsh it sounded and he wanted to dull the sting. It’s a sliver of kindness, a glimpse at the man he almost allowed himself to be. But it’s not enough.

‘Fine with me.’ You move past him, into the supply room to grab your purse and jacket, proud of the way your voice doesn’t waver. Pausing in the hallway you turn to look back at him, still frozen against his desk. ‘I’m leaving this job, I’m not leaving you.’

He turns to look at you, running a hand through his hair and messing up the ends. ‘It will go the same way, I know it. In the end you’ll disappear too.’

‘Jongdae, I’m trying. I need you to at least meet me halfway.’

You don’t wait for his reply, if one was ever even going to come. Instead you continue down the small hallway and push out the back door into the mall. It’s only once you’re in your car that you remember he mentioned something he wanted to discuss. You wonder what it was, and if you’ll ever find out.

Jongdae stares after you for long seconds after you’re gone. He doesn’t hold out hope that you’ll come back, not after the way he treated you. Instead he feels stuck in place, like if he holds his breath and doesn’t exhale then the last five minutes didn’t happen.

But his lungs burn and his chest aches, and when he finally sighs it comes out ragged. He fumbles for the switch and the store descends into darkness. Shafts of light still come through, angled in from the glass ceiling of the mall’s concourse. Jongdae stands just outside of it, protected. With no one to see he sinks into his desk chair and drops his head into his hands.

The tears that clog his throat are at first unexpected, but as the minutes drag on he finally gives into them. He should have known they were coming all along. Not just from the moment you walked into his life, but from the day his grandfather died. From the day his father passed and his mother became a ghost rather than a permanent, tangible figure. 

From the day Julian took Jongdae’s designs and credited them as his own to the investors, cutting Jongdae out of not only the business they were building, but out of their group of friends as well.

Misery and hopelessness whisper against his skin and for long minutes he lets himself wallow. He knows it’s no one’s fault but his own that he ruined things with you. His grandfather taught him long ago that other’s actions are theirs, and that it’s what Jongdae does in response that is his responsibility. But he can’t deny that he indulges in thoughts of blaming the cruelty of life for making him so goddamn stubborn.

He swallows and leans back in his chair, feeling as though his body is made of hard, unyielding stone. Maybe it's better this way, he wonders, drumming his fingers on the wood desk before him. Perhaps he should let his worst fears dominate his life, believing that the risk is far greater than any potential reward that love or friendship could offer him.

Is it better to be alone, knowing that he’ll always be safe, free of anyone who might hurt him?

Jongdae groans. The voice inside him that whispers No sounds first like his grandfather, both encouraging and feisty at the thought of Jongdae giving up. Next it sounds like you. He knows you’d roll your eyes and call him grouchy, always thinking better of him than he does of himself. You’d tell him his bark is far worse than his bite and to get over himself already. At this thought, at any thought of you, really, he smiles.

Familiar voices make him look out into the mall. Sehun and Jongin walk by carrying sodas, rubbing their stomachs. He can imagine how they’re complaining about eating too much Barada pizza, as always. 

They pass by quickly but the image stays with him, of their friendship. Jongdae thinks of Chanyeol and Kyungsoo’s, how opposite and yet how similar they are. Baekhyun and Hitch, who are always teasing each other but who he knows would do anything at the drop of a hat.

He’s held himself back the past few months. First a reluctant observer. Then a tentative participant. The endless exhaustion of being careful, keeping his distance, catches up to Jongdae as he sits in that chair. If it weren’t for you maybe he’d never be brave enough to try again after how hard it was growing up. But if he is to be the kind of person, the kind of partner you deserve, now is the time to make the attempt.

It’s up to Jongdae to be the one to try, to reach out. He can’t let others find him anymore. For the first time in a long time Jongdae stands up and goes looking for a friend.

Junmyeon still has an hour before his store closes and he looks up at Jongdae as he walks in through the door of Guardians. ‘Hey, JD! How’s it going?’ If he notices that Jongdae’s been crying, he’s kind enough to not mention it.

‘Are you busy?’ Jongdae’s throat is raw but Jun has a young son, surely tears won’t bother him.

‘Not really, I’m just organizing some shipments going out tomorrow,’ Junmyeon answers. He sets down his pencil and rests his hands on the counter. A crease forms between his brows the longer he watches Jongdae. ‘Is everything alright?’

He wants to do this right, but all he can find are inelegant words. Junmyeon is as close as he has to a best friend at the moment, and he hopes he doesn’t inconvenience him. ‘Not really.’

Jun tilts his head and gestures to the door, picking up Jongdae’s unspoken request and running with it, just like he’d hoped he would. ‘I can close up shop a bit early. Want to talk in my office?’

Jongdae runs a hand over his face and nods. Grateful and relieved he manages a small laugh. ‘That would be great, thanks.’

After Jun locks the doors and flips the sign to closed he motions for Jongdae to follow him. The back room of Guardians is much warmer that at Chen’s Electronics, in style rather than temperature. Jongdae sits on a beige sofa that’s even more comfortable than it looks. The walls are filled with framed photos and art prints and various other pieces that give the space an art gallery vibe.

With a sigh Junmyeon tidies up the mess of papers and crayons and various cups with kid lids. ‘Sorry, Sungmin loves to draw but we haven’t quite nailed the clean up yet.’

‘Don’t worry about it on my behalf,’ Jongdae says sincerely. ‘I’m just grateful you’re willing to listen.’

The space has a narrow hallway leading to a back door and a closet that’s probably full of supplies, much like Jongdae’s store. Jun takes the cups to a small sink in the mini-kitchen in the corner. His brow lifts in confusion. ‘Why wouldn’t I? We’re friends, right?’

Could it be that simple? No need to prove himself or do everything possible to impress Junmyeon, like he did with Julian. ‘Yeah, we are I suppose.’ He laughs and shakes his head. ‘Sorry, I don’t mean to imply I don’t consider us friends, I just - well, have a few trust issues when it comes to that sort of thing.’

Junmyeon dries his hands on a dishtowel and blows his hair off his forehead with a huffed laugh. ‘We’ve all got a few issues, don’t we?’ He moves to the table and takes a seat, sliding a glass of water towards Jongdae and sipping from one of his own. ‘I’ve got the time. So quit stalling and tell me about yours.’

He sags into the couch and drinks from the glass. ‘Alright then.’

For once he doesn’t second guess himself or try to read the minutiae of Jun’s expressions to see if he’s annoying him or being too boring. Jongdae simply tells him the truth, trusting his friend to listen. 

He mentions his family and how hard it hit him when his grandfather passed. How strange and yet unbothered he is by the lack of relationship with his mother. The way he was teased growing up and how he was probably the only person in his Master’s program going through puberty. The fact that the mall is the first place he’s ever had friends his own age since childhood.

It’s satisfying to see how pissed off Jun gets when he tells him about Julian and all the bullshit he put Jongdae through. For a while there Jongdae had convinced himself that he was the one in the wrong, that there’d been something he’d done to earn his exile. That it was a deserved punishment. But his friend’s muttered curses remind him that true friends don’t normally backstab each other for money and notoriety.

And finally, he talks of you.

How much he values you at work and how sassy and insistent you were about bringing him into ‘the fold’ of their friend group. The ways in which he wants to be with you and care for you and all his worries of whether or not he’ll be any good at it, given his lack of experience. Junmyeon is neither surprised by his feelings for you nor willing to let him wallow.

‘I even brought prom tickets,’ Jongdae finishes with a groan. He pulls them from the pocket of his jeans and lets his arm fall to the couch cushion. ‘Me. At a prom.’ He almost snorts.

But Junmyeon just purses his lips. ‘Is that really such a stretch?’

Jongdae hums a noise of contemplation. ‘No. I guess not. All our friends are doing it.’ But before Jun can continue he shakes his head. ‘But I’ve messed this all up, so it doesn’t matter either way.’

Loneliness aches in his bones, his hands tired of not holding yours. Wishing he was enough, somehow, to keep you here and keep you warm; enough to make you stay, to make you happy.

Junmyeon raises a brow. ‘I think you’re missing the point entirely my friend. She told you what she needs. All you have to do is listen. She’s asking you to trust her. This job is something she’s worked for and she’s not leaving you for it. She’s just leaving the job. If you want to know you have to ask.’

He sighs deeply. ‘You’re right. But what if it all goes wrong? What if I try and it’s all for nothing in the end?’

Jun dips his chin to his chest, looking at the ground lost in thought. ‘That’s fair. I know a little of that myself, Jongdae. But all you can do is try. There’s sadly no guarantees here. I think you want to make it work and from what I know of her, she wants you as well. It’s time to make the big gesture. Or any kind of gesture, really.’

He groans and smiles, knowing his friend’s fondness for ‘I think you’re right.’ He even has an idea, two in fact. One that’s lived in the back of his mind for weeks and one that’s brewing right now. ‘Will you help me?’

‘Absolutely my friend.’ Jun claps him on the shoulder, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

November 19th, 1997

It should have been wonderful news to you that it was a clean break at least. No mess, just walking out the door and leaving behind the man and the job in one fell swoop. But of course, it wasn’t.

Microsoft was delighted when you told them you could start ASAP, but honestly you did it to jump into work rather than spend your time missing Jongdae. Filling your schedule proves to be the easiest way to avoid thinking about what hurts. You still had your roommates and Hitch and everyone else to hang out with, even if you weren’t ready for any Saturday pizza lunches or Shari’s nights quite yet. Both brought you far too close to him to bear right now.

Liz and Jane and Hitch are wonderful and you’ve had not one but two sleepovers since ‘the Jongdae incident.’ If not for their friendship and constant presence you’re sure you would have walled up the hurt and hid it away, not one to normally speak about your pain openly. Not while it’s so fresh. 

Distantly you hope that Jongdae is okay and that he has someone to talk to. If he’s even hurting. 

For all you know he’s completely fine and unaffected by the entire thing. Maybe he’s already found a new office manager and has forgotten about you. But those are the kind of rude and painful thoughts that only come to you at three in the morning when you can’t sleep, when dreams of his hands and his voice and his smile keep you up.

Jongdae calls one Tuesday to ask you to swing by Chen’s to pick something up the next day and you’re suspicious. He wouldn’t say any more, just ‘please come by at six. I have something to give you and I’d like it to be in person.’

You put on your favorite black dress and blazer that make you feel both sexy and confident and head to the mall. If he’s just calling you to twist the knife in deeper, you’ve already decided to leave and not bother letting him hurt you more. But if he’s calling to reconcile… you shake your head, not willing to get your hopes up. Instead you park in your old space and fix your make up in the rearview mirror.

It delights you to see that your old desk is returned to its former state. Just the computer, keyboard, and mouse remain. No one’s personal possessions have taken over the space like yours used to. It shouldn’t make you so happy to see he hasn’t replaced you, but it does.

Jongdae sits at his desk. His hair is in its usual perfect wave but his white button down and slacks have been swapped today for a dark green sweater and tan chinos. He looks ridiculously handsome and you grit your teeth, wishing you could turn off your attraction to him with a switch inside your brain.

He looks up at your knock on the glass door. For a moment he simply stands, drinking you in. Then he moves, walking closer to unlock the door and let you in. 

‘Hi. How are you?’

You blink and try not to laugh. ‘How am I? Jongdae, how do you think I am?’

‘Right, sorry.’ He shakes his head. Carefully he looks you up and down, not bothering to hide his own attraction to you in his hungry gaze. With a swallow he remembers himself and grabs a cardboard banker’s box from in front of his desk. ‘Here. I didn’t want to come by and drop it off. It felt wrong.’

The box holds all the random photos and personal belongings you’d left in your desk, in your haste to leave. Postcards from Amsterdam and family photos and lotions and your favorite scarf you��d been missing. He steps back, resting against the corner of his desk and folding his arms. When you take it he doesn’t say anything, which is not what you’d hoped by any means, but silence is definitely less painful than you’d feared.

‘Well, it’s been an adventure,’ you manage. You lean against your desk and move the box under one arm, holding out a hand to him to shake. Ready to be done with this officially.

He doesn’t move. You can feel words held on the tip of his tongue. Months and months later you know how to read his tells. The tightness in his jaw and the widening of his eyes and how his hand grips the fabric of his sweater. But seconds tick on and still he says nothing. 

He should speak or you should leave. One of you should do something. Instead you’re frozen in time. Eventually your arm aches and you set the box down beside you. You could go first, but pride demands he be the one to confess, if there’s going to be any confessions tonight.

Neither of you caves; twin pillars of resolution, stubbornness, and desire. It’s a game the two of you could play for hours. The tension in the air pulls tighter than a violin. His gaze drops from your eyes to your lips, unabashedly. His lids grow heavy as he breathes deeply, close enough to smell your gardenia perfume, but just out of reach of being able to touch you.

So this is what it feels like to meet my match, you think, finally acknowledging just how deeply you want him. Enough nights had been spent imagining kissing him, being with him in far more intimate ways than just a holding of hands or a hug. You want more, but only if he wants you, too.

You'd always been told that you were too driven, too smart, too self-sufficient to attract a man. Even in your MBA program where ambition and intelligence were supposedly rewarded, it apparently made you too something to find a good man to date.

But now there’s one right in front of you, looking at you as if you’re the answer to Fermat’s Enigma; a rare and priceless gem he’d been hunting for all his life. But he doesn’t look at you as if you’re art to be admired, a prize to be won. The guard lifts steadily and when he looks at you now it’s as if you’re the kind of miracle he wants to sink his teeth, his tongue, and his fingers into.

Your cheeks grow warm and you’re sure you look just as amazed and turned on as he does. If you had to guess, you’d bet that the number of people who challenge him these days are few, and the number of people who attempt to see the man behind the curtain even fewer.

While everyone else in the world might just see a monolith of a man, a genius, a hardworking and brilliant anomaly, you see the passionate, warm heart that beats in his chest. You know that the tin man really does have feelings and needs, and your heart almost breaks when you realize he’s been searching for you just as fervently as you’ve been searching for someone like him.

The silence in the room is almost too fragile a thing to break. On one side of the moment is a spark of something, a chance to see if this connection is real and deep, or if this is just chemistry and biology combining into lust. If your mind has taken the small gestures of passion and kindness and friendship from him and built it up to be something more than the sum of its parts.

‘I’ve missed you,’ he breathes, voice catching in his throat. Releasing his folded arms he rests his palms on the edges of the desk.

‘I’ve missed you, too,’ you admit. Your hands curl in on themselves, trying to fight the way emotion and physical longing make it difficult to be in such a close proximity to him.

‘Okay, then.’ He breaks first, moving with purpose and striding to you in two steps, sliding his hands along your jaw with such softness that you gasp. 

And then, finally, you feel his lips on yours. You grasp his hips, hands freed and aching to touch him, to feel his hard body press against yours with surprising heat.

You meet him with equal passion, working your lips against his steady assault on your composure. For a solid minute you’re in awe that you could feel this much, that his lips and his hands could undo you so rapidly. That they could rebuild you into someone who belongs to him in such a short space of time, after weeks of endless doubt.

He groans against your lips in what feels like similar shock and surrender. Who would have thought that he would cave to your touch just as you did to his? How could someone so grumpy and strong-willed also be so open and vulnerable to this tentative thing between you.

But as he drops a hand and brings it to rest securely on the small of your back you realize there’s a name for this feeling.

You could call it fate. You could call it destiny. You could call it that damned four-letter word or you could call it Darwinism for all you care as his teeth bite gently into your lower lip.

You just know that nothing has ever felt as good and right as his hands claiming you for his own and the smell and heat of him wrapping themselves around you and burrowing their way into your heart.

A whine works its way from your throat as he licks along the seam of your lips, seeking entrance. When you open your mouth to him, his tongue slides along your own and you almost lose your balance. With a giggle you could swear you’ve never made before in your life you let him guide you up onto the desk.

He steps between your legs instantly, gripping your hips and continuing his tasting of you. Heat and electricity race down your spine as you fist your hands in his hair, pulling him closer to you until there’s no separation.

Banging on the glass doors and whistles come from out in the mall and you freeze. Instead of jerking back in shock and alarm like you’d expect him to, Jongdae confounds you once again. He pulls back slowly, opening his eyes and lifting his hands to gently cup your face. It can’t have been more than fifteen minutes but in less than the time it takes to watch one episode of Friends he’s turned your world on its axis.

You and Jongdae smile at each other and both turn to wave at your group of friends, who are celebrating and clapping. Baekhyun eats from an enormous bag of popcorn, wearing his theater uniform. Jongin and Sehun take large handfuls and Hitch whoops with joy. Liz and Jane and Junmyeon are all smiling, and attempt to force some of the group away to give you privacy.

Jongdae’s hands flex on your waist. ‘I want to try. You’re everything I want, will you please give me the chance to be what you need?’ His voice is raspy and his lips are red and you can’t help but grin.

‘I just want you, okay?’ You fix his messed up hair with both hands and sigh with relief. ‘And for you to admit you like me.’

‘I far more than like you.’ Jongdae rolls his eyes and kisses you once more. ‘You just want me to say you’re right.’

With a laugh you ease yourself off your desk, standing close within his arms and bending to whisper in his ear. ‘I’m always right. I just love when you admit it.’

‘So,’ he starts with an amused quirk of an eyebrow. ‘Will you let me take you to dinner? Us, officially, on a date.’

Your chest feels as if it’s a balloon, expanding so rapidly it might burst. He looks so young and boyish and hopeful your heart feels like it turns to liquid gold. With a delighted grin you lean forward and press your lips to his again, unable to resist.

Joy swims in his irises as he holds you in his arms. He looks at you through his lashes, his lips tilting into lopsided smile. ‘Is that a yes, then?’

‘Yes,’ you answer. ‘Of course.’

‘How’s right now for you?’ He motions to the doors and your friends have finally been corralled to the side of the walkway, revealing an elaborately decorated table in the food court.

You gasp and grip his arm. Jun and Sehun hold the doors open and Jongdae escorts you out. A red tablecloth is spread out over the circular table. The chairs have added plush cushions and several candles have been lit. A bottle of wine and two glasses rest beside several plates of food. You recognize the pizza from Barada, the rest looks like a mix from the other restaurants in the food court. 

With high fives and hugs from your friends they finally leave you and Jongdae alone. Well, almost alone. It’s not a busy time at the mall, but there’s no way to avoid some of the customers turning to watch with amusement and curiosity as they pass by. You pay them no mind as Jongdae holds out your chair and helps you sit. 

The two of you fall back into conversation easy enough, aided by the enormous amount of food and how you no longer have to move your knees away when they bump under the table. Jongdae reaches for your hand and holds it, in full view. He stares at the joined digits with warmth before looking up at you. 

Doubt passes across his face, marring the beauty that contentment lends his features. ‘I don’t -’ he struggles. ‘I don’t know how to keep this much good in my life. I worry that I’m going to mess it up.’

Neither of you are the type to openly acknowledge such things. Merely the fact that he’s voicing his fears to you shows you he’s doing what he said - he’s trying, he wants to change. And truthfully so do you. 

‘I worried for the longest time that I’d be alone forever,’ you say softly. ‘I didn’t think I’d ever find someone who understood me or who could handle all my - well, you know how I am.’ 

Jongdae smiles then, lifting your joined hands to his lips to press a kiss to your skin. ‘I love who you are.’ 

Your eyes mist at that and you groan, trying to blink them back. ‘Good, because I love who you are too.’ With your free hand you reach for his, needing to hold both of them and all of him at once. Not wanting to give his overly-analytical mind a chance to override the fragile hope you’re both building tonight. ‘You know what to do when a computer overloads?’

He nods. ‘Of course. Often it’s just a simple matter of turning it off and on again.’

‘So,’ you say, lifting your shoulder in a shrug. ‘When we mess up or freak out or say the wrong thing, we’ll just start over again. As long as you want me and I want you, we’ll figure it out.’ 

