#also a dakota and probably Minnesota thing

[mourning-again-in-america]

I love the state level progressives too much. Such a shame that being an isolationist in public office during the World Wars was considered worse than being a flagrant adulterer by many.

[alex-perry]

name: alexander “alex” perry (no relation to katy perry)

age: 32

birthday: january 22

zodiac: aqua sun, libra moon, virgo rising

place of birth: minneapolis, minnesota

occupation: architect 

neighborhood: asbury bay

mbti: infp

pinterest

this is alex and he is the most beige human you could ever imagine.

he is THAT guy who considers “meal prepping” an extreme sport.

bio:

he’s from minnesota, which is like just a giant icy wasteland filled with nice, boring people who think a wild night is a trip to ikea (maybe that's what shaped his taste in interior design but we will get into that soon). his father frank is a civil engineer. his mother susan is an english teacher. he has a younger sister named amelia, who recently graduated from college. his parents' whole philosophy is hard work and practicality, which is just code for “let’s suck all the fun out of life.”

alex's dad richard was raised uber christian in small-town in lexington nebraska, but everything changed when he went to college. cue the culture shock: he met new people, encountered different ideas, and quickly realized the world wasn’t quite like the way he was told in his little church. he met susan, a free-spirited liberal who basically turned his worldview upside down. when they decided to get married, as you can guess, richard's family did not take that well and all hell broke loose. his family basically went all 'THIS IS THE FUTURE THE LIBERALS WANT!!!' route ofc.

because of this divine union, his dad has been banished from the good ol' conservative family circle. they probably think he’s gone to the dark side. he only keeps in touch with one of his cousins. (the one happens to be the father of alex's quirky cousin andrew. and andrew is a chaotic entrepreneur, who lives in silicon valley).

he is also cousins with miss dakota @dakota-perry

so it's safe to say they don't spend much time with his father's siblings. the Perry fam only visits them during holidays.....

little alex was the type who actually did his homework on time and actually got excited about things like mowing the lawn. so it wasn't a surprise when he graduated top of his class and got a scholarship to mit. he studied architecture because.... well, bc he had no other hobbies. and i guess alex wanting to become an architect ever since he was a middle schooler played a role in that decision too.....

he aced his courses, probably wearing one of those dreadful beige cardigans, and designed buildings that weren’t about to fall anytime soon. in MIT he was the one who did all the work in a group project while everyone else was off having a good time. not because he was a control freak, it's bc he actually loved architecture. nothing got his blood pumping like a well-drafted blueprint. and as you can guess, he wasn't exactly fending off crowds of admirers with his passion for structural integrity lsfkslafkalsf

alex in a group project:

after mit, he moved to new york cityyyyyyyyyyy (pls read that with laszlo's voice). he got a job at an architecture firm called thompson & rivera architects, a mid-sized firm with just the right amount of prestige without the snobbery. he had a little apartment in hell's kitchen. his place looked like someone took an ikea catalog, sucked out all the personality, and called it home. minimalist to the point of tragedy, with a potted plant that only survived because it couldn’t be bothered to die.

alex didn’t just wake up and decide to move to asbury for the fun of it(that would be far too spontaneous for the practical prince). his design firm, landed a new project: a modern, trendy boutique hotel in town. he was picked as one of the junior architects to join the senior architects in overseeing the project. he’s not the lead designer OBVIOUSLY, but he's definitely in the inner circle, making sure everything’s structurally correct.

personality:

alex is awfully practical, grounded, and a bit of a perfectionist. and he justifies this by saying "i’m not being picky, i’m being precise". alex's idea of a VERY WILD night would be marie kondo-ing his collection of architectural books and magazines. despite his boring demeanor, he actually has a sense of humor and SURPRISINGLY he can take a joke. to mingle with the local folks, he joined the local bowling team. tbh he’s not the most outgoing person, but he values deep, meaningful relationships over casual friendships. once he is your friend, that means it's going to last forever.

outside of work alex enjoys cycling. (actually a little bit too much, he is cycling around as if he is training for tour de france). and then there’s his cooking obsession. during quarantine, he got into cooking and suddenly became that person who binged every jamie oliver video in existence. next thing you know, he be baking his own sourdough.

well, he has 'mild' ocd. and when I say mild, that's actually an understatement. he is very particular when it comes to organizing his workspace—everything has its place, and he gets mildly irritated if someone moves his things. he’s known to be a bit of a coffee snob, always in search of the perfect cup, and can be annoyingly particular about his brew (as someone who does not know shit about the coffee, I wonder how am i gonna write about this little quirk but we shall see).

