#the sticker grind has been going for like 2 months now

[possumnest]

EXCITING NEWS!!!

in exactly 2 weeks (february 1st) i will be opening my etsy store!!

i have 9 sticker designs that'll be available over the course of february & they are all very cute can confirm :D tell ur friends ur family ur pets the rock on your windowsill tell everyone mark ur calendars for FEBRUARY 1ST YAYYY

#the sticker grind has been going for like 2 months now #thank you sir mervyn jellyghost for your generous help my etsy guidance counselor #my art #reblogs VERY APPRECIATED

[jinxofthecipher]

Scene, Part 2:

It all starts with a small box of chocolates.

Deidara doesn’t notice them at first. Not when he’s busy checking his wallet, making sure they have enough to cover the bill that’s coming. Yep, all good, he thinks, returning to his bowl of rice and eyeing the restaurant once more. They chose a seat in the back corner where it gives an ample view of the place, enough for any missing-nin to be comforted. It’s bustling, more people than the artist has seen in weeks of travel. 

He takes another bite, looks up again and repeats. The straw hat is pulled down low over his face. It does little to hide him, not when he’s wearing his cloak, it’s a dead give-away, especially since the Akatsuki’s started gaining real momentum recently. Even so, the restaurant is so busy that no one seems to take notice, though the few that sit nearby give him wary looks. Everyone else is in their own little worlds, coming and going. Not looking or considering a potential nin in their midst. It’s almost peaceful, a fact that both calms Deidara and makes his hands itch for clay. The mouths click their teeth in agitation and he forces his focus back on the food. 

Bowl now empty, Deidara sits back in the booth, arms crossing as he looks around. Where the hell was Tobi? That idiot had left for the bathroom half an hour ago now! He grinds his teeth casting a look at the half-full bowl across from him. Probably got side-tracked again, that dumbass. He may not abhor him as much as he once had but still, that man knew how to get under his skin with little effort (he can just imagine the future meet up with Kakuzu, telling him all about Tobi’s irritations and the older man would of course sigh before going on to explain Hidan’s newest annoyance which usually ended up being far worse and far more bloody than anything Tobi’s done or probably will do, ever. Deidara can’t picture the other ever killing for enjoyment, he hardly even fought anyways, only evaded.).

There is a brief flicker of worry. Of Tobi possibly coming across someone brave enough to get into an Akatsuki members face. They wouldn’t need too much bravery given Tobi’s natural aura of stupidity; everyone undesterimated his partner, Deidara included which he shouldn’t be, not with all the pieces he’s collected, the suspicians, and just how easy it is to forget and believe Tobi’s just an idiot and nothing else. Either way, there should be no cause for alarm. If Tobi can slip past every attack Deidara has ever thrown at him (and those attacks were mighty powerful, if Deidara said so himself) then he could certainly deal with almost anyone else outside the organization.

So he brushes the thoughts away and digs out the money. He’ll wait, for now, at least, he thinks placing the bills on the table and goes to put the wallet back into the pouch. Blue eyes widen a fraction. Huh? He turns, peering into the pouch. Past the kunai and scrolls, at the very bottom is a small square box. It’s a glossy black, managing to catch the swinging light over Deidara’s head. 

His eyes narrow instantly and he hovers a hand over the box. No chakra signature. No obvious threat . . . the artist considers it a moment before daring to grab and pull it out. 

Pouch and restaurant forgotten, Deidara balances his elbows on the table and runs his fingers over the box before his face. It’s no bigger than a dango box though much wider. A small symbol is etched on top that reads SWEET’S; he recognizes it, a candy store in town that they had passed on the way here. There is also a note taped to the bottom, so securely that, for a second, he thinks it’s just a sticker for the company or price. It’s not and when he realizes this, Deidara digs at the edges with a nail until he’s able to open it. An edge tears, whatever holding it on a bit too good at it’s job but finally, he can read it.

 - Hope you like it - is written in barely legiable scrawl that Deidara doesn’t recognize. His eyebrows raise and, cautious, he looks around the restaurant. No one is looking at him, even the wary ones are focused on their food. Who in their right mind would give him a gift? And someone who doesn’t put a name, not even an initial? Well, perhaps it was an admirer of my art, I must’ve made some impression, he smirks at the possibility, smug.

Still, it’s just one of those cheap boxes of chocolate you can get. The one with a mixture of sweets that are never just chocolate. They’re usually an arrange of flavours ranging from carmel to coconut. And Deidara’s sweet tooth is only for chocolate these days. So, he opens it, fully prepared to just toss the box-only to see another note inside, laying delicately over the six chocolates. 

- Bought five more to give you all the kinds you liked~ -

Deidara stares, not understanding at first. He looks between the paper to the chocolate below and, slowly, realizes that they all look the same. So they’re all-

Going rigid, the artist looks around the place again. More suspicious then ever, his chakra now a mass of pure unadulterated paranoia. The mouths on his hand click, grinding in his tensity. There is no feasable way that anyone could have snuck the box into his bag AND known his preferences of chocolate. Hell, Tobi didn’t even know! 

As if sensing his mood swing and thoughts on him, Deidara sees Tobi skip across the restaurant, waving at one group of people who flinch back at his cloak. “Senpaiiiii,” he whines, hopping into his chair with more energy then Deidara could ever have, “Sorry Tobi took so long!! There was such a lovely person outside the restrooms!”

“He didn’t try and kill you, hm?”

“Nope!” Tobi hums, dipping into thoughtfulness for a second. “Well, maybe? You always try to blow me up sooooo I’m not sure!”

“I’m just keeping you on your toes. At least you dealt with the situation without hassel,” he notes the lack of fear or chakra signatures, if Tobi’s not lying then he did deal with the problem without even raising an alarm. His stomach twists, always feeling off whenever Tobi proves that, yes, he is far more capable then anyone could dream of being. Not that Deidara would ever admit that. And he wasn’t stronger then Deidara! So there. “Anyway, you ever seen this before?” He gives the box a tiny shake, having closed it up again and shoved both notes into his pockets. 

Tobi’s head dips, the hole in his mask leveling with the box as he hmm’s in the back of his throat. A hand reaches out, sliding over the edge and brushing Deidara’s just enough for the blonde to notice before pulling back. The other’s head cocks to the side and, for the millionth time, Deidara wishes he could see the face beneath it. He’ll never understand the odd desire to keep it hidden, unless it’s all just to annoy me, his annoyance grows at the thought. “Well?? I swear Tobi, I’ll-!”

“Oh, Deidara senpai, calmmmmm, please? Deidara’s eye twitches at the demand Tobi's seen ‘em cause he bought ‘em!” The artist’s mouth drops open at the proud declaration. His partner leans back into the booth, almost casual looking as he crosses his arms behind his head. “Did you try any of ‘em?? The owner said they were the best they had!”

Deidara was still reeling, eyes wide as he stared at the other, “you bought them?”

“Uh-huh!”

The artist stares at his partner who’s practically vibrating in his chair, leg swinging like a five year old who has no control of their energy. But what else is new? “Care to explain why? I’ve never told you my favorite chocolate,” he huffs, agitated, crossing his own arms to mirror Tobi’s, “And while you’re at it, explain why you decided to get your buisness partner a . . . a,” he searches for the right word. 

“Present?”

“Yes. Why get me a present?”

“Cause Tobi loves you~” He coos happily, words dripping in glee and Deidara glares at the obvious jest. Still, his chest tightens a fraction. Seeing his partners look of disbelief, Tobi shakes his head, “it’s true! Beleive poor Tobi for once, senpai! And,” he releases his hands from behind his head and leans forward, into Deidara’s space, “you told Tobi whatcha’ liked!”

A single eyebrow rose, “when?”

“Two months ago!” The mask bobs, eager, hands now flat on the table, a little too close to the ones Deidara has laced together on his side. Truly, if he considered all options, it wasn’t impossible that he wouldn’t have told Tobi his preferences but it was one of millions of conversations they’ve had.

“. . . you remember a random conversation we had, two months ago, about that of all things?”

“Of course!”

“I didn’t think you listened to half the things I say.” 

The hands actually do reach his now, attaching onto Deidara’s and giving a firm squeeze as Tobi nods, enthusiastic. “Tobi’s always listening and he always remembers what Deidara senpai says!” He tilts his head, “I promise.” He says, voice lower, full of certainty, and, more importantly, the third person eerily gone. Deidara can’t help feeling uncomfortable at the intensity Tobi is giving him at the moment. The hold on his hands is tight and he can’t tell if it’s a subtle warning or meant to be comforting. Either way, it doesn’t help that he can feel Tobi’s chakra buzzing, it’s the usual thrum but . . . there’s something beneath it. Something darker. Something that brings back questions of why Tobi can dodge every attack, why he was picked last to join the Akatsuki although he’s been around them for much longer. They pull at Deidara’s mind, begging to be put together, to form the rest of the picture. To come to the conclusion that’s been nagging at him for months. 

He should look at them. It all points to something bigger, even without proper analysis. 

But he discards them. No. Tobi is just his idiot of a partner who is just really good at dodging everything, that’s all. Lies, he thinks and ignores.

“So you just ignore all the other advice I give you?”

“As usual!” Tobi exclaims, the smile so obvious in his tone. He senses the change in chakra instantly and stills before yanking his hands back into a shielding display, “wait! No, senpai Tobi meant no disrespect, simply that- please! Think of the restaurant!”

Needless to say, the restaurant almost became a smoking crater; and two weeks later Deidara finds a rose tucked in his pouch, another note stuck to it and he can’t help the smile he gets at his idiot trying so hard.

Part 1: 

 https://jinxofthecipher.tumblr.com/post/638984358996344832/headcanonscene-when-deidara-was-first-told-that

#Naruto #Naruto Shippuden #Akatsuki #Deidara #Tobi #Obito Uchiha #Obito #ObiDei #TobiDei #Tobi x Deidara #Obito x Deidara #Obito Uciha x Deidara #Deidara's is probs smart enough to figure out the 'truth' or at least some of it #if he'd only allow himself #but it may be his odd way of protecting his partner and himself from the truth #would've been interesting if Deidara had been suspicious of him. Everything about Tobi if you look closer is odd #this is just the lead up to valentines for Tobi lol or it's a thing he's doing either way it works #I think they're both in a relationship but they're the last ones to know #So somehow Deidara and Kakuzu have become somewhat friends in my writing? They weren't going to be but then the arm thing happened #and they both have very 'irritating' partners (Even if they like them) so complaining to each other makes sense #hmm I like the idea

[jjuzoir]

Daily life at the Mankai Dorms [Act 1]!

A/N: another one that’s been on the folder this ones from like May this is embarrassing 💀 i never post imfhshde ALSO this takes place during act 1 so no Chikage (🤢) and no university for banju!

- Izumi and Omi wake up at 5:40AM weekdays, Izumi showers first while Omi organizes the kitchen, making sure to prep the space so he can start cooking early for the members.

- By 6:10 the two are ready (showered and all) and starting to cook breakfast, soon they’re joined by Sakyo for a while before he goes to take a shower (he mostly pesters Izumi about schedules and money poor Izumi).

- At 6:15, on the dot not a second late, Tasuku leaves to go on his morning jogs and Tsumugi is already working on the garden, he likes giving his plants a schedule and plays them music (mostly classical (though sometimes Homare insists his CD’s be played)).

- A few minutes before breakfast is ready, the remaining Uni students (read: Kazunari and Tsuzuru) are sitting at the table watching the news or are on their phones, Kazu is updating his followers about his schedule and Tsuzuru is texting his brothers about the weather so they make sure to bring a coat.

- At exactly 6:40 Sakyo wakes up the high school and middle school students and chaos officially ensues.

- Masumi and Sayaka are the first two to shower, since they have to arrive at 7:50 and their school is notoriously strict when it comes to schedules.

- Sayaka goes first and Masumi goes second, they wake him up a bit earlier than the rest because he tends to fall asleep standing in the shower and he can and will push everyone back by an hour give or take

- Yuki is next, followed by Muku, they have to arrive at 8:20 but both enjoy having a head start since they sometimes walk to school instead of getting a lift from one of the older members.

- By 7:15 1/2 of the boys are ready and breakfast is served, Izumi and Sayaka start organizing the bags and lunches. Sayaka insists on leaving notes for the lunches for everyone, it’s very cute and at first Itaru was very against it but he warmed up to the idea the more it happened.

- Taichi makes a run for the bathroom and gets ready quickly, he does take some time with his hair but Sakyo pulls him by the ear to sit down and eat because if he didn’t he would spend the whole morning gelling his hair.

- Tenma goes in next, nothing much happens with him, he’s rather chill, yes he’ll make a mess but he’ll (try his best to) clean but overall; Tenma is a good bathroom user 20/20.

- Then, Banri strikes; he takes 20 minutes (when he’s feeling nice) to get ready because he knows Juza’s classes start earlier than his, Juza gets pissed and knocks the door open and pushes Banri (who’s probably been done for 10 minutes but stays in to piss everyone off) out- it happens almost everyday and Sakyo tried buying an alarm clock but it ended up breaking after Juza threw it at Banri’s head one morning.

- By then it’s 7:35 and Taichi, Juza, and Tenma leave- Izumi hands Juza a big lunch and snacks as a sorry gift for Banri since he often misses breakfast because of the other boy.

- During the whole chaos, Itaru wakes up and gets ready to leave for work, he crams himself in after Juza leaves the bathroom- Itaru either gives the middle schoolers or the Hanasaki students a lift (not really the others since Hanasaki and St. Flora is on the way to his work).

- Izumi and Omi will give the boys their lunches and help them with their bags, this is also the time when Muku ends up freaking out about possibly forgetting something and Yuki needs to assure him there are no missing assignments or extra cardboard to bring to class.

- By 8:30 Tsumugi joins them in the kitchen as they clean the place up. Since most of the loud members are gone by then, it’s fairly quiet but you can hear Homare ranting about his latest poem if you strain your ear enough.

- After that, the rest (aka; Hisoka, Azuma, Homare, Tasuku, Tsumugi, Citron, and Misumi.) take their mornings slowly- Izumi will be out for the rest of the morning stuck in meetings while Sakyo bounces around town doing whatever yakuza do (idk I’m not part of the mafia).

- Omi and Tsuzuru head to classes alongside Kazu at 10:30, though sometimes the green-eyed boy will leave earlier if he’s going out with friends or has a project (art students things).

- Depending on the day, Omi or Izumi will arrive and make lunch or they’ll go out to eat at one of the cafes nearby (I feel like Veludo has many cafes and bars, it makes sense since it’s a hotspot for theater and art lovers so it’s only natural a lot of places would open up).

- Tasuku can be seen walking alongside Veludo helping other troupes, sometimes Tsumugi will join him; if you wanted you could probably play a game of how many theaters can you see Tasuku in a day (Citron once claimed he saw him at 30 but Tsuzuru doesn’t belive him).

- If not alongside Tasuku, Tsumugi will be preparing the work for his students and tending to the garden, though sometimes he enjoys going out into town and visiting cafes and flower shops. He’s well liked around the elderly women population, very good with old ladies.

- Citron will spend the rest of the morning outside of the dorms experiencing Japanese culture and/or helping the vendors in Veludo, if he wanted he could help the dorm save up a years’s worth of groceries with all the favors he’s done.

- By 12:00PM most of the members are outside of the dorms and, if she hasn’t arrived earlier us to shorter work days, Izumi arrives from her meetings (though there are the odd days she’s out for longer).

- At around the same time, Misumi will start his triangle hunt, comes back with gifts and then goes to work at a circus (he has a clown card and I’m sure he’d make a good acrobat or flexible man... I think) or whatever, sometimes the schedule will change depending on what’s around the area. No one understands Misumi’s schedule but he says it’s made to be as triangular as a schedule can be (I belive him).

- Hisoka and Azuma stay in the dorms until work starts for both of them which is often later than most, Homare comes back at this time from his meetings with publishers but will leave again. He likes going to museums and art expositions often, might take Azuma out with him if the silver-head isn’t busy.

- By then it’s 2:40-3:00 and Omi comes back, normally without Kazunari (who’s out with friends) or Tsuzuru (who’s working part time somewhere).

- Izumi and Omi will start making snacks for the students, first come the St Flora boys at 3:30, then Hanasaki high 3:45, and finally the remaining students at 4:00. Normally at the same time, Tsumugi will go to his students and start his classes.

- Misumi pops up, now done with his job, with some triangle gifts, he also manages to somehow cram some other part time job during his absence (like truck loading). It’s very weird but he brings in money so no one can really complain, he seems to enjoy it too.

- Sakyo arrives and makes sure the students (uni or not) have done their homework and lets them spend the rest of the afternoon practicing if they’ve got a performance coming up or doing whatever as long as they aren’t too noisy or do anything dumb (his wishes are almost never fulfilled).

- By the time all the students have worked to Sakyo’s standard (aka finished all of their homework for the next month basically), it’s 5:00 and Tsuzuru and Hisoka will come back home.

- Hisoka tends to work around the evening instead of early in the morning, it’s an odd time to work (especially since he works odd jobs mostly) but it keeps him busy and with a steady income.

- At 6:00 Kazunari and Tasuku come back, Tsumugi and Azuma will follow a few minutes later.

- By then, most of the dorm is back (excluding Itaru, the household desk worker), and practice starts with the whole troupe- depending on who’s practicing Izumi will make dinner with either Omi or Tsuzuru.

- Official full-troupe pratice starts at 7 and ends at 9 during weekdays, though it’s not rare to find people practicing during the day/outside of the schedule.

- Depending on if the Spring troupe has a performance or not, Itaru will arrive at 8 or 6, if it’s at 8 he’ll go straight to his room and play games, if it’s at 6 and he’s got a play he’ll head to the practice room and play mobile games during breaks; the grind doesn’t stop when your Itaru Chigasaki and there’s an event going.

- By 9:15 dinner is ready and the whole dorm comes together and eats like a family!!

- Once they're done it’s 10pm and the students are sent to their rooms to get ready to sleep unless they’re on cleaning duty (20-26 plates don’t clean themselves and Sakyo refuses to buy a dishwasher he says it’s too expensive), it takes 30 minutes to clean the place up and by 11PM Izumi and Sakyo are making rounds to make sure the high schoolers are in their room sleeping.

- By 12PM the whole mankai dorm is asleep, except Itaru who’s probably gaming… and Homare who could’ve gotten an inspirational rush at 1AM… or Tsuzuru while he works on a script… or Misumi who’s stuck trying to take out a triangle sticker out of some magazine he found.

- It depends on the day of the week, the moon cycle, and if Misumi prayed to the triangle gods.

#—🎀 a3! #a3! #a3 #act addict actors #spring troupe #summer troupe #winter troupe #autumn troupe #a3 izumi #mankai dorms #(no idea what to tag this as 😷) #—✒️ sora’s scripts

[mammon-sama]

Empty Wallets and Empty Stomachs (Fanfiction)

Hiiiii, another AO3 repost from me, mainly ‘cause I’m trying to spread out my stuff on both platforms.  This is a short four-chapter story that I’m going to post all in one go (that’s why it’s so long) since I think it’s hard to navigate between different chapters on Tumblr.  If you’d like to read this story on AO3, click here.  I apologize in advance for the really bad title; I just couldn’t think of anything better at the time.

Title: 

Empty Wallets and Empty Stomachs

Summary: 

No summary, really.  Just chilling with Mammon and Beel and MC  and being dumb.  Mostly just MC and Mammon go shoppin’ and you cook with Beel.  Other shenanigans ensue.

Genre: 

Humor/Fluff/Slice of Life

Rating:

T

Word Count:

6645

Additional Note: 

Sorry to take too much of your time up with the super long stores, but again, on AO3, this is formatted and was originally meant to be a four-chapter story! :)

-

Chapter 1

“ … and that, class, is the true nature of the Twin Paradox.  As you can see—” Your professor, a gangly demon with round glasses and a haircut that reminds you vaguely of the Backstreet Boys, is promptly interrupted by the low gong of the school bell, signaling that class is over.  

Upon hearing this, you whip out your D.D.D and make your way to the door as your teacher calls, “Don’t forget to read Chapter Seven, Section Nine through Twelve of your Physics IV: Mind Over Matter textbook for class on Wednesday!”  

You scroll through the messages on your Chat app, doing your best to keep one eye on your D.D.D and one eye on the sea of demons bustling to get to their next class.

Lucky for you, Physics is your last class of the day.  As you make your way to the House of Lamentation, you notice that you have a missed call dating back an hour ago from Mammon.

Feeling it’s too late to call back, you decide to send a text instead.

Mammon MC:  You called?

MC:  What’s up?

You see an ellipse bubble pop up immediately, indicating that Mammon is typing.

Mammon:  MC HOW DARE YOU MISS MY CALL

Mammon: You can miss everyone else’s calls, but not *mine*, got it?

Mammon:  I have important things to say, y’know!

You feel a smile grow on your face and shake your head.

MC:  Important things?  Like what?

Mammon:  WELL, it just so happens that I get paid today!

You stare at the message in confusion.  Paid?  Before you can question his statement, you remember that Mammon frequently did various modeling jobs to make cash.  It was supposed to be a way to earn a little spending money and pay off his debts, but unfortunately for his creditors, the latter very rarely happened.

However, you are still unsure as to why Mammon is telling you this.  You send a confused-looking sticker.

Mammon, surprisingly, doesn’t respond right away.  You close out of the Chat app and begin to put your D.D.D away.  As you fumble around for a pocket to put it in, you crash headfirst into someone.

Oh, crap, you think.  The demons at R.A.D normally don’t bother you, but that’s because you usually don’t headbutt them accidentally.

“I’m so sorry—” you start, but your apology is cut short as the demon turns around.  “Beel! I apologize; I didn’t see you there!”

Beelzebub pivots to face you.  “Oh, hi, MC,” he says, greeting you with a melancholy nod. 

You cock your head curiously.  The sixth-born demon’s face is set into a sorrowful frown, and the five-pound bag of Scummy Bears that he’s holding is only half empty.  “Is something wrong?”    

He looks down and shakes his head.  “Nothing you need to worry about.” Beel looks back at you.  “Are you going back to the House of Lamentation?”

You want to ask him some more questions, but at the same time, don’t want to pry.  “Yep!”

“Let’s walk together, then.”  He flashes you an unconvincing smile as the two of you begin to make your way down the R.A.D halls.  

Unsure of what to say, you keep silent, smiling internally as Beel walks slower than his usual long strides so that you can keep up with him.  By now, most students have either gone to their dorms or have made it to their last few classes; the only sounds that echo through the hallway are you and Beel’s footsteps.

You keep your silence until the two of you near a trash can in the hall, where Beel dumps what remains of his bag of Scummy Bears into the garbage.

You gasp and your eyes widen.  What in the Devildom just happened?

Beel puts a hand over his taut stomach in response to your astonished look.  He peers at his feet as he explains, “My stomach feels queasy. I can’t eat right now.”

In the few months that you have known Beel, you can hardly remember a time where he has turned down food, let alone thrown it in the trash.  Whatever problem Beel is facing, you wager it has to be serious.  

