#The joy when said person DOES see it and leaves a nice comment is priceless

[druidonity2]

Very often the only thing that gets me to work past adhd/depression/etc and actually draw and write my ideas down is the HOPE that someone will leave a comment or tag expressing a positive emotion in response. When no one says anything I often feel like I did something wrong. It's like that phrase 'silence is deafening'. I genuinely cannot even begin to explain how happy it makes me to see someone leave a sentence or paragraph in the tags. It reminds me I exist (in a good way).

It is people like you that keep artists alive. You are the backbone of art communities and fandoms.

[pikemoreno]

if you ever wanna be in love

Chapter IV: Plan B and Other Messes

a/n: this is my favorite so far, but it’s only gonna get better from here!

taglist is open if you’d like to be added. sorry if you asked and i missed it or forgot. please just ask again if you aren’t on there and would like to be. :’)

pairing: marcus pike x f!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: none, and i don’t expect there to really be any serious ones in upcoming chapters either. this is just fun.

If this plan was foolproof, you were all worse than fools.

It had started fine. It had been more than a week since the disastrous failure that was Plan A, and you spent the week doing some reconnaissance to keep Wendy’s brief interaction with Adrian on the top of her mind.

On Tuesday, you had asked her again about the elevator incident, stating: “Wow, that must’ve been scary. Did you have someone with you? I don’t think I remember.” She responded that there had been and that he was “nice.” 

On Wednesday, you had asked her if she had caught the name of the “mystery man” in the elevator. Did he work in the building? What department? Was he cute? She had said that she “Didn’t catch his name or his department, but… Yeah, he was alright, I guess.” Not a lot to work from, you lamented, but it was a start. You told her you’d see what you could find out and she groaned, telling you not to get into it, that she was fine. If only she knew how late she was on that sentiment.

On Thursday, you had taken the day off from bothering her about it. After all, you couldn’t make it seem like you found out everything about him in a day. Because that would have just been absurd. 

Today-- Friday-- you spilled all of your “research” to her: name, age, department, and the information that he’d been “asking about her too”-- ignoring the fact that that was only true because Marcus had been giving him the same treatment you were giving Wendy this week. Her eyes lit up a little at hearing she’d been asked about too, and you knew you had her hook, line, and sinker.

You met Marcus outside on your lunch break to debrief and discuss the finale of Plan B, sitting on a wooden-slatted bench with him underneath the slowly changing leaves of the trees in the courtyard. While an uncharacteristically cool breeze blew by, you were starting to decide that if you could just get Wendy and Adrian to this point right here, that would be enough to bring them together. It was a quiet and secluded place, a blessed change from the chaos of work on the other side of those glass double doors in the distance. There was something undeniably romantic about it all. 

With the right person to share it with, of course.

This wasn’t a romantic exchange. It was planning, organizing, talking about another’s romance, and never your own. There was absolutely nothing inherently romantic about this, certainly nothing in the way he smiled at you from the corner of his eye as you talked about how the week had gone with Wendy. There was nothing in the way you admired the light in his eyes when he grinned and how they crinkled when he laughed and nothing in the way you wanted to make sure he laughed every single day.

Oh no. Oh no no no no. 

This whole thing was about Wendy, not you. And certainly not Marcus. 

“So, what’s the plan for this evening?” His question brought you out of your daze.

“Umm,” you cleared your throat, re-gathering yourself as you poked at your lunch with your fork. “We’re gonna text them both separately to meet us at Copper Coin for coffee. We won’t be there when they arrive. We’ll be twenty minutes late and hope that they’ve decided to sit together in that time. If they haven’t, we’ll make sure they do,” you shrugged. 

“Right,” he nodded, and you returned it. Silence overtook the moment, but not in the serene way it had previously. This was decidedly more awkward. You were back in your head, doing the mental calculations of why and how there was nothing at all romantic about your friendship with Art Squad over here. That’s all it was; that’s all he was. You vaguely heard him call your name-- your real name.

“Hm?” you blinked, looking back to him.

“Where’d you go?” he murmured quizzically, his eyes searched your face in a way that undid all of the mental calculation you just went through.

“What? Nowhere. Anyway,” you stood quickly, gathering your stuff, “See you later.” You couldn’t ignore the feeling of his curious eyes still on you as you walked away.

This was not happening.

You’d be lying if you said that lunchtime exchange wasn’t at the forefront of your mind for the rest of the work day... And as you drove to the coffee shop… And now that you were sitting across from Marcus yet again, waiting on Wendy and Adrian, who still had yet to show up after the predetermined twenty minutes you were giving them before sitting inside the mahogany-saturated, hipster’s paradise yourselves. 

Plan B was most certainly not foolproof, and the four of you were the grandest of fools. Where could they be?

“They’re gonna walk in and think we’re the ones on a date,” Marcus quipped as he took a sip of his drink. You almost spit yours out from the surprise of the comment, but couldn’t help the huff of laughter.

“Oh, if Wendy walked in and thought I was on a date with a guy like you, she would probably cry tears of joy.”

“What does that mean?” You missed the warm pink take over the skin of his neck at what he was hoping was a compliment. 

A guy like him? 

How did you see him? 

“My recent track record is not great,” you stated, running a finger around the rim of your drink, “I would go on a couple of dates with someone. Never let it go anywhere. Decline any attempt to make it exclusive. Get the hell out of there. Rinse and repeat.”

“Why do you think that is?” 

You were making him nervous. It was pretty obvious to him now that he was starting to be interested in you beyond just being a work friend helping him with a “project”. But hearing your hesitance to commit in the past made his heart sink. He knew too well the feeling of being the one more invested in the relationship, of scaring someone off by going all in. He couldn’t let himself fall into that again with you. He’d have to force himself away, push down what was threatening to blossom.

“Afraid of getting hurt, I guess. I’ve seen a lot of committed relationships around me fail. People falling out of love. I don’t want that.” You shrugged.

“That’s a very reasonable fear.”

“Exactly. So I’m just… Waiting I guess. Wendy sees it as me just having commitment issues. I don’t have commitment issues per se. I just haven’t really found anyone worth committing to yet.”

“I’m afraid I have the opposite problem.” You tilted your head, questioning, and he continued, “I haven’t found anyone worth committing to, but I don’t realize it until it’s too late.” he sighed, “I was that one teenager who had one steady girlfriend from eighth grade all the way through high school and never looked at anyone else-- probably for the best, I was kind of a dork,” he laughed despite himself and you joined. It fizzled sadly, “But anyway. Everyone thought we were gonna be together forever. And I started to think so too after, you know, five years. I had it all planned out by the time we got to senior year. We wanted to go to the same college. We’d date through college, I’d propose on our graduation day... We didn’t make it past senior prom. She had disappeared for a while, and I found her in a supply closet with another guy.” You couldn’t help but gasp a little. He continued “Then I still got married pretty young, not long out of college,” he shook his head, seemingly to clear out the emotions that reared their ugly heads for what was obviously the first time in a while. You wanted him to know he didn’t have to explain himself to you. 

“Marcus, don’t--” you tried to stop him.

“I was ‘too much’ for her.” You froze at the admission. His mouth contorted into a frown that didn’t suit him at all. “I’m still not sure I know what she meant by that,” he laughed humorlessly, “Guess I cared too much? Who knows. She divorced me, and that was that.” You both looked down to find that you’d put your hand on his. There was a part of you-- maybe more than a part, really-- that decided that what he was saying sounded nice. That he would be a blessed change from relationships that never lasted longer than a month and whose conversations never reached the level of depth that you were already experiencing with Marcus after just the couple of weeks you’d known him. You breathed, letting your hand stay resting on his as you spoke truly.

“What you said was right. Neither of them were worth your commitment. I’ve seen your commitment to someone who’s just a work friend, and I can’t imagine anyone not wanting that in their life. They couldn’t have been worth your time.” His thumb reached up to brush against the side of your hand. “I would--” You stopped yourself mid-sentence upon looking at the cafe door to find Wendy finally walking in.

If only you knew that Marcus was holding his breath waiting for the end of the statement, hoping to hear you say that he might be worth that commitment. 

“There’s Wendy now.” Your hand left his as you got up to meet her, and Marcus found himself immediately missing the contact and entirely unsure of what just happened. 

“An hour late? Where have you been?” you laughed as Wendy met your eyes excitedly. 

“You’ll never guess what just happened,” she practically squealed in response, yet not answering your question.

“Probably not. Go for it.”

“I got my rebound!” You blinked.

“You-- What?”

“So right before you left the office, I received a tip on a case from the Elisabet Ney Museum. They had some priceless jewelry of hers on display. Only supposed to be up for a week. Family heirloom. It’s on display for two days before it turns up stolen. But get this: the bust of hers it was on was also stolen. Meaning this case also falls under the jurisdiction of the Art Squad. I figured ‘Hey, the more, the merrier,’ so I hopped on down to the 6th floor to talk to them about a team-up and guess who I ran into?” Your eyes widened, finally getting the point of the story.