OH OH OH ALSO HE IS A HUGE FAN OF THE KILLERS

connection ideas

cycling buddy: soo this dumbass is in a cycling group called "the pedal -pushers," (so original, i know). the group is full of people who take their biking way too seriously. their conversations are not the most entertaining to be honest, such as the best tire pressure or which helmet brand is the best. alex usually shows up in full cycling gear, complete with a helmet with green reflective stripes. that was his way of celebrating the brat summer.

barista (friend or nemesis depending how much they can tolerate alex): a local barista and fellow coffee enthusiast who shares his love for a perfect cup of coffee. orrr simply hating him because he always finds some fault in his coffee.

bowling team / squad: he also recently joined a bowling team. i'd love to discuss the team name and its details, so feel free to hmuuuuu

[thedoubleexposurephotography]

It’s one of the first nights of the reader sleeping outdoors in Jaskier’s world. They look up to see the stars and the moon only to be caught off guard by how different they are from what they’re used to, and are reminded of just how far they are from home. Fortunately, Jaskier is right there to help comfort them.

Pairing: Jaskier x Fem!reader (platonic/pre-relationship if you squint real hard)

Warnings: anxiety attacks

Word count: 2024

Author’s notes: Reader is one of those people who travels the country in a camper van and works remotely. Also, sorry, anon, for taking 2 months to write this. Hopefully you like it!

What a wild day.

Currently you were lying in your sleeping bag in front of a fire under the wide open sky. The night was still. Well, mostly. One of your new companions, Jaskier, he said his name was, was seated not far from where you were trying to sleep playing a lute, an instrument you were sure hadn’t been popular since the renaissance. Your other companion, Geralt, was sharpening his swords, his white hair and yellow eyes gleamed in the firelight. All around the three of you were completely normal night sounds. If anyone happened upon you, they wouldn’t think anything was amiss.

But previously you had been minding your own business driving your camper van along I-90 through Minnesota toward South Dakota for your next work assignment. Next thing you knew the world went bright and suddenly you were definitely not in Minnesota, and nearly hitting the two men you were currently camping with. Once you stopped the van, and once your heart stopped beating like it was staging a coup against your rib cage, you saw Geralt approaching your van with a sword drawn. Immediately you jumped to grab the one weapon you had: your nail bat wrapped with barbed wire (what could you say? You were a fan of, and inspired by, both Stranger Things and The Walking Dead, and you hated guns). You had jumped out of the van to confront both men. Some tense words had been exchanged, but when it became clear you weren't a threat, Jaskier managed to talk Geralt into standing down. All you could really say at that point was “What the fuck?”, “Where the fuck?”, “Who the fuck?”, and after noticing how they were dressed, “When the fuck?”

There was shock on all sides when the three of you realized what had happened. And then another question was added to the list: How the fuck?

To your credit you only nearly fainted.

But once the shock wore off, you started to panic. How were you supposed to make it in a world like this? You came from a world with indoor plumbing and vaccines and being able to change your underwear every day. The people of this world probably still believed in the four humors. How would you adjust? How would you survive?

Jaskier was the one to approach you and try to calm you down. He went to talk to Geralt out of your earshot and when they came back, they invited you to come along with them, at least until they could find someone who might be able to help you.

You are not an idiot. You were a woman who up to that point had been traveling the United States alone in a van. You’d come across your fair share of suspicious and scary situations. That’s why you had the nail bat. You’d learned to listen to your instincts and heed any alarm bells in your head.

When you looked at Geralt and Jaskier, there were no alarm bells. So you agreed to accompany them. It’s not like you had any better options. You went back into your van, packed some essentials in a backpack, changed into more suitable clothing, and abandoned your van where it crashed.

And so here you were now, truly roughing it in a new world with a bard and…..whatever Geralt was (you still weren’t clear on that part).