Beel turns away and continues to walk down the corridor.  You want to grab his hand and get him to stop, but knowing Beel’s strength, you know that there’s no way that you could physically do that.  Instead, you run in front of him and put your hands out, causing him to halt and tilt his head in confusion.

Furrowing your brow, you poke Beel in the chest.  “Tell me what’s bothering you, Beel.  It’s not good to keep things bottled up.”

Beelzebub still won’t meet your eyes.  “I know.” He sighs, as he glances up and notices that you still haven’t left his path.  “I’ll tell you later.”

You don’t want to push the soft-spoken demon and step to the side.  “I hope you do.”

As before, you and Beel continue to the House of Lamentation in silence.  Once you two arrive, Beel heads directly to him and Belphegor's room without his usual stop to the kitchen.  You shake your head and make your way over to your own room.

Dumping your backpack onto the floor, you head over to your downy bed, breathing in the floral scent of jasmine and roses.  Only Asmodeus uses that scent of detergent, so he must be on laundry duty this week. You mentally thank him for using such a pleasant scent, unlike the strange musk of the sandalwood and papyrus fabric softener that Satan had used two weeks earlier.  

Your laundry-related musings are interrupted by rapid, deafening knocking on your door.  You hope it is Beel, finally ready to talk about whatever is bothering him, but you know better than that.  Beel, for all his muscled glory, has a very quiet, almost timid knock. The only demon in the House of Lamentation that has a knock so boisterous, so cacophonous, so incessant is … 

“How come you’re not dressed yet?” Mammon demands, walking straight into your room as soon as you open the door.  “Didn’t you get my messages?”

“I haven’t checked my D.D.D in a bit,” you admit, pulling the device out of the pocket of your uniform.  You open the Chat app, noticing that you indeed have some message notifications from Mammon.

Mammon Mammon:  HUH?  How’re you confused by *that*?

Mammon:  Getting paid means I’m going shopping!  And you’re comin’ with me!

Mammon:  Be dressed by the time I get home from *barf* tutoring!

Mammon:  Curse Lucifer and Satan for making me go to that crap, by the way.

Mammon:  I mean, who *cares* if I have a D- in Statistics?

“I don’t think I can go shopping today, Mammon,” you sigh.  Grabbing your backpack from off the ground, you begin to rifle through it until you find your Physics IV textbook.  “I have a lot of homework due soon.”

“Homework, shmomework,” Mammon chides, yanking the book from your hands.  “There ain’ t nothing wrong with not doing it once in a while.”

You give him a look.  No wonder he has a D- in Statistics.  

Mammon grabs your hand, leads you off the bed, and pushes you over to the closet.  “Tell ya what, if you come with me, I’ll be super generous and buy you anything you want from the store—only something super cheap, though, but still!”

You want to protest, but figure Mammon won’t let this go.  Instead, you get dressed into something more casual than your uniform and step out of your closet.

The second-born, who was absentmindedly flipping through your Physics textbook as you changed, immediately sits erect once as you appear.  “I swear that I wasn’t going through your things,” he claims. “Much.”  He gives your outfit a once-over and two thumbs-up.  “I always forget how nice you clean up for a human, MC!  You’re officially fashionable enough to stand by my side!”

You blush ever so slightly, but before Mammon can notice, you busy yourself by emptying your backpack of any school-related content.  That way, you have an empty bag to carry as you go shopping.  “And if I don’t want to stand by your side, Mammon?” you tease.  

The demon’s face flushes with a blush even deeper than yours.  “O—of course, you want to be by my side! I’m the Great Mammon, don’t you forget that!”

You smile as you take out your last notebook from your bag.  “Okay, I’m ready to go shopping with you,” you say, putting your backpack on.  “Let’s go.”

“Say it with a little more enthusiasm, will ya?” Mammon complains as he opens the door to let you through. 

You shake your head, smile, and decide to tease him some more.  “Fine. Let's go!”

“That’s not the part I said to be more enthusiastic about!”

-

Chapter 2

“Are you serious, Mammon?” Leviathan growls. “I already checked ahead—the Ruri-chan figurine, if you buy it in the Majolish collectibles department, is only four hundred and fifty thousand Grimm. I’m not paying you a cent more.”

Mammon waves his hand nonchalantly. “And if I ain’t mistaken, Levi, ya want this figure today, right?”

Levi grinds his teeth. “Right.”

“Well, then! Ya want me to go buy it for you today, you pay me my two hundred and twenty-five thousand Grimm labor fee!”

“I’m not paying you that much Grimm extra.”

“Then go buy it yourself!”

“I can’t. I have to finish this gaming campaign today. I already put it off long enough, and it’s not my fault that the Ruri-chan neko maid figure releases today, too!  It's gonna sell out, fast!”

“Then pay me my damn labor fee!”

“You just made that up, and I already told you—I’m not paying you that much, you ass!”

And on they go.  

You’ve been listening to the two brothers argue for the past fifteen minutes. You had thought by now maybe Mammon and you would have gotten a start on his shopping, but no, he had insisted on barging into Levi’s room to see if he could make a little extra Grimm off of his younger brother before the two of you left.  

“You’re scum, Mammon, you know that?” Levi growls. He turns to you, pouting. “What about you, MC? Will you buy my precious Ruri-chan figurine for me?”

You sigh. “Give me the money, Levi. If I see the figure, I’ll buy it.”

The third-born demon grins. “Thanks! I knew I could count on you.”  

He rummages through the pocket of his coat and begins to count out the right amount of Grimm. Once he has enough bills, he hands the stack to you, but before you can grab it, the money is intercepted by Mammon.

“I’ll hold onto that for you, MC,” Mammon assures, a coy smile lighting his face. “You don’t have any pockets in that sweatshirt.”

You smile sardonically and pull Levi’s money back. You know better than to trust Mammon, the Avatar of Greed with money of all things. Secrets? Maybe. Schemes? Definitely. Being a tsundere idiot? There was no one more capable. But money? You’d be rivaling him in idiocy if you did that.  

“It’s fine; I got it,” you promise, sliding the money into the deepest pocket in your backpack.

Levi scowls at Mammon as you two leave. “Please die.”

-

“Here we are, MC!” Mammon grins, waving his hand for you to take in all the scenery. “The most expensive shopping district in all of the Devildom!”

You look around at your surroundings; it was a horribly gaudy site. There are huge building complexes, studded with stores selling items from the most famous brands in the world. What really brings out the garishness of the location is that every store seems to be covered in gold.

There’s a gilded Ralph Goren shop, a Chanhell showroom that sparkles with a yellow brighter than the sun, and even a Burbury emporium that glitters with a fine flaxen coating.  

“Why … why does everything look like this?” you can’t help but ask.

Mammon, who had been staring lovingly at the lurid buildings, looks over at you, pulled out of his reverie. “What? Oh, the gold? It’s just to show how expensive everything is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, MC,” Mammon explains, suddenly grabbing your hand as he leads you further into the shining abyss. “All this stuff—” He gestures toward all the name-brand stores. “You can find in any of the regular couture shopping districts in the Devildom. However, the stuff sold here specifically—the very same stuff in all the other stores—is more expensive.  The buildings are all covered in gold to represent that.  It’s great, huh?”

You dig your heels in the ground. “Wait … you mean … you’re only shopping here … because it’s expensive?”

“Duh! Things that cost more make ya look cool.” He yanks your hand harder to get you moving again. “Not that I need help looking cool or anythin.’”

“Of course.”

Wow, you realize. He really lives up to his title of the Avatar of Greed.

“Oh! Look over there! Silver-plated spurs! Let’s go see if they have ‘em in bronze or somethin’—silver kinda clashes with my look, y’know? And holy crap, they’re selling diamond insoles for your slippers in that store! Can’t imagine they’d be comfortable, but still, why wouldn’t you want ‘em?”

Before you know it, you and Mammon are standing in line for the register at Versucky, with the second-born demon holding at least seven or eight different, high-end items, all of which you wonder if he has any use for.  

“I know what you’re thinking, MC,” Mammon says, looking at your confused expression. “How much money does the Great Mammon make from modeling if he can afford to buy this much stuff?”

You want to point out that that was not in fact, what you were wondering, but he barrels on ahead.

“Well, a lot, of course, ‘cause y’know, I got all this.” He gestures toward his body sensuously. “But still, even if it’s not enough, I got my beloved Goldie!” Mammon shuffles all his desired items to one hand, and with the other, whips out a shiny black credit card from his pocket.

Your eyes widen. “Didn’t Lucifer confiscate that from you two days ago?”

“Yeah,” Mammon admits. “But I found it. He left it in one of the oysters in Levi’s aquarium—don’t ask how I figured it out.”

You shake your head and can’t help but smile at his rebelliousness. You wonder how Lucifer is going to punish Mammon for his craftiness this time.

As you and he reach the front of the line, Mammon suddenly drops everything he’s holding. “Oh, crap.”

You reach to pick up all the items that had tumbled to the ground. “What?”

“Well … “ Mammon scratches the back of his neck, a slight blush coming over his tan skin. “I just realized that I promised I’d buy ya somethin’ if you came with me, and heh, here you are.”

“It’s okay, Mammon; you don't need to get me anything,” you reassure him. You hadn’t really expected him to keep his end of the bargain, and honestly, you didn’t really care. You hadn’t actually needed anything from the store, and in fact, the only reason you had tagged along was, well, for the company … and the fact that Mammon wouldn’t have shut up if you hadn’t.  

“No, it’s not,” he says. He grabs your wrist and leads you out of Versucky. “I said I’d buy ya somethin’ and that’s what I’m gonna do. Here, we’ll buy whatever you want first, so then I’ll know how much Grimm I have left to spend.”

“But you don’t have to worry about how much money you can spend,” you remind him. “You have Goldie.”

Mammon’s blush deepens. “W—well, yeah, I know!” He looks down, grinding his heel into the ground. “But I just remembered that Lucifer put a control lock on her that notifies him every time she’s being used, and then he’ll know I took her back.” His head whips up immediately. “And just so y’know, it ain’t like I’m afraid of him, or anythin;’ I just figured not using her would be the smarter thing to do, that’s all!” 

You smile at his display. “If you say so.”

“Wh—what! Ya don’t believe me?”

“No, no, of course, I do.” 

“You—you better!” He coughs and tries to regain his composure. “Now, where do you wanna go? Unless ya wanted to shop at Versucky, ‘cause I guess we could go back in there.” 

“I’m not really sure,” you admit. Even in the human world, you weren’t very familiar with couture brands, and you’re even more lost in the Devildom. Your eyes scan the apparently endless miles of gilded shops until you spot a strange blip of steel gray in the sea of gold. “What’s that?”

Mammon squints in the direction you point. “Never seen that store before in my life. Kinda gross, though. The whole ashy color scheme really clashes with the rest of the buildings here.”

To be honest, you find the dull color of the edifice somewhat soothing compared to the sheer gaudiness of its surroundings. You begin to make your way over to it, Mammon in tow.

“Thrifty’s Cheap Finds,” Mammon reads as you near the building. He dry heaves. “Cheap finds? What is this? Some kind of lame way to attract broke-ass degenerates like …” He trails off when he sees your raised eyebrow and blushes. “I wasn’t gonna end that sentence with ‘you,’ I swear! Calm down!”

You shake your head and don’t respond as you enter the store. As you begin to wander around the shop, not even Mammon can keep his jaw from falling open in wonder. Inside Thrifty’s Cheap Finds is everything from hairspray to mattresses to books to cookie sheets—all of them branded with human company labels.  

“No wonder everything here is so cheap,” Mammon realizes. “No one in the Devildom wants human stuff. Well, unless you’re Satan and Lucifer and like all that antique crap.”

You resist the desire to glare at him and instead pore through everything in the shop, your eyes never failing to examine each item. It’s been months since you’ve been home and seen any of these types of knickknacks.  

A wave of homesickness washes over you as you finger a timeless gingham tablecloth, as Mammon ambles off to the electronics section, which is filled with ancient-looking cellphones and computers. 

You swallow the feeling away before it can cause a lump in your throat and tears in your eyes. You wander farther down, realizing that all the mismatched pots and pans mean that this is the cooking aisle.  

You pause in the section of this aisle that displays cookbooks and remember the miserable look on Beelzebub’s face earlier today. Perhaps, you wonder, there is something in here that would cheer him up.

The cookbooks are all in disarray, and you shuffle through the many stacks of them several times before you find a book that you think Beel would like. You flip through the cookbook and nod in approval; the pictures are large and detailed and the human recipes are quick, simple and hearty—perfect for the always hungry Avatar of Gluttony.  

You flip the book over and read the price tag. “Nine thousand Grimm.”  

You worry that that’s too much, especially since you remember Satan once mentioning that books from the human world usually weren’t economical. You haven’t really gotten the idea of how much a single Grimm is worth yet, and you keep hearing Mammon’s voice in your head, insisting that whatever you buy today be cheap.  

“Hey, what’cha got there, MC?” Mammon asks, materializing as if on cue. “This what you want?” He grabs the book from your hands and gives it a mildly disgusted look. “A cookbook?”

“It’s for Beel,” you say, defensively.

Mammon raises an eyebrow. “The only demon ya should be buying stuff for is me, but I’ll let it slide this time.” He too flips the book over. You grimace nervously as his eyes widen when he sees the price.

“I’ll put it back if it’s too expens—” you begin, pulling it away.

Mammon blushes. “Ar—are you kidding, MC? When I said to buy something cheap earlier, I didn’t actually mean it! Hell, I’m willing to splurge on ya if you really want somethin!’ You didn’t actually have to go find something this dirt-cheap!”

Huh, so nine thousand Grimm is considered inexpensive, you note. You smile at Mammon’s uncharacteristic generosity. “It’s okay, I really do want this.”

He runs a hand through his hair and tries to regain his composure, but to no avail. “Y—you sure? I mean—if ya wanna get somethin’ from Ralph Goren or somethin,’ I’m cool with that!”

You hold the cookbook to your chest and nod. “I’m sure.” You grab his hand and lead him to the register.

As Mammon pays the nine thousand Grimm to the lanky demon clerk, he shakes his head and looks at you. “You really are something else, y’know that, MC?”

-

Chapter 3

As soon as you and Mammon return home, you walk over to Leviathan’s room and knock on his door.  Hung on your wrist is a bag from a store called, Look At Me, I’m a Stupid Otaku (or at least, that’s what Mammon had told you the building sign had said.  You don’t know how to read Japanese.), which held a Ruri-chan figurine. “Levi? It’s me, MC.”

“Come in,” the third-born demon calls. 

You open the door, only to see Levi slouched over on his computer.  You take the figurine out of the bag. “Where do you want this?”

“Oh, is that my darling Ruri-chan?” he asks, his eyes never leaving the screen.  “You can bring it here. Sorry, I’d come over and get it myself, but there are only two minutes left on this boss stage, and he still has half of his HP left.”

You bring the figure to his desk and leave it next to what looks like a box of granola bars.  “Super high-energy chocolate-covered cricket snacks,” you read. “Now with extra protein.” You blanch because despite living in the Devildom for a while, you still have yet to become accustomed to the food.  

“Yeah, sometimes when I’m really in the gaming zone, I don’t leave my room for days, not even to get meals and stuff lololol, so I keep those here if I get hungry.”

“Can I have one?”  You are planning to check in on Beel after making this stop to Levi’s room, and realize that it would be better to show up with food.

His eyes glued to his computer, Levi nods.  “Go for it.”  

As you reach into the box to take one, Levi suddenly turns toward you, even though you can see the timer counting down on his game.  “Better take the whole box. Beel’s not gonna be satisfied with just one.” He sighs. “Everyone’s been kinda worried about him, you know?  He’s been down all day, but he’s not saying anything to anyone, not even Belphie.” He perks up. “But! If there is someone who can make him feel better, it’s you, MC!”

You smile at his worry for his brother.  “Thanks, Leviathan.” You stuff the box into your backpack.

He nods, before turning back to his game, frowning when he realizes that the onscreen timer read 00:00 and he hadn’t been able to finish off the boss.  “He’s in the gym.”

“Of course,” you say, as you leave his room.

-

Just as Levi had said, you find Beel in the House of Lamentation’s fully-equipped gym. 

The sixth-born demon is sitting cross-legged in front of an elliptical, a towel slung across his shoulders.  Unsurprisingly, his twin—Belphegor—is with him, napping with his head resting on Beel’s lap.  

Beel frowns nervously when he sees you.  “Oh, hi, MC.” He sighs. “ I guess you’re not here to tell Belphie how cute he looks sleeping like this. ”

You cock your head curiously.  “I can if you want me to.”

Beel shakes his head.  “I was just checking to see if he's awake.”

“Ah,” you realize, sitting down next to him.  “Is there something that you don’t want Belphie to hear?”

Beel nods but doesn’t say anything more.  Instead, he fiddles with the hem of his rather tight-fitting tank top.  You try not to stare at the bulging silhouette of his abs that show through.  “It’s funny,” he begins. “When either of us is upset, I get less hungry, but Belphie becomes more sleepy.”  

You remember learning of the twins’ connection a few days earlier.  The two had a bond so strong that they sometimes shared each other’s feelings, and if one had an extreme emotion, the other would often experience it, too.  You put a hand on his arm. “What are you so upset about, Beel?”

He groans.  “It’s nothing, really.”

You decide to try a different tactic.  “You’re worrying your brothers,” you admit gently.

“I know.”  Beel takes a deep breath.  Twisting around, he pulls out his navy backpack from behind the elliptical.  After rummaging through it for a moment, he pulls out a telltale Physics IV: Mind Over Matter textbook.  He flips to the end of the book and releases a packet of paper, which he hands to you.

You examine it for a moment, surprised to see in obnoxious red ink, the phrase F - sprawled across the front.  Maybe stick to lifting weights, meathead is written underneath it.  Although the words cause your blood to boil, you swallow your anger and calmly move your hand up to Beel’s shoulder.  “You’re upset because you did bad on a test?”

Beel slouches, his back sliding down one of the supports of the elliptical.  He continues to fiddle with his shirt and doesn’t meet your eyes. “It’s not just that,” he confesses.  “If I fail another one, my professor is going to make me repeat the subject.” He sighs. “Belphie’s always helped me study in Physics; we almost always have the same class schedule—except I take Weights and he takes regular P.E—and he always made sure I knew the material.”

“But Belphie doesn’t go to R.A.D this year,” you realize.  “He’s supposed to be enrolled in a human school for the exchange program.”

“Yeah,” Beel sighs.  “I can’t ask him to learn the information at home with me—I know he would if I asked—he’s already been through so much this year.”  He gulps. “Lucifer is going to be so mad when he finds out I’m failing.”

“Why can’t you just get a tutor, like Mammon does?”

“You see how everyone makes fun of him because of that.”

You want to point out that Mammon usually brought the teasing upon himself  and justified it with his unrelenting moronness, but an idea strikes you instead.  “Hey, I 'm in Physics IV, too.  Why don’t we study together?”

Beel’s face lights up.  “Really, MC? You’d do that?” 

You laugh as you hear his stomach growl in excitement.  “Of course!” You remember the cricket snacks you took from Levi’s room and begin to take the box out of your backpack.  You see the cookbook you bought for him and take that out, too. “You’re hungry, now?”

He grins sheepishly.  “Yes, I’m famished!”

“Look here, I brought you snacks,” you say, handing the box to him.  “Thank Levi next time you see him.”

Beel immediately rips open a package and begins to eat.  “Hi wroh.” He swallows, and repeats, “I will. Thanks to you, too.”  He looks at the cookbook in your hand curiously. “What’s that?”

You place the book in his lap, balancing it precariously on Belphegor’s head.  “It’s a cookbook from the human world. I bet it has all kinds of recipes for foods you haven’t tried before.”

Beel grabs another cricket snack as his eyes widen.  “I haven’t eaten many human foods before.  Let’s look at it together.”

You nod, opening the book and flipping the page as Beel munches.  

“Haha,” he laughs.  “Angel Food Cake. Maybe we should make some for Simeon and Luke.”  

You smile and turn to the following page.  The next recipe is for Devil’s Food Cake. “Or maybe you can make this one for dessert someday.  Or this one—look—Deviled Eggs.”

“Those look good.”  Opening another snack, Beel suggests, “Hey, MC, I’m on dinner duty tomorrow.  Want to help me cook some of these foods? Or maybe, I can cook and you can help me study?”

“That sounds like a good idea, Beel,” you muse.  “What do you think we should make, then?”

“Well, Satan won’t eat animals, Leviathan refuses to eat seafood, and Belphie—” He pats his brother on the head.  “—doesn’t like to eat beef or veal. If we use any of those, we probably have to substitute the meat with other things.”

You and Beel pore through the cookbook for several hours, finally deciding on Deviled Eggs as appetizers, Garlic Parmesan Risotto and Savory Mashed Potatoes for the main course, and Black Forest Cake for dessert.  

“This will be fun,” Beel promised, yawning.  “I’ll pick up the ingredients after school tomorrow.”

You curse the contagiousness of yawns as you yawn, too, feeling your eyes grow heavy.  You can feel Beel’s head rest on your shoulder as he begins to snore lightly. Without thinking, you lean your head to the right, feeling Beel’s under you.  You promise yourself that you won’t fall asleep as you close your eyes and mutter, “Sounds … like a … plan.”

-

Chapter 4

“I’m gonna kill him,” Mammon whispers, his voice low and colder than ice as you, him, and Beel huddle over your D.D.D.  “I’m really gonna kill him.”

Beel frowns at his elder brother.  “Why are you so upset? You’re not even in the picture.”

“Yeah, if anyone should be mad, it’s me, Beel, or Belphie,” you comment, zooming in on the photo, which had been taken yesterday.  

It was from when you and Beel had fallen asleep together as you two pored over the cookbook you had bought for him.  Strangely enough, Asmodeus—who had both taken and posted the photo—was in the picture, as well; he was posing as if he had been napping sweetly on your shoulder the whole time.  To everyone’s surprise, the only one “awake” in the photo appeared to be Belphie, who had wriggled his way from lying in Beel’s lap to having his legs rest on his brother while his torso and head were sprawled all over your lap.  He was too deeply engrossed in reading Beel’s new cookbook to notice his brother taking the picture. Asmodeus captioned the photo, Just getting a bit of beauty sleep with my babes 😘. 

“Yes, you should!”  Mammon says. “ Why aren’t you, by the way?  This photo is a total invasion of your privacy!”  He whirls toward Beel, his eyebrows downturned in anger.  “And what’s the big idea, Beel? Sleepin’ on MC’s shoulder like that?”  He puts a hand on your head patronizingly. “You shouldn’t touch anyone like that without their permission!”

Beel smiles.  “Well, I think MC looks cute in this photo!  And it’s not my fault that we fell asleep like that.”

Mammon rolls his eyes.  “Well, I’m still gonna kill Asmo for postin’ it.”  He taps on your Devilgram feed to unlike the photo.  “Anyway, why’d ya call me here?” he asks, gesturing toward the Hall of Lamentation’s kitchen.  