Jongdae softens, his shoulders dropping and ease coming back into his eyes. ‘I didn’t know I was lagging until you jump started my life.’ He waggles his brows. It’s a gesture that’s all Baekhyun, and a pun so terrible that Junmyeon would be proud. You can’t help but laugh and squeeze his hands. 

‘I’ve got one more surprise,’ Jongdae says, reluctantly releasing one of your hands to pull two narrow slips of paper from his pocket. ‘Do you have any plans for Christmas?’ 

The tickets are in both your names. First class round trip from Seattle to Amsterdam. ‘Oh my - Jongdae, what is this? You and me in Amsterdam?’ 

‘I figured it was about time,’ he says with pride. 

You lean out of your chair and reach for him, tugging him closer to kiss him fully. Noise reaches you - clapping and cheering from the shops around the mall. When you look around you see Sehun and his girlfriend leaning out of Starlight Apparel. Chanyeol and Kyungsoo smiling and fist bumping as they work on closing up the shop. 

Hitch nudges Baekhyun from the theater booth and he jumps in excitement. And from Guardians Junmyeon leans on the counter, resting his chin in his hand, giving a thumbs up. 

You roll your eyes and wave. ‘We maybe should have gone somewhere outside the mall, huh?’

'No, I think this is perfect,’ Jongdae answers. He then covers your mouth with his and holds you so tight that it drowns out the chorus of cheering that echos around the space. 

#jongdae fanfic #chen fanfic #exo fanfic #exo angst #exo fluff #exo au

[tblpress]

The day before James Spader won an Emmy for his portrayal of Alan Shore, the morally dubious lawyer on “The Practice,” the actor was at the Franklin D. Murphy Sculpture Garden at UCLA, admiring the statues -- especially the female forms. “Look at the beautiful curve of her back, right at the base of her spine,” he said, noticing a dancer at the top of Robert Graham’s “Dance Columns.” “It’s the most perfect curve in nature.” Then Spader felt a breeze and started ambling in the other direction. “I just want to walk into it,” he explained. “Oh, my God, that is nice.”

The sculpture garden, a favorite hideaway of Spader’s, brought out in him a charming mix of formality and earthiness. When Gaston Lachaise’s bronze powerhouse “Standing Woman” caught his eye, the memories rushed out. “My sons, when they were growing up, always enjoyed her rather ample” -- here he used a word not proper for this newspaper but that means “derriere” -- “and her rather ample breasts,” he said. The boys, Sebastian, now 15, and Ellijah, 12, would come here with their scooters. “So you come around,” Spader explained, “and lo and behold, you have that beautiful” -- that word again -- “over there. You can hardly resist scootering by and giving her a poke. She has nice calves too. She’s ample everywhere. She’s spectacular.”

James Spader, network TV star: To anyone familiar with the 44-year-old actor and his work, it sounds almost absurd. With the outre air of highbrow naughtiness and deep but slightly distracted intelligence he’s been known for since his 1989 big-screen breakthrough in “sex, lies, and videotape,” Spader could hardly have cooked up a more improbable career move. And yet starting tonight on “Boston Legal,” the new David E. Kelley show spun off from “The Practice,” TV viewers will get a weekly taste of the actor who has specialized in finding an endearing human side to wealthy school bullies, creepy cocaine dealers and sensuous sadomasochists.

Spader headed toward a section of the UCLA campus blanketed by California sycamores that he and his sons, he said, often climb and swing from. “See that?” he asked, pushing a branch down. “This is a perfect perching spot. I’d do it more aggressively, but there’s people around and it makes them nervous.”

Making people nervous is, of course, a Spader trademark.

“When we first went to the network about James, they shrieked in horror,” Kelley said. “James Spader is not a network face. They didn’t think he was the kind of persona American audiences would want to welcome into the living room on a weekly basis. But once we began to focus on him, he was the only choice. What James does so well is there’s a nucleus to this character that is humane and decent. He manages to let that nucleus shine through even when he’s committing egregious, contemptible acts. You don’t know if you like him or not, but you can’t wait to see him next.”

Kelley hired Spader to play the brilliant agitator whose dirty ways forced the firm of Young, Frutt and Berluti on “The Practice” to close its doors last year, after ABC slashed the show’s budget, forcing Kelley to fire half his cast. Spader, whose most recent television appearance had been a guest spot on “Seinfeld” in 1997, was supposed to play Alan Shore only long enough to shake things up.

“The goal in the beginning was to bring new life to the show, and the luxury we had as storytellers was that we didn’t have to protect the character for the sake of a long series run,” Kelley said. “You can only do so many things with a character that are overtly unlikable and still keep him redeeming and a character that people want to tune into and cheer for. Since we didn’t have that burden, we could swing away with him.”

The high-end firm of Crane, Poole and Schmidt might prove a better fit for Shore, who will be surrounded by other conniving legal eagles, including William Shatner as his boss, Denny Crane, and colleagues played by a cast including Rhona Mitra, Lake Bell, Monica Potter and Mark Valley. Alan Shore, Kelley promised, will “defy this law firm as he defies the conventions of regular characters on television.”

“When we watch James, there’s a lot of unknown complicated stuff in his mind, but we don’t know what that stuff is,” said Steve Shainberg, who directed Spader in “Secretary” (2002). “There’s something very unusual about him we can’t put our finger on, but that makes it more intriguing and exciting -- God help us.”

Yet for all the unpredictability that comes across on screen, Spader’s “Boston Legal” co-stars described him as meticulous, exact and particular on set.

“He’s always looking for the truth of the moment, and he gets fidgety when it’s not there,” said Shatner, who won a guest actor Emmy for his portrayal of Crane on “The Practice.” “He becomes as recalcitrant as a donkey until he can find the right way to deliver a line. He never says a word that doesn’t seem to come from the organic character. That’s because James himself is a little weird. But we love him for it.”

The Un-Brat Pack career

Two days after Spader nabbed the top acting award for a drama series, beating out television heavy hitters James Gandolfini, Martin Sheen, Kiefer Sutherland and Anthony LaPaglia, he was on the “Boston Legal” set at Raleigh Studios in Manhattan Beach. Three episodes of the show were being shot simultaneously, and he had found no time yet to contemplate his win. The Emmy, he said, was tucked away in a corner full of boxes as Spader, who recently separated from his wife, Victoria, waited to move into a new house.

“I was surprised at how quickly I lost the feeling of stunned confusion and ignorant bliss and how quickly it turned into work and pragmatism,” Spader said. “The award doesn’t mean anything to me -- and I don’t mean that in a derogatory sense. I just haven’t had time to go there yet. Even when my older son called to congratulate me, we moved rather swiftly on to the subject of an upcoming concert” -- the Pixies at the Greek Theatre -- “and the best way to score tickets, which is a much more constructive conversation for us.”

Like other actors who started taking shape in the ‘80s, Spader could easily have cultivated a Brat Pack aura. Instead, he went for a more original brand of alienation, playing seemingly WASPY characters with a devious air and an anti-WASPY erotic charge to them. The roles he took in movies such as “White Palace” (1990), “The Music of Chance” (1993), “Stargate” (1994) and “Crash” (1996) didn’t always hit big but always set him apart -- none more so than “Secretary,” in which Spader played E. Edward Grey, a lawyer who draws his self-mutilating young secretary into a joyful S&M; relationship.

“James is very formal and specific and respectful,” said Maggie Gyllenhaal, his costar. “I remember when we shot a five-page scene in which Mr. Grey asks me not to cut myself anymore, James noticed and responded to everything I did: every breath I took, every shift of my gaze, every movement of my hand. His work is very specific.”

And that, according to Camryn Manheim, who starred on “The Practice” for eight years, can be intimidating. “After you saw ‘Secretary,’ wouldn’t you be scared to go on a date with him?” Manheim said, laughing.

“I was scared of him,” she added. “He’s weird and strange and eccentric, and I mean a lot of that in the very best way. He plays all of these sexually charged characters. He looks at you too hard, like he’s got your number. But behind all of that, he’s a very simple man who is very thoughtful and insightful about the world and humanity.”

Confronted with the praise of his colleagues, Spader took a deep breath and looked skeptical. “Maybe this thing they are describing is just obsessive-compulsive. It just seems to be what the job is, to just try and get the right intention of whatever ... you’re saying. Who is to say if whether what you end up tumbling toward is the right place when you’re standing on your feet in the middle of it? I’ve had a lot of fun acting, and that’s been the only reason to continue doing it.”

Spader, who dropped out of the 11th grade to pursue acting in New York, attributes his interest in acting to the love of storytelling he inherited from his family. The son of teachers Todd and Jean Spader, the actor grew up with two sisters on the campus of Phillips Academy, a fancy Massachusetts prep school. “My father was an English teacher and he taught literature and poetry, and my parents would read aloud and my grandparents read aloud,” Spader said. “My grandfather would write stories and we would make up little plays to read and perform during the holidays. There was always a tremendous amount of humor in all the households I spent time in.”

But there were other reasons for wanting to become an actor. “I started doing theater when I started thinking of nothing but girls,” he said. “I can’t imagine that the two don’t relate. I don’t mean to be glib. In sports and in many other areas, girls and boys are separated. But in theater, you’re all mixed in together. How can it get any better than that?”

Being an actor, for Spader, has never been about celebrity. The press tent for interviews with winners at the Emmys came as a surprise and an “indignity,” he said jokingly. When someone at the Governors Ball on Emmy night remarked how rare it is that Spader has succeeded at being famous and simultaneously living a private life, the actor was incredulous.

“I don’t try to be mysterious,” Spader explained later. “I just protect my private life very carefully. I don’t go out a great deal. To see and be seen I could care less about. I don’t go to see movies at big premieres. If I go out, I go to a quiet place for a meal or I might go to listen to live music with a whole lot of people who are more interested in listening to the music than who is sitting next to them at the show.”

His new TV world

Spader may be on his way to television stardom, but he has never followed a television show from beginning to end -- the way he hopes viewers of “Boston Legal” will.

“That’s something I had no concept of,” Spader said. “Working on the show, I was experiencing the same anticipation for what was going to happen from week to week as the people who were watching it. When you do a film, you know what is going to happen to your character from start to finish. I knew very little about Alan Shore at the end of last season, and I still don’t. I like that constant shift because what I like the most about all of this is the telling of the story.”

What he likes the least is the fuss. He refused to hire a stylist for Emmy night, picking out his tuxedo and shoes himself. He did not prepare a speech. When his name was announced, Spader charmed the crowd by complimenting the women in the room: “You’ve all made wonderful choices in shoes and dresses tonight, and you all look absolutely beautiful.”

“I realized I was going to have to put together some sentences quickly and I wasn’t going to be yet another person to make a music joke,” Spader said. “It worked so well when the gentleman from ‘Arrested Development’ made the singing reference, but I knew that that couldn’t be used again, and certainly not by me. I really don’t have any idea what ... I was saying. Certainly, during the course of the four hours that I was there I had spent enough time admiring women’s shoes and dresses and how well they filled them.”

But as offhand as he may be about that trophy, it’s fitting somehow that Spader will be in the rare position of starting his new gig already having won an Emmy for the role. To his surprise as much as anyone’s, the TV gods have smiled on him. “Does anybody have any illusions about the fact that the Emmys come at the beginning of the television season? The timing seems precise to me,” he said. “And I think it’s grand.”

#james spader #interview #2004 #james spader quote #la times #boston legal #the practice #alan shore #james spader press #link #article

[knamjooned]

ღ park jimin ღ part of the Soulmate Series

The tattoo told him you’d meet on a Friday. After searching for so long, Jimin was ecstatic to finally meet you. Unfortunately, it seemed you were promised to another.

Pairing: Baker!Jimin x Married?Reader Genre: Soulmate (tattoo) AU, Runaway Bride AU, romance Words: 7.1K (i was not expecting this lol) Warnings: unedited, teasing, dirty talk, unprotected sex, oral sex (f recieving), slight hair pulling kink?, creampie Notes: This is my first Jimin writing so....

Be the Venus to my night sky.

He needed to sleep, but his mind was awake and whirling with what ifs. For the last three years, Jimin had been searching for the person that matched with his soul. According to the dark mark on the right side of his ring finger, he would meet his fated match on a Friday. It had been easy to research. The symbol was the known feminine symbol of Venus. Relating to the days of the week, it connected to Friday.

That’s all he had to go on, which made the whole search almost pointless. Jimin had spent practically every Friday studying people a little more than he should. How would he know? He had heard stories of different things happening, sometimes a ‘spark’ or ‘intuition’. He hadn’t felt any of that, not yet. All the people he met, directly and indirectly, but nothing sparked his interest.

Of course, he felt attraction to some of them, physically and mentally, but after a date or two they became boring, missing something. Jimin was at the end of his rope, tired of obsessing over his fate when it came to love. Still, it lingered in the back of his head as he woke up late once more on a Friday morning.

Stretching his arms over his head, Jimin let out a moan, wrinkling his nose as he forced himself out of the bed, throwing the blankets off his nude form. He padded to the bathroom on bare feet to start his morning routine. After showering, brushing his teeth, getting dressed, and styling his hair, Jimin felt more awake as he wandered into his kitchen to grab something quick before his shift.

As he moved from his residence and onto the street, Jimin glanced at everyone passing. Was his soulmate one of these people? It was Friday, the day it was supposed to happen. But, honestly, it felt like any other day to him. His mood stayed gray as he made his way towards the bakery where he worked. Yawning, he reached for the door to enter the shop, but froze when he felt something. His breath catching, he slowly turned his head, letting his arm fall.

“It’s Friday. Today,” Jimin murmured to himself, swallowing down the butterflies that threatened to make his heart explode. They were here. Where? He blew out a breath as he continued to look across the street at the theater that was closed this early in the morning. He turned his head to look up and down the street, wondering if that something was about to hit him.

A sob caught his attention. Jimin turned toward the sad sound, intending to help whoever was in distress. He found himself staring at you, wearing a wedding gown that was dirtied at the bottom. You were standing against the wall, just around the corner into the alley next to the bakery, your face in your hands.

it was everything you had ever dreamed about. Your friends and family gathered with teary smiles, the beautiful flowers and music, and the gorgeous wedding dress you had planned to wear since you were seven. Your fiance was a good man, kind and smart, with a good head on his shoulders, as your father liked to say. 

Why, then, were you standing against a wall, your one-of-a-kind wedding dress splotched with mud on the bottom, with your head in your hands? Why had the tears come, and why didn’t they stop?

Because it wasn’t love. And that, above everything else, was what you yearned for. There had been no explosion, no epiphany, nothing to tell you he was The One, your soulmate. You had met him on a Friday, yes, but it was in passing. You had been in the same place at the same time, where a friend had pointed him out. You hadn’t even spoken to him until two weeks after!

No, you didn’t believe your fiance was your soulmate. 

Finally, your sobs began to quiet as you wiped your eyes and sniffled. You felt a presence near you, and saw a shadow at your feet before looking up. Blinking, you stared back at the man who was staring at you. You must look ridiculous, with a red, puffy face and a messy wedding dress. It took a moment for you to realize the inner part of your arm was warming. You looked down and saw the tattoo signaling the day of ‘Friday’ glowing faintly. 

This was it.

“Are you okay?” His soft voice and concerned eyes soothed your soul, making it so much more easier to calm down. You shakily smiled at him, nodding. Silence fell between the two of you as you studied each other.

“My mark is warm,” you murmured, throat still slightly raw from crying. You cleared your throat and lifted your arm, showing off the mark.

Jimin’s eyes slid over to your mark. After a moment, he lifted his hand and you saw the tiny mark on the side of his finger glowing as well. Slowly, our eyes met once again.

“Do.. .do you want to come in? The bakery, where I work,” Jimin added quickly, his cheeks red as he gestured toward the door around the corner. Charmed, you felt a warm smile pull at your lips, the first in a while, and followed him into the bakery.

There was a couple sitting in the back corner, and one person manning the counter. All three stared at you as you followed Jimin toward a door near the counter, obviously leading to the back. You swallowed hard, face red, humiliation weighing heavy on your shoulders.

The break room had a few small, round tables with a handful of chairs. There was also a refrigerator, a television mounted on the wall, and a microwave on a counter. Jimin sat next to you at one of the tables, trying to study you without seeming weird. You had your arms on the table, head down on them. He waited for a few moments, waiting for you to speak to him, but when it was obvious you weren’t going to, he took a deep breath.

“I’m Jimin.” 

You lifted your head finally, your tired eyes bloodshot from your tears. A smile lifted the corner of your lips, though, and Jimin took it as a good sign. You told him your name, smoothing out the billowing skirt of your wedding dress. 

“I’m not married,” you state suddenly. 

“I wasn’t going to assume,” Jimin replied with a crooked smile. “But something was happening recently?” He wanted to ask much more, but it seemed to be an already delicate situation, considering your attire and your soulmate bound. You looked away, lips falling into a frown as you placed your palms on the table. Your fingers begin to tap in a generic rhythm as you swallowed. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.”

“I almost was married,” you said softly, turning your eyes back to him. You leaned forward again, chin on your hand as your elbow propped your face. “Two years of dating, a  year of planning, and then I was standing at the end of the aisle. I couldn’t do it, though. My mark didn’t respond to him.”

“I’m sorry,” Jimin murmured, his heart beating fast. He wasn’t what you wanted, it seemed. You had a life, had fallen in love, and the bound with him had ruined it for you. Guilt began to sink deep into his bones, his chest hurting. “This is my fault...”

“What?” You frowned, sitting straight and shaking your head firmly. “You had nothing to do with this, I don’t even know you. Don’t put the blame on yourself.”

“The bound. The mark. I ruined your relationship.” Jimin sat back, tears coming to his eyes. He blinked at them, embarrassed by his reaction. Still, he couldn’t let go of the fact that he had caused you pain. His soulmate, the one who was perfect for him.

“Did you put the mark on me?” you asked, reaching out a hand for his. He let you, turning his palm up so he could hold your hand. Jimin shook his head, unable to meet your eyes. Your hand was comforting, though, calming his heavy heart slightly. “Then it’s not your fault. Plus, it wasn’t going to work out anyway. I didn’t want to marry him.”

Jimin sniffed and looked at you with brows furrowed in confusion. You both pulled your hands back.

“Then why did you plan everything?” Jimin studied your body language, the way you bit your lip and looked away, the way you wrung your hands together on your lap. Had you truly not wanted to marry this person, or was it an excuse. He cleared his throat to clear this thoughts. He was stressing over something he had no control over. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say something wrong.”

“It’s fine, I understand why you’re asking.” You took a deep breath. Playing with the material of your white dress, you answered him. “I wanted to be in love. He’s a good guy, with a nice family and a decent job to live a good life. He treated me well. It seemed perfect. I realized I didn’t love him, the way I want to love someone I marry.”

“And now?”

“I ran away,” you replied, a chuckle escaping your lips. You grinned at Jimin, as if you realized how silly this all was. “I was supposed to be married two hours ago. I turned my phone off as I rook a cab from the church. They’re probably worried sick about me.”

“Probably,” Jimin replied, grinning back. You giggled more, then gave a full belly laugh that made your eyes wet with tears. As he laughed with you, Jimin felt his worries lift off his shoulders just a bit, the guilt disappearing slowly. “Do you need anything? I don’t want to intrude, but you should call your family.”

“They’re going to hate me,” you murmured, wiping the tears away as your mood sobered.

“There is no reason to hate you. You can stay here while you do it. I need to start my shift,” Jimin sighed. The lunch rush was in full swing by now. “Let me know if you need anything?”

“I will,” you replied. You both sat there a moment longer, then stood up at the same time. Jimin stepped close, wanting to show you some kind of comforting gesture, but you beat him to it, wrapping your arms around his waist. Pleasantly surprised, he returned the hug as you buried your face into his chest. He smiled into your hair. “Thank you,” you murmured into his shirt.