“Adrian.”

“Adrian!” she nearly squealed again, talking a mile a minute. “So anyway, we’re gonna be teamed up on that next week.” You subconsciously shot a glance over to Marcus. Having to work a case with him? After the day you just had? “But the crazy part is that I started talking to Adrian and he’s so great, you know, now that I’m not freaking out in an elevator. Turns out he’s a recent dumpee too, and we’re gonna go out tomorrow night. Oh, and we might’ve made out in the supply closet.” The words of that last part all ran together as she tried to play it off nonchalantly. You let your mouth hang open in the flurry of words and admissions that came far too quickly for you to process fully. 

“Wow. That’ s-- That’s great! I told you he was worth looking into,” you smiled weakly, trying to get over the newest developments in this absolutely ridiculous story. “So, this case? Starting next week?”

“Monday morning, bright and early. Hey, didn’t you say you had a friend on Art Squad? The one who gave you a ride that one day? That’ll be fun, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, for sure.” You caught Marcus’s eye, and your face must have betrayed just how exasperated and confused-- and… relieved?--  you felt because the look he shot back to you was full of concern. Everything was somehow simplified and complicated in one fell swoop. 

Plan B: Success? You guess?

forever taglist: @acomplicatedprofession @hdlynn @makaela27 @space-floozy @catfishingmorales @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @princessbatears @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @findhimfives @mistermiraclee

series taglist: @whiskeyslasso​ @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @dindjarindiaries​ @absurdthirst​ @roxypeanut​ @fioccodineveautunnale​ @dirty-dancefl00r5  @starryeyedstories​ @buckysalefty​ @wickedfrsgrl​ @the-feckless-wonder​

[a-recovered-sugar]

A Tale of Two Tours: The Princes walking their own paths

PATRICK JEPHSON FOR THE DAILY TELEGRAPH

Their recent trips have highlighted William and Harry's differing approaches to public emotion and Diana's legacy, says Patrick Jephson

Patrick Jephson was equerry and private secretary to Diana, Princess of Wales between 1982 and 1996. His book, The Meghan Factor, is available from Amazon

Two princes, two continents, two very different touring styles... and countless opinions on whether Team Cambridge or Team Sussex covered themselves (and us) in the greater glory. Perhaps honours are even — which would be nice. Even then, there's no concealing the growing gap in how William and Harry interpret their duty to represent the Queen on such high-level diplomatic missions.

Inevitably, there has been an unseen extra member of both squads. Diana, Princess of Wales has been brought into play not just by the media (for whom sentimental parallels and great pictures are always difficult to resist), but by the princes themselves, most directly in tomorrow's ITV special (9pm) with Tom Bradby, who accompanied Harry and Meghan on their Africa tour.

Diana's sons and their wives have literally and figuratively followed in her footsteps; even William's encounter with bad flying weather in Pakistan was foreshadowed by his mother's experience in 1991, when her Queen's Flight aircraft was grounded by a violent thunderstorm.

Family resemblance: in the Chitral district of Pakistan, Prince William wears a Chitrali hat like the one his mother wore there in 1991

Meteorology aside, perhaps the most revealing similarities and differences lie in how each prince has echoed their mother in revealing his feelings. These tours are hard work, intended to achieve tangible benefits for British interests. But the invisible rewards can be priceless, too — winning hearts and minds is a key objective, and that requires successful deployment of those most unstable royal weapons: public displays of emotion.

It would be a stony heart that doesn't go out to Prince Harry this week as he is seen, watery-eyed, telling Bradby that everything he does reminds him of his mother, or struggling, close to tears, to complete his speech at the Wellchild Awards. I attended many such events with Princess Diana, and losing control of your own emotions can be a serious occupational hazard, made no easier by office stress, new dad anxiety and the sleep deprivation that goes with both.

This is the same new father who recently shared with us the difficulty he sometimes feels getting out of bed because of the burden he carries worrying about the world's problems.

Predictably, such gloom earned a raspberry from commentators who suggested that a fit and wealthy young man, with — according, bizarrely, to Hillary Clinton — a "gutsy" woman for a wife and a bouncing new baby might lighten up a bit. It might be seen as a luxury, especially since his bed is in a house that taxpayers have just spent several million pounds to refurbish.

Better a prince who thinks too much than too little, you might argue. And many welcome our enlightened times in which a prince (a prince!) can reveal such vulnerability. What some condemn as a sign of weakness or self-indulgence, others see as proof of enlightened inner strength and sensitivity.

But, as we've recently seen, when royal thought is stoked by raw emoton, the results can veer unpredictably from endearing to mockable and finally to downright worrying. How else to describe the spasm of anger that soured the sweet success of Harry's Africa tour and now condemns him and his family to long-term legal conflict with half of Fleet Street? Hard-fought litigation could quickly put global warming in the shade as a cause of bad Frogmore mornings.

Public tears are a rarity in Windsor world. Many will remember the Queen discreetly dabbing her eye as the Royal Yacht Britannia was de-commissioned (and who can blame her?). Some may even recall the day Princess Diana visibly welled up when being addressed in fond and sympathetic words during an official engagement in Merseyside on the eve of her separation from Prince Charles. These examples show both women in a good light: the first, acknowledging the passing of a faithful servant — the second, an instinctive response to kindness at a time of great personal unhappiness.

Prince Harry's Wellchild display of emotion falls into a different category. Critics have suggested it was an overwrought attempt to steal air time, while supporters contend it was a welcome display of common humanity. Either way, it made as many headlines as what should have been William's star turn in a jewel-toned sherwani the same day.

Assuming, as we should, that the emotion was genuine and surprised the Prince as much as the rest of us, it resembles another occasion on which his mother wept. Significantly, though, that was in private. We were on tour in Africa; the last visit of the day — to a rural Aids hospice for young children — was over. The officials and media had left, leaving Diana and a small entourage to watch the toddlers being tucked in for the night.

Diana, characteristically, wanted to help. I'll never forget the image of her kneeling by each bed, accompanied only by a nun with a lantern, comforting each little occupant. As she straightened after the last bed, I saw tears shining on her cheeks. By the time she rejoined us, they had been wiped away by the professional princess already back on parade.

A son's tribute: Prince Harry, left, walks through the minefield in Angola, where his mother famously trod in 1997, right

There were no tears in Pakistan this week when Prince William agreed with a young well-wisher that he, too, was "a big fan" of his mother. But who could doubt the infinity of sadness concealed by such brief, good-natured and modest words. It seems William has adopted that most British of attitudes: that emotion makes a good servant but a poor master.

He and his brother are destined by birth for a weird public existence in which strangers can pick over their most private emotions. How they cope has been on worldwide display these past few weeks and it’s fair to say their methods are different — perhaps different enough to prevent them and their wives ever living up to Meghan's early description of the foursome's work as "unity at its best".

When Princess Diana made her own first visit to Pakistan in 1991, she was introduced to the work of the revered Pakistani poet Sir Muhammad Iqbal. Much of it struck a chord with her. She painstakingly copied a verse and gave it to me after the tour, and another might have been especially written for princes navigating a life like no other: "Destiny is the prison and chain of the ignorant."

Our system has put William, the future king, in that prison. To his infinite credit, he is turning it in to a place in which to do his duty, while still being a committed father and family man. As he said in Lahore, when told how he and Kate had "radiated joy" wherever they had been: "We are very happy people."  It shows.

Harry's prison has an open door, and no gaoler but of his own making. His undoubted gifts of empathy, compassion and charm flourish in sunlight and wide horizons. They are a far better — and happier — riposte to an unfair world than anything his lawyers can muster.

[unadulteratedfandomtrash]

Kim Seokjin x Reader ~ The Big Secret  [Part 2]

[My BTS Masterlist]

A/N: Please note that this story is not trying to insinuate that any of the members would/do act like they do in my writing; this is all fictional and coming from my imagination. Also, this story does not strictly follow the timeline or realistic details.

I apologize for any plot holes; I’m pretty sure there are quite a few, but I’ve been very busy with personal issues to write, so I wrote this all in one sitting! I’ll try to comb through it all later to fix any issues. Feel free to let me know if you spot any contradicting details or grammar/spelling issues.

Word Count: 3505

The door behind Jin opens and within that very second, a young woman leaps onto the man in question, all four limbs wrapping around the man in question. Six pairs of eyes pop out of their respective heads, blinking rapidly as if the action will aid them in understanding the events currently taking place.

“Oh! You brought your friends with you,” the young woman remarks, pulling back her face, which was nuzzled into Jin’s shoulder. She releases her grip and straightens out her clothes before waving in all the men standing at her doorstep. “Please, come in. I apologize for the mess, but my brother was in a hurry this morning and left all his belongings scattered about; my own schedule has been hectic, so there hasn’t been any time to clean up after him.”