“No one called you here,” you remind him, taking a seat at the kitchen table.  You reach down, grab your backpack and pull out the cookbook you had bought for Beel, as well as your copy of Physics IV: Mind Over Matter.

“Yeah,” Beel agrees, his mouth downturned in a frown.  “You just heard that MC was going to be in the kitchen helping me cook and decided to come along.”

Blushing, Mammon takes a seat next to you.  “Maybe I just wanted to help ya cook, Beel.”

“No way.”  Beel sticks out his arms, barring him from entering the kitchen.  “You’re not helping me cook. If you cook, I won’t eat it.”

“Okay, okay, fine, jeez.”

As you flip through the cookbook to find the recipes that you and Beel had decided to make yesterday, Mammon grabs your Physics textbook, whipping through it boredly.  “Why’d ya bring your textbook to the kitchen? You having trouble in Physics and want to study here or somethin’? ‘Cause if you are, never fear—The Mammon is here!”

You look at Beel—who glances at you nervously—from the corner of your eyes.  You yank the textbook away from Mammon. “You’re not even taking Physics.”

“Yeah, I’m taking Chemistry, and have a C in it, so I’m still passing—so what?”

“How are you supposed to teach me Physics when you’re not even in it?”

“MC!  Don’t doubt the Great Mammon’s abilities!”

“Oh yeah?  Does the Great Mammon know the formula for … angular acceleration?”

“The change in angular speed divided by the change in time,” Beel pipes up, as he hovers over the stove, checking for the water to boil for his Deviled Eggs.

Mammon laughs and waves his hand at his brother.  “Don’t be ridiculous, Beel.” He turns to you. “C’mon, MC, don’t mess around with me.  I know ‘angular acceleration’ isn’t even a real word.”  

You turn to the glossary in the back of your book and point to the term with the formula next to it, which Beel had recited.  “Seems like the Great Mammon’s abilities have failed him.” You watch Mammon blush furiously and smile. “And besides, Beel and I are having a Physics study session, since we’re both in the class.”

“And we’re not getting much studying done with you here,” Beel quips.  He retrieves four dozen eggs from the refrigerator and begins to carefully drop them into the boiling water on the stove with a ladle.

You do a double-take and glance at the cookbook.  “Beel, the serving information here says that to serve eight people you only need sixteen eggs, at the most.”

Mammon and Beel shake their heads.  

“If my brothers are going to get a chance to eat anything, we’re going to have to make this many,” Beel decides.  He hoists up a giant pot of potatoes that had been already boiling on the stove and plops it in front of Mammon, handing him a potato masher.  “Mash these.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want me to cook anything,” Mammon whines.  

“Yes, because whatever you make tastes gross.  Mashing the potatoes isn’t cooking anything, so you can do just that.”

Mammon grumbles something that sounds curse word-y, but stands up and begins to work the masher into the potatoes.  “Just for that, I’m making ‘em creamy. No lumps.” He whispers to you, “Beel loves lumpy potatoes.”

“Fine, Belphie will like it smooth, anyway,” Beel assures.  He walks over to the refrigerator and yanks out an entire wheel of parmesan cheese.  He sets it in front of you and hands you a cheese grater. “Can you shred this cheese, MC?  I’m about to start getting the arborio rice for the risotto ready and the whole process is going to take a while.”

Your eyes widen.  He wants me to grate the entire wheel of parmesan.  “Sure, but what about our … you know, study session?”  You had promised to help Beel with Physics, and you were by no means going to forget about it.

“Ask me questions as we go?  Sorry, I didn’t realize how much there was to do,” he says sheepishly.  

You nod, laying your Physics textbook flat open to Chapter Seven, which was your assigned reading for your next class.  

You cut off a block of cheese and begin to run it against the serrated surface of the cheese grater for several hours, asking Beel problem after problem from the book.  He stumbles on quite a few of them, but you correct him only if you know how to—after all, you yourself aren't a master in Physics. The ones you don’t are questions that you skip, mentally circling them to come back to later.  

Every so often, Beel grabs a scoop of the mound of grated parmesan that you have shredded and adds it to his pot of risotto.  Surprisingly, Mammon also throws several handfuls of cheese into his potatoes, as he mashes them until they are so smooth that you were sure that not even an ant would be able to find the tiniest lump.

Beel doesn’t notice that Mammon adds the rest of the ingredients in the recipe to the potatoes—copious amounts of cream, whole stalks of herbs, salt, and more butter than you have ever seen in your life, and stirs them together.  

“Beel says he won’t eat anythin’ I make ‘cause he’ll hate it,” Mammon explains to you when you stare at him for disobeying his brother’s explicit orders of doing nothing but mashing the potatoes.  He smirks. “But wait ‘till he gets a load of these.  They’re gonna be great.”

You roll your eyes at the mischievous demon, wondering how his little fling with deviancy is going to bite him this time. 

“Okay, time to assemble the cake,” Beel announces, plopping all forty-eight freshly-piped Deviled Eggs onto the table, along with a steaming casserole filled with Garlic Parmesan Risotto.  “MC, can you sprinkle the rest of the cheese on top?”  

As you begin to do just that, he brings over three round German chocolate cakes, a bowl of whipped cream, and a dish filled with cherries macerated in sugar.  One of the three cakes is already topped with a layer of cream and cherries.  

“I hate cherries,” Mammon grumbles.

As if on cue, Asmodeus walks by.  “That’s why you’ve never popped one.”

You stifle your laughter as Mammon’s face turns a very unbecoming shade of red.  “Asmo!”  He sprints after his brother, leaving you and Beel alone in the kitchen.  “I was already gonna kill you once, but now I’m gonna kill you twice! C’mere, you bastard!”

You turn towards Beel, who is putting the third layer of cake onto the growing tower and covering it with whipped cream.  

Putting his spatula down, Beel looks at you.  “MC, thanks so much for helping me today—with the food, with the studying, with everything.”  He looks down. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

You smile at him.  “It’s no problem, Beel!”

“No, really,” Beel insists, staring into your eyes with an intensity that sends shivers all the way down to your toes and causes you to flush pink.  “I feel so much more confident now in Physics. I think if I took a quiz today, I’d at least know enough to pass.”

“I’m just glad I could help,” you say honestly.  

Beel grins and carefully lifts the Black Forest Cake by its base and puts it on a cake pedestal.  “It’s time to put all this food in the dining room,” he says. He then notices Mammon’s mashed potatoes.  He frowns as he sees the green herb fragments, signifying that his brother had done something other to the potatoes than simply mash them as he had told him to.  He dips a spoon into the pot and tastes them.  Beel’s face becomes a blazing inferno. “I’m going to eat him.”

“What?” you ask, noticing the sudden shift in his mood.

“Sugar.”

“Sugar?”

“He put … sugar … in the Savory Mashed Potatoes.” 

THE END   

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me shall we date mammon #obey me shall we date beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me shall we date beelzebub #obey me beel #fluff #humor #brothers #fanfiction #fanfic #adverbslut_writes

[houseofvans]

IN THE STUDIO | CHEYNE ELLETT

We’re taking a peek into the studio space of Long Beach, CA based artist Cheyne Ellett whose cramped studio apartment serves as a study space as well as a makeshift creative zone, where he can paint, draw, sew and do all things artistic. Keeping his space optimistic and playful, Cheyne’s studio space is not only practical, but also filled with things that inspire and keep it positive for him. Take the leap and find out more about Cheyne’s space, what he does to stay creative, and what he has coming up for the rest of 2019! 

Photographs by @Morgnar 

Can you describe to folks a little about your studio or creative art space? My space is so cramped right now! I’m currently living and working out of a tiny little space in Long Beach while I’m wrapping up my degree at Cal State Long Beach. It’s constantly fluxing in between surgically placed painting/drawing supplies and a hurricane of paper and canvas flying all over the place. I screwed sheets of plywood to the walls so I can get creative with my setup and still hope to retain my deposit when I leave. I’ve been working at the same foldout table for as long as I can remember. It used to be sticker bombed with stickers I would pick up from the Warped Tour and local skate shops (RIP Utility!). Over the years paint has slowly covered the entire surface. It’s honestly the nicest neighborhood I’ve ever lived in and I’m super grateful for the great deal I was offered. It’s so awesome being able to walk at night!

What’s a typical day in the studio like for you? My studio practice changes depending on where I am. My favorite situation was when I could wake up, get to work on whatever crazy project I had going on, take a skate break around 4 till sundown,  then keep working till bedtime.         

Since I started knocking out school full time I’m usually up by 8am and roll out the door by 8:30. I’m gone at school from 9am-11pm roughly four days a week right now. When I finally get home I keep working until about 2 then crash and repeat.  I graduate in roughly two months, so the grind is almost over. Having an overhead desk lamp with a legit bulb in it has been a game changer for the late night paint jams. 

I guess one weird working quirk is last July right after my birthday I hurt my neck and have been slowly learning to work in a way where I’m not in constant pain. I’ve been scaling up and drawing with stuff taped to a drawing board mounted on an easel. I started yoga in January, and after three months I’ve noticed a significant amount of improvement, so maybe I can scale back down and get gnar with the details again soon.

On the weekends. I’ll wake up and try and chill out so I don’t get burned out more than I already am. I live 5 blocks from Cherry skatepark, so I’ll try and take a break to roll over there or even cruise over to local homies houses and play board games or get a family style meal going. 

What type of things do you keep around the studio to inspire you or motivate you? Whats the most significant piece of wall art or inspiration you have in the space? Art, artbooks, zines, stickers, spray-paint, 25 cent toys, random quotes written on scrap paper, little sculptures my friends have made, goofy pictures I’ve taken or found, lots of music! I try to keep the tone optimistic and playful. If I’m ever really stuck I’ll pull out this art book about stickers and just get lost going through the pages. It was the first artbook I ever acquired and is loaded with work from my heroes and contemporaries. It’s a great little piece that reminds me of that magic feeling that got me going in the first place when I start to feel a little lost.

What are you currently working on that you can share? I’m working on a body of work right now exploring social systems. It’ll most likely be part of my graduation show at CSULB in May. Otherwise I’ve kind of been laying low just, so I can recoup and focus on all the health drama I’ve been dealing with. Just taking it one day at a time, if there’s anything I’ve learned in school so far, it is to be patient and just keep going.

How do you unwind when you’re not working in the studio? Does your studio space serve as a strictly art space or is it also a chill space? I used to think breaks and doing anything other than working on art was a waste of time. It’s only recently I started to see the real value of taking breaks and just checking out to chill and have genuine fun. It all feeds back into the work when I knuckle down and get serious. I’m a music and food dude, so I’m in a great place to try all the stuff here in LB. I’m always snacking on burritos or bowls of noods from Cambodia town! Living in Long Beach is perfect for my inner skaterat too. There’s 10 skateparks in the city alone. Bombing down Cherry Hill and skating the beach path at sunset is easily one of my favorite things right now though!               Whose studio would you like to peek into? If we’re talking anyone dead or alive, I’d be excited to see Philip Guston or Goya’s studios. Alive probably George Condo or even Mark Gonzales! Honestly I’d be up to visit anyone who’s having fun doing what they love, that’s what it’s all about!

#Art #Vans #Vans Art #In the Studio #Cheyne Ellet #art spaces #studio spaces #creative #inspiration

[alitheamateur]

The Grind-Chapter 29

I helped clean up the dishes, and he emptied all our trash into the dumpster behind the shop before we journeyed to the next stealthy location on his to-do list. I made sure to cork the pricey wine bottle so I could take the last bit home to sip on in bed with him, not wanting to waste a drop of the bittersweet goodness. Colton peeled off his jacket to drape over my bare back since the evening temperatures had chilled noticeably, then we locked up and he offered his aid to the car, considering my acutely inebriated state.

Instead of following the traffic further into the eventful side of town, we made a left and headed off towards the outskirts. It was a part of Pittsburgh that normally would have me on edge consider the late hour, but with Colton at the wheel there was truly never any reason to fear. He wasn’t a certified superhero, or a proclaimed savior of humanity, but I felt he was my own personal, daunting vigilante. I was independent, and capable on my own, but with him I could be fearless.

I looked out the side window as the streetlights and skyscrapers became scarce, and felt the dizzy aftershock of the merlot floating through my veins, creating a warm blaze over my cheeks. Rolling the window down a crack for some cool breeze to chill my alcoholic hot flash, we turned on the very familiar street where Mac’s gym used to sit. I stretched in my seat to get a good look around, continuing the trend of confusion.

“You okay, Livvy?” Colton tested as he parallel parked directly in front of the cloudy, dust stained windows of the unoccupied building.

“Yeah, just a little hazy from the wine is all. And wondering what we’re doing here.”

He only half-smiled and opened the door, gesturing for me to follow suit. Checking carefully for any oncoming vehicles, I slung open the passenger side to meet my offered escort on the sidewalk. The “A” of the sign above the doorway was cracked and barely hanging on by some sketchy wires, and the street number that was stickered on the glass was pared and faded. I felt instantly sad for Colt seeing the current state his once second home. In fact, it had probably been more of a home to him than the old, dingy apartment he was held up in when we first met, considering the innumerable hours he spent training here.  As our steps accidently synced in speed toward Mac’s, Colton tore away a graffiti marked “For Sale” sign heftily tapped to the glass. He disconnected our hands to pull a key tucked away in a pocket of his wallet…

Shards of broken glass from the overhead lights furthermore shattered as we walked over the polluted floor of the abandoned gym. Most of the equipment remained intact and the ring still stood in its place, only now stained a bit with the passing year of lacked maintenance. A red-wrapped box, taped with a black bow had been placed in its center, which I gathered was exactly where Colton was dragging me. He gaped the stretchy, leather-like ropes open and grasped my forearm to keep me from woozily face planting. From side glance, I watched him drink in the sight of my leaning figure, and the spilling out of cleavage as I did so.

“I hate seeing the place like this. I know it has to be pretty brutal for you too, babe.” I weakly slurred in a sympathized manner.

“This place got a lotta memories, for sure. For the both of us, hm?” He approached me from behind covering me in a bear hug, kissing the crook of my neck, and inhaling in my most customary scent. A reminder of the first night we spent together standing in that very spot made the echo of our moans, and the feel of his hands on me play back like a fantasy in my mind, and I sunk further into his body.

“Be careful talking about such things, Ritter. I might just be drunk enough to let you take advantage of me right here again.”

“As much as I need to get my hands on you, you should open ya’ present first.” He suggested, nudging me onward with a pat to the behind.

I squatted to lift the box, and felt the barely-there weight of its contents. Colt remained in observance over my shoulder, quietly inspecting for a reaction as I worked my nails over the knotted, silk bow closure. It fell to my feet, tickling over my exposed toes in the stilettoes I wore, and I then dropped the cardboard lid shortly after. Lined with tissue paper inside, the black gloves Colton wore to fight Danny Mendez were laid next to each other. The grained leather was softer than when I had first gifted him with them, now broken in and loose due to the blows thrown, and punches blocked.

“Colton. These belong to you, babe. I don’t even deserve a pair this nice. And besides, they have your name on ‘em, silly.” I reasoned, turning slow to face my one-man audience.

“I think I can maybe do somethin’ about that little name issue, pretty girl.”

Suddenly, the crisp box and its contents crashed to the floor, falling buoyantly from my now numb hands. Instead of spinning around to meet his smiling eyes, I had to sink my sights to discover him knelt a few feet from me, caressing a square velvet case.

“Colton, what ar-.”

“You listen, ‘n let me talk this time, baby.”

Uncontrollable outlines of mascara black tears initiated abruptly, and the white noise of passing traffic, and distant sirens ceased.

“The second I looked into those bright emerald eyes of yours Livvy, a fuse kicked inside me. All those emotions that I had turned off a long time ago, fuckin’ came roaring back. The typical me, woulda walked right out that morning with a coffee to-go, without a second thought. But it was like every time I looked back at ya’, I swear I could literally feel my heartbeats inside of me. I coulda counted them out loud, Liv. You had me in this… this trance or somethin’. You know I ain’t gonna say all this the way you deserve to hear it, but I need you to know what you are to me, Elliott. How much you mean t’ me.”

I could hear his voice crack under the pressure he had put on himself, and the lump of tearful release he was trying to choke back into his throat.

“There’s a billion damn reasons why I don’t deserve ya’. We both know that. But there’s another billion reasons why I want to. You’re the most intelligent woman I’ve ever met, and the only one I know who could get me laughin’ like a damn idiot the way you do. I love that you always have a little smudge of leftover makeup unda’ your eyes when you wake up every mornin’, and that you can have me beggin’ in desperation the second you put on a pair of those shoes like the ones ya’ wearin’ now. And don’t even get me started on how thrilled I get seeing you strapped into a pair of sparring gloves. As nervous sick as it gets me, I love it all the same. I ain’t never wanted to be a better man, babe. For myself, and sure as hell not for anyone else. But the man I am with you, the man you turn me into, is a far better one that I ever thought I could be. C’mere, Livvy baby. I ain’t gonna bite.”

Following the suggestive direction of his nod, I weakly closed the distance between us, and he took my chattering hand into his. He laughed, and tried to still the very obvious nervous, euphoric emotion coming through my skin.

“You are such a beautiful, loving, kind heart. Not to mention sexy in the most subtle ‘n real way. You’re strong as a fuckin’ ox, inside & out, and you sit my ass straight in line every day. God knows I need that. I want to spend the rest of my life being ya’ sidekick, and watchin’ you succeed with whatever your heart wants. I can’t promise I’ll be as perfect as all the otha’ men you truly deserve, and I need ya’ to be patient wi’ me when I get all caught up in me head. There ain’t nobody else I’d rather have nursin’ my wounds after a fight, or eatin’ a whole gallon of ice cream with on a cheat day. You’re my only light, and any chance I have at bein’ a decent man is only because of you. So, Liv Caroline Elliott, will you marry me?”

The flawless solitaire sent iridescent beams of sparkle bouncing across the ceiling as the light caught it in Colton’s suddenly shaking hand. The stone was impressively hefty in carats, and was uniquely chiseled into the shape of an octagon. I knew that little quality wasn’t just a coincidence, and Colt had made this purchase with careful consideration and lots of preparation. His dedicated search for the perfect diamond to join the two of us together was a thoughtful sentiment no one could refute.

He bore his soul without question, so unnaturally against his nature, and let his every emotion spring forth for me to potentially criticize and dismiss. The metamorphosis I had witnessed overtake him the last months satisfied my hearts every yearning, and I knew fully that Colton Ritter was the only man who would ever fill the shoes of my true love. As tears began saturating his soft, bristle-like eyelashes too quick for him to conceal and rub away with his shirt sleeve, I wordlessly nodded an accepting, smiling ‘yes.’

“You ain’t gettin’ off that easy 2-1. A man’s gotta hear you say it.”

“Yes, Colton. Yes, yes, yes! A hundred times over, yes. I will marry you. Only if you promise me, to stop selling yourself so short and trying to convince the world what a monster you are. When it comes to the cage, sure you’re unforgiving and dangerous. But otherwise, we both know that’s so far from the truth. Whether I’m the only lucky individual who gets to see it behind closed doors or not, you’re so kind. And you’re the most loyal man I have ever met. Any time I’ve been lucky enough to spend with you, have been the best minutes of my entire life. And when I happen to think about the time passed without you, I cringe at the memories we could’ve made. I want nothing more than to spend whatever life I have left by your side.”

The feeling of the cool silver band as he slid it with ease over the knuckle of the proper finger sent a tsunami of wedding color schemes, and potential venues flooding into my train of thought. Never was I the girl for fairy tales, and tulle and princes riding in to rescue the damsel, but the countless possibilities of marital bliss with Colton had birds chirping and singing around my head.

My newly crowned fiancé lunged in to seal the celebration with a deep kiss, pulling me into him by a hand on the back of my neck. The sticky tears wetting his face mixed with my own as our faces touched in embrace, and Colton dipped me like the closing move of a Salsa dance, laughing when I yelped in surprise.

“What is it about this little place, I wonder? It seems Mac’s has been pretty important to us over the last years.” I pointed out, as he kissed the fine jewelry now situated on my finger.

“Yeah…… Well, uhm... About that…”

I looked at him through slit eyes, and cocked a quizzical, suspicious brow at what had him so apparently tongue tied.

“You’re right. This shit hole has been pretty damn important t’ me. And a’ course, to us too. I can’t stand to see it just sittin’ here. Rotting.”

“I’m sure if there was anything Mac could do, sweetheart, he would’ve already. Maybe we’ll get lucky and the next owner will give it a good makeover, y’know? Freshen it up.” I attempted to cheer him up with positive outlook, and cheery suggestions.

“Oh, I think you right. The next owner is gonna get this place back on its feet, and back to it’s roots. Some new bags first thing, and a definite fuckin’ fumigating.” His nose crinkled as he looked around at the mildewed ceiling.

“It sold? Someone finally bou-“

I froze, and Colton’s instantaneous smile furthermore proved my suspicions. He had torn down that weathered ‘for sale’ sign before we came inside, and the little key tucked in his wallet should’ve been my tell-tale.

“COLTON?! It’s yours? You bought it? How? Whe-“

“Hey, hey, hey, hey. Take a breath, ya’ crazy chatterbox. Yes, I bought it. And yes, it’s OURS.” Colton annunciated the significance of ‘ours’ in his confession, assuring I understood that this cherished little corner of a rickety, dark corner block in Pittsburgh now belonged to us. Together.

“I was thinkin’… How does 21 Punches sound to you? I mean, I’d like to have Mac maybe be a manger for me, y’know, when I can’t be here ‘n stuff. But I do wanna change that sign out front.”

Invisible atoms of a tranquil fog consumed the every corner of being, and my legs felt insubstantial on a cloud of celestial contentment. This stiff as cement man, who seemed to turn to near wet, molding clay in my presence wanted to name his most prized possession after a silly, what I viewed as irrelevant, high school basketball number from my ancient days as a Westfield Warrior. I half expected a hidden crowd to jump out into a surprise party, or a horse drawn carriage to wheel up outside to seal the finishing touches on an evening of unadulterated shock and romance.

“I think you’re the best thing about this smelly, foggy, freezing city. And I think you should take me home right now, and let me show you exactly how amazing I think you are.”

Forgetting any class or feminine daintiness, I grabbed firmly around the bulge of his thin, extremely well-fitting slacks and parted two buttons of his shirt to tickle his beating chest.

“Home? We own the place now, ya’ naughty lil’ thing. I could just take ya’ right fuckin’ now if I wanted to.”

“Slide your hand under this dress and get to it then, Mr. Ritter.” I sighed fervently into his ear, sloppily sucking his neck just under the line of his beard.

The lack of undergarments he discovered as he used two fingers to crawl up the side of my leg caused him to groan out hauntingly.

“Your wish, is my fuckin’ command, Mrs. Ritter.”

tags: @torialeysha @eap1935 @mollybegger-blog @littleluna98

#Tom Hardy #tomhardy #tomhardyfanfic #tomhardyfanfiction #tom hardy fanfiction #elizabeth olsen #thegrind

[gracespilkerr]

21 Best Side Jobs for Firefighters

Does your firefighting schedule have you working one day on and then off for two or three days? 