You couldn’t sleep, of course. Your mind was still racing. You tossed and turned unable to relax enough to drift off. Your brain just couldn’t reconcile the fact that you are in a completely different world. We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto. This story was The Wizard of Oz, and you were Dorothy, Geralt was definitely the Tin Man, but you couldn’t decide if Jaskier was the Cowardly Lion or the Scarecrow.

With sleep utterly escaping you, you rolled onto your back to stargaze. Because of the lack of light pollution, the view was incredible. Billions of stars twinkled in the sky for your viewing pleasure. The moon was full tonight as well, shining bright and casting plenty of light on the world below. But the more you gazed, the more panic started to bubble in your chest again. It’s not like you expected the night sky to be the same in a different world, but now it was obvious. There was no Orion, no Cassiopeia, no Ursa Major or Minor. Nothing in the sky was familiar to you. The stars were different. The moon was different. The world was different.

You really weren’t in Kansas anymore.

Trying to keep your breathing even so you wouldn’t hyperventilate, you scrambled out of your sleeping bag with all the grace of a convulsing newborn giraffe and raced off to a nearby rock formation so you could have your anxiety attack in peace and privacy.

As you hurry away from camp, Jaskier calls for you, his voice full of confusion and concern. “Where are you going? Are you all right?”

“The stars are different!” Is what you shouted back over your shoulder, your voice cracking with panic.

A pause. “What?”

You spun around and pointed up at the sky. “The. Stars. Are. Different!” You repeated, as if that’ll explain what you mean. You whipped around toward the way you were heading and continued toward the rock formation. You walked around to the far side—out of sight from Geralt and Jaskier—and slumped against the wall of one of the boulders, finally allowing the tears to fall freely.

The sobs that escaped you were ugly and anguished. You were feeling sorry for yourself, but you also thought of your friends and family back home. How they would eventually realize you were missing, how detectives and the police would investigate your disappearance, how there would be no trace of you, how everyone you loved would never know what happened to you and whether or not you were okay. These thoughts cut you to the bone. All you wanted was to go home, but all you could do right now was cry behind a rock and feel sorry for yourself.

Footsteps approached and you quickly wiped at your face and took some deep breaths to calm your crying. You’re not sure why you cared, but you didn’t want Geralt and Jaskier to think you were some blubbering baby. . You didn’t want them to think you were going to be a burden.

Jaskier rounded the corner, and you huffed in annoyance, crossing your arms over your chest. This pity party didn’t allow for guests. You just wanted to be left alone. To his credit, Jaskier looked sheepish at his intrusion. He gave you a bashful little smile, but the look on his face became concerned.

“I know this is a stupid question,” he said, “but are you all right?”

You shot him an incredulous look. “Oh, yeah, I’m just peachy,” you spat sarcastically.

Jaskier held up his hands in a placating way. “Right. Yeah. In my defense, I did say it was a stupid question”.

“And you weren’t wrong”.

The bard sighed. He looked like a kicked puppy.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “I swear I’m not normally like this. It’s just—”

“No, no, I understand. I suppose I’d also be a bit surly if I was in your place,” Jaskier said. His eyes met yours, and you could see the empathy in the cornflower blue depths. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

You made a sound that was somewhere between a scoff and a bitter chuckle. “Send me back home?” You asked with a wan smile, knowing full well it was impossible for Jaskier to accomplish.

He chuckled. “I would if I could,” he assured you earnestly, and you believed him. “Unfortunately I am but a humble bard, and traveling between worlds is just slightly beyond my abilities”.

“Only slightly?” You teased lightly. “You must be quite the bard, in that case”.

Jaskier smiled. “Perhaps I could serenade you with a soothing song? I’m much more confident about doing that”.

“That’s very sweet of you, Jaskier, but I’m not in the mood for music right now,” you said. “Maybe once the shock of everything has worn off”.

Silence fell between you two. Jaskier was fidgeting like he wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the right words. You scrubbed a hand over your face, also at a loss for words.The tension was uncomfortable, so you let out a little groan of frustration.

“Fuck, I could use a hug right now,” you said, raking a hand through your hair.

Jaskier paused, thinking. He nodded resolutely. “I can do that”.

Your eyes shot to the bard, and you laughed nervously. “Oh, uh, no, that’s okay. I was just being facetious. I wasn’t actually asking”.