Now, as the six Bangtan boys stand in the apartment with wide eyes, their jaws dropping in further emphasis of their shock. The living room has heaps of clothes and shoes from designer brands draped all over the furniture, recording and producing equipment pushed up against the furthest wall, piles of expensive jewelry scattered on the coffee table, and several boxes filled with a diverse selection of cosmetics pushed beneath said coffee table.

Taehyung is the first to move while the others remain fixated on the priceless items in the room. He wanders carefully past the jewelry-covered table and stops to admire the numerous glass frames hung up on the wall. The very first design catches his attention; a metallic-silver background— most of its surface is covered by five signatures— accentuates a shiny blue logo that the young idol is very familiar with.

“OH MY GOSH, IS THAT A SIGNED ALIVE ALBUM?! WAIT! THERE’S ONE FOR EVERY ALBUM BIGBANG HAS RELEASED, AND THEY’RE ALL SIGNED!!”

This shout of excitement has everyone’s head snapping to look over at Taehyung, who is nearly crying tears of joy as his eyes rake over all the signed album covers hung up on the walls. Jungkook and Jimin run up to join their friend in admiring the displayed collection.

By now, Jin has disappeared into the kitchen and started to brew tea for all the members and his mysterious female friend. When the broad-shouldered idol returns, he and the young woman beside him are met with expectant glares from the rest of Bangtan’s hyung line— mainly Yoongi.

“Who the h-”

“What I think Yoongi-Hyung is trying to ask,” interrupts Namjoon, who has the group’s image in mind; he worries over the possibility of the woman before him recalling Yoongi’s brash words in the near future to fuel the beginnings of a scandalous article, “is: ‘Who are you?’” A timid, dimpled smile stretches across the leader’s lips as he waits patiently for a response. He nearly breaks into a nervous sweat when his hyung and the woman look at each other, a silent conversation taking place between the two.

“I’m Seokjin’s girlfriend and childhood bestie, Kwon (Y/n). It’s very nice to finally meet you all!”

Namjoon nearly faints. 

The expensive paraphernalia lying around in the room and the albums on the wall suddenly makes sense. This apartment does not belong to just anybody. This apartment must belong to Kwon (Y/n), as in Kwon Jiyong’s sister.

Of course, Namjoon cannot prove such a presumptuous statement without actually asking (Y/n) herself, but he has a strong suspicion that his assumption is true. Sure, the surname “Kwon” is fairly common, but there have been articles in the past hinting that G-Dragon, one of the biggest stars in the Kpop and fashion industries, has two sisters; the details were extremely vague.

He feels awkward wanting to confirm her relation to the famous Kwon Jiyong. There is no indication the other members are connecting the dots, but Namjoon wants answers. He walked all the way out to this building in the cold clad in only pajamas and a fuzzy Ryan robe, gave away his ID to a young security guard he just met, and experienced second-hand embarrassment thanks to his fellow group members; Hoseok will be met with a lot of trouble if the trip proves to be pointless.

“So…um…Ms. Kwon, are you-”

The jingling of keys, followed by the unnerving creaking of the front door swinging open, interrupts the rapper mid-question.

“Ah, Jiyong-Hyung, you’re back,” Jin greets, rushing over to the door to assist the man in question with the many bags in his hands.

This time, nearly all of the Bangtan boys faint.

“Of course. What kind of brother would I be if I worked all day during my little sister’s birthday?”

“A horrible one,” (Y/n) pipes up. She sets down her mug of tea before running over to Jiyong to pull him into a tight embrace. “Thank you, Ji-Ji-Oppa~”

“Yah, stop calling me that! I’m not that stupid cartoon cat.”

“First of all, no! Secondly, he is not stupid. Jiji is very caring and cute. And thirdly, it’s not a cartoon!”

Sensing the awkward stares, the two siblings turn to face their audience of six stunned men. Jiyong is the first to step up and greet them, commenting on their music after introducing himself. Each BTS member stumbles over their words, finding it extremely difficult to speak to the man who is a member of their favorite group— their idol.

After shaking hands with BIGBANG’s leader, Taehyung grasps his wrist while staring at his hand, mouth gaping in shock. He mumbles something about not washing or using that hand ever again, but nobody pays any mind to his reaction. 

“Wait a second… If you’re here to celebrate her birthday,” Hoseok comments, brows furrowed in confusion as he points an accusing finger at Jin, “then why did you bring a copy of our routine with you?”

“I was going to go over the choreography with Seokjinnie-Oppa a few times before dinner. He’s already got most of it down, so I’m mainly observing and pointing out any possible adjustments he needs to make. Since I wasn’t expecting my brother to be home so early, I haven’t gotten dinner started.”

“For the last time, I want to cook for you!” Though Jin sounds beyond irritated, his eyes show nothing but pure admiration for the woman before him. His friends are very familiar with Jin’s caring actions and are not surprised that this behavior is more prevalent when the man is around his girlfriend. “You should just relax for your birthday. I want to take care of you. You’re already helping me with the dance moves.”

“How about you both focus on the routine and let observe,” Jiyong suggests with a smirk. “I rarely get to see her dance anymore, so it’d be nice to watch and see if lil’ sis is as good as she claims to be these days.”

Bottom lip pursing into a pout, (Y/n) snaps back with a witty remark. The two bicker for quite some time until Jin ushers them both down the hall into a spare bedroom that had been refurbished into a dance studio; the rest of BTS follow their hyung, curious to witness Jin’s secret girlfriend’s dancing skills while also spending more time in the same room as G-Dragon himself.

Once (Y/n) refreshes her memory and cues the soundtrack, her expression changes drastically. In place of her usual bubbly personality, a stoicism that very few people can pull off, while maintaining a natural swagger, replaces her wide smile and bright, wide eyes. Her limbs move freely in the air, gliding in sync with the music without missing a beat, Jin watching and mimicking her movements at her side all the while. 

The dance line watches silently, impressed with what is taking place before their very eyes; Hoseok now has a very good reason as to why his friend has suddenly been improving during their practice sessions.

Jungkook has his gaze trained on (Y/n) when a sudden thought pops into his mind. His head slowly turns until he spots Yoongi leaning against the wall; the eldest rapper’s demeanor is practically identical to the persona (Y/n) is currently maintaining. A mischievous smirk stretches across his lips, but the maknae chooses to remain silent, for now.

Once the routine is over, Jiyong is the first to applaud the couple, giving out exaggerated compliments to which his sister responds by slapping him. She taunts Jiyong, daring him to provide a better performance, but he argues back with an obvious fact: he is unfamiliar with the choreography, unlike her.

“Fine,” (Y/n) states with a smirk, “BIGBANG it is then.”

“What?”

“You said it yourself, Ji-Ji. You don’t know the routine. It would be unfair of me to challenge you with that song, so we’ll dance to one of your group’s songs instead. Might I suggest ‘Bang Bang Bang?’”

“But that requires a total of five people.” The idol fights back a smirk, desperate to hide the embarrassing fact that he has long since forgotten majority of the choreography for the song in question. He only remembers the basic moves, since the group never really stuck to the dance routine when performing on-stage; the energy in the building always left them running around across the stage and interacting with the fans. “I am just one person, (Y/n). I am physically unable to perform Youngbae, Seunghyun-hyung, Sengri, and Daesung’s parts at the same time.”

“You worry too much, Oppa~”

The smile on (Y/n)’s face leaves a dreading feeling within the pit of Jiyong’s stomach. Ever since they were young children, her lips would curl up into the same mischievous smile whenever her brain starts scheming. Some things never change… 

“From what Seokjin has told me, the boys are huge fans of your music,” the young woman informs her sibling while gesturing to the idols in question. “I’m pretty sure that at least their dance line knows the choreography for all your songs.”

Upon hearing her statement, the dance line blushes and directs their gaze to the laminated floors, but a pair of colorful slippers enter their line of vision, prompting them to look back up to find (Y/n) standing before them. She gently grabs Jimin and Jungkook’s hands, pleading for them to convince the others to agree to participate in her challenge against Jiyong; Hoseok readily agrees without hesitation, but the two shyer dancers need more convincing before dancing in front of their sunbaenim and possibly humiliating themselves. 

“I can dance instead of Jungkook,” Taehyung offers, his boxy smile stretching across his face. He continues to suggest taking Jungkoook’s place, since the vocalist is also very familiar with BIGBANG’s dance routines, but his main goal is to push the maknae into overcoming his nervousness and agreeing. And if Jungkook agrees to dance, Jimin will follow suit. “I was dancing to ‘Bang Bang Bang’ just last week, so it’s still very fresh in my memory. Jungkook only-”

“I’ll do it!” Jungkook’s sudden outburst startles Taehyung, but the 95-liner is quick to recompose. He shrugs his shoulders and backs down from the urge to whine about not being able to dance with G-Dragon, since a small part of him was hoping Jungkook would refuse. Either way, he is proud of Jungkook for stepping out of his comfort zone.