It turned out your family was relieved about your safety, as well as your bravery for not marrying someone you didn’t truly love. It was a surprise, to say the least, although his family was pretty upset about the wasted money and time spend on the wedding. Your cousin brought clothes to the bakery, and you happily went to the bathroom and stripped the unlucky wedding dress off your body. 

You and your cousin stared at the dress on the floor of the bathroom, thinking silently about what to do with it. It was beautiful, and pretty expensive, but you couldn’t keep it. You would take it back to the store, but it was muddied.

“Well. Now what?” your cousin asked, looking at you questioningly. She raised her eyebrows. Still staring at the dress, let out a large sigh.

“I can’t keep it. Can I donate it?” you asked.

“Why not? It’s a little dirty, but it’s still perfectly fine to wear for someone else.”

“You’re right. Donation. Maybe it’ll be lucky for someone else.” You sent your cousin a grin as she gathered it up in her arms. The ball of fabric was large, but easy enough to carry to her car. 

As she went to do that, you left the bathroom and saw that Jimin was speaking to a customer at the counter, smiling happily as he handed over a box of pastries. Your mark warmed as you took in how handsome he was. His soft voice and kind eyes hit a chord within you. You knew you had gotten lucky with this one.

After the customer left with their treats, Jimin took a deep breath, his brows furrowed with deep thinking. What was he thinking about? Was he worried about you? About something else that had nothing to do with you? As these thoughts tumbled through your mind, Jimin caught you looking from the corner of his eye.

“Ah, everything okay?” he asked, straightening his back a bit. He wiped at his apron, although nothing was on there, and walked toward you. He stopped at the corner of the counter, where you tiredly leaned. 

“Yep,” you said softly, a small smile on your face. He nodded, returning your smile. You cleared your throat and stood straight. “I’m.. not sure what to do now. I can’t go home.”

“Why not?” he asked, frowning with a tilt of his head.

“The condo is in his name,” you stated with a shrug of your shoulders. “My cousin will get my things from him.”

“Ah.” Jimin looked down at his hands, messing with the apron. After a moment, he looked up. “Do you have a place to go? To stay while... you figure things out?”

“Nope,” you answered with another shrug. He blinked at you, plump lips opening to say something, then closing with hesitation. You looked away, your face heating with embarrassment. This was all unplanned, and now you were beginning to regret it. “I can’t believe I fucked everything up.”

Jimin immediately stepped forward and gently took your chin in his fingers, turning your face to his. You stared into his eyes, getting lost in the kindness swirling in them. 

“Please don’t blame yourself, you did what you thought was best.”

“I know,” you murmured, tears dotting your eyes. You blinked rapidly, trying to make them disappear. Without thinking too much, you stepped forward. His fingers fell from your chin as you laid your cheek against his shoulder and wrapped your arms around his waist. Jimin did the same, leaning his head against yours.

The ringing of the bell above the door reminded you where you were standing. Jimin and you reluctantly broke apart as your cousin entered the bakery. A few people were glancing at the drama that was happening with you, but otherwise no one was paying attention.

“Called him, he’s gathering your stuff. You sure you don’t want to talk to him? His family may be pissed, but he’s entirely understanding. Hurt, heartbroken, yes, but understanding.”

“Of course he is,” you murmured, covering your eyes with your palms. You took a deep breath as you kept tears at bay. You dropped your hands when you had more control over your emotions. “I can’t now, but maybe soon.”

A throat cleared at the register. Jimin reached out and squeezed your hand quickly, then hurried over to the customer. You turned back to your cousin, who glanced at Jimin an wiggled her eyebrows. 

“Soulmate, huh? He’s cute. Sweet. Gonna stay with him?”

“What do you mean?” you squeaked, eyes wide. You knew what she meant. She just stared at you, waiting for an answer. “I don’t know... can I do that? I mean, we literally just met two hours ago.”

“I don’t see why not. Did you ask him?”

“No,” you murmured, chewing on your lip nervously. You glanced back at your soulmate, who was leaning on the counter to speak to a little girl who had just entered with what appeared to be her grandmother. “Oh, wow, that is adorable.”

“You can share a hotel with me, but I’m not sure my boyfriend would be too happy.” Your cousin grinned at you, knowing full well her boyfriend wouldn’t mind at all. Still, you wanted to spend time with Jimin, get to know him.

“No! No, I’ll ask. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

He had brought you to his place during a quick break, showed you around, then reluctantly left. Before leaving, though, you had given him a tight hug, burying your face into his chest as you murmured a thank you. His whole body had warmed, and he found his arms holding you tightly as he closed his eyes. You in his arms had felt like heaven. He had left you to take a nap, obviously mentally exhausted from the excitement of the last 10 hours. 

Throughout the rest of his shift, Jimin was distracted, noticed by some customers and a coworker. Flustered, he tried to play it off as nothing, but his coworker had seen you leave with him. After prodding for information, Jimin told his friend that you were his newly found soulmate. The coworker had left him alone about it afterwards, knowing this wasn’t something to joke about at the moment.

He found you sleeping on his bed, curled up on your side, holding the blankets like one would a stuffed animal. It was cute as hell, your face more relaxed than he’d seen it all day. Jimin leaned against the door frame, hands in his pockets, the corner of his lips pulled up in a soft, amused smile. It was late evening, should he wake you? As he thought, you took a deep breath as you stretched your body, arms over your head, and sat up. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes.

“Hey,” he greeted, not moving from his place. 

“Hey.” You blinked at him, taking in what was in front of you. He swallowed and straightened, clearing his throat as you stared at him. You flushed and looked away, a shy smile on your lips. “Sorry, I forgot what had happened for a moment. Um... thanks for letting me hang out here for a while.”

“Stay as long as you want,” he replied. He wanted to make sure you understood how completely honest he was being. “I know things are... um...”

“Fucked up right now?”

“Yeah,” Jimin chuckled. You put your feet on the ground beside the bed, then stood up “I mean it, though, you can stay as long as you need. I’ll stay on the couch.”

“You’d let a stranger stay in your bed? In your home?” 

“You’re not a stranger,” he murmured, using your name. How could he not offer his soulmate everything she needed? 

“All the same...” you moved to stand in front of him. He stood still as you lifted your hand, the one with the mark, letting it hover near his chest as you hesitated. Jimin watched you as your eyes flickered to his, and then to his chest. You placed your palm over his heart. He wasn’t sure what to do, so he didn’t move a muscle. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he whispered, bringing his own hand with the tiny mark to lay on top of yours. As you looked into each other’s eyes, Jimin leaned forward slowly, not able to resist the perfect position he was in to kiss you. You let him come to you.

When his lips pressed against yours tentatively, Jimin waited for you to push him away or even hesitate, anything that would let him know you weren’t ready for this. Instead, you tilted your head and deepened the kiss, your hand fisting in his shirt over his heart. Jimin’s hands fell to your waist, surprised but pleased at your response. He closed his eyes, savoring the taste of you as your lips molded gently together. A soft sigh came from you, causing him to pull back immediately.

“I’m sorry, that was... I mean, not the right time, yeah?” Jimin chuckled nervously, stepping back out of your reach. His body burned with desire, wanting to be pressed against you, pleasuring you. Jimin’s face flushed and he cleared his throat. His small mark burned pleasantly against his finger. He was too embarrassed to look you in the eye.

“No, don’t be sorry!” you hurriedly replied, stepping closer. You placed both palms on his shoulders, making him stay in place. The kiss had crossed the line of doubt in your mind. It felt too good not to be the right thing, not with your mark throbbing with certainty. A small smirk appeared on his lips, but he still couldn’t look you in the eye.

“I promise I won’t make any moves on you while you’re here,” Jimin softly said, taking a deep breath and lifting his head.

“You take that back, because I really enjoyed that kiss,” you teased, a grin appearing on your face. He blinked at you, opening his mouth a few times before a bashful grin came to his own lips. “Jimin, it is soon, I understand but... this feels... right. Yeah? Is your mark burning like mine? Not painfully, but... pleasantly, a soft, warm feeling of perfection.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. He used his own hands to pull yours away from his chest, holding them between your bodies. “Still, though, it’s... soon. At least give us 24 hours to get to know one another.”

“Fine,” you agreed. “In 24 hours, you’ll be begging to kiss me.”

Jimin’s eyes widened as you patted his cheek and walked around him to his kitchen. You felt his gaze follow you as you turned the corner. Looking over your shoulder before he disappeared from view, you saw him gulp.

Why did he put himself in this awkward situation? Jimin glanced over at your sleeping body, your back facing him as you hugged a pillow close to your chest. He did his best to keep as far to the edge as possible, but you had moved toward the middle of the large bed while you slept. Jimin laid on his back, one arm under his head and the other lying on his stomach. 

Now you were pressing yourself against his side, your attractive behind pressed against the outside of his thigh. Swallowing hard, he gripped at the shirt covering his stomach, resisting the urge to just turn toward you and hold you close. The small soulmate tattoo burned in response to his blood moving toward his lower body, his member hardening as the time passed. 

Totally inappropriate, Jimin thought to himself, biting his lip. He kept his eyes purposefully toward the ceiling, focusing on the fan turning slowly above him. He removed the hand from behind his head and rested it beside his body, almost hanging off the edge. His other hand twitched, and Jimin ignored the want to move it downward to relieve some of the ache. 

In 24 hours, you’ll be begging to kiss me. Your words repeated in his mind. He had lost that bet - it was only five hours in and he was already desperate to kiss you once again. Making a decision, Jimin slowly stood from the bed, freezing for a moment as you let out a sigh and a hum. When he was sure you were still asleep, he tiptoed to the living room and laid on the couch. Eventually, Jimin’s eyes closed, leading to a restless sleep that was filled with fantasies of you teasing him with your words and the tips of your fingers.

With the sunlight peeking into the room through the curtains, you turned onto your back, staring at the ceiling with a frown, your foggy mind trying to figure out why this didn’t feel like your bed. After a moment, your face relaxed and you blew out a relieved breath. It hadn’t been a dream - you were in your soulmate’s sweatpants and t-shirt and bed.

You realized at that moment that the rest of the bed was empty. Your frown returned as you sat up, looking on either side of you. You stood and shuffled out of the bedroom, down the hall, and then stopped when you saw Jimin sitting up on the couch. He was wearing what he had worn to bed last night, pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. A mug of something warm was in his hands as he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. His eyes caught yours, and you noticed they were still tired as hell.

“Why are you on the couch? I thought we agreed to share the bed?”

“You kept pushing me to the edge,” he replied, smirking.

“Oh... I guess I’m used to sleeping on my own,” you shrugged bashfully, pulling at the bottom of your shirt. “Sorry I kicked you out of your own bed...”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jimin put the mug on the coffee table and leaned back, stretching his arms over his head as he yawned. “My shift at the bakery doesn’t start until this afternoon. I’ll be closing, so I’ll be back late.” He patted the cushion next to him on the couch. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah... honestly, the best I’ve slept in a while.” You took up his offer, sitting next to him. Jimin watched you with a soft smile. You felt his eyes on you, your mark warming as you scooted closer. Your thigh touched his and you looked into his eyes. “Is the 24 hours up yet?”

Jimin blinked at you, his lips parting as if he was going to say something, then he looked away, cheeks turning pink as he took his mug back into his hands. He took a sip as you waited for his answer, grinning.

“Not yet. Not until after the sun goes down.”

“Unfortunate. I’m looking really cute in your clothes.” You heard his chuckle as you stood and shuffled to the kitchen. 

He gave you space as you dealt with your obligations, including calling your family once again to tell them where you were, contacting your ex-fiance to talk about things, and negotiating with your ex-fiance’s parents about what you owed them related to the wedding. While you were in the bedroom most of the day, Jimin worked on a recipe he had been working on for a new treat in the bakery.

In the early afternoon, as he toyed with the cinnamon and raisin bread recipe his grandmother had shared with him, you came out of the bedroom. He immediately dropped everything and came to you when he saw how red and puffy your eyes were. Jimin took your hands in his and placed his forehead on yours.

“Is everything okay?” he asked quietly, wondering if there was anything he could do to take the sadness away from your beautiful eyes.

“Just emotional. It’s fine. It’ll be okay.” You sent him a thankful smile as you pulled away, turning toward the kitchen. “How’s the tweaks coming? Does it taste even better than before?”

“I think I’m missing something related to the cinnamon... not sure what it is though. Could be the way I’m mixing the ingredients, or the amount... I’ve changed it at least five times, but it’s not doing what I want it to do.” Jimin pouted as he put his hands on the counter where all his ingredients were scattered. He stared at the mess for a long while.

“Maybe the sixth time will be what you’re looking for,” you reassured him. He felt your presence near him, but still jumped when your arms wrapped around his waist. His breathing almost stopped as you laid your cheek against his back. Heart thudding in his chest, Jimin didn’t move out of fear of breaking the romantic spell surround the both of you. After a few moments, you stepped away, unwrapping your arms and letting out a sigh. “You’re taking this 24 hours thing seriously, aren’t you?”

Jimin turned slowly, worried about what kind of look you were giving him, then leaned against the counter when he was fully facing you. Instead of any anger or frustration, you were grinning with amusement. He felt the anxiety he had been feeling float away.

“It’s the right thing to do,” he insisted. Jimin couldn’t resist putting a hand to your cheek, though. His thumb softly moving over your lips. His stomach fluttered, happy with your reaction. Your eyes had darkened and your breathing had stuttered. “But I think you’re going to win.”

“Huh?” you blink, seemingly loosing focus. He laughed, pulling his hand away. A sly smile came to your lips. “Oh, you’re gonna beg to kiss me? Not gonna last the next five hours?”

“I can last another five hours of not kissing you,” Jimin mumbled as he lifted his chin defiantly. “Maybe you’ll be the one to beg me to kiss you.”

“Can’t wait to see what happens,” you replied. Giggling, Jimin stepped around you.

“I need to get ready for work. I’ll be home pretty late tonight, probably midnight.”

“Wait, Jimin?”

“Yeah?” He turned to face you.

“It’s still okay if I stay here for a few more nights?”

“Absolutely. As long as you want.”

“I promise to pay part of your rent for the time I’m here.”

“You don’t have to, but I have a feeling you won’t be deterred.” 

“Nope.”

You couldn’t believe it, always being able to hold back to win any sort of contest, but here you were, waiting impatiently for Jimin to get home. You sat on the couch, chewing on your lips, drumming your fingers on your knee. You glanced at the clock. He’d be home in a few minutes. You groaned, putting your head in your hands. 

You had bet that he’d be the one begging you for a kiss, but here you were, ready to jump on him as soon as he walked through the door. Everything was going fine, until he sent you a sweet and sexy text message during his last break.

jimin: i can’t wait to hear you beg for a taste of me

You didn’t think the shy, sweet man could have it in him to send something like that. It was a nice surprise, which had your mind racing with possible scenes that may play out later. Now, with only moments before he returned, you were a ball of nerves and arousal, your panties already damp from your fantasies.You squeezed your thighs together, but nothing soothed the wanton ache between your legs.

Would he be shy in the bedroom? Would he be the one to initiate things? Either way, you couldn’t wait to see what would happen. His full lips, strong hands, and toned body seemed to full your sexual thoughts without anything else. His compassion and kindness only added to the attraction, the fire.

You stood and started to pace in front of the door. You heard keys jingle, then the deadbolt turning, causing you to freeze facing the door. Your heart beat double time when you saw Jimin step into the apartment. He didn’t acknowledge you as he shut the door and locked it behind him. You cleared your throat.

“Why are you still up?” he asked, frowning. He stepped toward you, but you beat him, walking to him and putting your hands on his shoulders. His eyes widened as you pushed him against the door, then pressed your chest against his. For a long moment, you stared at each other, studying the other’s face. “Oh,” he finally said breathlessly. 

“Kiss me? Please?” you asked in a whispered, face flushing in defeat. You sighed, leaning close but not close enough to kiss him. “You win. I’m begging you, not the other way around. Please?”

“Absolutely,” he breathes. For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t make a move, but just as the thought passes through your mind, his lips tentatively brushes against yours. While his lips were soft and innocent, his hold around your waist told you he was as desperate as you. He kissed you as if it was your first time, moving slowly over your lips, while also pressing his jean-covered cock against the apex of your thighs.

“Jimin, stop teasing, kiss me like you mean it.” You lifted your arms to neck, holding his face close.

“So demanding,” he teased, smiling against your lips. He opened his mouth just enough to nibble at your lip, his tongue running along the bottom. A whimper came from your throat. You reached out your tongue, brushing against his as it swiped against your lower lip once again. Jimin let out a moan, tilting his head and dipping his tongue into your mouth. He explored your taste, and you clung to him, letting Jimin bear your weight against him.

“More? We can do more, right?” you panted, pulling your lips away from his. Both of your cheeks were flush with desire. He nodded earnestly before kissing your jaw and down your neck. Reluctantly pulling away, you took his hand and practically dragged him back to his bedroom. As soon as you were in the room, he pulled you back into his arms, kissing you deeply, hands running over your body.

“Undress,” he panted as he placed open mouthed kisses on your neck. You had to pull away to grab the hem of your shirt. You dragged it over your head just as he did the same. Your mouths hungrily pressed together once again as you both fumbled with the button on your jeans. You both ended up tumbling onto the bed laughing and kissing as you awkwardly tried to push your jeans off your legs and onto the floor. Immediately after, your underwear were next to the jeans.

Finally, you were both naked. Jimin nipped and sucked at your skin as you both crawled to the pillows to lay comfortably. He automatically settled between your legs, his member pressed against your wet folds. You sighed against his lips, shifting your hips to brush his cock against you.

“Slow down, we should slow down,” Jimin gasped, pushing up onto his hands, so only his lower half touched you. You pouted wrapping your hands around his neck to try and pull him back into the kiss. He chuckled and resisted, nipping and soothing your lip with his tongue. 

“Why? I’m ready. I want you inside me, I want you to fill me up.” The words falling from your mouth were a surprise to you, usually not so forward with your thoughts. Still, you flexed your hips to search for some relief as his cock slid against your wetness. Jimin groaned and put a hand on your hip, holding it tightly to keep you still.

“You’re going to kill me.” He pressed his hips into yours to keep them still as he kissed you some more, slowly, getting to know the parts of your lips that would make you whimper for more. When he found those, he moved once again to your jaws and then your neck, spending time sucking and licking different spots. 

“Jimin!” you cried as you felt his cock twitch against your opening. Your hips jerked, the slight friction of him against you not enough. 

“You taste so good,” he murmured into your neck. His hand on your hip finally moved upward, cupping your breast and pulling at your nipple. His mouth found the other one, and sucked greedily, using his teeth and tongue to pull cries from you.

“You’re such a damn tease,” you cried, hands plunging into his hair. He switched his hand’s attention to the nipple that had been in his mouth, then started sucking on the other nipple. You cursed and tugged at his hear, causing him to moan deeply. You wrapped your legs around his waist, causing the head of his cock to press into you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jimin gasped, pulling off your breast. He sat up on his knees and pulled himself out. You whined, reaching out to him, but he took your hands in his and planted them on either side of your head. A devilish grin pulled at his lips as he deliberately kept his cock from touching you. “Am I making you feel good?”

“Yes, absolutely,” you hurriedly said, lifting your head to nip at his mouth. He matched it with his own, then moved down to meet your neck to suck, leaving more marks. One hand slid down your body, over your breasts, your navel, and through the bush of hair between your legs. The other threaded your fingers into his, holding tightly.

He cupped your mound with his hand, his mouth still against your neck. Jimin’s thumb found your clit, rubbing lightly against it. You groaned, hips jerking, and he pressed harder, doing figure eights with his thumb.

“How many of my fingers can you take?” His words barely made it through the fog of your mind.

“I dunno, wanna see?” you replied breathlessly, eyes catching his. He gazed into them as he slid one finger inside of you, his finger stopping it’s movements for the moment. You sucked in a breath as he slowly began to finger fuck you. You heard how wet you were, the squelching sound obscene to your ears. “More. Another one. Please.”