Jaskier approached you with his arms open. “Nope. No take-backs. You requested a hug, and a hug you shall have”. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and pulled you into an embrace. For the first few minutes, you were rigid in his arms, unsure of what to do, but then you figured what the hell, and wrapped your arms around Jaskier’s waist and relaxed into him. The two of you stood like that for a while, and you had to admit, it was comforting. Jaskier had a warm, welcoming air about him that transferred easily into his embrace. Little by little you were able to calm down.

You’re the one who broke the silence first. “I’m never going home, am I?”

Jaskier held you tighter. “I don’t know”. He started rubbing your back in soothing circles. “But Geralt and I will look after you. We’ll figure something out,” he promised you.

You snorted. “Something tells me Geralt won’t be enthusiastic about that”.

“I know Geralt seems like he’s unbearably crotchety and cantankerous,” Jaskier said, trailing off at the end.

You waited for Jaskier to finish the statement. When he didn’t, you asked, “And?”

“No, that’s it. He’s unbearably crotchety and cantankerous”.

A small laugh bubbled out of you in spite of your mood, and Jaskier chuckled along with you.

“Ah, there we are. A smile and a laugh,” Jaskier said. He pulled away from you, still holding you by your shoulders, and gently smiled down at you. “In all seriousness, Geralt fancies himself a stoic mutant who doesn’t feel normal human emotions, but he does care, even though he’ll never admit it. He—we—will make sure you find your footing in this world until we find a way to send you back to yours”.

His words touched you. You’d known this man for less than a day, and he was doing his best to make sure you were okay. The last vestiges of your anxiety melted away, and you finally felt a sense of calm.

“Feeling better?” Jaskier asked you.

Nodding, you replied, “Yeah, I am”. You gave him a small smile. “Thank you”.

He returned your smile. “It’s no trouble at all”. He put one arm around your shoulders and started leading you back to camp”.

Geralt gave you both a look when you returned. Jaskier gave him one back and the Witcher replied with one of his signature grunts . You ignored the exchange, and snuggled back into your sleeping bag. Once settled, you closed your eyes and tried to fall asleep, but you were distracted by shuffling noises on Jaskier’s side of camp. Next thing you knew, the bard was laying out his bedroll next to your sleeping bag and setting his lute next to your backpack. He laid down next to you, settling himself down for the night. The two of you laid on your backs next to each other, gazing at the stars.

Jaskier raised his arm and pointed to a group of stars. “That’s the Winter Maiden,” he said, and told you the story. He points out other constellations and explains the lore to you. You do your best to listen, but after awhile, sleep finally sneaks up on you. That’s how you finally drift off, with the stars in your eyes and Jaskier’s voice in your ears, bringing you the comfort you sorely needed.

[darklingichor]

Little House on the Prairie, by Laura Ingllas Wilder

This one has been called the most important book that Laura Ingalls Wilder wrote. What is interesting about that is that it is probably the least covered in Pioneer Girl. This makes sense because Laura was only three years old when the family went from Wisconsin to Kansas. They then went back to Wisconsin after about a year. From what I have gathered from Prairie Fires and other sources, Laura never intended to write another book after Big Woods and decided to set the story after they returned to Wisconsin. When it turned out that there was demand for more books, she couldn’t go back in time, so she moved the family’s time in Kansas.

The writing is not quite as simplistic as it was in Big Woods, more on par with Farmer Boy, which makes sense considering the tone of the writing ages with the main characters.

I think most of us know the story in general, but just in case, here’s the bones of it.

The Ingalls family decide to go West. The way Laura understands it, its because there isn’t enough game for Pa to hunt. This does make sense as the more people who come into a place, the scarcer the hunting becomes. But this is really our first introduction, in the series to Manifest Destiny, where in people thought it was God’s will for settlers to go all the way to the Pacific Ocean. Charles was under the impression that the land in what was then called the Osage Diminished Reserve was going to be open for the taking if not then, then very soon, and he had to get there first to have his pick. 

And also, let's face it, Charles Ingllas had some wanderlust.

So, he packs up his family and heads out.

They eventually find where they are going to steak their claim, build a house, meet some neighbors, including Mr. Edward's (who was my favorite character in the show). They face challenges, such as what could have been malaria, a winter that nearly interrupted Christmas, and fires.