“Yes!! It’s settled then! Seokjinnie-Oppa, could you pull up the song for use please? Thank you~” 

With their positions assigned and music blaring through the speakers, they begin to dance. Jimin quickly snatches up Taeyang’s position, leaving Jungkook to begrudgingly take T.O.P.’s position as Hoseok politely insists for (Y/n) to choose which member’s she would like to dance in place of; (Y/n) ends up choosing Daesung’s part.

From the sidelines on the far end of the room, Namjoon and the rest of his group members cheer on their peers, who execute the dance routine perfectly without a single mishap.

“Yeeeaaah,” Taehyung screams excitedly while jumping around. His deep voice rivals the loud music as he shouts along to the lyrics. “Bang, bang, bang, let the bass drum roll!!”

Once the song comes to an end, cheering and clapping echo throughout the room. The three members who took part in dancing alongside the siblings turn to bow, thanking them for the opportunity.

“No, no! There’s no need for that! I was the one who invited you to dance. If anything, I should be thanking you for agreeing!” 

“You’re so talented, Noona,” the dance line remarks with bright smiles on their faces. 

“Ahh, no, no,” she shakes her head in denial, shyly smiling as blood rushes up to her cheeks. “I’m not that good. I’m mostly self-taught.”

“What are you going on about?” Interrupting her rebuttal, Jiyong throws his arms over his sister’s shoulders, effectively restraining her in a tight embrace. He shoots her a warning look before addressing his guests with a proud smirk. “Don’t listen to this idiot. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. For your information, (Y/n) is one of YG Entertainment’s top secret choreographers. You boys have already seen several routines she’s choreographed without knowing it; ‘Bang Bang Bang’ and ‘Fantastic Baby’ are two of her co-creations.” 

If it were physically possible for the human eye to suddenly transform into hearts, such would be happening right this minute. The Bangtan boys are starstruck at the information Jiyong has just revealed to them.

Questions practically fly out of their mouths as the seven boys direct their curiosity at the Kwon siblings. Several dance-related inquiries are directed at (Y/n), who gladly answers each question with a smile, while the rappers focus on learning music production tips from Jiyong. However, while his friends are distracted, Hoseok slips over to the corner of the room where his hyung is seated by a laptop and set of speakers.

“Hey, hyung,” Hoseok greets quietly, his feet shuffling around anxiously. When Jin looks up at his fellow group member, he finds that the dancer’s eyes are looking at anything but his own. “I’m sorry for being nosy and dragging everyone out to see what you were up to. It was none of our business, and following you out here was really rude.”

A long silence follows Hoseok’s apology, scaring the dancer. He was worried about Jin’s reaction while waking over to him, but now that he has expressed his regrets, a weight has been lifted off his chest.

“I would be lying if I were to say that I’m not disappointed in you,” Jin admits with a sigh, lifting his head to meet Hoseok’s gaze before turning to watch (Y/n) and Jiyong interact with the rest of BTS; the smiles on all their faces prompt a small smile to tug at his own lips, “but I’m glad you came to apologize. You can apologize to Jiyong-Hyung and (Y/n) later, but right now, you can help me with dinner as part of your punishment.”

“Taa-daaa~”

Jubilant cheers erupt in the dining room as Jin directs his blindfolded girlfriend into her seat at the head of the table. Once the fabric slips away from her face, the crowd of men in the apartment burst into song, wishing the young woman a happy birthday. 

“Saeng-il chukahamnida! Saeng-il chukahamnida! Saranghaneun-”

Loud knocking interrupts the cheerful song, confusing nearly everybody in the room, but Jiyong dismisses the odd expressions as he stands to get the door. The individuals at the door, once again, nearly causes the Bangtan boys to faint. The rest of BIGBANG enters the apartment, stopping to hug (Y/n) as she darts over to the door to greet her friends.

“What are you guys doing here?! I thought you were all busy?”

“Jiyong-Hyung texted us an hour ago to invite us to your little party since we managed to finish early,” Daesung explains, “He also asked us to bring your cake. He was going to get it himself, but since we were closer, we picked it up on the way over.”

Noticing his stunned dongsaengs doing nothing but staring with their mouths open, Jin steps forward to welcome the new guests. His casualness only shocks the boys more.

“Oh yeah,” (Y/n) exclaims happily, dragging the eldest rapper by the sleeve into the dining room, the young woman starts to introduce him to the younger idols. “Seunghyun-Oppa, these are Seokjin’s friends. They’re from the group Bangtan Sonyeondan!”

“You could’ve at least waited for us,” Youngbae playfully teases, sauntering into the room soon after. “We all want to meet them.”

A/N: Sorry for the abrupt skip. I wasn't sure how to end this segment, and after staring at my laptop screen for several weeks, I just decided to end it here and continue with a time skip.

Without realizing how much time has passed since the beginning of the celebration, the idols are taken aback when they gaze drunkenly at the clock hanging on the wall. Soon, the room is filled with commotion as all the artists scramble to gather their belongings in preparation to return back to their respective residences. 

“Where do you guys think you’re going?” With her hands on her hips, (Y/n) shakes her head disapprovingly at the bumbling mess of limbs before her. She waltzes over to the men and begins to pluck away their overcoats, returning the garments to the coat rack by the door. “None of you are driving or taking a taxi back tonight. Some of you are barely standing straight, and yes, I’m talking about you, Seunghyun. Now, sit down while I sort out everything.”

“I can take some of them home,” Seokjin offers. “I haven’t had any alcohol, and since I drove the SUV over, I can transport more people than if I were to take my other car.”

“I couldn’t possibly ask that of you…”

“Well, I offered,” he counters with a smirk, “so I don’t see where the issue is. I can make one trip to drop off everyone in BIGBANG, then come back for Bangtan.”

Sighing in defeat, (Y/n) accepts her boyfriend’s proposition. She returns to the coat rack and slowly assists her brother’s friends with their outerwear as Jin escorts them one-by-one into the awaiting vehicle in the parking structure. 

“Thank you for the party, Jiyong-Oppa. Good night!”

“I love youuuuu~”

“Yes, yes, I love you too.”

Once all of BIGBANG has been transferred from her apartment to Jin’s car, (Y/n) jogs over to her office in search of a sticky note to jot down each member’s respective address. Illuminated by the moonlight pouring into the room through the open windows, the young woman decides to forgo turning on the lights during her hunt for the pad of paper.

Jin returns from the parking garage with all of BIGBANG buckled in and ready to return home only to find the living room empty as he steps back into the parking lot. A faint shuffling noise catches the man’s attention, leaving him to follow his ear while reluctantly entering deeper into the apartment. Despite having been dating (Y/n) for quite some time now, Jin remains hesitant when it comes to exploring his girlfriend’s apartment; he does not feel comfortable invading her privacy and feels as if he is overstepping unspoken boundaries by doing so.

“Where is it? I was using it just the other day…”

Frustrated whispers draw Jin’s attention to a room on his right, so he peeks his head through the threshold to watch as (Y/n) shove around her paperwork haphazardly. A mischievous plan pops into his head and, despite his better judgement, Jin quietly slips into the office to sneak up on his beloved. The darkness shrouds his presence perfectly, leaving the man to stealthily creep across the room without making a single sound.

“I could’ve sworn that I left it next to the laptop… Maybe I moved it back to the dra- Ahh!!”

Deft fingers dart out and make use of (Y/n)’s unawareness, tickling her sides without wavering as the young woman desperately squirms around. Several stacks of paper fall to the ground, followed by the loud thud of (Y/n) crashing into her office chair, but Jin persists with his attack.

“Seokjin, stop,” (Y/n) manages to gasp out between laughs. “It’s getting late and you still need to take everyone home.”

“Fine, but only because you’re right. I’ll continue this one day.” Jin backs away and allows the young woman to continue her search as he offers to turn on the lights. “You shouldn’t be looking around in the dark. You might get hurt on accident.”

Even though she insists on finding her sticky notes without any help, Jin flips on the light switch and immediately spots the item in question before (Y/n). He grabs the pad of paper with a smug smile, promptly sauntering over to his girlfriend in order to wave it before her eyes.

“See, I told,” he teases.

“Shut up.”

“Don’t be mean. After all, I was the one who managed to help you out.”

Tearing off the first sheet with a pout, (Y/n) thrusts the list into Jin’s hands and proceeds to push the man out of her office; her blushing cheeks become more apparent, thanks to a certain idol’s antics.

“Just go take them home already!”

To Be Continued...  

(Only one more part left!)