If so, then you might find that your wallet has nothing but figurative flies in it by the end of the month. If you’d like to pad your bank account, it helps to have a side hustle or a second job. 

So, what are the best side jobs for firefighters?

We recommend the following 21 side jobs for firefighters:

Blogger

Real estate agent

Carpenter

Personal trainer

Landscaper

Uber/Lyft driver

Bartender

Security guard

CPR instructor

Waiter

Nurse

Lawn mower

Youth league coach/referee

Mechanic

Customer service rep

Dog walker

Delivery driver

Emergency technician

Painter

Online teacher

Tow truck driver

In this article, we’ll discuss each of these awesome side jobs in more detail, including how much money you can make so you can choose the right side hustle for you! You’re not going to want to miss it.

21 Lucrative Yet Flexible Side Jobs for Firefighters

Blogger

The first (and in my opinion the best) side hustle you can take on is blogging. This site is run by a firefighter looking to make more money on the side, and there’s no reason you can’t do the same as well. 

Your blog doesn’t necessarily need to be about firefighting, but rather, anything that you’re passionate about and interested in.

Blogging best practices dictate that you add content to your blog at least weekly or every other week. To increase your chances of ranking on the first page of Google search results, you need to follow search engine optimization or SEO rules. 

Use keywords throughout your writing, and try to publish content every now and again that’s longer, say, 2,500 or 3,000 words or more. 

Yes, these posts take a long time to write, but if you get a lot of views, then the time and effort will have been worth it.

If you’re worried about spending money on a domain, you don’t necessarily have to. These days, you can make a free, professional-looking website in minutes.

How much money can you make blogging? 

The answer depends on how often you write, if your blog ranks well, and how much traffic you get. 

Man blogging on computer.

The U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics or BLS–which we’ll use as a resource throughout the rest of this guide–notes that writers and authors earn $30.39 per hour, which is $63,200 a year. 

However, that number varies greatly as I know several bloggers who are making thousands (and even tens of thousands) every month from their blog!

Real Estate Agent

Yours truly is also a real estate agent/blogger/firefighter. Helping someone find their dream home or selling a property so they can move on to something bigger and better is a great experience, and as a real estate agent, you’ll do that all the time.

You can either get hired as part of a real estate team or work as an independent real estate agent. The latter sounds great, especially if you have a primary job as a firefighter, but it’s not necessarily all it’s cracked up to be. 

You have to find the properties that are available, list them, tour them, and negotiate the sales price. Choose between going freelance or being part of a team carefully.

As for touring homes, while your clients will request times to see a property, it’s ultimately up to you (and the homeowner) when you will show a property. Even on those days when you’re firefighting then, you can still do some showings before or after work. 

Showing properties isn’t all you’ll do. Once a buyer finds a home they love, you’ll guide them through the buying process from start to finish. You don’t necessarily have to see the client in person to do this, which makes real estate a great option for you.

BLS says that real estate brokers and sales agents on average earn $24.39 per hour or $50,730 a year. 

Again, this number can vary greatly depending on you, your network and how much time and effort you put into growing your business.  However, it’s not uncommon (at least in my area) to work with several agents who make well north of $100k every year.

Carpenter/Handyman

Perhaps you’re useful with your own two hands and some tools. If so, then carpentry might be a field you want to look into doing outside of firefighting. As a carpenter, you will approve sketches and blueprints that come your way, measure out supplies for projects, shape and cut the materials, and then assemble.

The job of a carpenter can be a full-time one in and of itself or a side gig that you do to keep money coming into your bank account. To become a carpenter, you only need a high school diploma and some formal schooling through an apprenticeship program. Then you can get to work.

Carpenter working.

Carpenters earn $24.24 per hour, which is $48,330 a year, notes BLS. That’s not too shabby!

While being a handyman doesn’t necessarily require any formal schooling it too can be a great way to bring in extra income.  

There is a HUGE demand for contracting services right now and people will pay top dollar for quality and professional work.

Personal Trainer

As a firefighter first and foremost, you need to be in peak physical condition to handle the rigors of the job. That means you probably spend a lot of time in a gym, be that at a facility or even your own home gym.

Instead of working out just for yourself, why not show others the benefits of fitness by getting a side gig as a personal trainer? 

You can either seek a personal training job through a gym or visit clients in their own home. No matter which way you choose, you get to help your clients achieve all their fitness goals, whether that’s losing weight, gaining muscle, or learning to push themselves harder with their training.

The BLS quotes your earning potential as a personal trainer at $19.42 an hour or $40,390 a year, but this is flexible. You can set your own prices if you’re not part of a gym, which means your earnings potential is even higher! 

Landscaper

Do you love spending time outside but find that your firefighting job doesn’t really allow for it? 

For your side hustle, tend to nature and beautify homes as a landscaper. You’ll manage lawns, cut shrubs, remove overhanging tree branches, plant flowers, add rocks, carve out yard walking paths, and so much more.

As an aside, part of the job does include killing off pests such as wasps, ticks, and mosquitoes, but the rest is a lot of fun. 

Like what you need to do to become a carpenter, it’s recommended you have some skills and background to do this. This might be a multi-year apprenticeship, so perhaps hold off on applying to landscaper jobs until you’re certified.

When you can enter the field, BLS says landscape architects make $33.35 an hour or $69,360 a year. 

In addition, there are several things you can do that are similar but go great with traditional landscaping work.  

For example, I know a guy who bought a stump grinder and offers stump grinding services.  

Uber/Lyft Driver

You have a car, right? Why not put it to work as a driver for popular taxing services Uber or Lyft? 

While this may not be for everyone, I know several people who have worked as a driver and they seemed to have a great experience with it.

When you get approved as a driver for either service (or both), you put a sticker or sign in your car denoting your status as an Uber/Lyft driver and then get started.

Here’s how it works. You check the app and see who needs rides and where. Then, you choose to accept the ride. Uber or Lyft will take their cut, but you earn the rest, as well as a tip if the customer is feeling generous. 

The cool part about being a Lyft or Uber driver is there’s no limit to the amount of money you can earn. Indeed says the average national salary for a driver role like this is $30,513, but it all depends on how much you feel like driving each day.

If you live in a quiet area with not a lot of people, your earnings may be more limited compared to someone who calls a bustling city home. Still, whether you rely on being a Lyft/Uber driver as your second hustle or your third hustle, it’s a solid option. 

Bartender

Pouring drinks for people is an art, and one you can discover when your side job is that of a bartender. Ideal if your firefighting schedule leaves your weekend nights open, bartending lets you meet interesting people and always be at the heart of the action in your city or town.

Becoming a bartender isn’t necessarily easy, admittedly. You’ll have to learn the names and ingredients of hundreds of different cocktails and drinks. Then, you have to put your knowledge to the test to earn your bartender’s license.

However, depending on where you live/work the bar you work for may not require a license.

Once you’ve got that license, you can begin applying to jobs at bars and restaurants. Just know that some bartending jobs might lead to pretty late nights. 

You don’t want to burn too much of the midnight oil so you can be fresh for your firefighting job, so think carefully about how this side gig would fit into your schedule.

BLS says bartenders earn $11.39 and hour or $23,680 a year, but that’s not including those sweet, sweet tips that will surely keep you afloat financially. 

Security Guard/Bouncer

Do you have it in you to prevent people from getting where they’re not supposed to go? As a security guard, it’s your responsibility to protect information and valuable assets so these don’t get into the wrong hands. 

Similarly, with the bartender job a lot of bars and nightclubs are always looking for security.  Perhaps you can consider spending your evenings doing security.  

I did for 2 years and it was a great side gig!

Your security job could take you to many different places. Perhaps you’re security at a retail store, a bank, an office, or even a music and entertainment venue. 

Either way, expect to be standing on your feet for the entirety of your shift, which is the only downside. Otherwise, just look mean and intimidating and you’ll excel.

Security guards may earn $14.29 and hour, which is $29,710 a year, states BLS. 

CPR Instructor

When you were training to become a firefighter, you learned how to administer certified cardiopulmonary resuscitation or CPR. You’ve perhaps even used the skill a time or two before when on the job.

Why not keep your CPR skills nice and sharp by working part-time as a CPR instructor? 

Your second job will have you instructing classes of nurses and other medical professionals, showing them the ropes of applying perfect CPR.

You’ll likely use a dummy in most demonstration scenarios, or you could even perform CPR on a real person. Most CPR instructors are part of the American Red Cross, the American Heart Association, or other medical centers, so start there when applying for jobs.

This is a lucrative side hustle, too. CPR Certification Online HQ says you could earn $52,790 annually as a baseline, with some CPR instructors even raking in close to $65k a year depending on location.

If you’re feeling really ambitious and you have your ACLS or PALS card you could become an instructor for one of those courses as well.  

You could easily turn this into your own company that provides training services for individuals or companies to complete their new certification or renew their outdated certifications (think daycare centers, dentist offices, chiropractic offices etc).

Waiter

It may be a standard side job, but don’t discount working as waitstaff. Unlike a job as a bartender, you’re constantly running around from table to table, taking orders, serving food, bringing empty plates back to the kitchen, and processing customer bills when working as a waiter or waitress. 

Being great at this job is all about being able to remember orders. Having a vivid personality also helps, as customers will enjoy interacting with you. 

That will also help you generate more tips, a must in waitering as it is in bartending. That’s because BLS says waiters and waitresses make $11 an hour, which is $22,890 a year. You’ll need tips for a job like this to be lucrative enough for you. 

Nurse

If you think you’ll need a long-term side gig, nursing is a pretty fantastic pick. You will have to pour many of your spare days into studying nursing so you can pass the NCLEX-RN exam. 

Then, you have to get your state license and you can finally begin applying to jobs as a registered nurse.

You may even take your role one step further, spending more time on medical schooling to become a nurse practitioner, or an advanced practice registered nurse (APRN). 

As a nurse or a nurse practitioner, you help diagnose patients, provide them treatment, and hopefully save their lives. Sadly, this can’t always happen, so that’s something you’ll want to keep in mind if you plan on getting into nursing.

Like being a bartender, nurses can have long hours, so try to schedule your nursing shifts so you’re not firefighting on the same day.

The BLS notes that registered nurses earn $35.24 an hour or $73,300 a year. Nurse practitioners bring in $55.67 an hour, which is $115,800 a year.  

If you’re unfamiliar with the fire service you’d be surprised to learn how many firefighters/paramedics also work as nurses and physician assistants.

Lawn Mower

Do you have an awesome ride-on mower that you love to use? Do you sometimes wish you could mow the neighbor’s lawn as well? Why not take all that extra energy and enthusiasm and put it towards a secondary job?

As a mower, you’ll clean up lawns, including some of the most overgrown ones. You can even start your own lawn mowing business, which The Balance says can earn you $5,000 to $50,000 a year as you’re just getting started. If you’re more established, you could make anywhere from $160,000 to $250,000 annually. 

In fact, I know a firefighter in a neighboring town who started a VERY successful lawn mowing company and then got into firefighting.

Do keep in mind that mowing is a seasonal job for many parts of the country, so you might need a third part-time job to bring the money in (usually snow plowing if you live somewhere that gets a lot of snow in winter). 

Youth League Coach/Referee

Another great side job for firefighters is working as a youth league coach or referee. 

As a coach, you get to inspire teams of kids to work together, learn their skills and values, achieve victory, and understand what’s important about defeat. You can also foster what could become a lifelong love of sports in these kids. 

If you’re a youth referee, then you get to oversee the games, ensuring the kids play fairly while everyone still has a good time. 

Glassdoor says you may be able to earn upwards of $40,089 a year as a youth league coach. Just make sure you go for the paid positions only, not the volunteer jobs. 

Mechanic

You enjoy tinkering around with your own car, and when your buddy had a problem with his vehicle, you were able to fix it right away. 

That has you wondering, maybe you could charge for your vehicular expertise?

Absolutely! As a paid mechanic, you’ll diagnose all sorts of car issues, from the more common ones to the tough-to-find problems. 

You’ll also issue preventive maintenance, including changing out filters, balancing the wheels, rotating tires, changing oil, and tuning up the engine.

You do need some training to become a mechanic, but then you could earn about $20.24 an hour or $42,090 a year, notes BLS. 

Even if you don’t know much about cars, oil change places are always looking to hire hardworking and ambitious people.  This could be a great place to start!

Customer Service Rep

If you’d prefer to work from home, you don’t only have to be a blogger. You can also work in customer service. This job is often remote and requires a high-quality telephone.

You’ll be trained on how to handle customers, who will call with questions, feedback, and yes, sometimes complaints.

On the phone, you’ll guide the customer through their problem, working actively with them to come up with a viable solution.

If you by chance can’t help, then you’ll redirect the customer to someone who can. Overall, your role in customer service is important in inspiring customer satisfaction and loyalty to whatever company you represent. 

According to BLS data, as a customer service rep, you might make $16.69 an hour, which is $34,710 a year. 

Dog Walker

Are you an animal lover? Can you not get enough of warm, fuzzy, sweet creatures? Take the edge off your tough firefighting job by getting into the side hustle of dog walking. 

It’s your duty to take other people’s dogs for walks while the dog’s owner has to work or be in school. 

You may walk one dog at a time or several, talking them to the park, around the block, or through the neighborhood. This job is really a win-win, as you get to spend time around sweet animals and get lots of exercise too. 

Oh, and having a posse of pups with you is often a great way to meet people, whether as friends or something more.

The hourly earnings for dog walkers varies by state in the US; you can check out a comprehensive salary list courtesy of Care.com here. On average, expect to make at least $15 an hour. 

Delivery Driver

Earlier, we talked about driving for Uber/Lyft as a side hustle. Another driving-related job you might want to try is being a delivery driver. 

Now, what you’re delivering will definitely vary. 

You could drop off pizzas, mechanical parts, medical equipment, or all sorts of things. Besides just delivery, you have to pick up these items too, so you’re driving a lot.

Becoming a delivery driver usually only requires a high school diploma. This job, if you’re lifting heavy cargo especially, is a great way to get exercise and be paid for it. 

Speaking of pay, BLS says you’ll make $15.69 an hour, which is $32, 020 a year. 

However, if you’re working as a firefighter chances are you’re responsible for driving some pretty big trucks.  

Have you considered getting your CDL and driving commercial vehicles?  There could potentially be plenty of money to be made in your off time.

Emergency Medical Technician/Paramedic

The fact that you can work as an EMT/paramedic on the side is one of several reasons I urge aspiring firefighters to go to paramedic school rather than get a fire science degree! 

Click this link if you want to read more about Paramedic vs. Fire Science.

Another medical-related job to consider is being an emergency technician like a paramedic or EMT. You’ll work with emergency departments and transfusion clinics to transport people to life-saving medical treatment. 

This can get old quickly if part of your firefighting duties include EMT or Paramedic work, but you can do it part-time. 

Also, there’s room for growth, as you could earn your certification to make even more money. Getting the certification can be done online, so already a role like emergency tech fits into your schedule nicely.

BLS says your earnings as an emergency technician will be $17.02 an hour or $35,400 a year. 

Painter

Few people want to paint their homes or businesses, but it’s a job that needs to be done. 

Enter you, the professional painter. 

Either by yourself or with a team, you’ll head to the site, paintbrush in hand, prime up the walls, and then paint them an appealing, fresh new color. 

Besides just buildings, your job as a painter could take you to bigger jobs, such as painting bridges, equipment, and machinery. This is a great job if you want to put your stamp on the world!

When working as a painter, BLS says you’ll earn $19.37 an hour, which is $40,280 a year. 

Also, as someone that works in the real estate industry I can tell you that there is a huge demand for good painters!  It’s an easy and relatively inexpensive way to give life to old or outdated properties.

Online Teacher

You have lots of knowledge in that head of yours, and you’d love to impart it with the world. As an online teacher, you can do just that, and all from the comfort of your own home. 

If you’re an expert at something, then you can teach it to others and make money doing it.

Perhaps you teach foreign students how to speak English or teach budding musicians to play guitar. Per Glassdoor data, you can earn $42,579 a year teaching, which should surely supplement your firefighting income nicely. 

Tow Truck Driver 

The last side job we recommend for firefighters is tow truck driving. Yes, that’s right, one more driving job. As a tow truck driver, you’ll go long distances carrying freight like food supplies, farm machinery, or equipment. 

Or, if you’re ambitious, you could even start your own towing service.  Being an emergency tow driver for vehicles during storms or other emergencies can be a very lucrative side job!

You could be driving for days at a time, which will fill in those blank days on your schedule when you’re not fighting fires.

Although it’s physically demanding, getting the goods to their destination as a tow truck driver can provide a lot of satisfaction. 

You will have to enroll in a professional truck driving school to get this job, as operating a tow truck is nothing like driving even a firetruck. You’ll also need to obtain your commercial driver’s license or CDL.

Once you find the towing job for you, you could earn $21.76 or $45,260 a year, says BLS. 

Conclusion

These days, it seems like everybody’s got a side hustle. As a firefighter, you’re no different. 

With this list of more than 20 great side jobs to consider for more money, you can do what you like as your main job and your secondary job too! 

from FirefighterNOW https://firefighternow.com/21-best-side-jobs-for-firefighters/

From https://catherinelee4.blogspot.com/2020/08/21-best-side-jobs-for-firefighters.html

source https://catherinelee4.wordpress.com/2020/08/01/21-best-side-jobs-for-firefighters/

via Blogger http://pppearlyn.blogspot.com/2020/08/21-best-side-jobs-for-firefighters.html

[ethicallysourcedhumanmeat]

Coming Clean: 2

[Masterpost]-[AO3]-[First] 6600 words - Warning for Biphobia and homophobia

Yoosung had been wrong about how often they’d have to see his mother.  It became clear around the third time they made excuses that she was suspicious but Yoosung did not want to relent.  He agreed to the next invitation but made excuses at the last minute, the next time he tried his father offered to call her family, invite them all to the house for dinner.

It sounded more like a threat than an invitation.

So they accepted the next few invites, Yoosung’s mood always sour the following day.  Both showering Seven with affection but also on edge, any small thing that went wrong would elicit either tears and apologies or a long rant.  Seven let him be, it only ever lasted a day and he was back to his normal happy self. 

They ended up finding a schedule that kept his mother happy, less suspicious, but she never failed to bring them down in their happiest moments.

“—‘s a very nice girl, Yoosung,” he could hear Mrs. Kim on the other line when he slipped into Yoosung’s apartment, a combination of the way she spoke and the volume of Yoosung’s phone carrying the other half of the conversation through the small apartment.

“Yes she is Mom,” Yoosung said through gritted teeth, exams were over and he was ready to reclaim his LOLOL title, finally number one with the retirement of the mysterious HackerGod.  Seven could see him mouse-ing over his characters waiting for the call to end.

“It’s just that I worry when I see you spending time with that boy.”

Seven’s ears perked up, they were very careful, there was almost never pictures of him on the internet anyway, even on the facebook account he maintained his face rarely appeared.  He only every allowed it for—

“That was an RFA meeting Mom.”

“I realize that sweetie but is it really a good—”

“I can’t control who’s a member Mom,” Yoosung growls his cheeks hot as he glances back at his boyfriend pulling out his own laptop.

“Perhaps I could speak to that nice man in charge, that Jumin Han, he seemed so nice last time I spoke to him.”

He lets out a sharp breath and sets his computer down on the beat up coffee table.  He can almost hear Yoosung’s teeth grinding while he tries to form a reasonable excuse for her not to.  Seven walks over to him and rests his hands on Yoosung’s shoulders pressing kisses to the top of his head and then across his forehead when the blond boy leans back and looks up at him.  He smiles and Yoosung forces himself to smile back.

“Mom, Seven works very hard for the RFA, you could just trust me,” he presses his lips together before he forces himself to say, “I love Sae now, it’s fine. Everyone is fine Mom.”

“I may call him anyway, just in case, you have another of those parties coming up don’t you, are you going to take Sae?”

“It’s work Mrs. Kim,” Seven calls out, his voice pitched slightly up, “Yoosung won’t have any time to dance with me so I refuse to go.”

He can hear her on the other end, flustered and apologizing, but he’s smiling his goofy smug smile when Yoosung hangs up and swivels in his chair to look at him.  “What?” He pouts, adjusting his clips where his phone had pushed them askew.

“It’s at least good that she thinks we’re two different people right?”

“That’s what you took away from that?” Yoosung snorts.

“I’m thinking about retiring from IT and joining Zen on the stage,” he says dropping into Yoosung’s lap.  “Maybe Sae could be my alter ego, and when you break her heart and go back to you filthy man loving ways she can date Zen!”

Seven erupts into a fit of laughter as Yoosun shoves him off his lap, but he’s laughing too.  It’s been Six months since Yoosung’s parents had met him, almost a year since he’d admitted to Yoosung that; No Babe, friends don’t actually practice kissing with one another outside bad teen films, almost a year since Yoosung had said thank god because I think I love you.

No one had been surprised when they started dating.  Seven’s attempts at romance were kindergarten level, they could all tell why he picked on Yoosung, they were just waiting for Yoosung to figure it out.  Yoosung had seemed disappointed by the reaction.

“Did you bring them,” Yoosung asks from his computer desk, already logged in now, not even glancing back at him.

“Bring what?” Seven asks innocently as he starts up LOLOL.

Yoosung snorts, he reaches into the little cube fridge on his desk and tosses a PhD Pepper to him without looking. Seven smiles, god he loved this tunnel vision nerd. “You know what,” Yoosung says with a wave of his hand that Seven knows means get on with it.

“Condoms?” Seven asks logging his character in, HackerGod may have retired but that didn’t mean he couldn’t help Yoosung keep his hand-me-down title.

“Saeyoung,” Yoosung whines.

“Yes I brought them,” Seven chuckles, knowing Yoosung means Honey Buddah Chips, but still liking to tease him.  “They’re in my trunk but you have to get them yourself, I feel like your dealer, it makes me feel dirty.”

“Aw really?” Yoosung turns now, puppy dog eyes engaged, big fake pout.

“Yes really,” Seven nods, he’s going to be firm today, he’s not going to fall for the puppy eyes.

“Please?” Yoosung swivels his chair and bats his eyelashes.

“Babe,” Seven says, trying not to laugh.  If he laughs Yoosung will win, and Yoosung won way too often these days.

He pouts and he brushes his hair out of his face, flashing his best sad eyes at his boyfriend before he heaves himself out of his chair with a groan.  He shuffles past Seven on the couch, another pout carelessly tossed in his boyfriend’s direction before he slips his sneakers on and opens the door.

“Hey,” Seven calls from the couch and Yoosung turns, a big smile on his face turning confused when he hears the jangle of keys.  “You need these to open the trunk, Yoosungie.”

He struggles to catch them, managing mostly to bat them out of the air and straight to the floor. He grumbles when he has to pick them up.  When Yoosung is out the door Seven sits down at his computer, giving one playful spin on the protesting swivel chair before typing in a few commands to make Yoosung’s character effectively unkillable.