The Native Americans are a presence through the book and not a welcome one most of the time. They are described as coming into the house and taking food, being unfriendly, and generally scaring the family. One Native American tried to come and speak with Charles, with good intentions, but they didn't share a language. They heard "war songs" for several nights and then saw the Native Americans ride past their house and out of the territory. Shortly there after, Charles heard that US troops were coming to get the settlers off of the land. Charles has set up three miles past the border. The family packs up and leaves.

I mentioned in my first entry that reading these as an adult was interesting,  because there is quite a bit said between the lines, or said but not explained that Laura does not fully understand.

Such as when their neighbor Mrs. Scott says that she can't forget the Minnisota Massacre. Caroline shuts her up with a look, so the girls don't hear more.

There is far to much to cover what is historically known as the US-Dakota War of 1862, in this entry. Prarie Fires is a good source to learn more, as well as the University of Minnesota website.

What I will say here is that this conflict seemed to allow some settlers to justify to themselves, their hatred of Native Americans as a whole. Of course, that type of thing is never justified.

And that brings me to of one the the most uncomfortable parts of this book.

The weirdest part of the story is where Laura begs Pa to get her a Native American baby. This seems to be a child's messy response to complex emotions. She doesn't want the baby, really. She wants to be like the Native Americans. When she sees them ride past her house, she percives freedom. She sees women who don't have the constraints that she has to contend with. They aren't wearing sunbonnets. She figures no one scolds them for being unladylike. She sees the babies having the freedoms that she wants. She can't  be like them, so she wants to possess them.

When Ma asks her why she wants one of the babies we are told that she couldn't explain what she felt, just said Their eyes are so bright. Bright with all.of the things she thinks they will experience. Running around in nature, not having to be quiet on Sundays, not having to be worried about being a "good little girl".

And so, begs and cries to be even somewhat adjacent to those freedoms.

She couldn't understand as a little kid, what the Native Americans were going through. This analysis doesn't make this any less disturbing, but it does bring me to my next point.

There has been debate about whether or not rhe LH books should be read in school. And when I first heard this,  I wasn't sure what I thought. Generally I don't think we give kids enough credit. When I first read this book at around seven or eight,I read it on my own, and not in a classroom setting. I was really bothered by how the Native Americans were depicted.

Why *did* they go to Indian Territory if Caroline hated Native Americans so much? Why did the government tell white people to take the land, and the government had to move the Native Americans west? Did she really think that the Native Americans threatened the family? Was this really threatening? The Native Americans were hungry. If the family could understand what was said, would they have been so scared? They would have fed any other neighbors that were hungry. What was wrong with Laura that she was asking for a person as a pet? This was after slavery, why didn't either of her parents tell her it was wrong to ask for something like that? How could someone say that the only good Indian is a dead Indian? That's evil.

And I remember my mom telling me I was right, that all of this stuff is wrong, but it's how some people thought at the time, and that included the government. She didn't know the answers to the other questions other than the government, and many ( but not all) of the settlers thought they had the right to land when they didn't, and were generally afraid of things different from them. And sometimes that came out violently. But she said it was good to ask all of these questions, it was good that I recognized that these things were wrong, because stuff like this still happened and it was just as wrong then as it is now. It was also a lesson in critical thinking. Don't just take something you read as truth. Question it.

Again, though, I read this on my own, literally sitting next to my mom, feeling safe to ask questions or express distress has either come up. I was not in a classroom setting being read to or graded on this material. Moreover, I was not a Native American child who was suddenly othered and had the safety I should feel in the classroom taken away.

So yeah, I agree that these books should not be taught to kids.

Teach these books in advanced placement in high school (maybe) or in college. But don't attach it to a classroom experience for kids.

[mariacallous]

Of the Senate seats up in 2024, I think the following (all things being equal) I would be confident about staying Dem (Angus King in Maine and Bernie in Vermont are both up for re-election, but they both caucus with the Dems and fairly comfortably won last time and I don't expect any changes there, but I won't list them below)

California Connecticut Delaware Hawaii Maryland Massachusetts Minnesota New Jersey New Mexico New York Rhode Island Virginia Washington

The following I think are likely to stay Dem but it would probably be a bit of a fight:

Michigan Nevada (Jacky Rosen got 50.4% last time, and assuming she can do what CCM did this time plus a presidential election turnout...) Pennsylvania Wisconsin

(These are all based on the current incumbents, btw.)