[superwolfiestar]

Across Another Dimension Ch.37

It was a shock to see that their carriage the group was on glide up the stairs towards the second floor without bumping up and down as such, but the group didn't question after what they saw. Upon reaching the second floor, the upper part of the carriage then turned so they could look down a long, misty hallway . . . which appeared to be endless and had a floating candelabra!

"Hey, isn't that the same candelabra from foyer?" Scrooge asked, squinting his eyes.

"Hard to tell, they seem to be everywhere." Huey replied.

The group's attention was caught by the sound of clinking and clanking of metal, which came from a suit of a knight's armor . . . which was moving as if someone were wearing it.

"Um, good night, kind sir?" The other Huey greeted politely, though he didn't know why he said that.

As if it heard the little red duck, the suit of armor turned towards the group in the carriage, then gave them a polite bow.

"Guess chivalry isn't dead after all." Princess Della joked a bit.

It was then that the Ghost Host spoke back up.

"Ah, it's nice to see the folks enjoying themselves."

"Trying the best we can, sir." Boy Princess Donald said; that was an understatement.

"In my home, each room has wall to wall creeps and hot and cold chills running . . . but it has taken time to give it that comfortable, unlived-in look."

As he always does, the Ghost Host gave out one of his sinister chuckles.

"Lucky us." Dewey said, though he really didn't mean it.

As their carriage continued on, the group found themselves riding slowly past a conservatory that was filled with a variety of withered plants and flowers, but what really got their attention was that odd squeaking sound.

"You guys hear something?" Launchpad asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, I hear that too." Fenton added

"I do not liking the squeaking." Jose said in the third person but was quiet as he was beginning to shiver as the squeaking got louder.

It was then the sounds of fluttering wings caught their attention as a small raven (that had red glowing eyes) that took up on the mantle above a large wooden box . . .

"Let me out of here!"

That shocked the group as their attention switched from the small bird to the wooden box, only it wasn't a at all . . . IT WAS BLACK OAK COFFIN AND A SKELETAL BEAR HAND WAS TRYING TO PRY IT OPEN! In fact, the squeaking sound was from the coffin as whatever was inside was trying to get out! The group prayed that they wouldn't see what was inside of the coffin, one of them (unimportant who the hip-person was) was still wearing clean undies.

"You disturbed a guest! Caw! Caw! You'll be sorry for that! Caw! Caw!" The raven crowed, much to the surprise of most of the group, but anger to one . . .

"Oh, I'll show you "sorry", c'mere you rat with wings!" Princess Della snarled as she reached for the bird, who flew away in (ironic) fear, but was held back by her friends.

"Princess Della, let it go, we're not suppose to leave the carriage, remember?" The children reminded, which succeeded (barely) in calming down the flower princess.

Their moment was interrupted by the sound of the Ghost Host voice.

"Whatever you do, don't betray your presence by screaming, just follow my voice and remain calm."

"Not a problem for most of us." Dewey stated, under his breath.

"Big challenge for some." Mrs. Beakley muttered.

"You all have very active imaginations, especially the plumbers . . . That's good . . ."

"Uh, thank you?" The Super Caballeros thanked, not sure how to feel.

The carriage then rolled into what appeared to be the mansion's personal library, much to the amazement and joy of a certain the pink duck and mouse. Like the other places in the entire mansion, it was old and covered with commentary from the Ghost Host.

"Our library is well stocked with priceless first editions-"

This seemed to raise the group's attention. . .

"-Only ghost stories, of course."

This caused the group to grown in annoyance as their "gracious" host let out one of his sinister chuckles.

"And marble busts of the greatest ghost writers the literary world has ever known."

Upon seeing said busts, the group couldn't help but agree with the Ghost Host, The others felt the same way as they looked at the busts, but only to make sure that nothing "unexpected" happens, like coming to life (if only they knew).

"They have all retired here to the Haunted Mansion, actually, we have 999 happy haunts here, but there's always room for one thousand . . . Any volunteers?"

To the group's chagrin and their leisurely discomfort, the Ghost Host let out another thunderous, sinister laugh. That's when a thought had come to Panchito as he looked at Jose then to the ceiling.

"Let just continue on with the tour, please." Boy Princess said.

"As you wish your highness."

The carriage made a turn to the left and the group found themselves riding through another corridor, which was declared with demon-face wallpaper adorned with daguerreotype of corpses and another large portrait of the Ghost Host, in his elderly appearance opposed to the youthful William.

"Love what they did with the wallpaper." The other Webby commented quietly.

It was then that thirteen chimes caught the group's attention as they looked to see a large grandfather clock, but there's was something wrong (like mostly everything in this old mansion) with the face; the hands were rapidly moving in reverse! Thinking that things couldn't possibly get anymore wild was vastly out of the question for what was to happen next. The sight of a shadow above the clock had caught the attention of the group and looked up to see what it was, but wished they rethought about that decision.

The shadow was of a monstrous claw that appeared to be right behind the group and was about to strike at them! The group huddled with each other and squeezed their eyes shut; didn't the Ghost Host say they wouldn't be harmed if they took a "tour" of the mansion, didn't he?! The group waited and waited for the claw to strike upon them, but after a few minutes . . . nothing. The group opened their eyes, sat back up, and looked around for the creature that attacked them, but there was nothing else in the corridor with them as the carriage proceeded its way.

"I'm going to need serious therapy after this." Gyro muttered, which sounded good to the group.

It was then that the carriage took them into a darkened room, which was filled with the sound of . . . instruments?

"We're about participate in a séance, Madame Leota is assembling all the spirits who have been just dying to meet you . . ."

As always, the Ghost Host gave out another sinister chuckle, which did not bode well for the gang.

"Lucky us." Princess Della said with a fake smile.

[disinvited-guest]

6/15/18 Recap

It was probably an illogical decision to go to this show, but it was also an excellent one.  This show was absolutely bursting with energy, joy, and humor.

I got a bit later start than I wanted, turns out it’s harder to get out of the house quickly when everyone else is up and getting ready for their day at the same time.  Driving east as the sun was rising was less than ideal, and I made bad time after two rest-station stops and a longer lunch than I wanted.  I finally got there a few minutes before 4 and met up with @littlemissterter (Teralyn).  We  met and talked with a whole bunch of other fans as we waited (including @teedeekay who gave me a das pendant, stood to block the sun from my eyes, and was generally super nice). 

An hour before doors, we were funneled into a hot, loud metal room where we waited until we could get into the venue.  Once in, I snagged a spot only just in the front row, as far left as someone could stand without being entirely blocked by the amp.  The stage was small enough that they had adjusted their setup, placing the keyboard far to stage left (our right).  

The guys came onstage with New York City, and it was clear they were happy to be performing together again, even if they were a bit crowded together by the lack of space  on the stage.   Throughout the first few songs, Danny gave a smile or nod to everyone he knew in the front, which amounted to nearly the whole front row (myself included!).  I noticed that Linnell had kept his beard (this was just after the Tony ceremony pictures had caused a bit of a ruckus).

After the song was over, everyone onstage was trying to work out sound issues.  We were told that they were receiving secret messages by way of explanation.

Marty needed some adjustments in his ear monitors and leaned out over his drums to shout to the crew.  The crew member he was shouting to evidently didn’t notice, but it did attract the attention of both Dans, who both went over to Marty to ask what the issue was, then got the attention of someone off the other side to fix the problem.

After the sound issues seemed mostly fixed, they moved on into Fingertips which, as always, is fantastic live.  

After that, there were more issues with the  sound to be straightened out “Welcome to our soundcheck,” Flans told us.  They both were told to talk so they could sort out the levels and Flans relayed those instructions to us.  Danny stepped up to a mic to tell the crew he wanted Flans’ vocals up and Linnell’s vocals down in his monitors and Linnell pretended to be hurt by the request.

The sound once again sorted out, Flans started to introduce the next song as from their new album, but noticed Dan and Danny whispering in the back and asked if there was a problem.  Linnell told his they were discussing a later part of the show and Flans replied sarcastically “Now is a good time to discuss it.”

The song Flans was introducing turned out to be the always entertaining Let’s Get This Over With, with Linnell at his accordion mic where I  could actually see him.  While Linnell switched back to keyboards, Flans told us that “We can’t talk about current events because it’s “‘all a hoax’” Then explained “this pause when we would say something.”  Danny came up to Flans and told him he could talk about Paul Manafort, and Flans said “Oh yeah, we can talk about that.  On behalf of Paul Manafort, ‘I did it, I’m guilty, I’d like to say I’m so sorry to Putin and all of the Russians.’”

I think this was when Flans and Linnell discussed their ongoing and upcoming projects.  Linnell commented that he liked that they were pretending it was a private conversation and that the audience wasn’t here.  Flans replied that the crowd was loving it, which got a cheer.