“Two fingers?” Jimin asked, watching your reactions as he slid the second one in. You closed your eyes, lifting your hips slightly. He curled his fingers and started to thrust faster, hitting the spongy spot that made it feel even better than before. “Open your eyes, baby. Please, I need you to see me.”

You did as he asked as he thrust a third finger into you. You gasped, feeling the ball of pleasure pulling tighter in your belly. Jimin leaned forward and gave you a messy open-mouthed kiss as your hips moved along with his fingers. You looked into one another’s eyes as he finger fucked you, forehead against forehead with his hand holding yours near your head.

“Did he make you feel like this?”

“No,” you breathed, tightening against his fingers. He kissed you once more and pulled his fingers out. You reached out toward him with your free hand, but he pushed it away as he let go of your other. You trembled under him as he kissed over your neck, chest, and then dipped his tongue into your navel. Anticipation made you bit your lip as he kissed over the hair on your mound and spread your lower lips with his fingers. 

“So pretty,” he murmured, pressing his own lips against your opening, leaving light, loving kisses. You shuddered, knowing you were so close, yet so far away from an unbelievable orgasm. Your fingers tangled in his dark tresses as he licked a strip from back to from of your opening. 

“Fuck!” you cried, legs shaking around his ears. The whimpers wouldn’t step, your voice hoarse from the moans of pleasure. His used his tongue to swipe kitten licks over you. You cried out his name as the ball of pleasure tightened even more. 

Jimin’s head was swimming with the scent of you in his nose, the taste of you in his mouth. He licked against your folds, his thumb finding your clit once again, stimulating the little bud as his mouth worked. He believed you when you said no one else made you feel this way. Jimin needed to make sure it stayed that way, putting everything he could into physically showing you how much he loved your taste.

A tug on his hair made him groan against your wet folds, his name falling from your lips. You finally pulled away, happily licking your fluids from his lips, grinning at you from between your legs. You panted, pupils blown out and looking dazed. 

“Please fuck me,” you whimpered, tugging at his hair again. His cock twitched at your begging. Hearing you plead for him to fuck you was his new favorite kink. He slid up your body and kissed your lips, hoping you could taste yourself, enjoying it as much as him.

“I love hearing that, I love knowing you want me so bad,” he murmured against your lips. 

“You have no idea,” you replied with a teasing grin. “I’m so close to coming, I want you to come with me.”

“What are you doing to me?” he groaned, sitting up on his knees and gripping his cock. He rubbed the head against your folds, getting your juices all over himself. You twitched and jerked, cursing. “I want to feel you completely. I didn’t plan for this, you didn’t, I’m sure, but no condom. Thoughts?”

“Jimin, I trust you, please trust me. Put your dick in me, please!” you groaned.

He couldn’t deny your request any longer. He pressed forward, letting out a hiss as he slid all the way to the hilt. He leaned forward, and you wrapped yourself around him, kissing his face and neck. Jimin caught your lips with his as he flexed his hips. He wasn’t extremely large, but he was nicely average, and from the noises you were making, it was the perfect fit.

“Move with me, baby,” he murmured, rolling his hips against yours. You matched his movements, lifting your hips to meet his thrusts. All the while you kissed one another, tongue’s wrestling and teeth nipping. His mouth landed on your neck again, licking over the marks he had made before and added even more. 

“I’m close, I’m sorry, please come with me!” you cried. Jimin laughed against your neck, flexing his hips harder. 

“Don’t worry. Are you okay with me going fast and hard?”

“Please?”

“Shit. Fuck. Yes.”

Pulling away enough to use his hands as leverage on the bed, he pulling all the way out and drove deep inside you. He repeated the action over and over, moving a hand between your bodies to stimulate your clit. Each time he sank into you, Jimin felt his own pleasure getting closer and closer. When he felt your walls tightening on his dick, he angled into you deeper, his movements becoming sloppy. You cried out and held him tightly as your body shuddered, squeezing him just enough to make him call out your name. 

His hips jerked as he filled you with his cum, thrusting shallowly as he came down from his high. When he was fully spent, Jimin held himself over you, forehead to forehead, not wanting to hurt you. You were both sweating, the drops dripping onto the bed. Breathing hard, he brushed his lips against yours, closing his eyes. After a moment, Jimin had to roll to the side, his strength finally giving out.

“Let me hold you, come here,” he mumbled, catching his breath as you snuggled into his chest. It was wet with sweat, but you didn’t care, your body still trembling. He kissed your forehead, and you kissed his chest. “I think I won.”

“Yeah... I don’t mind.”

#bts #bts soulmate au #bts jimin #park jimin #m: jimin #t: fic #fic: jimin #fic: soulmate series

[intoxicatingimmediacy]

Partners S1: E5 Daveed Diggs and Rafael Casal

Daveed & Rafael are best friends and artists who have collaborated across film, theater, music, and poetry. Their partnership extends beyond the normal boundaries of friendship, and the normal boundaries of a working relationship.

Rafael: There's sort of a before we met and an after we met and no gradient. Daveed: Yeah. Rafael: I don't remember— Daveed: It's like, I don't even know this guy and then this is the person I work with on everything. Rafael: And I'm pretty sure I said to him, I was like, "This is my best friend." Daveed: I'm Daveed Diggs. Rafael: I'm Rafael Casal. Daveed: And we're buddies.

Listen to it here

Full transcript under the cut...

Daveed: I'm not sure when we met or when we were formally introduced, but surely at some sort of poetry event, because we were both sort of coming up in that scene. I was older, I was four years older than him. Rafael: My freshman year, his senior year. That's a lifetime apart in high school. My memory of him in high school is Diggs always had a very nonchalant way about him. I don't know that this paints it accurately, but this is a representation of it, at some point Diggs was like, "I'm just wearing pajama pants to school every day," and I'm sure that wasn't the whole time, I got this little window of it. Daveed: It was the whole time. All of high school, for sure. Rafael: That's amazing. Daveed: It was as a rule. But we would see each other at these poetry events and he was really, really good at writing poems. A way more sort of focused writer than I had ever been in that situation, you know? So I remember that. I remember thinking that here's a person that's actually better than me at this thing and that's pretty cool. Daveed: Then over the years, also after when I was in college, when I'd come back home for the summers, sometimes I'd drop in just to watch poetry things that were happening, sort of check in on the scene. He was the dude, he had become that guy. Rafael: I remember that so differently. I barely finished high school in a very nontraditional way and then went off and did this show on HBO, Def Poetry.

Rafael: I came back and had just enough money saved up with some friends to open a very dungeon-y recording studio and we were looking for other artists. We didn't have anybody else recording at the studio. So a mutual friend of ours, one of his close friends who was the older brother of one of my close friends was like, "You know Daveed raps?" Daveed: Yeah, we really got set up on a rapper play date. So our friend Justin was like, "You guys should work together. You're two of my favorite rappers." I was like, "Yeah, yeah." And he played me his stuff and it was really good. I didn't have anywhere to record, I was recording songs in my Mom's closet, in the little closet in my room. I hadn't been in a lot of studio spaces, so I was like, oh, a studio? Rafael: I don't know that this qualified as an actual studio. Daveed: I didn't know that yet because I hadn't been there yet. Rafael: But I don't think we had any idea what meeting each other and actually getting time was going to be like. Daveed: Finally we started. It was like, this is the song we're going to work. We had listened through some beats and it was like, "Let's work on this one." I just started writing and, yeah, it happened really fast. At some point we looked up and everyone else was gone and it was just the two of us in there and we were still making music. Rafael: We just made music until the sun came up and began the ritual that day of going to the car at 8:00 AM and playing everything that you'd recorded and then dragging your body home to sleep and kind of doing it all over again. Daveed: I'd been making music for many, many years and it had never been that much fun before. Rafael: Suddenly there's this person that writes a verse in five minutes and can nail it in a take. And at the time we were working with some random singers and stuff that couldn't ever sing the line and rappers who took an hour to get a verse down. It was just like, "Wow, this is so easy," and then we'd just have songs done.

Daveed: As a young artist early on when I'm still trying to figure things out and creating is hard for me, being around somebody who just creates all the time, it's addictive. I don't have the technical skill set that Rafa has, so he was so fast in Pro Tools. He was all of these things that I just would have to labor over and then all of that stuff became really impressive too. Once, as we started working together and I became aware that he had taught himself all of these things, nobody ever really showed him how to do anything, it seemed like... and he was editing videos and shooting things, the whole range of what it takes to be a music artist out in the world he had taught himself to do. I didn't really know anybody like that. Rafael: Over the next four or five years we recorded hundreds of songs- Daveed: So many more songs- Rafael:...that no-one's heard. Daveed:...that no-one will ever hear. Rafael: Legit hundreds and wrote a play together and then we lived together and it was like, oh man. When we're around each other this much it's like we have too many ideas. It was the right amount of proximity for the full version of creativity that we had always... we had thought we'd already tapped it and we did so much shit that year. I think artistically we were doing great. Daveed: Yeah, we're definitely making it and we were definitely broke. Rafael: People knew us. Daveed: It was just a combination of the thing, it was like- Rafael: We got on the radio. Daveed: This is also great, listen to how he says we. Because really Rafa was known, right? He had a song that got played on Clear Channel radio and then got named one of the Bay Area Freshmen '10. Rafael: Best new whatever. Daveed: He got named one of those, but Rafa never would take that for himself, it was always us. We are. We played those shows together and would end up making no money on these gigs because he would bring me and a band, four or five other people to play music, use the entire fee to fly us out to wherever, Georgia and play a show where no-one would make any money but we got to play a show. He was doing that from jump for so long. Hrishikesh: Why was that how you would always do it? Rafael: Well because, one, I don't, I'm uncomfortable with I statements. Daveed: Berkeley is shit. Rafael: Berkeley is shit. I'm not good to roll with I statements, they feel self indulgent. I was raised to not feed an ego that feels constantly eager for food. What I love about that period is we were all pushing to little different degrees of success. We're just kind of weirdos almost in a scene that we kind of make sense in. They didn't understand Diggs very much at all, I feel like the more commercial Bay Areas scene and they only sort of understood me. It was very you're in, but don't try to make any changes, you know? And I think that's a big reason that we went to LA. We could see the top of the ladder and it's not getting any friendlier or more receptive. We maybe can make this movie and maybe there's different music opportunities down there, but it's definitely not going to happen here. And then suddenly we packed up from the West Oakland place and moved to LA. Daveed: Also we had already been, we were working on Blindspotting, so we'd been traveling up and down. Our producers, we had been driving to meet with them really frequently. Rafael: We were slumming it so hard when we got to LA, we were so poor. Diggs was delivering tacos. Daveed: Yeah. I was like... I couldn't be an actor in LA, is what I decided. Rafael: We're just swinging and missing, just trying to figure out what does it mean to be in the bigger pond and want to be artists professionally. We did five years in LA before Diggs went to New York to do Hamilton. I think that was one of those things that came about for Diggs really organically. Hamilton was such an interesting... it was a play, it was legit written for him to flex all the things he's good at. They were like, "Who's this rap kid that turns out can also act?" And the rest of us were like, "Turns out? He's been doing that more than a lot of y'all." And the world saw Diggs in the light that best showed everything and they not only accepted, but obsessed over it. And then I went to visit him in New York when the show was picking up steam and the first thing that happened is this girl grabs my arm and looks at Diggs and goes, "Oh my God, is that Daveed Diggs?" to me and I start to realize that this woman is Anne Hathaway and she's fan-girling out. I'm like, "Oh man, a major shift is happening."

Daveed: My life is changing very, very quickly. I was under stress constantly. Rafa is calling and texting and emailing and I'm getting back to the degree that I can. So yes, obviously it would have been so much easier and nicer if my best friend was also living in New York and somebody who has context for me outside of this thing. Rafael: I remember [inaudible 00:10:39] I turned to Diggs and I was like, "I'm thinking about moving to New York so you'll respond more in person." I remember Diggs goes, "I didn't want to ask." Daveed: That's a big ask and I'm doing eight shows a week. It's not like, move to New York and let's go kick it in the Berkshires, you know? It's like, move to New York and I'll see you at midnight sometimes. Rafael: But I was like, well it's just good for him to have a friend there. But also can I run your social media? Because you're not posting enough and people want to see this adventure and there's a sincere way to do it. And I had done a little bit of it with his Twitter and stuff in the Bay and in LA, but this was like, "Give me your passwords." I probably already had them. Daveed: This was an admission that he was going to use them. Rafael: I was letting him know that I was going to do it. Daveed: On a regular basis. And I was like, "Yeah, yeah, do that." Rafael: And especially if you actually hadn't been able to do it, you didn't have to be self-indulgent, I'm doing it. There's a year of his Instagram that's just his friend's version of how awesome he is.

Rafael: Blindspotting got started because, around when I was 21, one of my friends got killed in a way that sort of didn't make a lot of sense to most people in the community. And it was sort of the breaking point because it was a woman, because it was somebody who wasn't really involved in the violence of the world that we were existing in at the time. Some other people had been killed and other people I sort of was close to. There was a series of funerals people had gone to in succession and this was the button on it. It was just a breaking point for me. So I had written this poem about sort of the numbness of that experience of like, "God, is this what life is? People die and we get numb and we care a little less every time? How does this go?" And then we just kind of started coming up with a story that was a movie that's in verse starring the two of us. We kept almost making Blindspotting and not making it. Diggs, he finishes this massive sensation in New York. He had 30 days in June that he could shoot this movie- Daveed: 22. Rafael:... and then a month later we were in Oakland shooting the movie. Daveed: In the hometown. Everybody who's an extra in that movie is a friend of ours that we grew up with. Rafael: Yeah. And it's still not a real movie to us. It's still a thing we can't believe they made. Daveed: In Hollywood, in a world that we always assumed we didn't belong in, that we never really figured out how we would fit into anyway. To have doors start opening in a way where they're sort of asking questions about what you want to do is crazy actually. It's just fun in meetings post Blindspotting now that we're associated together in this way and also people have been able to see that Rafael is a great actor as well as a great writer. It's like, "Well what's he doing? Do you think he'd be interested in this? Can you talk to him for us?" It's pretty... I love that. I love that so much. Rafael: And I still know the 10 things that he can do that nobody's seen yet. And that's still fun for me. Daveed: The closest I have ever gotten to fighting with Rafa I think is when somebody else I'm close to is fighting with Rafa, right? Rafael: I think that's sort of our good cop, bad cop type of... where someone will be venting to him and he's like, "I don't know what to tell you, I've already picked my team." We have this expression that we always say, we did this before every show and we kind of do it anytime we're at a crossroads. We're like energy up, expectations down. Daveed: Energy up, expectations down. Rafael: It's just like this whole ship runs on enthusiasm.

Daveed Diggs and Rafael Casal are partners. Go watch their film Blindspotting and check out the album they put out together last year, called Seven Nights in Chicago. You can follow them on Twitter or Instagram @DaveedDiggs and @RafaelCasal. Rafael probably still has the passwords to Daveed's accounts.

#daveed diggs #rafael casal #go to the source and listen to the whole thing it's lovely #their adoration and respect for each other as artists gives me LIFE #i could listen to them gushing about each other for days on end

[frenchibi]

hey, so i thought maybe you could tell us a little what you're currently interested in? ♥ like, what have you been doing during quarantine, are there any new shows you watched that you enjoyed a lot, did you maybe take up a new hobby or something? :)

Hello!! I did not forget this lovely message, I was just in no state to answer (who’d have thought that recovery from surgery is, y’know, taxing) BUT I’M BACK NOW and ohhhh do you know what you’ve unlocked by asking me this question...?? I cannot give you a comprehensive list but I can tell you a couple of the things that I got into during quarantine, and the things I am currently super passionate about! My memory is, uh, not great but thankfully I do journal and write down things so I am confident I can answer this for you :D (plus I do always love recommending things so - aaa??? Thank you for this ask????)

Putting things under a cut because I physically cannot chill but if tl;dr I want you to take away one thing from this it’s that everyone should read Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir. Thoughts below.

(Also. I would love to go off about my interests more on here but am not sure what... shape that should ideally take? Text posts? IDK pls give me suggestions, help me out?? dfhasjkldf)

Movies

I have not seen many, but I can and will scream about The Old Guard over and over because... it was everything I never knew I needed in an action movie?? I don’t reblog many things about it anymore but I love love LOVED it!!

Also, upon recommendation by one of my friends from India, I have been delving into the world of Bollywood movies and WOW Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara was so fucking good??? idk if it’s on Netflix in every country but it is in mine and I highly recommend it. It’s thoughtful, honest, emotional and shot absolutely gorgeously, and it also has that cheesiness that is just... so good... sometimes you just need the cheese y’know???

(Side note, 2020 was the year I saw Pride and Prejudice (2005) for the first time and I am a changed woman. It is now my ultimate comfort movie. Please see it if you have not, I cannot believe it took me this long. I saw it for the first time on an airplane (in january... a lifetime ago) and have seen it many, many times since.)

TV Shows

So, to everyone’s shock but especially my own, I have not really been into TV lately? I watched The Boys because my brother recommended it (it’s good, but gorey and pulls no punches, the R rating is deserved), and recently started watching Jujutsu Kaisen because my sister recommended it (I haven’t watched a new anime in like a year which is kinda wild to me? But I am enjoying this one - the opening SLAPS and what I’ve seen so far has been fun! Plus I’m watching it with my sister and I like sending her reactions xD),,, and that’s pretty much it for this category?? I am aware there is a LOT of good shit out there I just.. .don’t seem to have the attention span for multiple episodes of a Thing these days. Meh. I’m sure it’ll come back to me eventually ^^

Musical Theater

One of the main reasons I think I haven’t been big into TV is because my Musical Passion is in FULL SWING (haha get it). Probably because the only thing that has remained for me during this quarantine is my singing lessons (and lemme tell you... over skype, that shit is ROUGH but still better than not singing at all) and I have been obsessing over learning new songs and finding shows through recommendations and compilation videos on youtube... So.

Shows I listen to a lot these days include Starry, Anastasia, The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals, Come From Away (I made a post recently specifically about musicals, you should be able to find it under #French speaks) - specific songs in my range that I am currently learning and obsessing over include “Bring on the men” from Jekyll and Hyde, “The Mad Hatter” from Wonderland, “Show Yourself” from Frozen 2 (I liked it ok I DID), and “Go Tonight” from The Mad Ones (this one makes me cry... I’m making my sister duet it with me bc I can’t stop thinking about it).

Also, if you’re interested in hearing me sing things, head over to my instagram where I post covers (and also art)!!

(Musical people, I am curious to hear opinions about Great Comet, and also The Count of Monte Cristo - two shows I’ve been meaning to check out!)

Video Games

Listen. Animal Crossing New Horizons is awesome and I’m glad I have it (...give me Brewster back, Nintendo, or I WILL RIOT), but I have been branching out into other games for the Switch (might as well make this purchase worth it amirite) - current faves include Celeste (which is SO HARD but also SO FUCKING FUN) and Spiritfarer which I specifically bought to play at the hospital bc I knew I was going to be there for a few days, and let me tell you - best decision of 2020. Please watch the trailer if you haven’t heard of it, it’s GORGEOUS and beautiful and emotional and I loved every second of it. Both of these can also be purchased for PC and I think they are definitely worth the investment!!

In other news I’m back on my Stardew Valley bullshit. It’s just so calming.I revisit it a lot lmao

Books

So... I have been reading. A LOT. I read over 70 books this year, which for me is... average tbh? I have had some less productive reading months but overall I have torn through stuff and BOY do I have recommendations if you want them?? For the sake of brevity I will only mention a few here:

Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir “Lesbian necromancers explore a haunted gothic palace in space”. That is all. This was my first five star fiction book of the year and I will never be done screaming about it. There is a dedicated but smallish fandom here on tumblr and it deserves SO MUCH MORE. Please, please please. Everyone should read this damn book. It’s confusing in the beginning but I promise it’s worth it IT’S SO GOOD!! And also the sequel is out and it’s also confusing and SO GOOD!!!