He’s sitting back at the couch looking bored when Yoosung lumbers through the door.  He drops the keys on the table next to Seven’s laptop and sits heavily on the couch with the box in his lap.  It’s covered in stickers, and Yoosung can’t help the smile, a combination of animal and medical themed stickers decorate it with little heart doodles.  Seven always decorated the box.

“You want a bag?” He asks, carefully opening the box.

Seven shakes his head and produces his own bag from his backpack. “Brought my own Cutie-Pie.”

“You’re a jerk,” Yoosung laughs and reaches into the box.

Seven turns to him. “You should reach to the bottom, I bet those bags are fresher,” he smirks.

Yoosung cocks an eyebrow but he does what his boyfriend says.

It’s easy to find the surprise at the bottom of the box, the hard metal box beneath crinkling bags full of air and chips.  Yoosung pulls it out and sets the big box on the floor with a curious glance at his boyfriend.  Seven is suddenly very busy sorting his inventory on LOLOL.

“What’s this?” Yoosung asks softly.

“Did you know,” Seven says lazily, but Yoosung can hear the nerves in the way he tries to joke, “that the next party is on our anniversary.”

Silence.

And then Yoosung is pressed against him, arms wrapping around him pressing kisses to his cheek, his nose, his temple, and his hair, he hasn’t even opened the box yet. “I didn’t,” he starts nervously toying with the smooth metal case in his hands, “I didn’t realize we had one of those.”

Seven laughs.

“I mean the way it happened, it’s not like one day we were friends and the next we were boyfriends,” Yoosung whispers.

He nods, “I just sort of picked a day in the middle,” it’s a lie.  He picked the day Yoosung had said he thought he loved him. “I thought you’d want to celebrate but I didn’t want to make a fuss at the party.”

“You’re a liar,” Yoosung chuckles, “you’re dying to make a fuss at the party.”

Seven laughs, “Okay, you’ve got me but you know we can’t.”

They’re quiet for a moment.  Mrs. Kim had infiltrated almost every second of their lives.  Making an effort to not even be seen standing too close to one another in the background of someone else’s photos.  Now she was infiltrating RFA meets via Instagram and harassing Yoosung.  He’d love for it to be over but he knows how badly Yoosung wants to rely on himself after this and he respects that.

Yoosung swallows, he presses his arm against Sevens and opens the box, a little gasps escaping his lips. “Saeyoung.”

“Do you like it?” He knows he’s blushing, Yoosung hadn’t exactly asked for a watch and he’s worried he’ll have an idea how much money he’s spent on it but he pushes forward turning it over in the smaller man’s hand. “Look I had it engraved.  I thought it was something you could wear in front of your Mom without making her suspicious.”

1011000011 is engraved on the inside of the watch.

“Wow,” Yoosung breaths, “it’s, wow.”

Seven smiles, “You like it?”

He nods, “But I don’t know what it means,” he says, his voice still low.

“707.”

Yoosung doesn’t realize just how expensive the watch is until he wears it to the party.  Seven expects it to be Jumin to break the news but he’s surprised when Zen whistles through his teeth and takes Yoosung by the wrist. “Damn, he’s really fallen for you huh?”

Yoosung pulls his arm back and shrugs with a goofy grin on his face. “I dunno, probably.”

Seven chuckles as he follows Jaehee behind the stage to fix some small technical problem she’s claiming is the end of the world.  He’s almost done when Yoosung pushes the curtains aside and stomps towards him.

“How much money did you spend on this?” He demands.

“That’s rude,” Seven chuckles frowning at the computer screen.

“It’s too much Saeyoung.”

Seven shrugs. “It’s fine.”

“I can’t, it’s too much,” Yoosung has the watch in his palm holding out towards Seven.

“I can’t return it, Yoosung,” he smiles closing his boyfriends hand over the watch, “not with the engraving.” He didn’t know if it was true or not and he hoped Yoosung wouldn’t either.

Yoosung sighs. “Why would you spend so much on me?”

“If you don’t like it,” Seven smiles and kisses him on the cheek, “you could always sell it, doesn’t matter to me.”

It takes Yoosung a full minute before he realizes what that means. “You’re impossible,” he says putting the watch back on.

Seven shrugs.  In retrospect that was probably the moment it happened.

“I’ve been told,” he chuckles as Yoosung struggles with the curtain behind him.

“I can’t, you, ugh,” Yoosung groans and hooks his arm around Seven’s.

“It’s your choice, I don’t mind either way, you could sell the watch and you’d have next semester’s tuition if you need it, or you keep it and you have a very nice watch.”

Yoosung whines again and buries his face in Seven’s shoulder for a moment before they step apart, the first few guests of the night filter in and they begin the ritual of being separate in public.

It’s weeks later when Yoosung gets a call from his sister.

“Yoosung,” she says, and he sets his controller on Seven’s coffee table gesturing for Saeran to turn the TV down.

“You sound worried what’s wrong.”

The twins turn to look at him.

“You sound fine,” she says carefully, “so you haven’t talked to her yet.”

Yoosung’s face falls and the twins mouth what’s wrong at him in unison.

He shakes his head and walks away from the couch. “Why,” he asks.  They’d met his parents for lunch in the city a few days before, nothing had seemed off.  His mother had even seemed more relaxed, he hadn’t even been as upset afterwards.

“You know your party was in the paper right?”

Yoosung shrugs and makes a non-committal noise.  Jaehee had mentioned it but he hadn’t really thought about it, he didn’t get the paper and he hadn’t considered looking.  It wasn’t the first time, it had been years since they started, and this was at least the third party since Jumin and Kit had taken over.

“Yoosung,” she says, “there’s a picture of you with your boyfriend.”

“That can’t be right,” he says, he felt so calm.

“Yoosung I’m looking at it,” she says softly.

“It’s just a group photo right,” he says, he knows he should be panicking but everything seems to be slowing down. Kit showed them all the official photos from the party, the whole group approved every photo they’d sent to the press. “I think Jumin stood him behind me?  Jumin has this—”

“Yoosung you’re standing on a stage holding his hand,” she says.

“No,” He says with a bit of a laugh, “no I don’t think so, I don’t think that happened.”  He’s still so calm, he feels like he’s floating.  Maybe he’s died, he considers, maybe his mother killed him with her mind and he’s dead.

“Yoosung I am looking at it,” she stresses.

He chews the inside of his cheek.  “Does she know?” He asks softly, grabbing the back of a chair, his chest if tight now and the calm floating feeling starting to dissipate.  The twins are behind him and somewhere underwater he hears Seven’s phone chime.

“She, I, Yoosung I don’t know.  She told me to get the paper, I think so,” his sister sounds nervous.  “But she hasn’t called you.”

He shakes his head and then he swallows, “N-no, I, no she hasn’t.”

Seven’s hand is on his elbow and he doesn’t hear what his sister is saying because all he can hear is “—ext week Mrs. Kim?  I don’t really know you should probably call Yoosung, ab— s-surprise him?”

Yoosung turns and his eyes meet Seven’s, he looks as confused as Yoosung, all he can do is nod.

“—ung, Yoosung,” his sister is almost yelling.

“Sorry, I’m here,” he turns from Seven back to his own conversation.

“I’m in the city right now, are you busy?  Can I buy you lunch.”

“Fuck,” Yoosung groans.  Things had been going so well, she wasn’t on his case he was hoping to get through Christmas.  Christmas money could have been put away with the bits he’d managed to save here and there, a few months rent at least.  His grades were back up but he’d had to work so hard, could he do the same with a job.

Could he sell the watch?

“Yoosung, remember that place Dad used to take us when we were kids, right before school started every year when we’d come into the city for our school supplies?”

“I can’t,” he tries and swallows again, “I can’t afford to buy lunch, not—”

“I’m buying Yoosung, bring your boyfriend.”

Yoosung fills Seven in while he grabs his things, and throws a sweater at Seven while apologizing to Saeran.  He’s a nervous mess in the car on the way to the restaurant, he doesn’t stop and wait to be seated, and it’s Seven who apologizes to the Hostess as he’s dragged behind Yoosung to the corner booth near the kitchen where a pretty woman in her late 20s , by Seven’s estimate, smiles at them.  The same Lavender eyes as Yoosung staring out from beneath golden brown bangs.

“I already ordered,” she says and the smile on her face starts to fade and she sizes him up, “so you’re my brother’s boyfriend.”

Seven nods as Yoosung slides into the bench across from his sister.

“Does he talk?” She laughs.

“I normally can’t stop him,” Yoosung glances at him and Seven slips in beside him.

“Sorry,” Seven says softly, “you two look a lot alike.”

They both blush.

“Mom hasn’t called you yet?” his sister asks.

“I, no Yuna, she hasn’t called me,” he says looking at Seven.

“She called me,” he nods, “but she didn’t say she knew, she wanted me to bring you to dinner Friday, s-she said to surprise you.”

He squeezes Yoosung’s hand in his own while they look to his sister.

“She invited you, to bring Yoosung to a surprise dinner?” Yuna frowns, and Seven watches as her face contorts into the same expression Yoosung wears while studying. “Why wou—”

“She didn’t know she was inviting Seven,” Yoosung cuts in, like he’d only just remembered.

“What?” Yuna asks, her frown deepens.

“Sae, she was inviting Sae to dinner to surprise me,” Yoosung finishes. “Seven is Sae.”

“Wait,” Yuna covers her face and they all sit back as a waiter places drinks in front of them and apologizes to her about the wait for their food.  She forces a smile and waves him off. “Yoosung what do you mean he’s Sae.”

Seven laughs, they both pull out their phones and pull up photos.  “She’s just me in a wig,” he shrugs.

 “And Mom hasn’t noticed?” Yuna covers her mouth, but the giggles spill out anyway.

Yoosung shrugs, “She made comments about how I better not break that girl’s heart the couple times Seven and I were too close to each other in the background of Zen’s selfies so I’m pretty sure she hasn’t.”

“I don’t think you’re parents looked too closely at me when they met me,” he says and Yoosung hugs his arm.

“What is she doing,” Yuna groans.

Yuna pulls a newspaper out of her purse and lays it down in front of them and Seven sends a photo of it to Jumin while the siblings frown at each other.

“She didn’t invite you to dinner though?” Yoosung asks and Yuna shakes her head.

“Normally Father Park would be coming to dinner and with Joon not being Catholic she doesn’t normally invite us.”

Yoosung and Seven glance at one another. “So she’s inviting Sae and I to dinner with Father Park?” Yoosung says slowly.

“Oh,” Yuna covers her mouth.

“Is he all, you know, fire and brimstone?” Seven asks.  He’d always been careful to find services held by more moderate priests.

“I don’t know,” Yoosung looks to Yuna but she shrugs, “he’s new, since I left for school.”

“Father Rhee was brimstone,” Yuna adds, “he suggested Mom disown me until Joon converted but I guess people probably just assume he’s catholic when they see him, or you know normal people don’t even care.”

“More convenient that, than being the wrong gender right?” Seven snorts.

“You know she had the girls baptized while I was having my appendix removed?” Yuna chuckles.

“S-she said you asked,” Yoosung stammers.

“You were there?” Seven frowns.

“I was visiting over summer break because Mom needed a hand with the girls.”

“Yoosung is a godfather.  When she kills me for taking his side are you prepared for that responsibility?” Yuna laughs.  “It’s not a big deal, I mean I go to church when we visit but we’re not really anything, so she splashed some water on their heads. At the time I was mad but it’s one less guilt trip so I let it go.”

“Is that what I should do,” Yoosung sighs.

“What?” Yuna and Seven almost shout.

“No, Yoosung, of course not.” Yuna shakes her head. “She’s passed far beyond harmless infuriating bullshit.”

Yoosung shakes his head.

“Are you going to be ok without the money?” She asks.

“I have a little saved,” he says quietly as their food is set in front of him, “and I’ve got my grades back up, I don’t know how I’ll deal with a job and classes and having to be in the clinic again next semester.”

“Do they do like, apprenticeships?” Yuna asks, “Can you get your clinic hours in and get paid?”

“I-I don’t think so,” Yoosung shrugs and fiddles with his watch.

“There’s always Jumin, he could probably hire you on as a temp at C&R,” Seven smiles.

“I don’t know if I could work for Jumin, especially now that Jaehee isn’t there.”

Seven chuckles. “You know I bought you that watch just for this reason.”

Yoosung sighs. “I know but, I don’t want to sell it just for me.”

“A watch?” Yuna cocks an eyebrow at them and Yoosung holds out his wrist.

“You know,” Seven smirks, “I could always just hack the school, if you lose your scholarship.”

“No!” Yoosung squeaks, “I don’t want that, I don’t— I appreciate you offering all of this but I want to do it myself, if I sell this watch I want it to be for something us not for me.  I don’t want you to hack for me, it’s bad enough you’re still doing it for Jumin.”  He starts aggressively shoveling his lunch into his mouth as if to end the conversation and both Yuna and Seven laugh.

Gradually the conversation turns more casual.  Seven loosens up and eggs Yoosung on to tell stories, Seven’s favorite being the time Yoosung had been volunteered during a livestock lesson to aid in a birth.  Yeah I’m still confident in our relationship, Seven liked to joke, who hasn’t been shoulder deep in a vagina in this day and age.

Yuna had cackled and Seven had blushed.

“You were kind of quiet,” Yoosung says on their way back from lunch.

“You told me to shut up three times,” he laughs.

Yoosung sighs, “You know what I mean.”

“I just,” he adjusts his glasses, “I wanted to be sure she was really on your side.  Mom used to play Saeran and I against one another.  I didn’t want to see you get hurt again.”

He waits for Yoosung to get defensive but all he does is laugh. “But she passed then, she’s safe.”

“I’m gonna have to run a background check just to be sure, check her credit, see if she has any shady underworld connections.”

Yoosung laughs. “God, you know Mom could be thankful, at least my boyfriend is Catholic.”

They both laugh.

“What was Yuna like when you were little?” Seven asks quietly. “You never really talked about her before.”

“I didn’t really know her before,” Yoosung shrugs.  “She’s a lot older than I am.  She was nice to me, except when she wasn’t but I think it was all normal sibling stuff. She moved out when I was nine or ten.”

Seven takes him home and he’s waiting for his bus when he gets the call from Jumin.

“Yoosung I wanted to let you know that Kit and I have spoken with the Newspaper, Seven has mentioned the photo has caused some trouble he was not specific.”

“I-It’s fine Jumin, we’re uh dealing with it,” Yoosung tries.  He doesn’t want to think about the photo or the weekend right now.

“Never the less, we had provided images to a number of publications, had this been a questionable photo of Zen or myself, or had it shown more of Seven’s face, we make these arrangements for a reason, it’s a breach of contract. I wished for you to know that I am not taking this lightly.”

“Thanks Jumin.” Yoosung drops into a window seat.

“Yoosung,” he can hear the tone of Jumin’s voice change and he braces himself, “Seven did not provide me with details of your trouble but I have to wonder, is this to do with your scholarship?  Have your grades slipped again?”

He groans, it was not what he was expecting but it was just as bad. “No Jumin, I’m doing a lot better in school, you know since everything.  I don’t know it’s been better my grades are fine.”

“Hmm, that is good to hear.  I had thought perhaps that had been his reason for buying you such a extravagant watch.”

“My watch,” Yoosung coughs, “how does everyone know about this watch but me? What about my watch?”

Jumin chuckles. “Seven had asked me to recommend a watch that would be worth a semester at university, he was not subtle, Yoosung.”

Yoosung sighs and sips at the coffee in the thermos Seven had given him.  He stares at the stainless steel cup and wonders if this is another mystery investment gift.

“I had simply wondered,” Jumin continued, “if you do find yourself in need of a job you need only ask, I hope you know that.  I would certainly make concessions for your time similar to those I’ve made with Seven.  I would make sure not to impact your school work, perhaps find something you could do remotely.”

“I-uh, thanks Jumin, if it comes to—thanks.”

The only times Yoosung feels at ease that week are when he’s working with animals and when he’s alone with Seven.  Even when they discuss what kind of things that might happen this weekend Yoosung feels calmer just knowing Seven has his back.

“What if they want to send you to one of those camps or whatever?” Saeran says giving his brother a shove the night before the dinner.

Yoosung chews on his lip. “I don’t think, I mean I’m an adult they’d have to have my permission right?  We’d just leave.”

“Yeah?” Saeran says leaning forward, “What if you can’t just leave.”

“Then I’ll come get him,” Seven frowns shoving his brother back. “Got you back didn’t I?”

Saeran snorts. “And I don’t even suck your dick.”

“Jesus, Saeran,” Seven laughs hitting his brother with a pillow while Yoosung hides his face.

They get up early the next morning.  Seven wrapping himself around Yoosung and burying his face in his hair, he whines when Yoosung tries to drag them both out from under the blankets, holding on tighter while his boyfriend laughs and struggles.

They shower together, laughing at one another as they brush their teeth in the shower to save the time Seven had wasted in bed.  Seven makes exaggerated sex noises while Yoosung washes his hair and then he pulls the smaller man closer to him and kisses him softly when he sees the blush on his face.

Seven is still in the bathroom with his towel around his waist staring into the mirror when Yoosung is finished getting dressed. “Not that it matters,” Yoosung tries to laugh, “but we’re going to be late.”

Golden eyes turn lazily to him and Seven smiles. “I know I just can’t decide how far to take this today.”

Yoosung looks at the makeup brushes and pencils sitting on the bathroom counter in front of him, next to a new package of daily contacts.

“Wear your glasses,” Yoosung shrugs. “It’s not like it matters right?”

“Are you sure Yoosung? What about—”

“And eyeliner,” Yoosung adds with a smirk, “not for her, I just thinkitscute,” the last few words run together as he loses his nerve.

Seven reaches out and pulls Yoosung against him again, tilting his chin up and staring down at him. “Cutie pie,” he coos and Yoosung can feel himself melt as Seven’s tongue slips into his mouth.

He lets out a small whine when Seven pulls back with a smile.

“We don’t have to go,” Seven smirks, “you could tell her off on the phone and we could spend the day in bed, test out Saeran’s noise canceling headphones?”

Yoosung can feel his ears turning pink and it takes considerable effort to bring himself to push away from his boyfriend.  Of course Seven could have simply asked him to sit on his couch and watch him field C&R IT calls for 8 hours and if would have sounded more appealing than whatever they would be walking into at his parents.

“Have you tried turning your boyfriend off and then on again?” Saeran grumbles shoving Seven out of the bathroom.

Seven laughs and grabs the eyeliner off the counter before stumbling into his blushing boyfriend.  “Come on,” he laughs, “I could put this on and we could go back to bed.”

Yoosung groans. “No I wa-need to do this.  We need to see it through.”

“I guess I did promise Yuna that I’d send her a picture of your Moms face when I took the wig off.”

“What?  When?”

“She called yesterday while you were in the bathroom, she also promised to send me baby pictures.”

“What!”

“Cute little Yoosungie baby pictures,” he giggles as Yoosung throws a pair of pants at him.

“Hey,” he laughs falling over, “what am I wearing this for, I thought you wanted her to be surprised.”

“That was past Yoosung,” he frowns digging through Seven’s dresser.  “Now I just want to get this over with.”

Seven had spent the evening before carefully braiding the purple wig in case the opportunity arose to be as dramatic as possible and once he’s dressed Yoosung helps him pin the wig on instead gluing it like he normally would.

The two hour drive to Yoosung’s parents house is quiet.  Neither of them really know exactly what they’re driving into, Mrs. Kim had asked Sae to surprise Yoosung but it’s not as though Yoosung would still be surprised by the time they got to the house, and Yuna had said they invite their priest to dinner, apparently many of the congregation did this.

Yoosung worried about what Saeran had said, about what would happen if they were prepared to try to force anything on to him.

Seven worried about his temper, and he worried about Yoosung.  He could handle how messed up his own family was, and he could handle Yoosung’s parents but he was used to shitty families.  Yoosung had grown up thinking his parents were old fashioned but basically good people and now he was watching that dissolve at a terrifying speed.  Yoosung had always had his family to fall back on, and Seven hoped that he could pick up the slack.

There was a period where he could see Yoosung staring wide eyed ahead that he wished he’d asked someone else to come with them.  Maybe his brother, or Zen.  Maybe he could call Jumin and have the entire RFA ready to storm Yoosung’s parents dinner and prove just how perfect he was.  Just how fucked up they were for doing this to him.

The Kim’s are waiting for them when he parks the car in front of their house.  Yoosung had insisted he bring the Red one, just like he’d insisted that Seven wear his glasses, and dress less femme.  Seven wasn’t sure if he was seeing how many boundaries he could push before they burst this bubble.  Or if he was proving to himself how little interest they’d taken in Seven so that he could rip the bandaid off easier.

“Father Park,” Yoosung’s mother is introducing them to the man in the sweater vest before they’ve even gotten their shoes off, “this is my son and his girlfriend.  I’m so sorry they’re late. Yoosung has never been punctual; I don’t know where he gets it from.”

Seven is pretty sure he can hear Yoosung growling under his breath.

Aside from glances the priest gives them, and the sad look Mrs. Kim has on her face when she thinks Seven can’t see her, there’s nothing particularly unusual about this dinner.  Yoosung’s father asks if he’d been surprised but Yoosung shakes his head.

“Sae doesn’t know anyone here, it was pretty obvious where we were going.”

The priest chuckles.

Seven takes as many chances as he can, he asks a number of questions of Father Park, all resulting in mostly moderate, largely open minded answers.  He has no idea where this dinner is going or why they continue to get pitying looks from this man.  Until they’ve finished dinner and Yoosung is helping Seven clear the table.

“Yoosung,” his father says in that tone he associates with their good cop, bad cop routine, “your mother was not entirely honest about why she asked Sae to bring you here.”

Suddenly Father Park looks very uncomfortable.

“Mom,” Yoosung starts, and Seven can hear how tired he is.  It’s kinder than he’s been when speaking of, or to her in weeks. “Mom,” he says again when she doesn’t look at him.  “Why don’t you sit down Mom.”

“I am fine Yoosung,” she says with a frown. 

“Mrs. Kim it was kind of you to have me for dinner,” Father Park forces a smile, “I believe we discussed this.”

“I understand Father but I think we should all sit down and have this out in front of god and—”

“If Yoosung, would like to talk with me about anything, I would happy to offer him direction but this is—”

“No this is fine,” Yoosung says shaking his head. “It’s alright Father, if my mother wants to do this I’m ok.”

Mrs. Kim narrows her eyes.  “Does your girlfriend know, Yoosung?”

“Does my girlfriend know what Mom, come on.”

“Does she know you’re a homo,” his father finishes.  The room goes quiet but his father only shrugs.  “Or whatever the term is, however you called yourself.”

Seven watches the way Yoosung’s face contorts as he tries to find the words.  He watches the way his parents��� eyes narrow on him waiting for his answer.  He sees the way the priest is trying his best to avoid eye contact with anyone.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” Yoosung says quietly.  “I’ve never had a girlfriend.”