After Don’t Let’s Start, Flans told us that earlier that day he was driving through “What can only be described as a ‘rural part of the state,’”  and saw a sign advertising that fireworks were ‘now available to local residents’.

He asked the crowd what that was about, and someone answered in a drunken shout “Because we’re the Replacements.”

Linnell peered into the part of the crowd the answer had come from and commented “That answer makes as much sense as the sign does.”

Flans then commented that, from an entrepreneurial standpoint, only selling to people from out of state made sense. “Blow up your own turf!”

Your Racist Friend was next, with Curt making his grand entrance and blowing everyone away as always.

Flans forgot the lyrics at the beginning of one of the verses to this song.  Dan was behind him, and either mouthed or sang the lyrics at him (sans mic, so I couldn’t tell) until he recovered.

Linnell switched to his accordion for Whistling in the Dark, introducing it by saying “I forget which album this is on.”

Linnell then switched from the accordion to the contra alto clarinet.  Flans first introduced it correctly as the contra alto clarinet, then second-guessed himself, saying it was the contra bass clarinet before asking Linnell, who confirmed it was contra alto.  After Flans made another incorrect comment, Linnell jokingly replied “I hate to keep correcting you, but-” and they got into a discussion about  couples counseling for bands.  Apparently Linnell and Dan had been talking about it earlier that day, and a group who it didn’t work for.  Dan kept coming up to Linnell with comments about it, and Linnell would respond off-mic and then they would both crack up.  Linnell had Flansburgh try to guess what band it was, but was so distracted by Dan that Flans eventually gave up and they started into All Time What.  

From there they went straight into Mrs. Bluebeard, then paused only for Flans to tell us that “In the ideal version of the show, the transition between these songs is a seamless segway.” before starting into This Microphone.

The Dans left the stage and Marty grabbed his bell for Shoehorn With Teeth.  The bell was introduced, then the Johns discussed the Glockenspiel they used to have, Flans pointed out TDK in the front row, and said they gave it to him, but they weren’t sure what city they gave it away in.

Curt’s Euphonium was introduced as being worth $800 when melted down.  Curt jokingly took offense at that, until Flans continued “in its current form: priceless.”

After Shoehorn, Flans reintroduced Dan and Danny, saying that the Dans had returned and that it was “all gonna be alright.”

They then played I Left My Body, Damn Good Times, and Particle Man without pause.  They had a bit of trouble getting the clapping going for Particle Man.  Flans had to restart it a few times, and it never really got going like it usually does.  Marty took advantage of the  interlude, which was Here You Come Again, to shove half of a protein bar in his mouth. Dan used the time to switch from guitar to keyboard, which he played for the rest of the song and stayed on for Doctor Worm, which closed out the set.  They held the last note for a long time like they have been at the end of sets, to be honest, I’m not a big fan of it.  My asthmatic self can only cheer for so long at once!

During the break between sets, I was treated to a view of Marty backstage air drumming to the between-set mix.  He was really into it, with the same head-bobbing, foot-tapping, face-making intensity he has onstage.  It was adorably wonderful.

The Johns and Marty came back onstage to start the Quiet Storm section of the show with Older.  Marty wanted his sound adjusted during this song, so he would play his part, use the last motion to turn so he was facing backstage, and give the crew feedback in the tiny pause.  I wasn’t sure how helpful that was to the crew, but they got it sorted out and I was impressed with Marty’s multitasking skills.

Flans introduced the Quiet storm as Always Quiet and Often Stormy, reintroduced Curt, then told us that they had “just got back from a session with our couples counselor,” and that they felt closer and knew each other  better.  He and Linnell riffed on this idea for a bit before Flans introduced I Like Fun as “The title track off the new album-”

“Finally!” Linnell interjected

“-who’s all important second verse has become even more relevant.” Flans finished, referring to him now being 58.

Flans introduced Tippecanoe and Tyler Too by telling us “Seven or eight minutes into our session, we realized we had to leave to go back onstage, and our therapist said ‘you know, people really like your old songs’ so this is a special long-distance dedication to our couples therapist.”

They played Self Called Nowhere, then How Can I Sing Like A Girl, with Flans introducing it while Linnell had already started the accordion part, to finish the Quiet Storm.  

Curt had to literally run to grab his valve trombone, which wasn’t in it’s usual place, so he could start the intro to Istanbul. There’s always so much going on  during this song that I never get tired of it.  

Curt’s ending to the song was so ridiculously good that it wowed the rest of the guys onstage as well as the crowd. The Johns joked that all people from Connecticut could play trumpet like that, and Linnell said that he’d heard “Katharine Hepburn play that exact same solo.” He tried to continue the joke, but could only come up with one other person from Connecticut, and asked Flans if he knew any others.

Flans responded that he had worked for a lady who’s mother grew up in the same town as Katharine Hepburn, and that she would call the office and ask in that same voice ‘Is Elizabeth there?’  

“And she played a mean jazz trumpet!” Linnell added, before telling us that Curt spoke exactly like Katharine Hepburn too.

They then played When Will You Die, with Linnell singing “This is Dan and that’s Dan-ny,” but not adding Curt’s name in like he has been.

Let Me Tell You About My Operation was especially wild.  Flans accidentally dropped his pick in front of TDK, who picked it up and handed it to me! It was tortoiseshell with Flans on it in a Flood logo type pattern.

I forget how it came up, but Flans returned to the couples counseling joke, saying that was where they learned about ‘radical honesty’.  Linnell told us all that they would probably not talk about couples counseling tomorrow and Flans added that it was a  “special bonus for today.”

They played Wicked Little Critta then Twisting, with Flans explaining to us that they were intentionally skipped a song.  Apparently this was the part of the show where his guitar was at its loudest and it was “scrambling his brains” so he needed time to recover.  

After Twisting, they plugged some ongoing projects, threatening “direct eye-contact” for those who didn’t know about 2018 dial-a-song.  They mentioned the Lincoln remaster, and being near Lancaster again “in this calendar year.”

Flans introduced the next song as from The Else, but told us “Don’t cheer i probably got it wrong!”  He was right though, as they then played The Mesopotamians.  Marty morphed the end of it into the start of Ana Ng, which is absolutely fantastic to witness.  

Flans started the first Encore by introducing the band and then they played Hey Mr. DJ.  They did some of the fade out, then faded back in to finish.  They then played Spy.  For the ending, Linnell used the “now the night is gone” sample he’s been using, but gradually replaced the sample by screaming it into the mic over what the rest of the guys were playing.  He gave control over to Flans but continued in that vein.   Flans alternated with that and pushing his strings to the mic-stand, then brought the audience in at the end.

Coming onstage for the second encore, Flans wished a Happy Birthday to a guy in the balcony who had been holding a sign about it all night.  They played Birdhouse in Your Soul, then Flans had the house lights turned up so he could make direct eye-contact with members of the crowd to thank them for coming.

They finished the night with End of the Tour.  From his spot upstage, Danny mouthed the lyrics to the entire first verse, which was adorable.  

Afterwards, Danny came out in a bit of a hurry, and gave out three of the setlists (one of them to me) before rushing back offstage.  Marty came out to give out the rest of the setlists, his drumsticks (One of which he threw into the balcony!), and the drumhead.  TDK gestured Marty should give the drumhead to me.  I was trying to think of a polite way to say that he had already given me one in Indianapolis (getting two seemed unfair to everyone else), but wasn't sure exactly how to do that.  Marty said something to TDK and handed the drumhead to a girl next to me.  I started to leave and look for Teralyn, when TDK told me that Marty had told him I had already got one.

I found Teralyn, who wanted a picture with Marty, so we headed back up to the edge of the stage. Marty was finishing up signing, so I gave away the rest of my magnets while we waited.  He was about to leave when Teralyn managed to get to the front and ask him for a picture.  I took it for them, then Marty checked with me to make sure he had already given me a drumhead before leaving.

(I’m just going to freak out about this a tiny bit here: I knew that Marty recognized me from show to show on my week long run, but I never guessed he’d remember me, or that he also recognised me from the February shows!)

On our way out we stopped at the bar, where I tried to by a bottle of water, but we both got free ice waters instead (Thank you nice bartender lady!).  Teralyn wanted to wait by the bus for the guys and I agreed to go with her, even though I needed to get started on the drive home and was really nervous about the concept. I was really glad that I did, because it was well worth it!

When we got to the back of the venue, there was no bus, but there were a few other groups waiting. One family assured us that this was where the performers would be leaving.  We started noticing the New York license plates on the parked cars and realized that the guys had driven there themselves.

Flans exited the venue, now wearing an orange t-shirt and without his glasses on.  Another group asked him to sign some things, but none of them had brought a pen.  I supplied them with my Sharpie (I hope Flans wasn’t upset with me for ruining his excuse) and eventually got him to sign the cloth square I had brought.