Educated by Tara Westover. This is an autobiography and it’s one of those books that like. Stick in your mind for months after you’ve read it. It’s about how this woman escaped an abusive household that was religiously oppressive and also like... survivalist (prepping for the apocalypse) and avidly believed in conspiracy theories - by educating herself, working her way up to going to Harvard. Nothing I say could do the emotional impact of this book justice - and also just, the perspective this book gave me?? Incredible. Education is the most powerful tool and this woman grabbed it by the hair and did not let go and I was FLOORED. Everyone should read this. I don’t even usually read biographies but DAMN.

The Winternight trilogy by Katherine Arden.(Book 1 is called The Bear and the Nightingale). This is a bit of a slow burn type deal - it’s a retelling of a Russian fairy tale (I think?? Or like a folk... story? Something like that) and it is just. So magical. It’s not fast paced but it works up to FANTASTIC moments, the focus is on family and magic and change and “making your own way” and all three of these books were wonderful. It reminded me of Naomi Novic’s Uprooted and Spinning Silver (both of which I also loved back in 2019 and would highly recommend) and they are PERFECT winter reads if you’re looking for something to get cozy with. I liked book 1 well enough but books 2 and 3 knocked it out of the park. Fantastic. Loved them.

I have many more recs but this will do for now hahah

Music

Gonna keep this brief too - my music taste is all over the place, but here are some songs I have been obsessed with recently!! Beware of genre whiplash though because these are Very Different from one another (and different from the musical theater stuff above)

Factories - Autoheart (that bridge gets me every time, idk why. This is one I could have on repeat for hours and not get tired of it either. Something about it just gets me!!)

History Read - The Altogether (The lyrics!! Tbh the entire Silo album is GREAT, but this one is my fave. Their music is so... mellow, in the best way??)

Weather Man - Valley of Wolves (ok this one is just a banger. I’m a sucker for a good sing-along-able hook (that’s not a word. you get me though right) and this fucking DELIVERS. I also just think “I make these dark skies blue, I make these mountains move, let the rain come down, I’m pushing through.... [pause] ... ‘cause I’m the weather man” is such good execution of a concept?? That PAUSE GETS ME it’s just SO FUN?!?! idk man I like a good upbeat banger and this is that.)

I believe (get over yourself) - Nico Vega (this one is just a callout at myself tbh?? “you’re a fool” I AM and I needed to hear it?? It’s also SO FUN to sing!!! We love a banger.)

Kiss me you animal - Burn the Ballroom (mentioning this mainly because it reminded me, lyrically, of Gideon the Ninth and I need someone to confirm this for me before I go insane?? “everybody knows that home is where your teeth sink, love” - I mean c’mon??? Also it’s a banger. I do like some rock from time to time... and this also has a killer driving bassline. This is super fun to drive to, too!!)

((If we have overlap and anyone wants to exchange playlists with me - I am SO here for it. Always looking for new music!!! I mean it!!))

Youtube

Last and certainly not least... meet my newest hyperfixation!!! I have always loved watching video essays, and booktube videos, and arttube videos - and my current niche of favorite creators is the Polygon video team!! They made videos about video games and board games and anything gaming-related and I just. I’m only peripherally a “gamer(TM)” but I love anything and everything they create. (Also you don’t have to know much about video games to enjoy all of their content!! A lot of it is still accessible to Non-Gamers(TM) or casual gamers!) BDG is my new favorite creator, the Unraveled series he does on the channel is a work of genius - but I have also started watching their streams and older series and I am enjoying myself SO MUCH! I love boardgames so their series on them, Overboard, is so fun and entertaining (and I already know a bunch of games I want to buy based on seeing the gameplay), and it also made me invested in the other creators - particularly Simone, I would die for Simone?? And Pat? And Jenna? They each have their niche and they work really well together too and their videos are my Main Serotonin Machine in these trying times(TM), thank you for coming to my TED talk.

Also. If you’re already following me here and you are familiar with Polygon things I BEG YOU TO COME AND TALK TO ME ABOUT THEM because I am like, bursting, but I also don’t want to flood my dash with stuff that 99% of my followers are unfamiliar with y’know??

...I think I’m going to leave it at this - it’s already a lot!

But thank you once again for asking and for letting me Go Off about things I am interested in!! I just... I very often wish I could do this more, but I’m not sure how to go about it? Should I just do text posts about things?? Would that be interesting to anyone?? Or is that like, annoying? Should I start a review blog or something? dhfajkldhf I just want to talk about things that excite me, but whenever I’m here I often just stick to reblogging other people’s stuff... help?? What do y’all want to see??

#French speaks #rec #media recs #book rec #thank you so much for this seriously

[ageofevermore]

1-96

(1) Do You Sleep With Your Closet Doors Open Or Closed?

it’s a dual sliding door, so usually one sides open. but preferably, both doors are closed. 

(2) Do You Have Freckles?

sometimes in the summer, not often though. 

(3) Can You Whistle?

yes! 

(4) Last Song You Listened To.

well for some reason there’s a guy on my TV singing God Bless The USA

(5) What Is Your Favourite Colour?

purple

(6) Relationship Status.

single because my favorite omegle guy won’t answer me 

(7) What Is The Temperature Right Now?

48F / 9C

(8) Did You Wake Up Cranky?

i woke up wishing i was still asleep

(9) How Many Followers?

835

(10) Zodiac Sign.

Sun: Capricorn, Rising: Aries, Moon: Aquarius 

(11) What Is Your Eye Colour?

brown / hazel 

(12) Take A Vitamin Daily?

no

(13) Do You Sing In The Shower?

obviously, i’m not completely insane

(14) What Books Are You Reading?

whatever fucking book my english class assigned...

(15) Grab The Book Nearest To You, Turn To Page 64, Give Me Line 14.

i literally only have a text book by me and opening it is triggering

(16) Favourite Anime?

i don’t watch anime

(17) Last Person You Cried In Front Of?

my mom...about greys anatomy...but still my mom about christmas and my birthday. i cry alot, but i like REALLY cried about those two topics

(18) Do You Collect Anything?

chapstick, trauma, candles 

(19) What Did You Have For Lunch?

it’s only 10am and i haven’t even thought about breakfast 

(20) Do You Dance In The Car?

yes, and then my mom yells at me because i do nothing “subtly” and the entire car shakes

(21) Favourite Animal?

white siberian tigers, snow leopards, dolphins, and now elephants

(22) Do You Watch The Olympics?

unfortunately. i love gymnastics, but like, i’m not trying to watch men in toboggans and swim caps 

(23) What Time Do You Usually Go To Bed?

anywhere between 12pm and 3am

(24) Are You Wearing Makeup Right Now?

no, i never wear makeup because it makes me look more ugly

(25) Do You Prefer To Swim In A Pool Or The Ocean?

ocean

(26) Favourite Tumblr Blog?

besides my friends i don’t really have a favorite blog, i stick to my circle and don’t venture very far 

(27) Bottled Water Or Tap Water?

bottled. 

(28) What Makes You Happy?

i couldn’t tell you...

(29) Post A Gif Of What You’re Currently Feeling Right Now.

(30) Do You Study Better With Or Without Music?

without, but i always start with it on. it never lasts more then two songs.

(31) Dogs Or Cats?

dogs

(32) If You Were A Crayon What Colour Would You Be?

a shade of purple from the crayola 200 pack

(33) PlayStation Or Xbox.

wii

(34) Would You Swim In The Lake Or Ocean?

ocean

(35) Do You Believe In Magic?

hell mothering fucking year i do baby, lets take that train to hogwarts 

(36) What Colour Shirt Are You Wearing?

its a friends pj crop, so black and white stripped with the central perks logo

(37) Can You Curl Your Tongue?

yup

(38) Do You Save Money Or Spend It?

save money 

(39) Is There Anything Pink Within 10 Feet Of You?

my cup 

(40) Do You Have Any Obsessions Right Now?

stranger things ig

(41) Have You Ever Caught A Butterfly?

no, those assholes scare me, but i’ve grown + released them 

(42) Are You Easily Influenced By Other People?

um chile, i would follow my best friend off a cliff with no hesitation

(43) Do You Have Strange Dreams?

all the fucking time 

(44) Do You Like Going On Airplanes?

ITS MY FAVORITE FORM OF TRAVEL 

(45) Name One Movie That Made You Cry.

the hannah montana movie

(46) Peanuts Or Sunflower Seeds?

peanuts 

(47) If I Handed You A Concert Ticket Right Now, Who Would You Want The Performer To Be?

one direction 

(48) Are You A Picky Eater?

yes 

(49) Are You A Heavy Sleeper?

yes, but it takes me forever to fall asleep 

(50) Do You Fear Thunder / Lightning?

yea, depends on the day and the level of scardy bitch i feel like being 

(51) Do You Like To Read / Write?

i love both 

(52) Do You Like Your Music Loud?

hell yeah, let me feel the beat in my kidneys 

(53) Would You Rather Carve Pumpkins Or Wrap Presents?

carve pumpkins 

(54) Put Your Music On Shuffle, What Is The First Song That Came Up?

no tears left to cry by ag

(55) What Season Are You In Right Now? (Weather)

fall

(56) What Are You Craving Right Now?

a churro + peppermint mocha frap

(57) Post A Screenshot Of Your Tumblr Feed.

(58) What Is Your Gender?

female (she/her)

(59) Coffee Or Tea?

iced coffee / sweet tea

(60) Do You Have Any Homework Right Now? If So, What Is It About?

yeah, i have environmental homework and US I homework and Algebra II homework

(61) What Is Your Sexuality?

bruh, idk 

(62) Do You Make Your Bed In The Morning?

no, that shit’s never made 

(63) Favourite Pokemon?

jigglypuff 

(64) Favourite Social Media?

pintrest 

(65) What’s Your Opinion On Instagram Stories?

they’re okay

(66) Do You Get Homesick?

no. i don’t miss thins very easily, i’m away from home for a week and i have no doubt that i could spend the rest of my life without going back. 

(67) Are You A Virgin?

yes sir

(68) What Shampoo And Conditioner Are You Using Right Now?

idk, some really thick and heavy in hydration set 

(69) If You Were Far From Home And Needed To Sleep For The Night, Would You Choose To Rent A Crappy Motel Room For $60 Or Sleep In Your Car For Free?

sleep in my car, though both options scare me 

(70) Are Both Of Your Blood Parents Still In Your Life?

i have a strained relationship with my bio dad, but unfortunately i still have to associate myself with him a few times a year 

(71)  Whats The Next Movie You Want To See In Theaters?

black widow or spiderman 3, but i’m willing to see anything just take me back! 

(72) Do You Miss Your Ex?

i’ve never had an ex, but i do wish krystian would stop ignoring me. stupid scotland boys 

(73) What Is Your Favourite Quote Right Now?

“friends dont lie”

(74) What Eye Colour Do You Find Sexiest?

green / brown 

(75) Did You Like Swinging As A Child? Do You Still Get Excited When You See A Swing Set?

i loved swinging, but a few years ago it started making me dizzy so i don’t swing very often anymore. but tire swings especially are my shit 

(76) What Was The Last Thing You Ate?

chicken flavored ramen 

(77) What Games Do You Have On Your Phone?

yes 

(78) Would You Give A Homeless Person CPR If They Were Dying? Why Or Why Not?

yeah...because they’re dying and if i have the skills to save them...why wouldn’t i?

(79) Been On The Computer For 5 Hours Straight?

honey, i do full virtual high school. we stan a pandemic (we don’t)

(80) Stalked Someone On A Social Network?

social media stalker is my middle name. not anymore though, i haven’t been asked to find a boy in a while 

(81) Do You Like Meeting New People?

no. i hate it. anxiety city man. 

(82) Do You Wear Rings? If You Do, Take A Picture Of Them.

i don’t wear rings, but i really want to.

(83) Do You Sleep With Your Bedroom Door Open Or Closed?

closed

(84) What Are Three Things You Did Today?

woke up, watched stranger things, made ramen 

(85) What Do You Wear To Bed?

whatever i fall asleep in. 

(86) List All Of Your Different Beauty Products You Have Right Now.

are beauty and skincare the same? because i don’t own much makeup. 

(87) Are You A Day Or Night Person?

i used to be a night person. but this pandemic has hit hard with depression and i’ve become a stay in bed all day person

(88) List All Of Your Video Games On Your Phone, Console Etc.

2048 balls, among us, ball sort puzzle, bubble shooter, bubble sort, color roll 3D, drag n merge, fit and squeeze, hole.io, mario kart, match 3D, nonogram.com, paint the cube, roof rails, solitare, spit, stacky dash, stair run, timber run...

(89) Tell Me About A Dream That You Had And When It Happened.

After my moms fiance died, I had a dream that he was able to come see my fifth grade play (he died just before it happened) and when we were walking out he got into the white car from fast and furious (we watched the movies together) and said he would see me again soon, then he drove off...like talk about weird 

(90) Favourite Soda Drink?

rootbeer 

(91) What Sounds Are Your Favourite?

i like a good clicking sound 

(92) Do You Wear Jeans Or Sweats More?

sweats everyday all day 

(93) How Do You Look Right Now?

like a fucking wreck 

(94) Name Something That Relaxes You.

netflix 

(95) What Tattoo Do You Want?

i want a bunch of little symbols, and i think it would be cute if i got a T for my mom, but i can’t tell her that because she might think i’m going soft and exploit my show of affection (jfc why am i like this lmao)

(96) Favourite YouTuber?

colleen ballinger 

#soapy tag #pink tag #ask game

[vladfromparis-blog]

Full interview of Timothée and Armie : Le Figaro 02.28.18 Translation (approximative by me)

-INTERVIEW - In competition for four Oscars, Luca Guadagnino's film will be released this Wednesday. His director has breathed his sensuality and unprecedented modesty, revealing the talent of the actor of 22 years and resurrecting the career of Armie Hammer. Le Figaro met the two actors for a facetious discussion.

-No respite for the Call me by your name team. After a week spent between Los Angeles and Rome, they landed mid-January in Paris to promote the film from the cult novel by André Aciman Later or never. This jewel of tenderness and humanity signed by Luca Guadagnino, the director of Amore and A bigger splash tells the awakening of the desire between two young men in Italy of the 80s and is like Tom Thumb at the Oscars, with 4 appointments. The idyll is in the running, on March 4, the statuette of the best film and the best actor for his star and revelation, Timothée Chalamet. At 22, the Franco-American actor, seen in Homeland and Lady Bird who also released Wednesday in theaters, is the youngest actor to compete in this category since 1939! Call me by your name also marks Armie Hammer's return to the stage. Noticed in 2010 in The social network by David Fincher, the 31-year-old American has also suffered several setbacks at the box office, with Lone Ranger, birth of a hero and very special agents: Code U.N.C.L.E.

-Unveiled at the Sundance Festival in January 2017, Call me by your name has offered its stars an incessant world tour. Despite fatigue and jet lag, no weariness was visible to the accomplice duo who responded with enthusiasm and jocularity to our questions.

- LE FIGARO - Call me by your name took more than eight years to mount. Initially the adaptation of Andre Aciman's novel was to be brought to the screen by James Ivory. Then producer, Luca Guadagnino was propelled coscenarist and director. When did you join the adventure?

-TIMOTHEE CHALAMET - I met Luca when I was 17 in 2013. The only reason I got this appointment when I had no experience was that I had the same agent as Tilda Swinton with whom Luca had just turned A bigger splash (laughs). At the time, there was no scenario yet. I borrowed André Aciman's novel from the library of my university. I discovered a rare role for an actor of my age. Elio is an authentic and sincere description of the obsession that can accompany the awakening to sensuality. There was the added complexity of playing a contradictory character and very intellectual.

-ARMIE HAMMER - I met Luca seven or eight years ago. He liked The social network and came to Los Angeles to meet me. We had a fabulous 4:30 hours conversation about art, cinema, philosophy, literature. I said to myself: "I hit the nail, I had the role". Then no more news ... Until two years ago. I wanted to say yes immediately. My agent was worried and encouraged me to read the script: but even with a love scene with a peach, I was going!

-Do you have much in common with your characters?

-AH - Very much. Oliver is good at giving the change, to make him feel comfortable, to have confidence in him, when he does not feel that way at all. I am like that too. Oliver is not well in his skin because he can not live as he wishes: only Elio manages to break through his defenses.

- TC - This Italian summer reminded me of my holidays in France in Le Chambon-sur-Lignon in the family of my father in Haute-Loire. In small European cities there is a different awareness of time: we have breakfast, we discuss, we read newspapers, we bask in the sun ...

- How did you prepare for your roles?

-TC - With Luca, we tried to stay close and faithful to the book. I have also been inspired by other films of transition to adulthood and awakening to sexuality, such as Y tu mama tambien by Alfonso Cuaron and La vie d'Adèle by Abdellatif Kechiche.( Blue is the warmest colour is the english tittle)

AH- The book portrays Elio's point of view which is not very reliable (laughs). It is enough for Oliver to say hello to him so that Elio finds cala fantasy. Conversely, if Olivier leaves without saying a word it's a bastard. Researchers gave me an idea of ​​what it is like to be gay and Jewish in the 80s in the United States on the East Coast.

- What were your most delicate scenes to shoot?

- AH- The dance scene. Oliver had to let go, get lost in space and time. This is exactly the antithesis of who I am. Swinging in front of 75 extras and technicians without music is the most uncomfortable thing I've ever done, much more than sex scenes!

- TC - The most pointed was the piano scenes because in the book Elio is a little genius. I arrived in Italy a month and a half before shooting started. I am often asked about the scenes of love, Luca filmed them with a lot of delicacy. I never had to fear that they were opportunists or voyeurs.

-Did call me by your name change your outlook on life?

- AH - In this film, there is absolutely no exposure. At no point does Luca Guadagnino tell you what these characters feel. Everyone can identify themselves. During our existence, we will go through bitter moments and milder moments. The accumulation of these moments makes what makes life so precious. Do not throw away the good for fear of the bad.

- TC - I think back to Michael Stuhlbag's monologue playing Elio's father. Listening to him declaim it's like I heard a little voice say to me, "Timmy, hunt exhilarating experiences. Be sad if they do not succeed but do not repress what you feel. If one hurts and one suffers, it suffers in the right way. To suffer in the wrong way is to suffer by hating oneself.

- ... and your career?

- TC - Call Me By Your Name is a dream come true. I got this role when I left school. How lucky to find such a fresh, demanding project with which the public reacts! When I called Call me by your name, nobody knew me. I did not have a career to risk unlike Armie ...

-AH- You mean my tramp career?

-Call me by your name was presented in January 2017 at Sundance where he received an enthusiastic actor, then in February 2017 at the Berlin festival. Now you are promoting in Europe and are in the running for four Oscars. How did you live these past months, out of the ordinary?

-TC- I do not feel absolutely jaded. I benefit every moment. Go to the four corners of the world to interact with the spectators is magic. When I was shooting with him Christopher Nolan's Interstellar, Matthew McConaughey told me something very fair: "A movie is not a sprint but a marathon. There are catches, gambling bets that do not work. We must not fight the guilt but start over and continue. Playing with Armie, seeing how he let himself be guided by his instinct but also how he approached the press events, the evenings were very instructive. It was enough for me to look at him, Luca or Daniel Kaluuya of Get out who also had an extraordinary year to know how to do it.

AH -  I am so happy that Timothy lives this great moment of recognition. There has not been such a catchy performance, so subtle from a young actor for 70 years!

-TC - After March 4th, it may be time to take a little vacation. Armie and his wife invited me to come to the Cayman Islands where he grew up! (Laughs).

#timothée chalamet #armie hammer #timothee chalamet #Call Me By Your Name #le figaro

[manggopudding]

I become foolish when I am left alone, reacquainted with my deepest thoughts, led down the rabbit hole of empty and hopeful dreams.