Seven freezes, is this the moment, is this when he pulls the wig off and shouts something witty and eye opening?  But Yoosung isn’t looking at him; he’s staring daggers at his parents.

“Yoosung,” his Mother speaks firmly, “does she know?” She repeats.

“It’s obvious she cares quite deeply for you,” his father continues.

“Did they tell you,” he turns on Father Park, “that they invited me here to, I don’t even know, out me to a person who doesn’t even exist.”

Father Park begins to talk and then stops, they all look at him and suddenly every smart ass comment he’s ever made in the history of his life was gone from his head.  So he smiles sheepishly and carefully pulls the wig off, stopping and pulling out the pins that stick.  He sets it on the table in front of him and runs his fingers through his hair.

“I look like I care deeply, because I do,” Seven says.  “Just like the day I pretended to break his heart so I didn’t have to watch you disown him.”

Yoosung swallows.

“They don’t even feel bad about it.” Mrs. Kim spits.

“I think I should go,” Father Park shakes his head, “you boys should leave too.”

“Is that all you have to say to them?” Yoosung’s mother turns on the priest.

“Mrs. Kim, I am aware some priests hold strong opinions on same sex relationships, I hope that I have never given that impression to my congregation.  Love is love and my God respects and cherishes all love.”  He turns to the boys, “I can’t exactly say I approve of this elaborate lie but I can respect you doing what you need to do to keep yourself safe.”

“I, t-thank you,” Yoosung stammers, more from shock than anything else.

A flash goes off and everyone looks at Seven. “For the scrap book,” he smirks.

“Do you boys have somewhere to go tonight?” Father Park asks as he puts on his Jacket.

“No thank you, Father,” Seven says, feeling lighter for the affirmation.

“Yoosung,” his mother almost growls as the door closes behind the priest, “this isn’t over; you don’t think we’ll continue to pay for your apartment.  I’m going to phone Mr. Han, your charity group should be aware what kind of people they allow in, I’m goin—”

“You were the last person I had to come out to Mom,” Yoosung interrupts her. “Jumin has already offered me a job if you cut me off, Seven and I are founding members of the RFA, and they’re like family, they knew before we knew.” He fumbles with the clasp of the watch and sets it on the table. “This is my tuition if I need it, my boyfriend owns a house if I need a place to stay.”

“Everything seems so simple when you’re young and know everything,” his mother throws up her hands.

“Your mother and I are just concerned about you Yoosung.”

“You’re not concerned about me,” Yoosung shouts.  “None of this has been about me, or you would have paid enough attention to the boyfriend I brought home to recognize when I brought him back in a wig.  You didn’t recognize his glasses or his car today.  You could see a tuft of his hair in the corner of an instagram photo but you didn’t see him sitting right in front of you.”

“We just want you to be happy,” his father tries again.

“You don’t want me to be happy,” his voice is shrill and he manages to laugh before he continues, “I am happy.”

“You’re a shining beacon of happiness,” Seven says carefully stepping up beside him, “that’s why I keep you around.”

Yoosung’s eyes narrow on his parents as he reaches for Seven’s hand.  “It’s never been about me,” he says quietly shaking his head and squeezing Seven’s hand so hard it almost hurts, “it’s about what people will think of you.  What the ladies at church will say behind your back and that’s not my problem.”

“Yoosung you need us,” his mother says weakly, sitting at the table, “we’re family.”

“You’re not my family,” Yoosung shakes his head, he doesn’t sound sad anymore.  Seven hasn’t ever heard Yoosung like this before.  Resolved, and confident, “I have Yuna and Joon, and I have Seven, and his brother and the RFA, I have my friends at school, I don’t need you.”

He starts to tug Seven out of the house but Seven stands firm.

“Come on, I want to go,” Yoosung says, not turning around.

“Hey Babe, just a minute,” Seven smiles at Yoosung’s scowling parents and waits for the blond to turn.  “I was going to wait until finals but I dunno?  I feel like spoiling you to prove a point.”

Yoosung laughs, a genuine laugh.

“Hold out your hand, Babe,” Seven smiles and when Yoosung does what he’s told he drops the Keys to the red car into his palm and closes his fingers around them.  “Now you can get to work without the bus, if that’s what you want to do.”

“Saeyoung,” Yoosung whispers letting the taller boy pull him into a hug.

“She was my first car and now she’s yours,” Seven glances at Yoosung’s parents, “I would give you anything in my power to see you safe and happy, I just ask,” his voice cracks a little and Yoosung twists a little to loosen his grip so he can look at him, “I ask that if you want to sell her, you sell her to me.”

Yoosung laughs and shoves him a little.  His parents are doing their best to ignore this little display and when Yoosung tugs Seven along behind him to leave Seven stops one last time in the door way to call out jovially, “Thanks for supper Mom and Dad, can’t wait to do it again next week.”

#YooSeven #Luciel Choi #mystic messenger 707 #Yoosung Kim #coming out #mystic messenger

[lordsintacks]

Defiled - Infinite Regress CD Release Party 2/8/2020 Daytrive, Shin-Sakae Nagoya, Aichi Photos by Matthew Chima by Travis Finch --------------------- Nagoya is known as an industrial city. It’s in the heart of the Toyota industry. It has metal structures in the center, some towering straight up in a conventional manner and others more uniquely designed against the skyline. Further out there are automobile factories and as you leave or enter the city, you can see a line of smoke stacks. All of these things are a bit emblematic of the modern minutiae in the lives of Nagoya citizens: salary men and women making the same routinely treks to and from work every day on the subway, Brazilian descendants slaving away hard hours in the factories, and other foreigners repeating the same day over and over at an English school or engineering job. It may have earned a reputation as “the most boring city in Japan,” but if you look under the right place you can find worlds of chaos that I would argue are a stark necessity for those living in such a routine society. One of these is the extreme metal scene of central Japan.

Daytrive Trim is a small venue in Shinsakae-Machi that consistently delivers on underground shows. Unlike similar venues it is not actually underground, but on the third floor of a four-story building with other establishments. Every inch of every wall and door is covered with stickers and flyers of some punk or metal band that has passed through. The layout is long instead of square, and has quite a similar feel to Huck Finn but with the addition of a mezzanine you can enjoy the show from. The occasion of the night was a CD release party for Tokyo death metal veterans DEFILED and their latest effort Infinite Regress which was officially released on January 24th. While most release parties are typically just another show, I would say the word “party” was appropriate in this case since there was an all-you-can-drink policy, or nomihodai as said in the Japanese night scene. The presence of a manual beer tap for everyone to crank out their own refills gave the event a feeling that I always imagined the 80’s Bay Area thrash scene had - the sort of “Hit the keg. Hit the pit” vibe.

Speaking of thrash, the opening band Dethfast was exactly that as one can tell from their logo so sharp it could shred as much as their riffs do. Dethfast is fast, brutal, and frankly pure metal. They’re a good way to start off any heavy show and I’m glad to have them in the local scene. The second band on the bill was TROYL and if you’ve been following my reviews or Small World’s involvement with local rock shows you know that we have a bit of history with this band. If I were to describe their sound, it doesn’t quite fit into one of the extreme genres. They’re more of a straight-forward metal band that likes to play heavy and catchy riffs and clearly listens to Pantera a lot. That is a compliment, not a dig. This would mark my fifth time seeing them, and I noticed that their opening song was one that hasn’t been played live yet. If it’s any indication of what their newer material is going to sound like, I can’t wait to hear the rest of it. It might have been Dalton’s last night on the drums (who broke a snare) but I know we can expect good things from both parties.

The following band was Punhalada who made this line-up pretty Brazilian between their members and Troyl’s. It was my third time seeing them lately, but I’ve noticed their flyers since I first moved to Japan in 2016. This is one local band I tend to spread the word about quite a bit and I always use one simple description: non-stop, relentless grind. If you’re a fan of the most extreme forms of metal living in Japan, it is your duty to seek out this band. They also equally dip into the crossover thrash stuff, though. If you don’t listen to heavy music, I cannot recommend it because these kinds of bands probably sound like straight noise devoid of melody and rhythm to you. However, that might not stop you from appreciating them live. I’ve converted a few friends by bringing them to extreme shows and I know some people who cannot listen to death and grind bands on record but love it at a live show. I have never been able to control myself from charging into the pit when Punhalada hits the stage. I support this band’s raw sound of aggression as well as their lyrics and themes of fighting fascism, colonialism, and oppression at all cost.

Following Punhalada was a band that filled the air with darkness and destruction, CLANDESTINED. Clandestined shares members with the legendary, late 80’s Nagoya band Voidd and plays with confidence and precision that you expect from seasoned musicians. When watching them set up the stage, you might expect a traditional black metal band. There are lots of studded spikes, leather, and upside down crosses involved. However, their sound is surprisingly more on the death metal side.There are some black elements but not enough to call it blackened death metal. Clandestined kicked ass. I would say in terms of the mosh pit, they were probably the winners of the night. It didn’t hit me until half way through their set and suddenly I realized, “This is a fucking three-piece band,” because you don’t often expect a band to sound that heavy with that few members.

Rounding out the bill of course was Defiled, the only out-of-town headliner. Defiled have been laying waste to international crowds since the 90’s with pure death metal. They are currently signed to Season of Mist, a France-based black metal label that has been putting out critically acclaimed records nonstop lately. They share the same roster with the legendary likes of 1349, Gorguts, and Mayhem as well as buzzworthy acts like Beyond Creation, This Gift Is a Curse, and Wormed. Defiled’s releases have become more and more technical in recent years and Infinite Regress is one of their heaviest outings yet. I think even non musicians could look at their frequently changing hand positions and realize that it’s hard stuff to play. Defiled played a lengthy set of destruction and it was never boring once. I recommend them to any fans of death metal. I’ve been going to metal and hardcore underground shows in Nagoya for at least three years now and I never really felt like there was an international crowd except for at much bigger shows. On this night, however, I didn’t feel like I was one of only two non-Japanese people, which means the scene is becoming more visible perhaps. I talked to Japanese people, Brazilians, Guatalamans, and Brits. One English teacher from the UK I struck up a conversation with told me she loved seeing this side of Japan. She said mosh pits and headbanging were something she never thinks of when thinking about Japanese people. For me I always knew because metal is an international phenomenon, but I always wonder where these people come from since I never see them out and about on the subway. If you’re a foreigner living abroad, I think it’s really important that you find some side of the community you’re in that you wouldn’t expect. It doesn’t have to be metal, but you should find something that shatters stereotypes about the people of that place.

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All links in the review above lead to the bands’ social media.Defiled’s latest album Infinite Regress as well as their other releases are available for streaming on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/6KDc0SB4ero6zAgrafjVrt?si=t4JgDzg3SRevygv1R7xxNQ

Defiled will be playing at Remy’s in Okinawa on February 23rd. They will also be on a European trek with Polish legends Vader throughout the month of March.

For any metal fans in Latin America, Punhalada will playing a handful of dates in later this year while Clandestined has a short upcoming Mexican tour in May. Stay tuned to their FB links for updates.

One of Clandestined’s signature tracks is also available on Youtube: https://youtu.be/8o0_qiPLfq4

You can purchase both of Punhalada’s EP’s at their bandcamp for 666¥: https://punhalada-nagoya.bandcamp.com/ 

You can catch Dethfast at Live Box Unlimits on March 21st at Live Box Unlimits with Alice in Hell, Vertigo, and a handful of other bands.

Lastly, follow our good friends in Troyl on Instagram for updates on their future work: https://www.instagram.com/troylband/

#defiled #clandestined #punhalada #troyl #dethfast #live #death metal #daytrive #shin sakae #Nagoya #Japan

[greenplanetplumbing]

What Shouldn’t Go Down Your Kitchen Sink?

Check out new post published on https://www.greenplanetplumbing.com.au/what-shouldnt-go-down-your-kitchen-sink/

What Shouldn’t Go Down Your Kitchen Sink?

We know it is tempting and convenient to just let your kitchen refuse go down the sink than to throw it in the waste bin. That mess will eventually be flushed to the sewage, right? While this may be true, remember that the food waste you let go down your kitchen sink pass through the pipes and drains, and it can only be a matter of time when your drains are clogged with it. More so, wastewater is meant to be recycled and will eventually lead back to your kitchen faucet. Not so good to imagine, right?

Common trash that should never go down your kitchen sink

Things that should not go down your kitchen sink are not only harmful because of their size but also due to the chemicals they contain and the frequency that they are being sent down the plumbing. Here are some common things that can damage your kitchen sink and its pipe, bigtime!

1. Eggshells

Do you prefer sunny side up or scrambled eggs together with your toast? No matter your preference when it comes to this staple breakfast ingredient, the important thing is what you do after with what’s left – eggshells. No matter you do, you should never let those eggshells go down your kitchen sink. Crushed eggshells, regardless of how small they are, can still cause a blockage. It can also help gather other things coming down your drain that can cause a clog in your kitchen sink. Always put those eggshells in the rubbish or the compost bin.

2. Flour

Aside from eggs, another staple ingredient in any kitchen is the flour. Whether you use it to make your favourite waffles or as an ingredient to bake a cake, never let it go down your kitchen sink. Remember what happens when you mix flour with liquid? Now picture it happening inside your kitchen drain. Water will clearly not flow properly with that sticky matter around. Often times, water is not enough to push these sticky substances out of the pipes. It will also gather other debris, thus creating a large sticky blockage.  

3. Grease

Fries and fried chicken are best cooked in hot oil. And other oil-based products like salad dressings, mayonnaise, and butter help add flavour to most dishes. But have you seen what happens when those products cool down? It builds up, right? Imagine it happening inside your kitchen sink’s pipes. And imagine what happens when you do this all the time. Grease is one of the most common substances clogging the drains. To properly dispose of grease or any oil-based product, you can attach a grease trap to your sink that can catch the grease. But if you do not have this, what you need to do is to cool the grease or oil first before putting it in the rubbish.

4. Milk

This is another staple food in the kitchen that should never go down your sink. So, why should milk not be disposed of through the drain when it is clearly in liquid form? Actually, it is not in the form but its effect in the environment that means milk should not go down the kitchen sink.

Milk, like all dairy products, is considered a highly polluting substance due to its high oxygen demand. Since water from the kitchen sink also finds its way to the ocean, milk deprives other organisms, like small fishes, of oxygen to survive. In fact, in the U.K., it is a criminal offense to dispose of milk or any other dairy products in the drains. So next time you purchase your favourite dairy product, make sure you have enough time to consume it, or dispose of it in the rubbish.  

5. Expired medicines or pills

Whether expired or not, medicines or pills should be properly disposed and not go down your kitchen sink, or be flushed either. Remember, all wastewater is being treated to be used again. Hence, the chemicals on those medicines could eventually lead back to your drinking water or to the environment.

While treatment will be given to that wastewater, some chemicals found in those medicines cannot be filtered and can still have harmful effects on people and the environment. Always dispose of your expired medicines through your local pharmacy as they have access to the proper disposal units. The Return Unwanted Medicine Project (The RUM Project) encourages Australians to return their expired or unwanted medicines for proper disposal. Check their website for more information.

6. Coffee grounds

Another staple food in the kitchen is coffee. Who doesn’t enjoy a fresh brewed coffee, right? But how do you dispose of coffee grounds? Answer: not through your kitchen sink. Coffee grounds stick together that can cause blockage in your pipe. Likewise, coffee grounds are not easily pushed away by water. A piece of advice, you can actually use your coffee grounds as part of your compost. That way you not only save your drain from clogging you also save money for your plants’ compost. A win-win situation, isn’t it?

7. Stickers from fruit and vegetables

Peel those small stickers off your fruits and vegetables and dispose of them properly into your trash bin. Never let them go down your drain. Those seemingly harmless stickers cannot only clog your pipes; they can also block the filters in the water treatment plants. Those stickers are made of special adhesives that cannot be dissolved in water. Hence, it is not advisable for it to be disposed of through your kitchen sink. A little effort of putting these in the trash bin really goes a long way.

8. Seeds and grains

While preparing and cooking a meal be an enjoyable activity, cleaning up after it can be tedious. As such, the easiest way for some is just to let some of the rubbish go down the drain, especially those small seeds and grains. But this habit can take much more of your time as it is more tedious to tend to a clogged pipe than to immediately throw those seeds into the trash bin. Remember, those seeds take a long time to decompose, and those can build up in your pipes and block filters. That problem can require a greater effort from you.  

9. Bones

Another food waste that people often put down the kitchen sink is leftover bones. Sure, fishbones may not be as large as the bones from poultry or meat, but over time they build up and clog your pipes. Bones from poultry or meat are worse as those take a long time to dissolve even if you grind it under your kitchen sink garbage disposal. That mechanism can only break the bone into small portions, and if you often do this, those bones will make your garbage disposal’s blades blunt, creating another problem altogether.

10. Food with starch

Like flour, pasta and rice are made of starch. These types of food should not go down your kitchen sink. These foods continually absorb water and expand even after being cooked. Like flour, they also becomes soggy and sticky when soaked in liquid for a long time, making them an excellent way to block your pipes and filter. Aside from that, they can also help to gather other things in your pipe. As much as possible, do not let this kind of food go down your kitchen sink.

11. Paint

Upgraded your house paint or planning a paint job? Your sinks may seem to be a good place to wash your paint brushes or dispose of the excess paint. That action can cause real damage not only on your pipes but on the environment as well. Like the medicine or pills, paint is made up of chemicals that cannot easily be removed even if it processed. These chemicals can be harmful to the environment and likewise harmful to you and your family.

Remember, everything that goes down your sink goes to the wastewater facility that eventually leads back to your home or to the oceans. Aside from this, the paint actually hardens if put in water. Now imagine that paint if you drain it in your kitchen sink using water. It will either stick or float in your kitchen pipe.

12. Cleaning products

While most of the cleaning products are in liquid form, those are not meant to be poured down your kitchen sink. Like medicines and paint, they contain chemicals that can be harmful to you and the environment. Most of these products contain chemicals that are still present in the water, even after it has been treated. These chemicals should be handled properly and disposed of and not be put down your drain.

13. Fibrous foods

While there is food waste that can be disposed of using your kitchen waste disposal unit, there are others that should not go down your kitchen sink. Fibrous food like celery, corn husks, or asparagus, will tangle around the blade of your kitchen waste disposal unit and that can lead a clogged-up kitchen sink and a blunt blade. As stated earlier, choose well the kind of food you will allow to go down your kitchen sink.

14. Paper products

While some paper products can be dissolved in water, not all paper products are designed for this. In fact, only toilet paper is designed to be dissolved in water. Surprisingly, paper kitchen towels can take two weeks to a month to be dissolved and decompose. Moreover, they will accumulate grime during that time that can cause blockage in your pipe. Hence they must not be put down your kitchen sink.

15. “Flushable” Materials

While there are products that claimed to be “flushable,” you should never put these down your kitchen sink. Those products do not dissolve properly and can help other things to accumulate, creating therein clog in your pipe. Just because you can flush it, doesn’t mean you should; it is always best to put these in the rubbish.

By now, you’ll be getting a picture of why there are things that should never go down your kitchen sink. Your kitchen sink is designed to clean your dishes and only works properly when all of its parts are being used properly. Remember, it’s meant to wash dishes and take water only, it is not a waste bin. Indeed, a little discipline and effort really go a long way.

  What to do if you’ve already put things down your kitchen sink?

Now that you know the things that can cause harm to your kitchen sink and pipe, what can you do to limit the damage in your kitchen sink? Firstly, never let those listed above go down your kitchen sink ever again.  Second, commit to always use the garbage bins from now on; after all, rubbish belongs in the rubbish bin. Remember, simple actions can make the most difference.

Now if you have been using the kitchen sink like a rubbish bin, the best thing to do is to check if your pipes are still well or they need maintenance or replacement. For this, you should hire the services of expert plumbers who will help you to maintain your pipes or, if worse comes to worst, install new pipes. You should never do this activity on your own to ensure proper handling of pipes. This will save you time and money. Indeed, prevention is really better than cure.

If you’re located in Lake Macquarie, Newcastle, Central Coast or the Hunter Valley regions, contact Green Planet Plumbing for expert plumbing services. We offer 24/7 plumbing services that range from residential to commercial plumbing needs. We pride ourselves on being ‘tidy tradies’, that always clean up the mess but leaving a safe and clean environment.

Know how we can help you today. Contact us at 02 49119402.

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[smoothshift]

I just sold my 2017 Z06 at bottom dollar and couldn't be happier (GM Sucks) via /r/cars

I just sold my 2017 Z06 at bottom dollar and couldn't be happier (GM Sucks)

As the title says, two weeks ago I sold my 2017 Z06 at bottom dollar and am glad to have that POS out of my life.

​

For some context, I’ve always been a car fanatic. I’ve been “car poor” my entire adult life. I’m currently 34. I got my first C5 Corvette at 16. Since then, I’ve owned a total of 5 Corvettes. Most of the time I owned two, one to beat on and one to keep clean. In November, 2016 I bought a brand new base 3-pedal 2017 C7 Z06 for just over $72k (sticker was $81k). At the time, I already owned two C5s (one stock C5 Coupe and one modded/widebody C5Z). I daily drove the C7Z and took it on several exotic car rallies and road trips. Since I could barely afford the car and never thought I'd buy a brand new car, I figured I'd drive it as much as possible. I managed to put well over 1000 hours and over 38k miles on the car in two and a half years. The first year was great. The second year and a half wasn’t.

​

First issue I encountered was the overheating issue. I had the car go into limp mode on the street on three separate occasions. I didn’t waste my time trying to track it, because it was pointless. Suddenly ending up with a 325hp drop in power on the track is a terrifying prospect. I should note that I did have some track time in a C7Z at the Ron Fellows Corvette Driving School at Spring Mountain Motorsport Ranch. They deny it, but it’s clear that the short track sessions are due to the overheating issues. There were two separate occasions where I was with a group and had a racetrack rented out and I didn’t drive the car on the track, and instead chose to ride passenger in friends cars, while my "race car" sat in the paddocks next to the track. There are multiple class action lawsuits against GM for this well known issue. GM even publicly acknowledged this issue and said that it was addressed in the ’17+ models. It wasn’t.

​

The next issue I encountered was the defective wheels. Based on what I've read online, the C7Zs have wide, 20”x12” rear wheels. They are made in Mexico and cast, not forged. They crack on the inside lip of the wheel, without impact. My first wheel cracked at exactly 16k miles, 7 days after mounting and balancing new tires. I was returning from Miami, heading towards DC when I started losing air in South Carolina. I had to stop in North Carolina to get it repaired. I thought it was a nail, but was informed that it was a cracked wheel. Since there were no signs of impact, the dealership replaced the wheel under warranty and I was on my way in about two hours. Later at 32k miles, 10 days after mounting and balancing new tires, I was losing pressure in the same (replaced) wheel. Again it was cracked with no evidence of impact. The dealership denied replacing the wheel under warranty. GM’s customer service was useless. They said that the dealership tech stated that it was “driver error.” I asked what evidence they had and they said that “it appears the car was driven very fast”, likely due to the rally graphics I had on the car. My response was “no shit it’s been driven fast, it’s a fucking Z06!”. After 3 weeks of going back and forth, I gave up and I bought a new wheel, tire, and TPMS sensor. The fact that I had to replace a 3 week old, $450 tire, since it was compromised from being driven on flat multiple times is what upset me more than the actual wheel. I'll also note that at 38k, the car was still on its original alignment and drove straight as an arrow, which also helps demonstrate that I never hit a pothole or did anything that should crack a wheel. There’s also a class action lawsuit against GM for this as well.