As Flans was signing it, he asked me what it was.  I told him I was going to whipstitch it onto a blanket I was crocheting.  He seemed pleasantly surprised by this and said “Oh! You crochet! Have you started knitting yet?”

Then, instead of some platitude, my stupid smartass mouth responded without consulting my brain “Nope, crocheting is just knitting for lesbians!”

“Oh, that’s not true.  Knitting is knitting for lesbians,” Flans told me, as I was still realizing what I had said.  As he handed me back my cloth and sharpie, he looked me in the eyes and said “Don’t give up on knitting.”

He headed around to the drivers side of his car, telling the group he had a 4 hour drive.  As he was getting in, someone asked him a question about the car and he stopped to tell us all about it.  Apparently he’s had it for a while, and it was the first car he ever bought new.  The same person asked if the seat was comfortable, and Flans replied that it was, and that it was “the perfect car to grow old with,” before getting in and closing the door.

He had a little trouble getting out of his spot, and I thoughtlessly headed towards the far side of the car to tell him how much space he had. Luckily, he managed to get out of the spot before I made it over, so I was spared from making a complete fool of myself all over again.

Marty, Dan, and Linnell all came out of the venue together, having all ridden in the same van. Looking only a little panicked Linnell told us they were in a rush and couldn’t sign things, but suggested the alternative of shaking hands, then actually followed through.  I’ve received a handshake from John Linnell!

My sharpie was borrowed again, with another group getting something signed from Marty, before they had everything packed up and drove off.

Curt left a bit later.  Another group had him sign a Why? Vinyl with my Sharpie and he jokingly told them “You know it’s not me on the cover.”

I responded, again without asking my brain, that it looked like him and he said “I get that a lot.” He signed my cloth as well.  I was a little more aggressive asking than I was comfortable with, but it was my Sharpie he was using.

Danny had apparently already left, so I said my goodbyes to Teralyn and headed for my car.  When I got there, I found out the universe had taught me a cruel lesson: the pocket where I had put Flans’ guitar pick had a hole in it and the pick was gone!

[piperemerald]

Life Vest

“Connor, you might wanna leave your jacket in the car,” Evan states.

“Oh, right.”

Connor didn’t forget he was wearing it. The fabric was practically sticking to his arms in the heat. Still, he’d hoped Evan wouldn’t notice—or at least that he wouldn’t say anything. Mutely he shrugs it off and throws it on the driver’s seat. He doesn’t look at Evan as he locks the car.

He keeps his arms covered at work and school. He’d done the same at Evan’s house. This was a shred of vulnerability he didn’t show to anyone. Silently he walks away from the car. Waiting for Evan to stare at the clearly self inflicted scars adorning his arms, badges of his broken mentality.

“Ready?” Evan’s voice is soft, but not tentative.

Connor looks at him. He’s not staring. He’s not judging him. He’s trying to make Connor safe.

“Yeah,” Connor says hoarsely.

Evan starts walking. Connor follows, a warmth slowly spreading in his chest.

He jogs to catch up with Evan’s motivated footsteps. He feels like he’s going to cry. The warmth is going to consume him. He wants to hug Evan Hansen. This time he can’t blame the urge on hormones. This has to be something more.

“Connor?” Evan looks worried.

He actually cares about Connor, and for the first time in years Connor wants to tell someone that he’s capable of caring too.

“Yeah,” Connor forces a smile. “Slow down, I’m not as in shape as you.”

“Okay,” Evan nods.

A half an hour proves Connor’s excuse to be true. He’s panting and out of breath, while Evan hasn’t lost the spring in his step. However, the side burn and slight dizziness is completely worth witnessing the look on Evan’s face.

Watching Evan look at trees is like watching your favorite movie for the first time. You don’t expect it to blow you away, but once you see it you wonder how you could have anticipated anything different. Evan’s face is tilted upward, his eyes are practically glowing. Connor’s never seen him look so free before. That’s what this is. This is what Evan Hansen would always look like if the world didn’t compress him into a cage.

It’s the smile that does Connor in. It’s just so fucking bight a carefree. He can’t even be jealous that he’s not the object of it, because he doubts any person has ever received that smile. No one deserves it. It’s too priceless.

Connor gets Evan to tell him the names of the trees he recognizes (which turn out to be all of them). Evan’s full of facts. Tidbits of information that usually Connor would find pointless. But nothing is pointless when it’s coming out of Evan’s mouth.

“Do you want climb it?” Connor impulsively suggests as Evan’s telling him how tall the oak tree in front of them probably is.

“Sure,” Evan replies enthusiastically.

Connor lets him go first. This proves to be a good idea on his part. Evan scampers up the tree like a squirrel, while Connor takes the time to make sure he’s rooted on each branch before reaching up. He also spends every second reminding himself not to fucking look down. He accidentally does once and feels slightly sick.

“We can sit here,” Evan suggests.

They’re almost half way up. Connor nods, swinging his legs around a branch. Evan’s on the branch next to him. He practically blends into the bark, he’s at home twenty feet above the ground. Connor really didn’t stand a chance, did he?

“What would it be like if we talked in high school?” Evan wonders, his eyes on the sea on branch beyond them.

“I would have been a jerk,” Connor knows.

“You weren’t a jerk when we first met,” Evan points out.

“God knows why,” Connor scoffs.

“Maybe because you’re not actually a jerk,” Evan says back. “You just think you are.”

“Are you psychoanalyzing me?” Connor accuses.

“No,” Evan says quickly. “I mean, kinda?”

“Hansen, hate to break it to you, but I’m pretty straight forward.”

“That’s a lie,” Evan calls his bluff. “I’ve met at least four different versions of you in the past two weeks.”

“So you’re saying I’m schizophrenic?”

“No,” Evan creases his forehead in thought. “It’s like you have a bunch of different masks, and when you’re expected or supposed to be one of them, you put it on.”

Connor can’t form words. He didn’t realize he was being observed that thoroughly, and, while part of him was secretly over joyed that Evan paid so much attention to him, this was getting a little too close to home. He didn’t need Evan figuring out how his warped mentality functioned. If he did, it would be far too easy to come to a conclusion on why Connor went out of his way to rescue Evan twice.

Evan may think that was just another part of him he was hiding. He may not comprehend that there could be more to it, that maybe Connor was so nice to him because his subconscious didn’t know what mask to use with Evan Hansen. Hell, even when it’s brought into the light he still doesn’t know. That’s why he’s sitting in a tree right now.

“I ditched class a lot,” Connor brings the subject back to high school.

“That seems like you,” Evan hums.

“I would have made you ditch with me,” Connor tells him.

“Is that you being thoughtful or…?” Evan doesn’t finish the sentence.

“It’s high school me dragging you into delinquency,” Connor smirks.

“I don’t think my mother would like you as much then,” Evan comments.

“Then she can join my parent’s club,” Connor says darkly.

The second it comes out of his mouth he wishes he hadn’t said it. Evan doesn’t need to hear him complain about his family bullshit.

“Where did you eat lunch?” he tries to gear the conversation away.

“Most of the time I didn’t,” Evan admits. “If I was really hungry, in the back of the library.”

“Rule breaker,” Connor whistles. “I’m impressed, Hansen.”

“Shut up,” Evan laughs shyly.

“I ate in my car,” Connor shares.

“Guess I could have joined you,” Evan states.

“And listen to my sad music?”

“Yep,” Evan nods. “Where did you go when you ditched?”

“Home if I knew no one else would be there,” Connor confesses. “Sometimes I just drove.”

“Rebel,” Evan calls him.

“I didn’t eat in the library,” Connor counters.

“I got kicked out once,” Evan murmurs.

“That sucks.”

“I kinda freaked out over it,” his voice is getting smaller.

“I’d have kicked the librarian’s ass,” Connor says without thinking.

Evan snorts.

“It might have been easier if we were friends,” Connor doesn’t mean these words to weigh so much.

“For me too,” Evan agrees.

“But high school’s supposed to be shit,” Connor adds.

“Yeah,” Evan smiles sadly.

“I wish I talked to you,” Connor tries to make his tone as light as he can.

“I wish you did too,” Evan replies.

“We’d have both been a lot less pathetic,” Connor jokes.

“Definitely.”

They climb down not long after, and head back to Connor’s car. The day is still warm, and Connor doesn’t feel suffocated. Even after he’s dropped Evan off at his house, the world looks slightly less awful. Is this always going to be what happens when he spends time with Evan Hansen?

Full fic

[sarahburness]

How 5 Simple Habits Made Me Love My Life More

“Good habits are worth being fanatical about.” ~John Irving

Your habits are directly related to the quality of your life. Good habits lead to joy and fulfillment in your life, while not-so-good habits leave you yearning for your life to be different.

I think I always knew that, I just wished I took it to heart sooner. Better late than never, right?