Questions inundate the recesses of my mind: Do you think of me? Do you wonder about me? Do you wonder if I wonder about you?

Here’s another question: When you miss someone so much, when you think about them hard enough, do you think they’ll feel it?

Maybe when my heart forces my brain to use all of its power to recreate the warm golden honey look in your eyes when you look at me like I have permeated the entirety of you and there is no single bone or muscle within you that isn’t painted with me, the universe will send my love letter to you. Maybe a sudden breeze of wind through your hair on your way home from work that seems to arrive out of nowhere, a gentle caress from the universe sending you my message of reminding you not to work too hard like you tend to always do, the horrible workaholic that you are. I am the exact opposite, favoring sleep above all else. You curled into me, burying your face in the crook of my neck as you called me a lazy bum and I planted kisses on your horrendous eye-bags and called you work-obsessed.

Maybe when I sit on my cold fingers in the movie theater and think of the way you loved to shove your freezing toes under my thighs whenever we sat on the couch and indulged in the luxury of binge-watching our favorite TV shows, the universe gives your hand a gentle nudge and you accidentally pour too much milk into your morning coffee and you’re somehow reminded of how I drink mine, too much milk and sugar and not enough coffee. You, ever the coffee-elitist, frowned with distaste at how I drink my coffee and I, with my infamous sweet tooth, rolled my eyes at how you drink yours. You made me a cup anyway, everyday without fail, and to this day dare I say that no one has been able to match your handiwork, tailored perfectly to make my tastebuds sing.

Maybe when I pray to the stars and ask about you, wondering if you are eating well and getting enough sleep lately, you’ll be driving to work, fighting the god-awful morning traffic, and you’ll hear my favorite song come on the radio, sung by that singer whose music you only started to listen to because I told you they were my favorite, how the lyrics grip my heart every time I listen to them. You and I have always had different tastes in music, you with your eardrum-destroying heavy metal and me with slow and cheesy acoustics with poetry for lyrics. The singer on the radio croons sweetly about true love and kisses on cheeks, and you switch the radio station in favor of another that features a voice narrating the morning news, the words drenched in impassive professionalism.

I stop walking in the middle of a shopping mall, disoriented and swimming in my memories, my mind trying to catch the soft and barely-there wisps of our time in the past, because a stranger walked by and I caught the slightest whiff of the musky scent of your cologne, and then you’re having family dinner with your parents and siblings—something you find yourself missing sometimes, a luxury you can only have during the holidays ever since you got your own place—when the sparkle of the dainty chain adorning your mother’s neck catches your eye. The pendant—intricately cut diamond and melted gold melded together to form your mother’s birth flower, custom made for her sixtieth birthday—glimmers proudly from where it rests just above your mother’s bosom. It is arguably her favorite piece of jewelry out of her modest collection; I did always have an eye for jewelry.

You, on the other hand, never saw the reason to wear one and you never did understand my love for it. Despite your best efforts not to, you still end up thinking about the only piece of jewelry you ever bought, sitting inside a black velvet box smaller than your fist, hidden deep inside your sock drawer.

You clench your jaw, the piece of meat that just entered your mouth suddenly tasteless and hard to chew.

You wonder how long it would be until I stop being the anchor tied to your heart, weighing it down slowly, unrelenting and demanding it to sink.

Your mother asks about work and the corners of your lips strain to lift themselves up into a too-bright smile. You start to tell her an anecdote from work.

Your mother breaks into full-body laughter.

The necklace dangles from her neck.

Elegant aster winks at you under the lights, swinging back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

— earl grey

[keyofjetwolf]

Elisabeth: Kitsch

SO EXCITED TO DO THIS ONE. This didn’t wind up being my favourite song from the musical, but I think it comes a very respectable second. The Interplay between the history and the FEELING of history is so interesting to me, the way that we soften the edges to fit the things we’d rather learn.

Perhaps more than any other, this is Lucheni’s song. He fulfills his usual role, bridging the scenes with the relevant high points, but it’s in this one where I feel he shines brightest. And that’s true, despite the fact that the Takarazuka and Essen versions come at it in very different ways with very different messages. Even with the lighter and less critical spin on the song, this is Takarazuka Lucheni at his cheeky best.

And as for Essen Lucheni, his anger for the aristocracy is perhaps outdone only by how much he hates each and every one of us for buying what they sell.

Both are great versions of the song, particularly in the story that they’re choosing to tell. SO COME LET US EXPLORE

Even just a cursory viewing of the two performances show how dramatically different they are in what they’re telling. The most important information we need to learn is how Hungary is becoming Austria-Hungary with Franz Joseph and Elisabeth as its rulers, so in this, both versions are the same. Both also, in a very broad way, look to strip Elisabeth of her mystique somewhat, but with very different ideas of what that means.

The Takarazuka version is almost entirely focused on Elisabeth’s beauty and her obsession with it. As I’ve been watching the two versions much more closely for these posts, it’s a recurring trend I’ve noticed where the Takarazuka makes changes. The song in the cafe, for example, has the patrons commenting specifically on her waist size and diet. (My guess is that this is a cultural choice meant to highlight something specific about Elisabeth, but I don’t have that perspective to extensively comment on it beyond noting it, and how those changes affect my personal relationship with the songs.)

Elisabeth, Takarazuka Lucheni tells us, has assigned diplomats throughout the world to send her pictures of their stationed country’s most beautiful women.

“She knew well that beauty fades and strength fails.” It’s a great line and probably the most critical the Takarazuka version gets of Elisabeth. Though I have to note that it comes right before discussing how Sophie is still in control in Vienna, and coupled with how Sophie will be shown fading shortly, I wonder if the line isn’t as much commenting on Elisabeth’s strategy against her rival as it is awareness of the expiration date of her own primary weapons. POR QUE NO LOS DOS

We also have this, which is wonderfully cynical and true.

It’s also a brilliant example of how Takarazuka Lucheni delivers that cynicism: slyly, like he’s sharing an in-joke with us. OH THE RICH AND POWERFUL WE SURE KNOW WHAT THEY’RE LIKE DON’T WE THOSE SCAMPS

This entire number in the Takarazuka version is ITSELF a fantastic example of the kitsch it sings about. The ladies are in hilariously overdone “national” costumes that border on offensive. They parade back and forth, representing everything but saying nothing, much like the gesture of Austria “joining” with Hungary. I still can’t decide if I think this was an intentional turn by the creators adapting the musical for Takarazuka, or a delightful side effect, but it’s a spectacle and I enjoy it either way.

The Essen version, though. The Essen version is here to slaughter everyone and it is gloriously full on its shit.

Essen Lucheni comes out swinging and socks you right across the jaw AS YOU WELL DESERVE. Much like Takarazuka Lucheni, he begins by interacting directly with the crowd. He’s not taking photographs though, not capturing the moment, he’s handing out fliers. I don’t know what the cards were, but I hope hope hope they were advertisements for what was on sale in the theater lobby. Either way, in the act of handing something out and the audience members taking it, we’ve become part of the performance. We’re complicit now, we’re willing customers.

Without pause, Lucheni begins. He sings before a dark backdrop, the inside of the cathedral where all the action is taking place. We can’t see, as those gathered at the actual moment would be similarly excluded. BUT WE’RE STILL HERE. We’re near the significance, and that’s good enough. We buy a token, proof that history happened near us, a cheaply made lie that assures us that we mattered.

Lucheni would rather sell us the truth, but we’d never buy it.

The Essen actor for Lucheni is really incredible. He’s not as likable as the Takarazuka actress (WHO AMONG US COULD), but he’s also not trying to be. What he is is darkly funny, devastatingly insightful, and FURIOUS. Even knowing that Lucheni will kill Elisabeth, I spent most of the Takarazuka version actively looking for the point at which he “turns”, a specifically placed marker for the murderer we know he will become. I never found it. OH I SPECULATED A LOT. There was nothing to find, though. It wasn’t seamless so much as it was a switch flipped, and suddenly Lucheni was a sniveling minion keen only to do Death’s bidding.

There’s never a question in the Essen version. I completely believe that if Elisabeth appeared in front of him at any point in the story, he’d shank her again, every single time, with whatever he just happened to have on hand. Nothing but a Playbill? THAT’S FINE I’LL MAKE IT WORK.

But as I said earlier, Lucheni’s rage is wide and deep enough for us all. “Kitsch” is doing several things, but none so much as it’s yelling at humanity past, present, and future, for lifting Elisabeth (and any rich powerful fuck really) to this level of uncritical, adored deification utterly removed from who and what she truly was.

ELISABETH IS STILL ON SOCKS AVAILABLE FOR PURCHASE IN THIS THE YEAR OF OUR LORD TWO THOUSAND AND NINETEEN

“People only hear what they want to hear,” Lucheni says in disgust, “and so what remains after some time from beauty and from shit, from dream and reality...”

A quick aside to say how much I love the background lights coming up briefly on Lucheni’s “Kitsch!” cue to reveal all the spectacle we’re not part of. But it’s a glimpse, a tiny taste to entice us to come back next time.

I feel I could keep pulling stuff out of this performance forever, but there are a great many more scenes and songs to go through yet. I’ll leave this here, then, the Essen version of this song. It’s just over three minutes, and even without more context than I’ve given in this post, I think it’s well worth your time to check it out.

There’s one more thing I feel it’d be disingenuous of me to not comment on, which didn’t quite hit me until partway through this post. I’ve said a few times now, how the Takarazuka version is the same play, but also really not. It goes out of its way to pull a lot of the complexity from Elisabeth as a person and a character, and in overall tone is generally uncritical and much lighter, choosing to primarily become a fairy tale style love story. There are several conversations that can be had in that, about that degree of story alteration, where the line is between history and fiction, how far that line can be bent, and a dozen other topics.

This thought isn’t anywhere near that deep, don’t worry. But I do think it’s extremely interesting how the Takarazuka version of Elisabeth is, in nearly every single way, the "heartfelt, sweet, and sensible” thing Essen Lucheni is furious with us all for doing in “Kitsch”.

And finally, I love how the Essen version includes this moment of intense self-awareness. What a good fucking song.

KITSCH!

#jet wolf watches elisabeth #a novel by jet wolf

[shishidoryofan]

Hope Everyone Enjoys. :)

RobStar Week 2018 Day 2: Cosplay

Starfire looked at herself in the mirror.

After a difficult month of finding the right fabric, she had purchased a sewing machine and gotten a hold of many books teaching her how to make her costume just right. To be honest, it was that different from how they would make clothing in Tamaran and she felt proud of her hard work.

Getting the spider symbol right proved to be quite the challenge though. Her design did not look nearly as good as the one in the comics.

The red and white smashed wonderfully on her and since she already had red hair, Starfire did not have to worry about getting a wig or doing anything taxing on her hair.

All that was left was a mask.

Starfire’s new found comic book friends had told her they were called domino masks. At that, she felt embarrassed for not knowing that because her boyfriend always wore a domino mask almost constantly.

The convention was in a week and was suppose to last three days. Starfire really only wanted to go to the Saturday event because the writer and artists of Renew Your Vows were going to be there for a book signing and give away merchandise. She wanted to impress them with her costume.

Starfire was going as Spinneret.

Her chance encounter into the comic book world had happen by accident a few months ago. She was going to the market to get some groceries for a surprised feast when she made the mistake of knocking into some guy. The guy was reading a book as he was walking so he was not exactly paying attention to Starfire, but the bump had happened.

Because of her alien strength, Starfire had accidentally pushed the guy a few steps back with the book jumping out of his hands. Once she realized what had happened, she had quickly flew to pick the poor guy up and grab his book.

When Starfire went to pick the book up, she notice that it was nothing but pictures of people in masks and costume swinging around the city (not to different from what Robin does).

As the guy was shaking his head to try and gain his composure back, Starfire took the chance to flip through the pages of the book. She had heard about these. They were about a group of superheroes just like her and her friends...but they were only fictional.

Before the guy even had the chance to say anything, Starfire quickly brought the book to his face and pointed at it. “Where can I purchase these books?”

And that was the start of her comic book obsession. In particular the Renew Your Vows comics with Spider-Man, his wife Spinneret, and their daughter Spiderling.

They were all so cute together. Starfire just couldn’t help but be drawn into a world where a family of superheroes not only fight crime together, but they also go through real life issues together.  The Spider-Man being cute was great too (though not as cute as her boyfriend).

But Starfire has also tried to keep this new obsession from her fellow teammates.

While it did not bother her, she knew the real superhero community might not be so keen about people writing about fictional superheroes. Of course she did not hear it from them personally, but it was a feeling she had.

Plus she did not want them to think she was more invested in fictional heroes.

Starfire was still admiring her costume in the mirror when she heard a knock on her door.

“Star are you in? Can I talk to you?”

“R-Robin! Hold on!” She dashed to find some robe she could throw on. Starfire had made it her sole mission to not let anyone find out, especially the person who she considered the love of her life.

After over a minute of trying to find a robe and making sure everything was covered, she finally pressed the button to open the door. He had on civilian clothes saved his domino mask.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go see a movie. Just the two of us and then we can go to the arcade.” He smiled at her and that made her heart almost explode.

She could not see why they should not go out. There was no crime to fight. There has not been any suspicious activity in the city for a while. Plus, she had a whole week to work on her mask for the convention.

“Of course I would love to!” She exclaimed. “Let me just put something nice right quick.”

–

It was not until they were at the theater that Starfire remembered the theater was inside Jump City’s Mall…where the mini arcade was also location.

It is also in the mall where her regular comic book store was located.

If she was suddenly acting strange, she sure hoped Robin did not notice.

He held her hand all throughout their walk to to the theater. According to him, they were going to see some spy thriller movie about a guy who goes undercover as a secret agent to take down a spy corporation from within.

Starfire simply nodded and said it sounded fun.

She could not concentrate during the movie. It was not that the movie was bad (though she wasn’t fully paying attention to it), but being in the mall let her to start thinking about her Spinneret costume. She needed a domino mask and there her boyfriend was, with a domino mask covering his eyes.

She stared at him almost through the whole movie. In her head, she was mentally drawing how he looked with the mask and how perfect it fitted his face.

Without thinking, her fingers started to brush his cheek and that’s when Robin turned to face her. “Star?”

“HIIEE!”

Starfire screamed without thinking and quickly turned to the other side so she would not be facing her boyfriend. A few people in the theater ‘Hussh’ her or told her to be quiet. She did not really pay them any mind, but it did cause Robin to pat her on the shoulder.

“Are you alright Star?” He said. He sounded so concerned. “If you don’t like the movie, we can do something else?”

“Tha-That would be nice.”

Anywhere else would be better than sitting in a room for two hours mentally drawing her boyfriend’s face. Not that she would not have any problems doing it under normal circumstance (he was very nice to look at), but she just felt wrong that she was using him as a mental guinea pig for her silly hobby.

After a few minutes of following him, Starfire was so preoccupied with doing something else that she did not realize that the something else requires still being at the mall. The booming neon lights and the sounds of video games being played woke Starfire to the fact that she was going inside the Arcade.

Robin did say he wanted to go to the Arcade today.

When they stepped inside, there was a huge list of eyes starring at them. Being a superhero means you were kind of famous and because the Teen Titans were fans of having fun, the team hung out here pretty often.

“Star look!”

Robin pulled her into room where the music guitar game was at. There the boy who was also playing stopped and smirked at him. He motioned for Robin to take the guitar onside of him as a challenge.

It was challenge Robing easily took.

Starfire stood there in awe as her boyfriend was easily defeating the other guy. She always enjoyed seeing him having fun. When they first met, he use to take things way more seriously and keep things to himself. Now he was freely having fun.

And she was having fun…for a while.

Then the idea came to her. Since Robin was busy playing music guitar, he probably would not notice if she just left him for a bit to go visit the Comic- No!

She shook her head and slapped her cheeks. Today was just a simply crime free evening for her to spend with her boyfriend and that was it. That was it. That was it.

That was really what she wanted to do, but as she kept saying that to herself, Starfire found herself further away from Robin and walking around the mall.

Her new plan was to simply go to the bathroom and freshen up. It was not like she was leaving Robin by himself or anything. She was simply going to wash her face. Sure the comic book was a store she had to pass up, but that was not her destination.

No.

Starfire felt guilty.

Not only has she been keeping her little comic book collection hobby a secret from her friends and teammates, but she has been keeping it a secret from her boyfriend. Robin was going to notice that she was acting strange in the move theater. He was going to notice that she has left him at the arcade.

She should just turn around and go back. Have fun with her boyfriend, play against him in that music guitar game he has gone to love so much and-

“Missy is that you? Come to shop around?!”

That is when Starfire jumps and realizes she is right in front of the comic book store once again.  

Though she has never really said her name, she always had a feeling the owner of the shop recognized her as the superhero Starfire. He was always so polite to her. He would give her recommendations to a different comic book series very often. Of course Renew Your Vows was her favorite, but those only came out once a month.

The owner came walking out to the front of the door. He held up a miniature box and smiled. “I been waiting for you to pass by. We just got these in our shipment just two days ago. I’m not sure how well you are familiar with Funko Pops, but we just got a shipment of the Spinneret ones.” He stretched out his arm to her. “I am giving you one for being such a hero and a dedicated shopper here.”

A very warm feeling almost exploded in her chest. Starfire was ready to give the comic book owner a big hug when suddenly she heard a voice.

“Star!”

Both Starfire and the owner turned their heads to Robin. He was walking briskly towards them and Starfire could tell he had a look on his face. It was not a mad look, but one that was full of concern.

“Are you okay? You been acting really strange lately and then you just ditched me at the arcade.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Are you feeling sick? Is something bothering you and you need to talk about it?”

The owner was oblivious to her little problem. He took Starfire’s hand and place the Funko Pop in the palm of her hand. “Your girlfriend just won herself an exclusive Spinneret Pop for being such a loyal customer. It’s weird but I don’t get a lot of heroes coming to read comic books about heroes. I guess your lives are pretty exciting already.”

Robin looked at the book in her hand. “Comic books?”

Starfire’s face was now turning red. Was he going to be disgusted with her for her hobby?  Did he think she was weird now? Starfire hoped now. She could not take rejection.

The owner chuckled and padded her on the back. “This Missy right here is going to Jump City’s Comic-Con this weekend as Spinneret. Last time she was here she said she was even almost done. Are you going too? Make sure nobody tries to flirt with your girl?”

“Umm..umm.. Star?”

Starfire did not know what else to do in that situation but to just fly away. She hoped Robin could forgive her for running off without him again, but she did not want to see his disgusted look when he realized his girlfriend was one of those people who read comic books.

When she got home to her room in the tower, she just spent two hours just looking at her Spinneret costume.

It was way past the amount of time it would take for Robin to make it back to the tower, and to be honest, she could not tell or knew if he was already here. Maybe he just did not want to talk to her. He was a great person and true leader, so he would obviously still treat her with respect. Respect alone though did not mean he would like her personally.

She wondered how it was for Spider-Man when Mary Jane first found out his secret. Did she not talk to him for awhile. Did they break up? They are married now so she must of have forgiven him.

But her boyfriend was not Mary Jane.

It was almost midnight and Starfire was just starting to doze off when she heard a knock at her door. Her head jumped up and it caused Silky to worm away.

“Star? Are you awake?”

Starfire rubbed her eyes. She slowly got out of bed to go open the door. She took slow steps because it was not something she was looking forward to. Her boyfriend was going to reject her. He was nice so they were still going to be teammates, but that was going to be it.

“I am...opening the door.”

Starfire kept her head down so that she would not look at his face. It was night so the Titans Tower was already pretty dark within the hallways. That gave her the perfect chance to pretend she was talking to a dark void so that the rejection would not hurt so bad.

“Aren’t you going to look at me?” He said.