​

At 32k miles, I was also informed that I had a leaking shock. The C7Z has magnetic shocks that retail for over $700 each. Luckily the dealership replaced it under warranty, but it still took them several weeks to get the parts and make an appointment. When I brought the car in for its next service at 38k miles, I was informed that the other 3 shocks were leaking. I brought it in to a different dealership (since I was salty about how the previouse dealership handled the wheel issue) to see if they’d do a good faith repair, since shocks should last around 80k+ miles and the fact that all 4 were blown shows they’re defective. More importantly, they likely failed during the warranty period. Also, the fact that they didn’t all break at one time shows that there was no single driving event that destroyed them. The dealership calls me back and says that they’ll replace them (over $3k parts & labor), but I’d have to pay a $500 deductible. I said go for it. When they called me back 3 days later, I thought they were going to tell me that the car was done. Nope. They said that they made a mistake and it would be $1,100 dollars. This doesn’t help me since I found the shocks online for $400/each and can replace them in my driveway in an hour. Again, GM customer service was useless. I haven't read about any class action lawsuits about the shocks, but I suspect it's because most C7Z owners don't daily drive their cars in winter climates.

​

Then, there’s tires. The car had a total of 3 sets of Michel Pilot Sports and one set of the sport cups. Additionally, I needed to replace two tires due to nail punctures and one due to the wheel issue above. Now, don’t get me wrong, the Michelin Pilot Sports are the best tires I’ve ever used, and are worth the cost. It just sucks spending ~$10/day on tires. The Pilot Sports last me around 12k miles per set, mainly due to the aggressive alignment of the car, relatively low treadwear rating, and shallow tread depth. The Sport Cups typically last ~7k miles. They lasted me ~5k miles. I managed to go through a set in two weeks when I drove from DC->Toronto->Miami->DC. Again, this is just me whining, not complaining, since we all know the sacrifices involved with high performance tires. It’s just still kinda crazy to have spent almost $10k in tires in two years.

​

After the frustration with my second cracked wheel, I started shopping for other cars. I found a 970RWHP Twin Turbo C5 that captured my interest in NJ, so I stopped by Carmax to get an offer before checking out the TTC5, so I’d know what to expect as a bottom dollar trade-in. They quoted me $48k, deducting points for a cracked windshield (my fault), high mileage for the model year, and sports car season was ending (it was late November). I decided to hang on to the car until spring, since selling a sports car in winter is cumbersome.

​

After learning about the shocks, it was clear that I needed to exorcise this demon ASAP. I figured that I could clean the shocks and reasonably expect to get ~$47k from Carmax, since the mileage was slightly higher, but sports car season was in full bloom. I told the dealership to give me an offer and save me a trip to Carmax. If they offered me $45k, I would’ve accepted. They called me back a few hours later and said that they wouldn’t even give me an offer and I should bring the car to Carmax. They said that in addition to the defective struts and cracked windshield, they inspected the car and it’s showing signs of excessive clutch wear. That’s right, the dealership didn’t want to make an offer on my two year old, dealer maintained (w/ full service records), flagship model, even at bottom dollar.

​

For the record, I’ve been shifting my own gears since I first rode a dirtbike when I was 10 years old. My 2nd C5 had 126k miles on the original clutch when it was rear ended and totalled. I had an E39 with 197k on the original clutch. For fun, I drove my second C5 for a few months without using the clutch, except to start, and only would lightly grind maybe once or twice per week (out of thousands of shifts, including downshifting to first as I approached stops). My first C5 had a SPEC stage III+ racing clutch and lightened flywheel. My point is that I’m about as gentle on clutches as they come. I remembered when I first got the car that I was amazed that somehow GM could make a clutch that handles 650lb of torque and is VERY easy to drive and streetable. Actually, between the large amounts of torque, the easy clutch, and automatic rev matching, a C7Z is probably one of the easiest cars 3-pedal cars to drive. To me, it seems that GM didn’t actually make a clutch that handles 650lbs of torque.

​

So, I picked up the car from the dealership at 3pm. I called a buddy who has a collector car dealership and told him that I plan to drop that car off at Carmax the next day and should get around $47k. I told him that he could buy it off of me, as-is for $46k, which is $5k cheaper than any used 3-pedal C7Z listed, which would save me the trouble of going to Carmax. He called me back 15 minutes later and I had a check in my hand by 6pm same day.

​

He called me 3 days later and told me that the power steering failed in the middle of a sweeping right turn and the DIC said “Service Power Steering.” I said, “that sucks. keep me updated”. Later on he said that the car reset itself and was driving fine. He stopped driving the car.

​

In the end, the car costed me around $50k to own and drive for 2-1/2 years. When car shopping, I was also looking at 3-pedal Ferrari 360s or 3-pedal Lamborghini Gallardos. I figured I’d be better of supporting the cause by buying a brand new 3-pedal Z06 (save the manuals by buying new) and wouldn’t have to worry about costly repairs, since the car had a warranty. The car costed ~$50/hour to drive. Not cool for the “American Working Man’s Sports Car.”

​

Anyways, I got about $4k in equity back. I bought the car on a 100%, 5-year loan, so my 2-1/2 years of $1,400/month car payments went almost entirely towards depreciation. In total, the car had almost two months of downtime due to reliability/GM issues and another month while I had to save up for another set of tires. It really sucks taking the bus and Ubers while owning a new car that costs ~$60/day to own and drive.

​

I just bought a manual E39 wagon with 156k miles in relatively poor condition and couldn’t be happier (something something driving a slow car fast). I also learned that the public transportation in my area is amazing and now regularly take the bus & metro to work, even though I own a car. My commute takes me 10 minutes longer total, but I can sit and watch YouTube on my phone the entire trip. Plus, I’m helping the environment. So, there’s some positives.

​

The worst part about this ordeal was GM’s poor customer service. Fuck them. I could write another rant 3x as long as this one about the frustration with dealing with them. Again, this is coming from someone who’s owned 5 Corvettes.

​

I’m taking a break from expensive cars for a while (my beloved C5Z is for sale on consignment at a friend's dealership). My next big car purchase is likely going to be a 996 Turbo or a super clean E39 M5. I figure both of these are around $40-$45k and even though they’re 15+ years old, should cause me less headache than my brand new GM POS. At least when they break, they’re worth fixing and I don’t have to worry about a company reneging or string-betting on their warranty promises.

​

Here’s a few pictures of the car. Not gonna lie, it looked pretty and I had some great experiences with it:

​

https://imgur.com/a/wg64ueR

#reddit #autonews #auto #cars

[oybhanna95018-blog]

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[alitheamateur]

The Grind- Chapter 13

431 days. A tragus piercing. A black pencil tattoo permanently etched at the highest point of my right ribcage, and shadow roots in my sandy hair thanks to Becca, my new hairstylist recommended my latest friend, Tia. All things refreshed and renewed in the life of Liv Elliott. Single Liv Elliott. Okay, nearly all. One thing most certainly, and sorely remained the same. My beating heart was still smashed like a steel mallet had turned loose on it. Sure, the festering emotional cut of our breakup was beginning to mend with time. But, we all know with a healing cut, comes a forever scar. Not a scar representing a victorious battle, or a valiant effort. But one of sheer, naïve stupidity.  I choked on a daily spoonful of utter confusion wondering where the road took such a drastic detour towards that killer cliff we had so recklessly plunged from. I constantly fought the burning urge to scratch and claw my way back up the side of that treacherous mountain to find my way back to the earliest road. The road with Colton as my copilot. 

I so graciously allowed myself 2 weeks to hide away. Flounder in tears, Rocky Road, and maybe even a drunken bonfire of most photographic evidence that Colton ever existed. I avoided mascara all together, concluding that some point of my day would inevitably lead to a blubbering breakdown as I hid in the office bathroom. I rearranged the entire span of my apartment, hopeful maybe the new positions of furniture would confuse the ghosts of him that all too often appeared laid out comfortably on the couch, ankles crossed during a Sunday nap. Or slumbering face down with one hand under a pillow and the other stretched out toward the opposite side of the bed, lips loose in sleeping breathes. I couldn’t outrun the flashbacks no matter the effort. Even still, he haunts me on a Saturday morning at The Grind, or on a Tuesday night at my place with takeout from the B-rated Chinese joint down the street. However now, the sickness of utmost sadness, overcome with a rancorous flood of anger instead. Mostly with Colton, rightfully so. But myself as well. The foolish, undignified way I had just fallen under his potent spell, I might as well have just dropped to my knees and waved the white flag the second he introduced himself. And yet, the unsolved mystery remained. HE had said he loved me first. Sure, I felt it near the moment he kissed me after our run through the city that morning, but I chose to bury the words for another time. Colton on the other hand, had no problem spouting off his revelation to me. Nor did he stutter on the admittance of apparently “thinking with his dick” when it came to the matter of our meeting that fateful morning either. One thing I was able to confirm, was the son of a bitch clearly suffered a severe case of habitual word vomit.

The Pilot for me was a bit of a safe haven in a war zone, it being a place I could hide from the demons a bit. My new title at the paper requiring me to cover all things fighting within a 100-mile radius on the other hand, posed a bit of an issue. Thank the holy heavens I had avoided the press conference for his first match following our demise, due to the short, paid hiatus I took to visit Westfield. A taste of nostalgia and familiarity seemed like suitable therapy for a maimed heart, and maybe a good caudle from my parents. An attempted one, at least.

Tony and Elizabeth, said parents, were good parents in general. I won’t take that away from their accomplishments. But when basketball gracefully bowed out of my life, their involvement followed suit. Dad & I always had ball as that bonding clue to hold us tightly together. Saturday mornings following Friday night games always began with film, 150 free throws out back on the handcrafted mock court he’d constructed for me, ending at Al’s Diner for pancakes. That first fateful Saturday after my knee surgery, we tried to replay the film and retreat to Al’s, but when the conversing concerning if I’d pass the current scoring record at Westfield High, or whether I would commit to University of Louisville or SIU no longer applied, we drifted. When the “basketball dad” shadow from the sticker he peeled from the rear window of his pickup truck faded, a hefty portion of the pride he held for his daughter did too.

As far as a closeness with mom, there truly wasn’t much. She preformed the expected team mom duties by hosting bake sale fundraisers, and chaperoning homecoming dances. But that dependable shoulder never pushed much further in the emotional realm of a relationship with me. My dad & I had always held a special closeness, leaving her to feel somewhat shoved to the proverbial back burner. I was never much for the “foofy” tea parties, or pageant queen aspirations she had, which no doubt drove the wedge deeper between the two of us. But, when I moved so far away, it seemed distance, and time had healed some wounds in our connection. When I arrived at the simple square, two story siding home on Lake Lane, my first friend in life, our Collie, Indiana nearly mounted to hood of my car to get to me. No doubt, his name sake my dads favorite action movie character, and my home-state.

“Hey Indy, you sweet boy! I’ve missed you, ya’ big guy!” I rumpled the cashmere like white coat around his neck.

Mom galloped out the red front door first, dad following suit at a slightly slower pace.

“Liv, honey! Oh, we’re so glad you’re here! We’ve missed you,” my mom squealed towards me with open arms.

“We really have missed you, kid. Look at ya’!” Dad persisted with the ever annoying greeting of ruffling the top of my head like some socially incoherent teenage boy.

They probably did miss me, I’m sure. But, apparently not enough to ever offer a visit with me since moving my things to the city of Pittsburgh. No matter what bitterness flowered, as I dragged deeper into adulthood, I had resolved that you only got one set of parents, and the importance of appreciating the ones you did get was dire. So, I decided to nurse some long dwelling resentment and go into this visit with a forgiving heart.

“I missed you guys, too. Things still look exactly the same around here.” I inventoried those familiar, award-winning rose bushes my mother grew in the landscape, and with attached garage door open, I was able to see dads tool shop sanctuary in exactly the shape I had left it. Not a hammer out of place.

“Let’s get you inside, sweetie. Dinner will be done soon, & I’m sure we have some catching up to do.” Mom placed her hands over my upper arms, guiding me into I’m sure a spotless house, while dad unloaded my suitcase from the back hatch of my SUV.

 Steaks cooked to perfection courtesy of Tony Elliott, self-proclaimed grilled master, were served in the newly remodeled dining room, and the 3 of us sat in the same assumingly designated spots that we had for all my childhood years. I did miss a motherly, prepared with love, home cooked dinner so I wasted no amount of time scarfing down the contents of her delicious spread.

“How are things with the promotion, Livvy? They aren’t taking advantage of ya’, I hope?” Dad dropped his fork gently to his plate, taking a sip of his tea.

“Things are good, dad. Ryan, my boss, really does treat me excellently. He’s always super complimentary of my work.” I assured.

“Sounds like a nice guy. Maybe someone has a little crush?” Elizabeth winked while sorting through the last few sprigs of lettuce in her salad bowl.

“Ha! No thanks, mom. He’s an awesome guy, but I’d never see him like that. Plus, I could never date my boss, you know that.” I scoffed all too quickly.

Alright, you fraidy-cat. Get to it, here! Tell them. About him.

“Plus, I think I need a little break from men these days.”

“A break? Meaning there’s been some boys around since you moved?” Mom was the first to chime in, while my dad sat idly by, trying to appear casually at ease. But, I knew he was hearing every syllable of the exchange between his wife and I.

“Just one guy, mom. Well, there was one guy.” My attention never left the chopped, leftover chunks of food on my white porcelain plate. “Remember the first piece I did on Mixed Martial Arts? My first front page?”

“Liv, don’t be ridiculous. Yes, it’s laminated and framed in the living room. Go on..” she answered, leaning on her hand as an elbow rested on the table for a blinking second, before she retracted it, minding her usual manners.

“I was with one of the competitors. Like, in a relationship for several months actually. Colton, the fighter who I was working one-on-one with.”

There, at least he’s out in the open now. The dirty secret is out.

“Was, meaning not anymore then?” Dad finally broke his cold silence.

“Not anymore, no. We haven’t been together for a while now. But, I….. I uh, I didn’t handle the split so well. Which is part of my reason for coming to see you guys.”

My mind spun like a tilt-or-whirl trying to sort through what needed to be said, and what I should leave out. They didn’t need to know how harshly he’d spoken to me, nor the pathetic amount of sick days I’d used to wallow in my tear-stained sheets and overindulge on snack-packs.

“It sounds like things were serious, honey. Frankly, I’m a little hurt you never told us about him.” My mom had taken an overbearing interest in me when I started dating in high school. Boys were something she saw as her forte, I assume. Dad and I had basketball, now she and I could have boys, and relationships. So, the lack of sharing about my now ex-boyfriend seemed to perturb her.

“It was serious, mom. Yeah. I loved him. I was in love with him. Case in point, why I didn’t handle our breakup with much dignity.”

“What happened, Liv? Anything I should be concerned about,” dad inquired in the ultimate “dad” tone of voice.

“It just didn’t work, guys. It’s done, and life goes on. Nothing more, okay?”

Life goes on, huh? Let’s practice what we preach, dear.

“Losing a love is hard, sweet pea. But you’re a strong, successful young lady, and you’ll recover just fine. I know it!” Mom smiled.

I admired her A+ efforts for the “mother bear” sermon. It’s what I needed, truly. No matter how I wanted to tell her I needed those little chats years ago. I needed that reassurance back when I thought life hated me, and some karmic attack had been yielded on my life. Recently though, she had been heartily trying with our relationship. Both of them had. And although the repairs were long overdue, and far from complete, I was thankful nonetheless.

 I hadn’t been back to my stomping grounds since I’d left slightly over three years prior, so I had my fair share of hellos to exchange, most importantly being my childhood best friend, and the shooting guard to my point guard, Sara. She hadn’t spread her wings from our small town, instead chose the “marry my perfect high school sweetheart and have the most painfully adorable twin boys on the planet” lifestyle, which suited her beautifully.  She met up with me at the local dairy freeze for a greasy order of cheese fries after ending the work day at her parents’ dental practice where she was employed as a hygienist. Sitting alone at the wooden picnic table carved with an array of heart enclosed initials of couples I knew never made it past junior year prom, I felt strangely foreign in the little town now. Distant, or homesick. Every hardware store clerk or mail carrier knowing about the family pet you had to put down because all news travelled like an unruly forest fire in Westfield, now seemed displeasing rather than endearing. I basked in a bit of big-headed pride realizing I had maybe outgrown this little corner of the world, and home suddenly felt eastbound. Whether that had anything to do with my recent ex had yet to be determined.

Sara arrived right on time, going straight for the counter to order her favorite Dr. Pepper ice cream float as she put it “first things first.” The girl may have been the only person in the whole population of 2,000 whom I held in trusting regard, so she was kept up to date through a hefty amount of text messages about the tumultuous romance of Liv and Colton. We exchanged a squealing hug before diving right into the heavy matter.

“How are you? First off, you look freakin’ amazing. The big city looks good on you, Elliott,” Sara flopped into her seat, pulling off her pink labcoat.

“Shut up, you liar. The bags under eyes have bags, Sara. I’ve been a sloppy, sobbing, bitchy, pathetic mess for going on two months now. Like, who am I and will it end?!” I felt so light being able to genuinely come out in the open with all the emotion I was dealing with. A crucial missing piece to my life in the Burgh was a real, true friend such as Sara. Someone to take shoe shopping, and call drunk at 3 a.m. when you’re well into a half of bottle of Pinot and can’t keep from hysterically bawling over the ghastly way your boyfriend spoke to you.  A woman needs the Lavern to her Shirley to share life with.  

“It’s called love, honey. Welcome to the party,” she sucked vigorously through the straw of her float. “We’ve been waiting for you to show up.” I appreciated her gracious attempt to lighten the mood.

“Well if this is what it’s all about, I won’t be coming back.” I spoke mumbled chewing on a fry.

“It doesn’t always turn out this bad, babe. You just fell really, really hard. Which means getting over it will probably be equally as difficult. As much as I hate to see you like this…”

“Easy for you to say, Sara. You practically married Prince Harry or something. Can’t I just borrow yours sometime?” I clowned.

Her husband was truly the best of the best, and he’d been that way since the beginning. So, I always harbored some envy of sorts toward the seeming perfection of their relationship.

“In all honesty, Sare, I don’t know that I’m going to have the same feelings for whoever comes along like I did Colton. I’m not going to be irrational enough to say I’ll never love again, because I know that’s just silly and overdramatic. I’m just not sure it’ll be as raging and romantic, ya’ know what I mean?”

Just as she was about to hit me with some bogus line probably directly from an article she’d read in Cosmopolitan, a familiar voice intruded.

“My God, am I having a flashback right now?” Our varsity head coach Eric Gibson yelled from the open window of his parked car.

The guy was a true, unadulterated saint. He’d pulled me from the 8th grade roster to dress up for him on JV, so I lost count on how many games we’d competed in together. He shed nearly as many tears as my own father had when I collided with that player from Carson County causing me to close out my chapter as a ball player. He quickly locked the doors to his vehicle with two beeps of the horn, and made his way eagerly to us.

“Coach, how are you?” I stood to meet his incoming hug. With Sara still residing in Indiana I’m sure their paths crossed frequently in town.

“I’m doing fine, Liv. Shocked to see you here, girl! Are you back in Westfield?” He patted Sara with a coy hand to the shoulder, and we returned ourselves after the exchange of greetings.

“Oh, no no. Just here for a visit. I finally got the chance to take a little vacation from work, so I thought I’d come check in on Sara, and my parents.”

“Yeah, you’re a real superstar here, you know that? Everyone had a field day when your article made the front page for your paper. It was the talk of the town!”  

I blushed vividly at his statement. “Thanks, coach. It’s really nothing though.”

His mouth opened wide in defense. “It most certainly is something, Liv. It’s a huge accomplishment! Don’t be so modest. Hard work deserves to be recognized, and I know you’re no stranger to working hard in everything you do.” He paused to nudge my shoulder that grazed his. “ You’re talented, Elliott. And scrappy as hell when need be! Those big shots at that newspaper better just stay outta your way.”

Suddenly, there it was. The switch of undignified pity had self-destructed. Leave it to Coach to set me straight as he always did. I was scrappy as hell! The 4 games I’d been ejected from back in school clear evidence. It was time to exercise that same fearlessness and grit to scratch myself to the surface again, leaving behind this lonely, moldy grave Colton had dug for me. He may have outweighed me by an easy sixty pounds, and could’ve snapped me in half in the concern of strength. But mentally? It’d have to be ruled a no contest.

That night, back to square one in the little town in Indiana, over cheese fries & cheap milkshakes, with an out-and-out smack reminder courtesy of coach Gibson, I awoke. The sleepwalking, gray way of life a thing of the past. I excused myself from the parade of self-pity I had long been the grand marshal for.

“Maybe she’ll take your word for it, Coach. I’ve been trying to get that very same thing through that thick head of hers.” Sara interjected, slurping the last traces of whipped cream from her glass.

“Okay, okay, you two. Lay off before it all goes to my head.” I shook with a chuckle, and decided then and there, that I was going to find peace and satisfaction in life when I got back to Pittsburgh, someway, somehow, no matter what. I wanted my heart back from him. The heart he clearly had no use for any longer.

TAGS: @torialeysha @eap1935

#Tom Hardy #tomhardy #tom hardy fanfiction #tommy conlon #tomhardyfanfic #elizabeth olsen #tomhardyfanfiction

[mrcthulahoop-blog]

Blind DLC in the Modern Era of Gaming! (Rant)

As per usual in the modern era of gaming, season passes are announced before the street date release of big AAA production titles. In most cases you are told what will be the back bone of it's content, however in fighting games that's not always the case. When it comes to Season Passes with most other genres you could get new modes, stories, missions, cosmetic items, in game items, more customization options, the list is seemingly endless on the realm of possibilities. However when it comes to fighting games that simply is just not the case.

Take on the on the Horizon Dragonball FighterZ  title. Their season pass was just announced, set to come with 8 characters of which 0 have been announced whom they are. The full day 1 roster hasn't even been fully confirmed. However on faith alone they want to draw people in for 8 characters, a few stickers, & a couple of online avatars for a whopping $35. A season pass with little confirmation, costs over half the retail price for the full game! As eye popping & jaw dropping as that may be it's not uncommon as you'll see below.

One of the characters who is a main part of the story was withheld to be DLC at a later date in a pack costing $30.

Exhibit B:

As you can see Warner Bros & Netherrealm Studios' Injustice 2 had a $40 pack with 9 characters & 3 premiere skins.

Exhibit C:

TEKKEN 7's pack didn't even include one of the first DLC characters Eliza. Unspecified amount of characters. Lots of costumes & the Tekken Bowl mode which also was not specified at the time!