Gretchen Rubin, author of Better Than Before: What I Learned About Making and Breaking Habits, says that “Habits are the invisible architecture of our daily life. We repeat about 40 percent of our behavior almost daily, so our habits shape our existence, and our future. If we change our habits, we change our lives.”

I’ve spent far too much time in my life languishing in worries and regrets, wondering why life had to be so hard. I looked for outside sources to come in and save me. No rescuer ever came, at least not one that made a permanent difference.

I’d always wind up on the same boat: wondering why others seemed so content with the lives they were leading while I continued to have a burning desire for something different—something I really couldn’t even name, though I tried in vain to do so.

I set big goals and made big plans that I was certain would make all the difference for me. Usually, my big goals and big plans wouldn’t live beyond the next new moon. Even when they did, though, the things that I thought would make me happy didn’t. The things that I thought would bring me peace only annoyed me for their utter lack of peace-creating properties.

By profession, I’m a strategist. I look at all the many things that contribute to situations being a certain way and explore ways to move the situation toward where I want it to be. Turns out, sometimes you don’t have to overhaul anything; sometimes, small, simple tweaks can make a big difference.

As the saying goes, it takes large sails to move a large ship, but the captain need only make a small adjustment to the rudder to change the direction. The other part of the saying is there’s no point in adjusting the rudder if the ship is not moving; you won’t go anywhere.

Your daily habits are the small rudders hat can help you move your life in the direction you wish. Choosing good habits day after day is the movement required to experience the positive life changes you’re seeking.

I like to think of myself as an intelligent person, but what I neglected to see in my own life is that the smallest tweaks done day in and day out have the power to move the mountains I want moved. When my eyes opened to the power of small changes practiced daily, miracles began to unfold in my life.

Below are some of the simple daily habits I’ve worked to incorporate into my life that are making such a huge difference for me.

1. Meditation

Yeah, yeah, I know. Everyone says meditate, but did you ever consider that maybe all those meditation-lovers are offering an you an insider’s tip (pun intended) that in fact is actually priceless?

I have an overactive mind, as many people do. It loves to tell me about all its worries and warn me of threats that in reality aren’t all that threatening—nothing more than a mouse posing as a monster most of the time.

My mind loves to relive situations and conversations over and over and over; it’s so tiring! I’ve found that the antidote to my endless chattering mind is daily meditation.

I don’t do anything complicated. I just sit in a relaxing position, tune into serene instrumental music on Spotify, and focus on my breath. Anytime I notice that my mind is wandering (as it always does), I return my focus to my breath. In times of silence answers seem to arrive to incredibly insightful questions I didn’t even know I should ask.

2. Kind, loving self-talk

In the past, my inner dialogue wasn’t all that friendly. In fact, I was my own worst enemy, a relentless bully whose malicious words would leave me disheartened and unable to face the world with any sense of self-worth or confidence.

I didn’t come by this demeaning self-talk accidentally. Its roots go back to my childhood.

I grew up in a Roman Catholic home with seven children (another sibling died before I was born) and two overworked, exhausted parents who were flat broke all the time.

My father struggled with alcohol addiction and mental illness. This, along with my mother’s enabling patterns plus her own low self-esteem and depression issues, defined how the house was run.

The focus of the entire household was on managing life around dad’s issues.

Growing up, it seemed to me that nothing I ever did was good enough for my dad, though I tried so very hard to please him. I craved his love and positive attention. He either ignored me or criticized me, and when he criticized me he often did so in the most brutal tone.

I took to adopting that brutal tone in my inner dialogue and kept up the cruel inner monologues for years and years. I rationalized that I was just keeping my standards high, because who wouldn’t want to have high standards, right? A father would only criticize his daughter to help her improve, right?

So I kept criticizing myself; it never occurred to me that dad lashed out at me because his whole life seemed like a mess, so by God, the one thing he would have control over was his children.

There I was as an adult, using unrelenting, vicious self-criticism as a way to be perfect so I could get the love and attention I sorely wanted from the people in my life. It was a strategy that was never going to work; it had to go.

After examining my bitter, demeaning inner voice, I realized that I would never treat another human being this way, so why was I permitting this type of untenable talk go on inside me? I deserve better—we all do!

Now when those critical thoughts come up I’m patient with myself without buying into the scolding voice that’s offering up the hypercritical self-assessments.

I look at the scared girl behind those ugly comments and extend my deepest love to her. You see, while I refuse to allow my inner critic to talk to me in vile ways anymore, I also recognize the only reason I ever talked to myself that way was out of a deep need for belonging and protection. There was a call for love behind those ugly words, and now I simply acknowledge that deep desire for self-love without chastising the hurting girl who was trying to get my attention in the only way she knew how.

3. Follow the five-second rule

I love Mel Robbins, and the day I learned about her five-second rule was a very important day in my life. (And I’m not talking whether it’s still safe to eat food that’s only had five seconds of contact on the floor—that’s a whole different discussion!)

In a nutshell, here is Mel Robbins’ five-second rule, in Mel’s words: “The moment you have an instinct to act on a goal you must count five-four-three-two-one and physically move or your brain will stop you.”

So, you’re not a “morning person” but you have a goal of getting up earlier in the morning? Then the moment your alarm clock goes off, count five-four-three-two-one and jump out of bed. No more hitting the snooze alarm.

Yes, in the moment of those early morning hours, of course you’d rather stay in that warm comfy bed—who wouldn’t? But staying in bed doesn’t align with your bigger goals, and getting up does. If you move within five seconds, you’ll move toward your bigger goals. If you don’t move and allow your clever mind to talk you into staying in bed for “just a bit more,” you’re sunk.

If you want to change your life by getting up earlier so you can write that blog you want to write (a-hem, what I’m doing now) or do that exercise you know your body needs, then make those goals your priority over an extra thirty minutes of sleep and use the five-second rule to help you get your body out of bed.

Adopting the five-second rule is one of the best habits I’ve ever taken up. For the sake of full transparency, I admit I’m not always successful at sticking to the rule, but the more I try, the more I succeed.

“If your habits don’t line up with your dream, then you need to either change your habits or change your dream.” ~John Maxwell

4. Feed my mind

I’ve always considered myself to be a learner, though in actuality I get lazy about learning. It’s hard to improve your life if you’re never giving your brain any new information. Feeding my mind on a regular basis has become a top priority for me.

My “feeding my mind” goal looks something like this: one retreat a year, one book a month (that I can either read or listen via audio), one podcast a week, and one smart article on something I want to learn about each and every day. I’ve found that starting the process builds momentum; I often crush my minimum goals!

Feeding my mind in healthy ways also means giving up some unhealthy habits. I’m extremely careful about how much news I watch nowadays. While I don’t want to keep my head in the sand, I find it’s important to limit the number of negative messages I allow into my mind, and news channels are notorious for going over the same disturbing stories again and again. I make time in my days for my extra reading and personal growth activities by getting up earlier and limiting my Netflix and HBO time.

I’ve also modified my budget so I can afford the audiobooks and retreats I want to buy. My clothing and dining out budget is about half of what it used to be, and it’s a trade-off I’m happy to make.

The habit of feeding my mind is opening up whole new worlds for me. I can’t tell you how often I’ve read about something and the perfect opportunity comes up for using what I’ve learned in both my professional and personal life. Louis Pasteur said, “Fortune favors the prepared mind,” and I couldn’t agree more!

5. Do something outside my comfort zone at least once a week

If I were a more ambitious soul, I might put a “once a day” rule on this habit, but for now once a week works nicely for me. The habit of doing the same things the same way every day is life draining, while the habit of stretching outside your comfort zone regularly is life expanding. I’d rather see my life expand rather than to contract and shrivel, thank you very much.

Today, I regularly practice being brave—allowing myself to be seen, allowing myself to be vulnerable and unskilled at new things. I don’t tiptoe outside my comfort zone anymore; I’m even willing to take huge leaps.

I quit a job that I’d been in for twenty-two years without having the next job lined up. I moved 2000 miles from family and friends to live in a beautiful part of the world where I’ve always dreamed of living.

I now work in freelance, consulting, and coaching roles, which means my income fluctuates a lot. I’m not always certain how much money I’ll earn each month; I could have never tolerated that degree of uncertainty before.

It’s surprising how much your life can transform in miraculous ways once you’re willing to not be perfect in your own little world but instead actively choose to be imperfect in a world that might judge you.

When you take risks that might leave you flat on your back, but also might enable you to soar. I’ve found that bravery is rewarded, maybe not always in the moment, but always in time. I encourage you to be brave; it’ll change your life!

About Janette Novak

Janette a confidence coach and the founder of Believe And Create, BelieveAndCreate.com, a personal development initiative that helps people believe in themselves more fully and create lives that they love.  Janette also owns Illuminate Marketing Communications IlluminateMarCom, a digital marketing agency that specializes in content marketing.  She lives in Flagstaff, AZ.

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