Starfire eyes stayed looking at the ground. She brought her hands to her chest. “Robin, I am sorry for leaving you earlier. I was ashamed when you found out about my…my weird hobby. But I really like comic books about heroes. I know it is weird because we are real heroes but they make me happy.”

She heard him chuckling. Was he laughing at the situation or at her?

“Star look at me. I’m not made.”

She sighed. Starfire slowly raised her head up ready to face the emotion that was going to show on Robin’s face. That was the plan, but “Robin! You?”

She could not see his face.

It was covered. In fact, his whole head was covered by a mask.

“How do I look?” He turned around so that she would have a full view of his costume, not just the mask. The red and blue fitted him so perfectly. It would match so good with her Spinneret cost-

“You are Spider-Man!!” She pointed one finger towards him before covering her mouths so that she would not wake any of the other teammates. Tears were starting to fall from her eyes.

Robin took off the mask so that Starfire could see his smile. “It took me forever to find a costume that fit me perfectly. Especially at the behind.” He balled the mask in his hands. “It’s not homemade like yours, but now we can go to the convention together as Spider-Man and Spinneret.”

Tears were definitively coming out her eyes now. Without warning, Starfire wrapped her arms around him for a big bear hug. She rubbed her face against his. “This is perfect! Now I just have to finish my mask and then we will be perfect! OH! The badges!” She stopped to look at him. “We have to get you a badge Robin!”

“That shouldn’t be to difficult. But Star?

“Yes?”

He padded her head. “No more hiding stuff from each other. We are in this together remember. Promise?”

Starfire’s grip on him became tighter. All of a sudden they were both falling to the floor. Now they were both laughing, mostly at each other and the situation.

“Yes, I promise.”

#robstar #robstar week #robstarweek #starfire #robin #teen titans

[valkyrr]

1-96, just because :P

-cracks knuckles- OH BOY alright, let’s do this

full meme under the cut 

(1) Do You Sleep With Your Closet Doors Open Or Closed?

my closet doesn’t have a door!

(2) Do You Have Freckles?

YEA but they’re really faint unless i’ve been hanging out in the sun for a while

(3) Can You Whistle?

NO and I’m bitter

(4) Last Song You Listened To.

God Only Knows - The Beach Boys

(5) What Is Your Favourite Colour?

atm it’s blue, but it changes often

(6) Relationship Status.

single and kind of ready to mingle i’m not really sure just gonna see how things go

(7) What Is The Temperature Right Now?

66 degrees F

(8) Did You Wake Up Cranky?

nope

(9) How Many Followers?

208

(10) Zodiac Sign.

Libra!!

(11) What Is Your Eye Colour?

Hazel I think,,

(12) Take A Vitamin Daily?

if you’re talking abt a daily multivitamin and not medication then NO that’s a level of health I am Not At

(13) Do You Sing In The Shower?

ofc, i’ve figured out how to balance my phone on the shower ledge w/o it getting wet so i can sing to songs lmao

(14) What Books Are You Reading?

none atm

(15) Grab The Book Nearest To You, Turn To Page 64, Give Me Line 14.

Ferahgo watched him intently and commented, “What’s that noise? Has one of your teeth broken? Oh look, it’s fallen out. (...)”

(16) Favourite Anime?

Lupin III 

(17) Last Person You Cried In Front Of?

my mom

(18) Do You Collect Anything?

Vinyls!

(19) What Did You Have For Lunch?

Crackers that may have been sitting in our pantry for ~4 months now

(20) Do You Dance In The Car?

nah, but i’ll sing

(21) Favourite Animal?

Lynx

(22) Do You Watch The Olympics?

YEA I love the Olympics!

(23) What Time Do You Usually Go To Bed?

1 AM - 3 AM

(24) Are You Wearing Makeup Right Now?

ye

(25) Do You Prefer To Swim In A Pool Or The Ocean?

Ocean

(26) Favourite Tumblr Blog?

all of my mutuals tbh.....

(27) Bottled Water Or Tap Water?

Bottled

(28) What Makes You Happy?

Music

(30) Do You Study Better With Or Without Music?

with, but it’s gotta be classical or smooth jazz or Chill Anime Beats 24/7 or something

(31) Dogs Or Cats?

b o t h

(32) If You Were A Crayon What Colour Would You Be?

Orange

(33) PlayStation Or Xbox.

used to be team Xbox, i’m PS now bc i’m a traitor

(34) Would You Swim In The Lake Or Ocean?

Lake

(35) Do You Believe In Magic?

depends what kind!

(36) What Colour Shirt Are You Wearing?

gray

(37) Can You Curl Your Tongue?

ye

(38) Do You Save Money Or Spend It?

try to save it as best i can!

(39) Is There Anything Pink Within 10 Feet Of You?

no

(40) Do You Have Any Obsessions Right Now?

I’m back on my Bloodborne bullshit rn but besides that I’m really getting into Kings of Convenience as a band and i’m digging their music??

(41) Have You Ever Caught A Butterfly?

YEA kid me used to chase them around, keep them for a little bit, then release them

(42) Are You Easily Influenced By Other People?

ye, please be aware i’m gonna copy personality traits if i’m around the same person for a while

(43) Do You Have Strange Dreams?

lately yeah?? but i can’t ever remember them tbh

(44) Do You Like Going On Airplanes?

ye

(45) Name One Movie That Made You Cry.

Good Will Hunting

(46) Peanuts Or Sunflower Seeds?

Peanuts

(47) If I Handed You A Concert Ticket Right Now, Who Would You Want The Performer To Be?

honestly I still wanna see Fleet Foxes live but i’m ~salty~ because they just came to detroit @ a venue i’ve been at before and really liked and i was busy the day of their concert

(48) Are You A Picky Eater?

not rly unless it comes to texture

(49) Are You A Heavy Sleeper?

tbh an atomic war could happen and if I was sleeping i’d be none the wiser

(50) Do You Fear Thunder / Lightning?

every time a thunderstorm happens i get 100% stronger

(51) Do You Like To Read / Write?

yea if i’m in the mood for it!

(52) Do You Like Your Music Loud?

also depends on my mood

(53) Would You Rather Carve Pumpkins Or Wrap Presents?

Carve pumpkins

(54) Put Your Music On Shuffle, What Is The First Song That Came Up?

The Growlers - Love Test

(55) What Season Are You In Right Now? (Weather)

Summer still, but it’s starting to feel like Fall in the evenings

(56)What Are You Craving Right Now?

Pizza

(58) What Is Your Gender?

Cis girl

(59) Coffee Or Tea?

Tea all the way

(60) Do You Have Any Homework Right Now? If So, What Is It About?

No thank goodness

(61) What Is Your Sexuality?

Super Ace

(62) Do You Make Your Bed In The Morning?

I wish;;

(63) Favourite Pokemon?

Entei/ Aggron

(64) Favourite Social Media?

This hellsite

(65) What’s Your Opinion On Instagram Stories?

They’re cool, never use them though

(66) Do You Get Homesick?

All the time

(67) Are You A Virgin?

Ye

(68) What Shampoo And Conditioner Are You Using Right Now?

Idk i think it’s like “Maui moisture” or somethin, i just picked it bc it smelled pretty good

(69) If You Were Far From Home And Needed To Sleep For The Night, Would You Choose To Rent A Crappy Motel Room For $60 Or Sleep In Your Car For Free?

Sleep in my car, i’m a huge germaphobe abt motels/hotels in general

(70) Are Both Of Your Blood Parents Still In Your Life?

yes, thankfully

(71)  Whats The Next Movie You Want To See In Theaters?

idk, the last one I wanted to see was Baby Driver but i don’t think it’s in theaters anymore?

(72) Do You Miss Your Ex?

i only have one(1) ex from like...... grade school. lmao. i completely forgot about him ‘till this question

(73) What Is Your Favourite Quote Right Now?

this

(74) What Eye Colour Do You Find Sexiest?

Brown eyes are VERY underrated

(75) Did You Like Swinging As A Child? Do You Still Get Excited When You See A Swing Set?

YEAH

(76) What Was The Last Thing You Ate?

Tuna + Peaches

(77) What Games Do You Have On Your Phone?

i have Fallout Shelter but i’m thiiiiiis close to deleting it because it’s stressful af and i get way too attached to my dwellers

(78) Would You Give A Homeless Person CPR If They Were Dying? Why Or Why Not?

yea of course lmao I can’t see a reason why anyone wouldn’t???????

(79) Been On The Computer For 5 Hours Straight?

I used to pull internet marathons like that when I was in high school but I’m kinda over it

(80) Stalked Someone On A Social Network?

never in a creepy way, but i follow a ton of bands i like on instagram and i get unreasonably exited when one of them posts something to their story

(81) Do You Like Meeting New People?

Yea!

(82) Do You Wear Rings? If You Do, Take A Picture Of Them.

Not often

(83) Do You Sleep With Your Bedroom Door Open Or Closed?

Closed

(84) What Are Three Things You Did Today?

got in touch w a friend i hadn’t talked to in a while, did some laundry, drew a bit!

(85) What Do You Wear To Bed?

usually pj shorts and a t shirt

(86) List All Of Your Different Beauty Products You Have Right Now.

 I have a ton of lipstick from Colourpop, a bunch o’ e.l.f. stuff, and some other misc things

(87) Are You A Day Or Night Person?

Night

(88) List All Of Your Video Games On Your Phone, Console Etc.

there’s......... so many tbh

(90) Favourite Soda Drink?

Cream Soda 

(91) What Sounds Are Your Favourite?

Rain on the window, cars passing on the road outside, running water

(92) Do You Wear Jeans Or Sweats More?

Jeans

(93) How Do You Look Right Now?

probably Bad, just chillin in my pjs 

(94) Name Something That Relaxes You.

Reading

(95) What Tattoo Do You Want?

Okay I’d love to get something in the traditional style but I’m also one of those people who would prefer a tattoo w meaning and I don’t really know of anything I’d put on my body permanently yet?? Might change down the road idk

(96) Favourite YouTuber?

I’m only rly on YouTube for the music 

thanks for the asks :)

#miscnerdings

[garkgatiss]

#Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin'!

Great news, everyone: legends-only Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat plan to not only 

a) write canon romantic Johnlock, but 

b) do it by writing an explicitly queer homage/fix-it fic for the subtextually queer tragic play that was used as the basis of the acclaimed musical Oklahoma!

Oklahoma! ! A second reference, and a direct reference to the musical this time. Apparently Sherlock’s parents weren’t linedancing in Oklahoma, they were linedancing in Oklahoma!. Weird, right? Why a reference to an American musical about cowboys in a British show about a detective? 

Just wait.

Let’s first take a look at what happens in the first act:

Sweet orphan farm maiden protagonist Laurey has two suitors: Curly, a hunky sweet-talkin’ cowboy who visits her farmhouse regularly to a cautiously positive reception from Laurey and bald-faced encouragement from spinster Aunt Eller; and Jud, the two women’s goonish hired farmhand who has a brutish, violent obsession with Laurey and a brutish, violent jealousy of Curly’s frequent visits.

In Act I, Laurey impulsively commits to going to the Box Social dance with the goonish farmhand in the process of playing hard-to-get with her will-they-won't-they dashing cowboy. She immediately gets the sense that she will regret this, but she's too scared of goony farmhand to back out on him and too stubborn to come crawling back to cowboy. Cowboy Curly is frustrated by this apparent indecision, and confronts Jud alone in an ominous scene that foreshadows their final, fatal clash. At the end of Act I, Laurey gets high on "smelling salts" (camphorated laudanum) that she bought from a peddler in order to understand what to do. A fifteen-minute dream ballet reveals a happy life with Curly that is ruined on her wedding day when Curly transforms into Jud, and the church transforms into a saloon full of can-can dancers. Dream-Curly returns to confront Dream-Jud and they fight, but as a tornado rages, Dream-Jud kills Dream-Curly and carries off Laurey. Laurey wakes, terrified, and doesn’t argue when Jud tells her what time he plans to pick her up for the party.

You can substitute Sherlock for Laurey, John for Curly, and Mary for Jud and recreate several key scenes and dynamics from Sherlock without too much stretch of the imagination. You can see Sherlock and John’s stubborn, teasing banter in Laurey and Curly from the first scene, as well as Mrs. Hudson’s blithe encouragement of their relationship; John’s “people will talk” line gets its own musical number in “People Will Say We’re In Love”; food-sex metaphor is fully integrated into the plot; Curly threatens Jud and proves his sharp-shooting ability by shooting through a knothole in a wooden post “the size of a dime”. The entirety of The Abominable Bride is a visual and structural homage to Oklahoma!’s fifteen-minute opium-induced dream ballet, but one that foreshadows an unambiguously happy ending rather than tragedy. Truly, just watch it -- you could easily rename the dream ballet The Abominable Groom.

This musical is a baffling but blatant muse for Sherlock, going all the way back to the very first episode. One explanation is that Sherlock is a fairy-tale romance, and what better way to demonstrate that than to follow the romantic arc of a golden age Broadway musical? 

But what makes even more sense (and is ultimately far more poignant) in explaining why Sherlock fits so well as Laurey and why Sherlock seems to borrow so much from Oklahoma! is that Laurey’s character was intended to be read subtextually as a gay man from the very first draft. 

"Green Grow The Lilacs is a very bleak play about homosexuality. Would you get that from Oklahoma!? I don't think so." - Stephen Sondheim 

Green Grow the Lilacs was first staged in 1931. A pseudo-musical play showcasing the folk songs and regional dialect of pre-statehood Oklahoma, it ran for its full contract of sixty-four shows and toured the states a bit afterwards. A modest success in terms of Depression-era theater. 

Rodgers and Hammerstein both independently discovered the show and wanted to adapt it into a full musical theater production with original music. Oklahoma! would be the very first collaboration for the legendary composer-librettist duo. The pair added their songs, preserved much of the original dialogue of the play, fleshed out the secondary romantic subplot, changed the tragic ending to an unambiguously happy one, and made themselves a hit. 

“I like the bridesmaids in purple--”

”Lilac.” 

(Can we now tally a third reference to Oklahoma! in Sherlock?)

Green Grow the Lilacs was originally written by Lynn Riggs, a closeted gay man who set his play in the Indian Territory (soon-to-become Oklahoma) town of Claremore where he grew up. Functionally an orphan, his mother Rose Ella “Eller” Lynn died when he was a baby and he spent significant time as a child with his Aunt Mary: a divorcee with eight children, mostly daughters, and the stated inspiration for the character of Aunt Eller. Though his stated inspiration for Laurey is one of these girl cousins he grew up with, it's clear that Laurey’s true role is as a self-insert of Riggs himself.

This makes the entire play snap immediately into focus. Why else is an orphan woman even considering the overtures of a consolation prize farmhand goon when her only apparent kin is virtually begging her to get hitched with her cowboy dreamboat true love? It’s what first struck me as so similar between Sherlock and Oklahoma!: there is NO NARRATIVE REASON why they shouldn’t get together in the very first scene! Curly invites Laurey to the dance, and then he pretends to have been joking when she deflects his invitation. Is this sounding familiar yet? Why else is she worried about people saying they’re in love? There’s no father with a shotgun to hide from, no factional violence keeping them apart. And yet she has to get high like a certain detective we know in order to make what should be the most obvious choice of her life.

It means that dirty, brutish Jud is suspicious because smooth-talking slick-dressed Curly always visiting their farmhouse without having any real business there. It means that Curly’s disinterest in Jud’s porn stash and Jud’s hostility in response suddenly feels ominous. It means that the implication that Jud killed and burned down the farmhouse of the last family he worked for because he caught the farmer’s daughter, whom he was sweet on, with another man in the hayloft was less to do with violent, murderous jealousy and more to do with violent, murderous bigotry.

It means that Aunt Eller, who throughout the musical miraculously interrupts and prevents the commission of at least three different subtextual hate crimes, is less a spinster aunt eager to marry off her orphan niece and more a champion and guardian of gay love. (She’s also a naked-lady-picture-lookin’, red-petticoat-wearin’ lesbian, but that’s an analysis for another time.) Glad we have our own Mrs. Hudson, not to mention another character literally named Ella, watching out for our boys. 

So, back to Sherlock. We’ve seen the dream ballet. We’ve started the second act. What comes next?

In Act II, the Box Social is in full swing, and the fundraising auction of food-basket-plus-a-lunch-date-with-the-woman-who-made it is about to begin. Laurey’s is the last basket to be auctioned, and Jud immediately outbids several lowball offers, determined to win her whatever the cost. Then Curly appears, and the two engage in a bidding war, with Jud bidding all the money he has in the world, requiring Curly to sell his saddle, his horse (effectively giving up his profession as a cowboy for love), and finally (and ominously) his gun to the crowd in order to top it. Once Curly wins, Laurey finally is able to tell Jud to get lost (he reacts poorly to this so she fires him as well), and Curly and Laurey become engaged to be married. 

They marry, but Jud haunts their celebration. On their wedding night, during the humiliating tradition of “shivaree” which involves a mob dragging the couple from their marriage bed to mercilessly heckle them while banging pots and pans, Laurey and Curly are standing atop a haybale receiving this dubious honor when Jud appears with a knife and lights the haybale on fire. Helping Laurey to safety first, Curly jumps from the flaming haybale directly onto Jud, causing Jud to be killed by his own knife. 

‘By his own knife.’ After an entire song in the first act where Curly suggests that Jud ought to hang himself while delivering a string of insults disguised as a eulogy? Right. Definitely an accident. 

(“It’s not possible for the victim to have done it!” We’ve been told?)

This is where the play and the musical diverge. In the original play as written, “Curly is arrested, but breaks jail and returns to Laurey. The marshal’s men follow, but the couple is permitted to consummate their marriage in privacy, with the understanding that Curly will be taken into custody in the morning.” (x) 

Theresa Helburn, the producer of the play and the person who first brought it to the attention of Richard Rodgers, wants assurance that Curly will be acquitted, but Riggs fights hard for his tragic queer-coding, so together they wrangle it into something more ambiguous for the final edit. 

But when Rodgers and Hammerstein get their hands on it, the ending becomes unambiguously, unrecognizably happy: Aunt Eller comforts Laurey about Curly’s implication in Jud’s death (is this sounding like a familiar theory yet????), and then she demands an impromptu kitchen table trial for Curly so that Curly and Laurey can still catch the train on time for their honeymoon. The federal marshall objects, but at Aunt Eller’s demand, the town’s judge rules Curly innocent. With the bang of a soup-ladle gavel, and Laurey and Curly ride off into the sunset.

The only thing left to fix is to give this happy ending to an actual gay couple.

Can you picture it yet?

#oh what a beautiful morning #sherlock meta #oklahoma!lock

[newyorktheater]

In a year that has ended so dramatically off-stage, and during which so many people talked dismissively about “political theater” — but they didn’t mean anything actually happening in a work of art —  it’s good to celebrate the memorable moments  that happened nightly on New York stages.

These were moments that were memorable as a visual spectacle or a verbal tickle or an emotional punch, moments that meant something because of off-stage events, or meant nothing but stayed with you nevertheless. Some moments were memorable because they were lovely; some because they were ugly. There were enough memorable moments this year in so many shows (even some one might not otherwise have cared for) that the gallery below is just a sample — as was the one  last year, and the year before that, and the year before that. I’m forced to focus largely on the moments with human actors — leaving out the unforgettable moments involving a live goat, a rabbit, and most of the puppets  (I do mention one.)

Click on any photograph to see it enlarged and to read the extensive caption that explains each moment, which are more or less in the chronological order of the shows’ opening. Some of the moments on stage were so special that the production didn’t provide photographs of them; in such cases, I use a different photograph from that show.

Ruthie Ann Miles as Immigration Judge Craig Zerbe presided over The Courtroom, a re-enactment by Waterwell theater company of actual deportation proceedings, using the transcript. What made this an especially memorable moment was that it marked the Miles first performance in New York after a reckless driver last year killed her four-year-old daughter and caused the loss of her unborn baby.