Races which would probably be a real fight:

Arizona (Sinema only barely got 50% last time) Montana (Tester only got 50.1% last time, but he's a really good candidate for that seat, he oversaw the DSCC this election, and he would benefit from a presidential election turnout, plus in 2018 his GOP opponent got under 47% of the vote, with a Libertarian taking like 3%) Ohio (Brown had a decent majority but Ohio's gotten redder but also with Ryan's close race against Vance and the groundwork there...) West Virginia (Manchin got 49.57% to the Republican's 46.26%, with a Libertarian getting over 4%, so assuming he runs again and assuming he might benefit from being a moderate Dem bucking the party every so often and bringing money to WV and assuming a presidential election year turnout and and and)

Who the fuck knows what'll happen with these races:

Florida - Rick Scott only got 50.1% last time, but Florida has decisively shifted redder since 2018 and a lot of work would need to be done in organizing and campaigning plus a good candidate would need to chosen by the Dems.

Indiana: Mike Braun is retiring to run for Governor of Indiana, and last time he was elected with 50.7% of the vote (the Dem incumbent got just under 45% of the vote, and the Libertarian got almost 4.5% of the vote) so depending on who runs there it could potentially be competitive? Likely not though.

Missouri: Josh Hawley got 51% of the vote to Dem incumbent Claire McCaskill's 45.6%, but he's not especially popular and there might be potential to get it back, especially with a presidential election turnout.

Texas: Ted Cruz just barely beat Beto 50.9% to 48.3% and he's unpopular with a lot of people and Beto and other organizers in Texas have been working to make changes, so with Ted Cruz as an incumbent, the groundwork that's been laid, and a presidential election turnout?

Races staying Republican:

All the rest? lol

Mississippi Nebraska (both seats would technically be up, but Deb Fischer got 57% last time and Ben Sasse won pretty solidly too). North Dakota (Cramer beat Heitkamp 55% to 44%, roughly, and having lived and worked in North Dakota, it's pretty solidly red there, like one-party rule red) Tennessee (sadly I don't think Marsha Blackburn is going anywhere unless she runs for President) Utah Wyoming

[dcrinitiative]

Hello people. All none of those who even see this account. I can't remember the last time I used Tumblr. I probably have an old account floating around somewhere.

This is going to be the "official" blog for the Daniel County Research Initiative (I know, we were like 12). We're a non-profit sort of archival group dedicated to preserving happenings in Daniel County (hence the fancy name). We're mainly dedicated to the conversion of old tapes and Web 1.0 stuff, but since late 2019, we've also dabbled in the occasional investigation of like just wacky stuff in the whole upper Midwest. Usually weird local access stuff you can find most anywhere in North America, or like the occasional CSPAN recording from some dude's Wisconsin shack in like 1998 that was recorded partway over by a football game and then donated (somehow) to a Minnesota library. (The more you search for weird shit, the more you find weird shit.)

Something something our mission statement when we formed our group in April 2014 was to preserve the history of our home towns in and around western Minnesota and eastern South Dakota. Since then, our reach has also expanded to encompass almost the entire Midwest, and even the southernmost parts of Manitoba and Ontario, Canada. We focus on converting VHS and DVD media into digital formats to forever preserve their contents on the internet.

This blog will serve as a sort of side piece to our main channel on YouTube (you can go check it out once we actually upload anything public). Everything's unlisted right now but honestly it's all pretty boring, just like city council meetings and stuff like that. Unless people like that then feel free to contact us and we will gladly share links (you'd be getting far more use out of them than we EVER will).

In case anyone wants a name and to say hello, I am Bea, I'm kind of in charge of the thing? I was one of the original group, I guess lol. I mainly deal with the social media stuff now and managing the channel more than actually media conservation, although I still dabble 😎😎

I will have my friends introduce themselves eventually. Just wanted to put an alias out there instead of just like "dcrinitiative". Boring ahh name LMAO.

Bea out.

[scentedchildnacho]

Northern Minnesota Dakota country police......uhm the woman who murdered her own boy....that reminded me of Ruidoso new Mexico....