Asking for money up front with almost zero information given on its main properties. Usually just a crap shoot with most season passes. Also with last year's release of Capcom's Street Fighter V we saw how they released two season passes. Neither specifying in it's contents specifically on the character front. However all the characters can be purchased with in game currency in SFV. It's very grind intensive but it is doable.

So why does this happen?

Well the answer is two fold.

It occurs because at the end of the day a fighting game breaks down to our competition once the game hits the 6 month of release. Most games have modes, stories, missions, & gimmicky things for single players to have an offline experience. One filled with replayability, varied content, & things to do.

In fighting games no matter how you spin it. It's player 1 Vs player 2 trying to take each other's health pool down to 0. Netherrealm Studios tries to bring people in with the Multiverse mode which has hours of content for Unlockable ranging from gear to shaders to Unlockable moves. They've implimented guild bosses which are super buffed A.I. and if your guild can defeat it you'll all receive various rewards. A full fleged cinematic story mode also comes to play with solid writing and voice acting. However with that said. All the modes are comprised of the basic same gameplay. Something the casual market will be burned out on in 6 months. Netherrealm Studios definitely leads the pack on content with Tekken 7 & Guilty Gear XRD not far behind.

So how does this have any effect on DLC planning?

Now that we know that casuals need new things to keep them hyped for this genre. Having a systematic post release schedule of future can breathe new life into a game. The hope is to rekindle interest in some people's drive to play. Lots of players may put a game down then see the DLC pack has a character they love & they're back to the game in no time flat. DLC can also bring in second wave sales. Don't believe let's take a small gander at Twitter.

Usually companies tease a small portion of the greater whole of a Season Pass & that'll rope people in. Even if they don't care about 75% of the content they'll buy the whole package just to get that last 25% they have deemed vital. Which can go a long way in the grand scheme of things.

You said this was a two fold thing though?

Yes I did. The second wrinkle is the fact that Blind DLC is definitely a way to make people who otherwise wouldn't buy everything, buy it all. For example with injustice 2 there has been tons of complains about the fight pack characters. People alsaw the first pack feature Red Hood & Starfire. People sank their teeth into that ready for more. They thought after those two, they'd all be a smash hit. People expected Static, Raven, Beast boy, & Constantine. However not a single one of those has been announced. Actually so far only 4 out of the 7 confirmed characters are even from DC comics & it's rumored 5 out of the total 9 will be from the DCU. But that initial impulse buy off the blind pass definitely boosted some of the least popular characters downloads. Also helps companies since season passes are non-refundable.

Long gone are the days of a game releasing with oodles of content. It's pretty much normalized with the current generation of Gamers that post release content is a given. They see $20-$50 DLC & multiple season passes for one game as the industry standard! So they just accept it and as long as the season passes continue to sell not only themselves but the games as a whole, they will not stop making them.

Final Thoughts

Personally I'm not a fan of pre-release announcements of season passes. It seems grimey that a company is already planning to sell me more stuff after the game goes out, 6 months before it's even playable. On top of that you could drop money on the blind pass, only to be disappointed in the end. Also with some games like Guilty gear XRD, you could buy all the DLC for one version of the game one night, then wake up to an announcement of XRD Revalator 3 & have to spend another $15 to get that expansion!

None of this is alleviated when DLC characters can be $5 to $9 a pop out of pack. To where buying 4 characters individually is the same price as buying the whole pack. It's especially bad if a DLC character comes out with top tier status. Then you have to deal with the whole pay to win argument. While it's an invalid argument since fighting games are primarily matchup based anyway; the aforementioned casuals will see it that way. And developers know, perception is reality no matter how you slice it. It's a juggling act by developers, a rat race for consumers. A messy situation indeed.

#Gamer Gaming Games VideoGames MarvelVsCapcom DCComics Injustice2 Tekken DLC GamerRant

[apsbicepstraining]

Da Man Wit’ Da Money: 77 Hip-Hop Lyrics About Donald Trump

2.

Donald Trump I cleared Forbes’ list this month!

3.

Now I’m knocking like Jehovah; let me in now, let me in now Bill Gates, Donald Trump, let me in now

4.

I’m so appalled Spalding ball, Baldin’ Donald Trump, takin’ dollars from y’all

5.

So come on gettin’ lovely I’m gettin’ into the money The Donald Trump money

6.

I buy vehicles wit straight cash, have convenes with Donald Trump Y’all meet wit Honda , no payments for 12 months

7.

Going Donald Trump counts on the corner I made a million on that corner

8.

Im bout to do a lyric with Bono Pocket Trump like I only impressed the lottery, lotto

9.

Yo Ice, I did a concert in the White House And after that me and Donald Trump hung out

10.

I gotta say what’s up to Digital Underground and Humpty Hump Cause he makin’ more than Donald Trump

11.

Can I live? I make yo’ ass over the hump We tryna get money so we can be livin’ like Trump

12.

We can talk Trump talk, real estate, capitals, and bonds Or gangsta shit, my Rugers and Glocks in palm

13.

Trump change?( Chump change) Nah TRUMP change patnah not chump change

14.

The’ S’ in skypage certainly stands for sex Beeper’s goin off like Don Trump gets checks

15.

Suck a dick and lick an ass exactly to get a pump Fuck Black Caesar niggaz, announce me Black Trump

16.

I’m back with the funk, chump You crave funk, how many chunks? I went spunk I’m well-known like Donald Trump

17.

Warning you chump, psyche is out for lunch Given the dominance perforate, soon to be paid like Donald Trump

18.

He get apprehensive is seeking to startle I hit him with the pump Put more cash in my pockets than Donald Trump

19.

Got a business mind so if I lose the funk I’ll still be in the members of this house gettin’ paid like Trump

20.

Poisonous sting which thrashes up and act chumps Raise a heavy generator But yo, guess who’s the pitch-black Trump?

21.

You can boom shalock and move to the resounds I pump But I ain’t ceasing till I’m shitting on Donald Trump

22.

New Trump, brand new funk Keep the pocket full of California skunk

23.

Serena Williams, downtown unoccupied and Trump Who wanna slammed her rump, dunce, yes I fetch the pump

24.

Now I ain’t talkin bout no bullshit ass flippin z’s I’m talkin Trump type access, they comin off a mob of keys

25.

So all I’d wanna got the chamber stumped I’m smokin, make dough like Trump

26.

In hot pursuit of Donald Trump rap loot Produce what you feel with Navy Seal mic troops

27.

Im merely tryin to get rich like Trump The home run king is now in a slump, extend me a hunk

28.

The brand-new Don Trump is Bill Gates Not because his occupation, it’s’ cause we respect his cake

29.

Im the young Donald Trump, is yall listening me? Girls on the side path, yeah they cheerin me

30.

Niggas always expect to see us two together, stable The good duo they read since Trump and Marla Maple

31.

Doin’ it like Donald Trump I’m sendin’ this one to the women with body And all my hustlas with the grill front

32.

Teddy Riley, Michael Tyler, large-scale Trump thang Million dollars, sunny holler big bucks man

33.

Now they announce me Snoopy Trump I keep my heater open, cause I love to bust

34.

Throw my weight like Sherman Klump I gotta stand up my owned like Donald Trump

35.

I’m Donald Trump in a lily-white tee and lily-white ones The exchange is money nigga, you want some?

36.

Bill Gates, Donald Trump, them a require you In a the Pentium five them haggard wire you

37.

I’m Donald Trump, with raccoon hairdos I’m Lil Kim, so plastic , now it only really scares dudes

38.

Time to flip the labor move the block bump Boys from the hood announce me black Donald Trump

39.

I spend ludicrous money, private fowl money That Bill Gates, Donald Trump, Bloomberg money

40.

Resurrection of the real, time to get richer than Trump

41.

I’m lyin’ to Christ, put your fuckin’ sticker in a vice I’m like Trump in the Apprentice, merely fire at night

42.

You burnt mothafucka Donald Trump nigga I’m killing these niggas can’t fuck nigga

43.

Breathing off a Trump budget Fresh outa Bloomie’s with the Louie luggage

44.

Give me honour and fortune, me and Trump on golf courses With that being said, give me Tiger’s athletics endorsements

45.

And I’m gonna chopped this whole ki into a lotta lumps Next era you determine me I’ll have money like Donald Trump

46.

Homies on the blocking can say whatever they want I don’t wanna has become a trader, I wanna be a Trump

47.

The Apprentice but not Trump Im the nigga with Glocks and pumps

48.

1st of the month, Trump to the buyers Red toupe on the coupe you’ve been fired

49.

Get money like Donald Trump Double barrel on that pump

50.

Money buy the DIGITS I get Donald Trump callin’ me a fund wizard

51.

Richest nigga in my hood: announce me Donald Trump The form that count my coin while I inhale a blunt

52.

Take over the world when I’m on my Donald Trump shit Look at all this fund, ain’t that some shit?

53.

I’m tryna stuff em until I can’t fit no more I’m talking Donald Trump level I’m trying to get these dreamings off the ground All aboard for the shuttle

54.

Got enough, got enough Tryna’ get onto, til I’m on my Donald Trump, Donald Trump

55.

And we don’t stop my nigga I’m like Donald Trump nigga

56.

I started out transgressed, get rich, lost article then became it back Like Trump being up down up, play with cash

57.

I’m a good-looking rapper, I ain’t tryna stunt I’m a ardor my dampen like Donald Trump

58.

Hustle a palace, Donald trump 6 mil I got a 6th sense so known better 6 feel

59.

Walk up on you whiskey maskin’ punk And burn them kills just like I’m Donald Trump

6-.

Plottin’ on Donald Trump I was 15 years old when I hit that chopper

61.

You can hate, don’t frown, my nigga With Donald Trump in the stem, my nigga

62.

And Donald Trump, and Carlos Slim And call Obama, Oprah Winfrey then

63.

Hugo Boss, I only Donald Trump you Michael Kors sweater with cocaine on the garment Woke up in mansion but I grew up in apartment

64.

Trump Tower with Donald( Donald) I can’t drive a Honda( uh uh) Now I get options, you can detest me if you wanna

65.

No Donald Trump, Bill Gates or Bruce Wayne The only thing I had to my figure was a few dreams

66.

You makin’ patterns raise ya frost and Guinness And workin’ pussy that’s my type of fitness I’m countin’ fund like I’m Donald Trump

67.

Wit a pocket full of lint and a Big Meech letter And I’m fuck wat Donald Trump talk bout I like change when I convened Rosetta

68.

I’m fucked worse than Donald Trump On Lexapro in Mexico across from a Texaco in McDonald’s drunk

69.

Yeah thumbs up I’ve seen more punctures than a golf course on Donald Trump’s course

70.

Too much spinach to chew for niggas beefin ‘, So I’m out here trick or treatin ‘, can my niggas comprehend Bill Gates, Donald Trump , motherfucker let me in.

71.

Assassinate Trump like Im Zimmerman/ Now accept these terms as they came from Eminem

72.

Ah, my mention is Jibbs but they call me mighty Trump The kid down a live with an outerspace flow Stay brandished up, poking madden with a flow Jag chillin in the back with girls holla at a chump

73.

Ice Cube says you’re making more than Donald Trump So yo, go on and get your nose tied, Hump

74.

Cause ya boy’s in a slump I took her out of the jets The top floor of the Trump Had to hustle hard

75.

I’m on ridin’ humor my 12 -gauge pump Been a boss from the rush, croak getta like Trump

76.

Of a investigated off shotgun, hand on the pump Musty dead bodies and a catty bump, Trump

77.

Up like Donald Trump, chain moves like nunchucks She gon’ grind you up, twerk like she from Russia

The post Da Man Wit’ Da Money: 77 Hip-Hop Lyrics About Donald Trump appeared first on apsbicepstraining.com.

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[esthermeronobaro]

FYF Fest 2013: My Bloody Valentine Fairy Tale

This review was first published on slugmag.com on Aug. 30, 2013. Read it here. Photos: Tod Seelie

The Choice of a New Generation

Ten years ago I was 17 years old. I "road tripped" 40-minutes south of the small, sinkhole town I lived in to one slightly more populated (with rest homes) for my first concert at a venue imaginatively named the Electric Theater. The headliner didn't make it that night––van troubles or something––but I still have the ticket taped to the brick I claimed as my laptop and covered in Weezer stickers. That year also marked my first mutual boyfriend, and my very first kiss––also mutual.

Around the same time, a kid in Los Angeles named Sean Carlson, just a couple of years older than me in 2004, decided to "boldly go where no man has gone before"––probably to impress some babes––and started Fuck Yeah Fest by booking some shows in a bunch of venues around the city. Honestly, anything I write here about his story is speculation, as the "About" section on the FYF website was blank up until this year, when a lineup history magically appeared along with a link that makes me wish I had requested an interview with the man himself, rather than vying for time with the dazzling lineup of bands at this year's festival.

Regardless, the little information I could piece together about FYF's history, along with this telling Wikipedia page and the clever, generational details observed at FYF Fest 2013––from stages named after Sex and the City characters to the exclusively '90s movie sequel trailers playing after dark between sets on the main stage monitors––give me the confidence to declare that Carlson and I have a common goal, and this past weekend, we sold out together.

Nobody Jaywalks in LA

I have a love-hate relationship with Los Angeles. The reliable weather, the [overcast] beaches, the abundance of vegan food, and its general "vacation" vibe are all reasons why I forget how much I hate all the concrete, the snotty attitudes, the careless drivers and mind-numbing traffic. I know FYF Fest was organized by a like-minded individual because doors aren't until 2 p.m., which means plenty of time to sleep or read a book while shivering on a hotel towel in seagull-infested sand. On our way to one such aquatic adventure, a perfectly manicured 20-something bumps into the back of our rental, causing a few hours delay and ultimately leading to an untimely appearance at the festival, but I am happy to let Dan Deacon introduce me to my FYF 2013 experience. Technical difficulties result in an atypical Dan Deacon set that is more stand-up than music––which works out because I'd missed the comedy during the first part of the day. He makes fun of his balding head, apologizes for all the glitches and the fact this is, indeed, their final song, and manages to still blow me away in his final five minutes on stage with a rainbow light show, two frenetic live drummers, an improvised monologue, and electronic music that sounds like a band made up of Jane and Michael's playroom toys brought to life by Mary Poppins.

Eye Wonder Who Karen O Dates?

When I was a teenager, I used my weekly church attendance as a runway show. At school, I wore the same drab clothes as everyone else, but at church, I was ahead of every revivalist movement: goth, Bohemian, ’60s, ’90s––you name it. I was also a master hair braider, but that’s another story. Now, all I really care about is being comfortable, maximizing my assets and minimizing my … well, other ass-ets. Karen O lives out every minute of her stage life like the rowdiest runway show you’ll ever see––this ain’t no mall walkway with waifs in pastel––and for this reason (OK, and because the Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ music is awesome), I find myself at the Carrie Stage on Saturday night. The YYYs’ latest album, Mosquito, has already become a go-to on my playlists, and as Karen O comes on stage in a dirty-blonde bob, sparkling pantsuit (with shorts), pink knee socks and colorful sneakers and moves right into the title track, she sucks all the energy from the thousands gathered and blasts it back in wild yelps and guttural screams. 

The songs move into each other seamlessly, congruent with Karen O’s wardrobe changes. They’re more raw and punk-infused live, and favorites include “Gold Lion,” “Runaway,” “Cheated Hearts” and “Sacrilege”––whose gospel wails follow me out of the festival at the end of the night. A thick, long bright-yellow cord connects to her mic and she moves it around her body like a snake, pulling it over her shoulder, spinning it above her head, and to everyone’s delight, pushing it into her open mouth as a long, throaty moan envelops us like an electric blanket bursting into flame on contact. She dons her famous studded “KO” leather jacket for “Zero,” and at one point, even pushes a headlamp onto her head like a third eye. Speaking of eyes: From the back of the stage, before anyone can look twice, a giant inflatable eyeball is pushed into the crowd midway through––which I guess has been happening at all of their shows, but is a complete surprise to me. As I watch the spectacular performance, all I can think is, “Damn, I wonder who Karen O dates.”

Beach House Lullabies

Sitting on my FYF Fest map, looking at everyone’s dirty faces while I wait for Beach House, I ease into Sunday. In back of the Carrie Stage, there looks to be a wall of vertical wires shimmering as the sun sets, like those fountains at fancy restaurants that look like pouring rain. The dream pop duo are joined by an extra musician so as to maintain the luscious layers of music they’ve created for nearly a decade. I’m far enough from the stage that the people are blurs of slow-moving flesh, but the background shows a starry mess of lights, supplementing the dingy L.A. sky above me, while puffs of smoke from the front of the stage look like bubbles. The coolness of Victoria Legrand’s whispers is complemented by blue lighting, and as the wire wall behind the band starts to move with crimson shapes and the audience sways back and forth, I feel like I’m watching a concert under the sea.

Family Matters

Across the country, Miley Cyrus is pushing her chicken butt into Robin Thicke as Solange drops to her knees with class on the Charlotte Stage in a bright, patterned sweater and Lisa Simpson haircut, gyrating to the funky, retro bass lines thumping behind her. "Let's turn this into a grind fest," she croons into the mic, and immediately, all the white kids around me drop two inches and start shuffling back and forth. Ever since watching 20 Feet From Stardom, I've been keen on any act with back-up singers, and I know that, regardless of Solange's down-to-earth vibe, the sister of Beyonce Knowles will surely boast some classic R&B bells and whistles. As her back-ups ooh and aah, giving the set glimpses of Destiny's Child influence, Solange shows off dance moves that are comparable to her big sis––though they'd feel more at home in an intimate club full of eclectic jazz-hounds than a post-apocalyptic music video set. It must be difficult to have your work constantly thrown up against that of a worldwide pop culture icon's––but really, don't we all live in Beyonce's shadow? As if reading our minds on whether her notable family members might be hiding backstage, Solange happily mentions her mom has come to watch, and lightly asks everyone to say, "Hello Mom." Now that there is no question as to whether or not Beyonce is present, we can enjoy Solange for who she is and what she has to offer: soulful, classic, booty-shakin' music with a '90s twist.

Well, What Other Bands Are There Now?

Sunday is a hazy blur of romantic waves. "We're in this together," is our mantra, and every piece of life and media thrown our way parallels the past year in a microscopic experience. The Breakfast Club plays out in the hotel room as we make our way to the metro, but sit on opposite ends of the aisle, looking past each other to the other side of the weekend in silent repose. As we walk inside, Flume beats like a mad heart in the aptly named Samantha Tent in the center of the grounds, and there we break apart to Melvins and Beach House, respectively, meeting back in the middle for Solange.

Washed Out's "Feel It All Around"permeates the festival grounds as we sit on a curb, sticking morbid PETA stickers on each other's plaid button-ups and thinking about not 10, but 20 years ago, when the '90s meant divorce and new schools and new friends. Washed Out fades away and 2005's summer anthem, "Time to Pretend," sounds out at the south end of the park on the Carrie Stage. Like an oracular beam of light, groups of kids walk past us toward the music, which becomes unfamiliar until the intro of "Kids" marches into our ears, and we know MGMT's set is nearly over, making room for a different tractor beam of noise.

Just about everyone has made jokes about it, but the warnings that pop up between flashes of inculcating "FYF Fest––Best Weekend Ever," trailers for Batman and Robin, and "Next Up … My Bloody Valentine," are very real, along with the bright orange earplugs we pick up at the info booth. This feels new, but in a regurgitated way, mimicking the nervous expectation of that first show I attended 10 years ago. The past six months have culminated into this recursive moment, which I've subconsciously set up as a reset to infinity. Taking a good five minutes to get my earplugs just right so I won't have to mess with them again, I wait in anticipation with everyone around me, but really, just one other person, because this is our moment. The lights drop and the letters "m b v" appear like blood surfacing on a swirling blue pool in the background. The stage looks crowded already with towers of amps, but as the musicians file in, they fit into their respective positions like the last pieces of a puzzle. Kevin Shields leans into the mic, and though I'm too far to make out facial features, and the giant monitors to each side show nothing, his shoulder-length, frizzy white hair is illuminated by the blue light behind him, giving his crisp and single "Hello" an ethereal quality.

I expect a wall of noise to push us all backward from the very first note, but we're eased into the music like a first kiss with one of my favorites, "I Only Said." My Bloody Valentine's most critically acclaimed album may be called "Loveless," but there is a tangible romance inside the static and reverb, which is why we're here together, arms wrapped around each other. I don't have most of the track names memorized, but I know Loveless' melodies and whispers by heart, and though muffled by the foam in my ears (which I end up repositioning so they're not quite so stifling), I smile wider with each song I recognize. We're enjoying the on-and-off violence of "Only Shallow" as the background turns to fiery noise, the amps opening their mouths like dragons and short, shadowed glimpses of Bilinda Butcher's sparkling red guitar––matching her hair and heels––move on the screens––and then silence. I look up from my sway and see the band still playing. More heads in the audience pop up and audible panic swells. The guitars turn back on like a switch, but it happens again, and I fear the magic lost. I feel like Dorothy, peering behind the curtain to see the truth. Just humans with big machines. All seems lost. For some in the audience, this is just another show, another checkmark on their list of bands to see, and these technical glitches are simply minor annoyances. To me, they're stabs in my back. Waves of doubt and despair wash over me as I question the past year-and-a-half, seemingly reflected in the blown speakers and five-minute interruption.

Shields announces the end of their set, apologizing for the difficulties and throwing us a bone by dubbing us their best audience thus far. It feels insincere and only makes it worse. They move into their final song, which I later find out is "You Made Me Realise," from their EP of the same name released in 1988. It's a discordant track, bouncier than anything on Loveless, but I'm frozen in place. The song seems to end, at least the melody, and in its place, the slow climax of thunderous noise rockets from the stage. I'm still frozen, but this time, I can't stop staring at the noise displayed visually on the backdrop. I know it's dumb, it's cliche, but I can't remember how long I stood there. A tractor beam of the loudest music I have ever heard holds onto me, and like a strong dose of radiation, clears away the malignant thoughts that had built up in my brain. I tear myself away and search for recognition in the faces around me. A few creased foreheads express confusion, but for the most part, My Bloody Valentine has managed to baptize an audience of thousands with a single, reverberating chord. I'll learn later that this part of the song is rightfully called "Full Holocaust," and after what seems like a lifetime of eleventh hours (but was only five minutes), they fall back into the melody and finish out the song. We turn around with everyone else to walk out of the festival grounds, but I barely noticed the crowd. "It was like the biggest 'fuck you’ to every band who has ever said they're loud!" I exclaim, thinking it's a witty thing to say. There's more going on in my mind, but for now, I feel relieved and hopeful. It's not until we're back at the hotel, packing silently for the plane ride back home in the morning, that it all comes into perspective. He says, "Well, what other bands are there now?" All the moments––the good, the bad, the hopelessness, the elation––they've culminated here and will repeat into infinity––and you made me realise, it will always be with you.

#words #slugmagazine #fyffest #fuckyeahfest #indierock #electronic #musicfestival #losangeles #california