“4.48 Psychosis,” an opera based on Sarah Kane’s play about her mental illness, featured this exchange, the words projected onto the back wall as the performers sang them: Have you made any plans? With the words projected onto the back wall, the psychiatrist had the following exchange with the patient: Have you made any plans? Take an overdose, slash my wrists then hang myself. All those things together? It couldn’t possibly be misconstrued as a cry for help.

In “Alice By Heart,” the entire colorfully-clad cast turned into a single giant caterpillar

In “The Cake,” Debra Jo Rupp portrayed Della, a good-natured Christian baker in North Carolina who refuses to bake a cake for a lesbian wedding, and then feels guilty about it. Late at night, in bed with her husband Tim, she tries to explore her conscience with him as sounding board. Tim doesn’t want to hear it. He thinks she was right to turn down the lesbians. Tim: It’s – it’s just not natural. Della: Well, neither is confectioner’s sugar!

In “Ain’t No Mo’,” the play by Jordan E. Cooper, making his Off-Broadway debut as both a playwright and an actor, African-American are leaving the United States en masse on flights to Africa. In the final scene, Cooper as pink-garbed stewardess Peaches is left behind. The final stream-of-consciousness monologue, accompanied by the voices of famous black Americans –Bessie and Billie, James Brown, James Baldwin, and Malcolm X — is a metaphor for the black experience in America, as Peaches can’t uproot the bag of black history, and is left defeated, stripped down to a bare black man, shouting “Give it back, give it back.”

“Ashes,” a haunting work of theatre that told the real-life story of an arsonist, was peopled with dozens of characters — all but the narrator are puppets. In one of many astounding moments of magic, the narrator’s father (a puppet) who is dying smokes a cigarette, and exhales the smoke, which then curls up into the air and magically forms the text: “The last thing I did to my father was lie to him.”

Ali Stroker as the fun-loving, oversexed Ado Annie in “Oklahoma!”, teases and kisses, flirts with and sings to the dim Will Parker (James Davis), — and most memorably swings with him gleefully on her wheelchair.

Andre De Shields commands the stage in Hadestown from the get-go. The show begins in complete silence as the rest of the cast watches Hermes, in his elegant, grey silk suit, slide across the stage, pause, and open a button to show a loud and splendid vest, before trombone player Briane Drye lets out a blast from jazz heaven and De Shields launches into the get-down “Road to Hell.” It’s the quietest, and most mesmerizing, opening of any show on Broadway.

“Dragon Spring Phoenix Rise” a kung-fu musical that was the inaugural show in the mammoth McCourt Theater during the inaugural season of The Shed, the arts center that’s part of the gleaming and sterile new Hudson Yards neighborhood. The musical took advantage of the space, when the performers soared up 80 feet in the air for aerial acrobatics and then back down again.

“Moulin Rouge” was thrilling from the moment you entered the theater… until about ten minutes after it began. That’s because the brightest star in this stage adaptation of Baz Luhrmann’s 2001 movie musical is designer Derek McLane’s set. Before we even take our seats, it envelopes us in love, or at least in lots of red – a huge red neon “Moulin Rouge” sign above red lights in the shape of a half a dozen hearts nestled lovingly within each other, a full-sized, red windmill full of lights perched on the box seats above us to our left, a life-sized elephant (which, for variety, is purple) in the box seats to our right…

In an arresting moment in “Deluge,” a tall white dancer dressed in black tossed up a short black dancer dressed in red, accompanied by a score that included recordings of some of the most fulsome public comments by Donald Trump and other politicians (“These are animals…Pocahontas…legitimate rape…”) The dance company whose members wrote, choreographed and performed this remarkable piece is called Loco-Motion Dance Theater for Children, and they were performing as part of the 16th annual Rebel Verses Youth Arts Festival, an exciting and inspiring show presenting artists ages 13 to 19 from some dozen youth theater companies. The festival was almost as impressive for what was not on stage as for what was: There were no teenage cliques, no obsession with popularity. It was not the standard depiction of teenagers in even well-meaning shows on Broadway

“Sincerity Forever,” one of the five plays in Perfect Catatrophes, a festival of Mac Wellman plays, takes place in a fictional Southern town named Hillsbottom. Jesus H. Christ, a black woman, comes visiting and the town’s teenagers, dressed casually in Klu Klux Klan’s outfits, are oblivious. In the first of several memorable moments, two of the teens admit that they are ignorant – “I don’t know why the sky is blue, and I don’t know what ‘blue’ is, and I don’t know why I don’t know,” — but conclude that their ignorance must nonetheless somehow be God’s plan. “the most important thing is not what you know, but whether you’re sincere or not.”

At the end of “Novenas for a Lost Hospital,” which sweeps through the 161-year history of St. Vincent’s Hospital in Greenwich Village, focusing on the cholera and AIDS epidemics, Kathleen Chalfant as Mother Seton leads the audience down the narrow staircase to the street, and then the block and a half over to the so-called St. Vincent’s Triangle, a new park across the street from where the hospital once stood. It’s the site of the New York City AIDS Memorial. The audience stood in a circle for the epilogue, beneath the white steel triangle canopy of the memorial.

In “The Great Society,” which chronicles the final four years of LBJ’s presidency, we get out of the White House in just a handful of scenes. In the most memorable, Jimmy Lee Jackson, a 26-year-old Alabaman tries to register to vote, and is killed doing so, which leads to the confrontations between Civil Rights marchers and Alabama troops on the Edmund Pettus Bridge.

There is one spectacularly funny moment in “Scotland, PA” musical comedy version of “Macbeth,” which is based on Billy Morrissette’s 2001 movie, and is set in a fast-food restaurant in the “podunk town” of Scotland, Pennsylvania in 1975. After married couple Mac and Pat Kill Duncan, they take over his restaurant. All the fast-food workers are dressed in construction jumpsuits and the establishment is covered with canvas. Suddenly, all the workers strip off their outfit, and simultaneously all the canvas falls off, and we see red and gold costumes, red and gold décor, a huge yellow M sign, and the new name of the restaurant: McBeth’s. This is one of the two shows this year in New York that featured a funny scene involving McDonald’s. The other was Soft Power — which opened the same week!

At the end of Tina, The Tina Turner Musical, Adrienne Warner — dressed in trademark tight red leather mini-dress, highest of heels and tallest of wigs, ascending a staircase of flashing lights backed by a raucous band each in his own Hollywood Square — delivers Tina Turner’s greatest hits – Nutbush City Limits, Proud Mary ( “Rollin’, rollin’ rollin’ on the river…”) – and we all rise as one, ecstatic, and swoon.. I’m not sure what it says – but it says something – that this greatest moment in the musical’s nearly three hours occurs after the curtain call.

This sexy scene in The Inheritance is not actually the most memorable in the play. That comes at the end of the first part of this two-part play, when the young gay men who died during the peak of the AIDS epidemic walk from the back of the theater one by one to the stage to shake hands with the living.

In “You Oughta Know,” the exhilarating show-stopping number from Jagged Little Pill, Jo confronts her girlfriend Jackie, whom she had discovered in bed with a new boy in their high school named Phoenix: “Every time you speak his name, does he know how you told me you’d be there until you died. Til you died, but you’re still alive….you, you, you oughta know. You, you,you,you…” As Jo, Lauren Patten’s delivery of the song is so forceful and electric that it prompted a standing ovation.

Memorable Moments on Stage in 2019 In a year that has ended so dramatically off-stage, and during which so many people talked dismissively about "political theater" -- but they didn't mean anything actually happening in a work of art --  it's good to celebrate the memorable moments  that happened nightly on New York stages.

[biofunmy]

Living Where You Can Walk to Work

Megan Doyle has been teaching dance at the 92nd Street Y — the renowned cultural and community center on the Upper East Side — for nearly 10 years, and in that time she has lived in five different homes across three boroughs.

She started as a tap dance teacher in 2010 with one Saturday morning class for kindergarten-age children, which meant of course that she had to find other gainful employment. But even as she has moved through different jobs and living spaces in the last decade, the 92nd Street Y has always remained a constant.

She loves that she had the opportunity to build the center’s new tap program from scratch and last year she became the director of the 92nd Street Y’s musical theater program.

So it should come as no surprise that she decided about two years ago to move to a studio that is just a 15-minute walk from work. She gave up a junior one-bedroom in Astoria to take the studio, decreasing the size of her apartment considerably and increasing her rent from $1,250 a month to $1,900.

But she hasn’t missed the 45-minute subway ride to Queens. “Here, even if it’s 10 p.m., I can still walk to work. I could be at work all day every day,” said Ms. Doyle, who also spent many of her evenings and weekends at the Y when she lived in Astoria. “Not that I have to be, but we’re doing exciting stuff so I want to be there.”

$1,900 | Upper East Side

Megan Doyle, 34

Occupation: Director of the 92nd Street Y’s musical theater program, which started in fall of 2018. The program puts on several musicals a year and just started rehearsals for “Cinderella,” “Beauty & the Beast” and “42nd Street.” The kitchen: It is large for a studio apartment, but is mostly wasted on Ms. Doyle. “I don’t cook. I do reheat things,” she said. “And I’m an expert at Seamless.” The neighborhood: Ms. Doyle likes that her apartment is close to multiple Starbucks, a 24-hour laundromat and a CitiBike station. She often bikes across Central Park to the Trader Joe’s on the Upper West Side, where she buys food she can reheat. Her birthday: Ms. Doyle likes to celebrate her November birthday with a big family trip. This year, they’re going on a Disney cruise. Her father, a retired homicide detective, was initially hesitant, she said, but eventually came around.

Ms. Doyle’s first home in the city, when she was working on her master’s in dance education at New York University, was an inexpensive room in the Park Slope apartment of a woman and her young son, rented out on the condition that she vacate for the weekends. So for about a year, Ms. Doyle spent her weekends at her parents’ house in Smithtown, Long Island.

She made her first attempt to live by the 92nd Street Y in 2011. She was working in sales at a Lululemon in the city by then and the tap program had grown from four to five children to about 50 students. She loved being able to casually swing by the Y, but her tiny, $1,400-a-month studio on 62nd Street and Lexington Avenue was at the top of her budget and when her landlord raised the rent the next year, she had to leave.

Other living arrangements included a shared apartment in Astoria with a very nice but very messy roommate, and living in a share house out in the Hamptons that was provided by Lululemon when she worked as a store manager there. When she was on the East End of Long Island, she would commute back to the city just to teach her dance class at the 92nd Street Y.

She eventually landed a near-perfect junior one-bedroom in Astoria. She lived above her landlords, whom she became close to and who never once complained about the noise she made choreographing routines in the apartment. She put up 10 standing mirrors so she could use the room as a dance studio and worked out sequences on a tap board.

“They were always looking out for me,” she said. “The first time I went away for a few days they called me and asked, ‘Are you O.K.?’ I never had a landlord do that before — usually you don’t think to tell your landlord you’re going out of town.”

She stayed for a little over four years, during which time she managed an uptown Gymboree and taught dance at a charter school in Queens. But after being hired full-time by the 92nd Street Y as the associate director of dance education in 2015, she started spending most of her waking hours on the Upper East Side.

“I used to have to work to work,” said Ms. Doyle, describing how delighted she was that her job now included all of her favorite activities: teaching, directing, choreographing and, in the summers, crafting with children at the Y’s camps. “Growing up I didn’t realize there would be a job where I’d get to do all the things I loved at once.”

She found her current place after about a week of looking with a broker. A fourth-floor walk-up, it’s roomy by the standards of the Upper East Side, with enough space for a couch that her brother can sleep on when he visits from Long Island.

“Aesthetically, it was the prettiest apartment I walked into,” she said. “The only downside is I wanted a cat but this is a pet-free building.”

An avid crafter, Ms. Doyle uses most of the storage space in the apartment for supplies — she knits about 35 pairs of socks a year and sews small bags, potholders and bowl covers, which she gives as gifts. She also does costume alterations, though mostly of the hot glue gun variety, and she tries not to do them at home.

Devoted though Ms. Doyle may be, even she needs a little buffer between work and home sometimes. “I wanted to be 15 minutes away,” she said. “I looked at places that were closer, but I didn’t want to end up storing stuff in my apartment, which I knew I would do.”

She does, however, use the walk to and from work to find new music for dance classes and to memorize the lyrics to the latest musicals — “You’d better know all of ‘Hamilton’ and ‘Beetlejuice.’”

There have been some other slippages, as well. Bertina and Dorothea, her two beta fish — the only variety of pet she was allowed to keep in her building, now live at the 92nd Street Y, thanks to what may be described as a kind of accidental re-homing.

“I brought them to work when I went on a trip so they’d be taken care of, but I forgot that the kids would fall in love with them,” said Ms. Doyle. “Now the kids are obsessed, so they’ll stay there.”

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[kkoehn17]

At 4:15 a.m. my alarm went off and my eyes blinked slowly open. Waking up seemed impossible, unbearable, illogical, but somehow I dragged myself into the bathroom, turned on the surface of the sun grade light, and brushed my teeth.

It was 6:00 when I got to the airport, and everyone seemed to be thinking the same thing as me: why the hell are we here this early? followed closely by: because the adventure ahead will be worth it.

I boarded my first flight, and almost immediately after my butt hit the seat, my eyes closed. The flight attendant walked by and tapped me on the shoulder, informing me that while I was more than welcome to sleep, I was also sitting next to the emergency exit. Me and the other three people sitting in the row were required to audibly agree to our responsibilities in case of emergency, but judging how fast the lot of us fell mouths open asleep after take off, I’d say the plane was pretty lucky they didn’t need us.

On my second flight, I was sat next to a man who immediately pulled out a laptop and began furiously typing. I pulled out my copy of The Glass Castle and read the last few chapters, all the while feeling my stomach begin to churn and my fingers begin to fidget.

The first day of any vacation is the hardest for me. Expectations run rampant through my mind, promising to be let down. I knew my best friend was waiting patiently for me on the other side of this flight and I worried that the stories I’d been waiting to tell her wouldn’t be interesting or exciting enough. What if the distance between us had made us grow apart? What if this trip wasn’t everything we’d been hoping it would be?

The captain came on the intercom and announced our initial descent into Redmond, Oregon, and for a split second I wished I could stay on the plane forever, free from all the responsibilities to satisfy, impress and succeed that awaited me on the ground. But before I knew it, the wheels hit the pavement and the plane rolled to a stop. I walked through the terminal to the baggage claim, knowing there was no turning back now.

When I stepped outside, I saw my best friend, Allison, waiting by her car, her dog Jersey’s head poking out of the back seat. A wave of relief washed over me as we made a series of nerdy jumps and squeals to close the distance between us and initiate the hug we’d been waiting 6 months for.

“How are you?!” she said, and her voice in my ear was a startling reminder that she was no longer a text message or an email or a late night notification on Instagram, she was a living breathing person that I call my best friend, and we had finally been reunited.

“So we have an interesting afternoon ahead of us,” she said once I got in the car.

“Tell me more.”

Being a producer for a news station in Bend, Oregon, and the girlfriend of an anchor for a rivaling news station, Allison had been challenged to race her boyfriend—and fight for her channel’s honor—in a heated, balls out, tricycle race.

We stopped by her house for a quick change of clothes, she squatted and mimed tricycle riding motions to ensure she’d chosen a good pair of pants, and then we drove into town, where the Bend Oktoberfest—sure, it was September and we were a bit confused, but we won’t talk about it—was in full swing.

Beer steins were in every hand, pretzels crumbs were on every face and there was one very bold man sporting lederhosen. We took a seat on the bleachers that sandwiched the 200ft tricycle course and, alongside Allison’s boyfriend Mike, stared at the incredibly small tricycles, wondering how on earth either of them would not only fit aboard, but operate them in a way that would lead to success.

The first heat of racers left the starting line, giving life to every fear we had. Grown men leaned and wobbled and one woman let out a terrified squeal. Allison and Mike shared a glance, then took their places in line, fitted themselves with a helmet, and shrugged at me with a “here goes nothing.”

In the end, neither of them came out on top. While Allison finished in a close 2nd place, Mike’s long legs proved to be his greatest enemy and a resounding reminder that he was in fact an adult trying to operate a children’s bike. We all shrugged a collective shrug, then agreed that pizza was the obvious next step.

Mod Pizza, which is a build it yourself Pie-ology/PizzaRev equivalent, proved to be the ultimate right choice for our lunching festivities. I ordered a chicken, corn, tomato, red onion and feta masterpiece, then allowed myself to be tempted by the “no name cakes” that sit next to the cash register.

Tip: Always get the No Name Cake. It’s like a freshly made Ding Dong that your taste buds need.

Back at Allison’s house, we took a seat on the couch and let the conversation start flowing. We covered the topics that sat just below the surface, shared a few current music obsessions, and looked out the window at the impending fall weather.

At 5:30, we drove over to see Mike’s 6 o’clock show, where he Ron Burgundy-ed Bend’s latest news. Allison and I sat off camera, a mere 50 feet from him, in fold up chairs. She watched with trained eyes, all too familiar with the format and production of a newscast, and I sat with my hands in tight fists, worried I might accidentally scream or sneeze or pass out and ruin the show.

Afterwards, the three of us drove out to The Bite in Tumalo, which is essentially a corner street park converted into a homey picnic area with food carts, a fire pit, corn hole, and a bar with a ton of beers on tap. We all ate at Ronin Sushi & Japanese Grill, which, bottom line was delicious, but listen to me and listen to me now. Do yourself a favor and order the Bento Box with the Japanese fried chicken. Listen to me when I tell you that anything else is a mistake. Listen to me when I tell you that while I’d previously never heard of Japanese fried chicken, it’s also safe to say I was previously living a dark and dingy life. Also, from the bar, I’d recommend the Atlas Blackberry Cider, it tastes like the mature, has-their-shit-together-cousin of red wine.

Once we were thoroughly full, though not even close to finished harping on the magic that is JFC—Japanese fried chicken, a.k.a the new, improved and as far as I’m concerned ONLY colonel of protein I’d like to associate with—Mike headed back to work to prepare for the late show and Allison and I went to McMenamins.

Now, if I had a way to explain McMenamins briefly, I would, but I feel as though that would be both dishonest to you and a disservice to McMenamins. On their Facebook page, they tag themselves as related to pubs, breweries, historic hotels, concert venues, wineries, distilleries, coffee roasters, movie theaters, golf, and spas, and honestly that should tell you everything you need to know about this place, which is that you’ll probably never know everything there is to know about this place.

Allison took me through an outdoor cigar lounge and into a building with dark carpet and wood paneled walls.

“We’re going to find the secret bar,” she said, “but first you have to find all the other secret rooms.”

I looked up and down the hallways, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, then I looked back at her.

“The only clue I’m going to give you is blue light,” she said.

And while I’d love to be the spiller of all secrets, Internet, this is the only clue I will leave you with as well. Just know that it is actually a great clue and that there are hidden doors among the wood paneled walls that lead you into rooms like this:

As well as a hidden bar that will give you some major speakeasy feels upon discovery.

I’d like to say I Sherlocked my way through every puzzle and celebrated with a beer at the top, but unfortunately a handful of people in front of us ended up giving away a bunch of the secrets. So after checking in at the secret bar, we made our back down to the car and over to Bonta Gelato. Allison and I both got waffle cones full of goodness—I recommend the Vanilla Bourbon Pecan!—and cheers-ed to the first day of our adventure. We’d already done so much, and we still had so much to come.

A Late September Adventure (Day 1: Bend, OR) At 4:15 a.m. my alarm went off and my eyes blinked slowly open. Waking up seemed impossible, unbearable, illogical, but somehow I dragged myself into the bathroom, turned on the surface of the sun grade light, and brushed my teeth.

#adventure #atlas blackberry cider bend #bend oktoberfest #bend oregon #blogging #bonta gelato bend #fun #life #mcmenamins bend #mod pizza bend #places #ronin sushi japanese grill #the bite tumalo #travel blog