And the dream catchers and the candles and the baby deer leg left in the park...

Universiteit Leiden on counter terrorism studies complains that the mother was not a mental.....she was a trained terrorist in biblical studies and maybe murdered a lot of orphans....its having to be a pragmatic scientific biblicalist its these humiliations of college haze ings that cause the violence not mentalism

Needs to make trespassing have meaning....humiliating compared to father educations

I would believe she was a mental though some mentals can have a strong bisexual pseudo politic and mingle in Hollywood circles so some mentals can serial kill....

Alynn devries in natchez Mississippi told me a demonic presence name as to why if it's Samaritan women Jews do not associate

I would believe tunica that her consciousness was really funky.....paranoid.....to do those things.....

Good theory everything complex is simple she probably had very poor cope ing skills with her paranoia and probably was very jokerish that way appeared very catatonic then frighteningly controlled....

Punishers come up to me all the time and try to force me to understand meaningless social theory like trespassing....so if you had to be her and truly possessed by punishers instead of occasional annoyances you would have to be pseudo police instead of trained police also ....

I was told I had to be more British like so I don't have that poor of cope ing skills if I'm homeless I cry if I don't have my little slippers so people like me stay near my friends if my friends want to take stuff that could hurt me from me I let them

The mentals in McKinney texas appeared to have figured out woke virals and dance and had a whole mental nation counter culture so a president was bipolar in the states so some are very high and very low functioning

Thats why I ran away from McKinney Texas trying to mess with my weight perception appeared very intentional then motels that kept wanting money like coming up to where I sleep and it was very used and disrepaired

Then understanding random spontaneous movement as gold digger slurs...or other slang and already understanding movement for video games and football....so they were very intentional people....so I ran away if they were going to be ables instead of disabled...

Phyllis chesler....if people want to put you on sedatives and keep coming up to where you sleep they expect you to have mental sex relationships with people who aren't select match instead the opposite of select match its people who call for sex work videos of people actually really uncomfortable and unattracted with each other

I would notice this as more liminal around black men...Jerry and Aaron are like my relations I was visiting my like kin in Biloxi

Willa Cather they are like my folk community

Kathryn turtle......fascistic instead of people allowed north south migration would view penetration as the movement of the ocean.....

Was the fantasy about the motion of the ocean or was it screw your career

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

The state I live in (Minnesota) has passed laws that protect trans people. I don’t really have a way to take anyone in myself, but if you need to move my state is protected. You might want to check what the town you move to is political history wise, but in general if it’s a place with a lot of travel and a decent amount of people it’s probably not the worst. I’m only demigender and don’t really look that remarkable, so I can’t say I have much personal experience outside of having friends and knowing people in the area. The south eastern part of the state has several cities and is a relatively safe bet (although nowhere seems to be totally safe in this country unfortunately) followed by deluth and then Moorhead. Avoid Fargo if you move there though. I know the communities are very intwined there but there is very much a difference between the two when it comes to things like lgbtq people. Legally and to an extent socially, just on either side of a river. I never really thought too much about it until Covid hit and people on the Minnesota side would be wearing masks everywhere but you crossed the river into North Dakota and there were barely any people wearing them. It was wild. Anyway, im rambling and im not about to say “this is the single safest place in the country!” But it is probably the safest state in the region.

Anyway, where I was going with this was, wherever you end up in this state (should you come here) be aware that weather here swings between extremes throughout the year. In winter we can get into the negative double digits, and in summer we can get over one hundred degrees (both Fahrenheit). This means that you need to be ready for both. That is a life and death matter. Also, everywhere I’ve been in the state has it’s own extreme winter weather twists. I’m Moorhead when a winter is really wet/snowy you’ll have to take flooding into consideration. I’ve heard the same about the twin cities (the biggest ones) to a lesser extent. Duluth is basically on an inland sea with winter extremes and a lot of up and down roads. Fun for a summer trip but harsher in winter. Both Duluth and Moorhead are big but the farther north you go the more extreme the winters tend to be. Minneapolis/Saint Paul (and it’s hoard of smaller neighbors) do experience Minnesota winters, but they usually get slightly less cold on average. Their tornado season is earlier than Moorhead and Duluth’s (Duluth doesn’t really have much of a tornado season, you get freshwater sea stuff instead) and the twin cities do tend to run a little hotter in summer. I’m sure people will be like “hey! You left out my decently sized population town in your ramblings!” And sure, if you want to add more go ahead. I’m just covering the biggest population spaces. The twin cities (and the surrounding areas) is the most populous. Moorhead is second I believe but there is a very big drop in numbers between the two. I think Duluth has the lowest population but I’m not totally sure about the difference between Moorhead and Duluth population wise. 🤔

Anyway, I’m sure that there are better guides to the state than me, but I at least wanted to share my personal knowledge.

The one thing I want you to take from this if you are moving here is MAKE SURE YOU ARE READY FOR THE WEATHER or at least as ready as you can be.

The second thing would be, if you want to blend in more, go for the twin cities, Moorhead has its own charm though in there being a slightly more closely feeling community. I’m not going to pretend everyone knows everyone, but there is more fuss when some violent drama happens. I haven’t lived there in seven years though. I live nearby (relatively speaking) but no longer in town. The main reason I think you might consider that one is it’s a bit less expensive.

I’m not trying to make a sales pitch, I’m just trying to get my limited knowledge out there. There are also a lot of support programs through various local (state and some counties) governments for disabled people. They are as convoluted as anything else in this country, but they are the reason I can live on my own (with the assistance). Honestly, I have more experience with being a disabled person in my area than being a queer person, just because mine is kinda subtle I guess. USE MORE SOURCES THAN JUST ME! But I hope this at least something to help you get started in case any of my followers need to move to my beautiful hot cold wet state.

This one is a mess, I’ll try to make a cleaner version, although that might not have the population information

I’m making this one unrebloggable because it is messy. My more recent one is better in my opinion

[wytfut]

X world friends

Excelsior Henderson community is the longest I’ve ever participated any organization other than employment. 

I’ve been a certified soccer coach for 12 years. Fire/Rescue as stated before. Some black powder. And a few Ford clubs. 

I obviously had developed some very good friends within this community. This doesn’t lessen my friendships outside of X world, but in truth broadens it, for me to experience new things. 

My X world friends hold value. 

I have lost a few in the near past years. Gary (Jumper) Houk out of Virginia... one of the best ambassadors for our community. Always up, always for what ever is good for the group. In public most likely in great behavior. I’ve witnessed him helping Cafe staff serve food, when we’d invade the local Cafe for a meal... overwhelming them.

I got to meet him in person the first time at the X rally in Minnesota in 2012. Via Email and phone calls he appeared bigger than life.

In person it was all real. Waking up second morning of the Roast and Ride in Elkton Virginia, to him singing at the top of his lungs.... “Paint your wagon” 

At one of the rallys in Minnesota, he got pulled over, and the officer found a pistol in one of his bags.  Officer questioned whether it was loaded...   “what good would it be unloaded???” Judge let him go back to Virginia, and he came back to serve his time in the local jail. I think it was a weekend??

Don’t know if he ever married, and pretty sure he had no children. A faithful Methodist, and supporter of his church. 

Younger than I, but close, he passed away in his sleep from heart failure.

Another we lost was Gary Thomforde from Minnesota. Gary was on a ride, and missed a 90 degree turn. Comments have been said that he knew that turn well, and suspect a health incident.... no skid marks.

I didn’t get to know Gary well, until his last year with us. Retired, and very soft spoken. All about EH’s. Had a huge hoard of parts, he had bought thru the years. And was always willing to sell and at a fair price to help out other owners. 

We had chatted on the phone the night before he died. I found out several days later, he had passed. 

Another, younger member of the group was James Farnham. I think he was in his early 50′s if that old. Just a good guy. Thought all of us old guys were genius’s...     James died suicide, via anguish of a horrible health issue.   He was made of good stuff. 

There have been several others  that have gone thru this 20 plus years, but I didn’t know them personally, or even had exchanged conversations via WWW. 

As for the rest. I’d guess there are around 150+ active members in the club/group/community. I probably have met each and everyone one way or the other... via internet, in person, or via phone. 

Of that number, I feel really comfortable with about 20 or so. And close with 10.

In the picture above is a few of the 10....   Left to right... Julie Liskie girlfriend of Dave Mcquitty next to her... both in Overland Park Kansas. Next to them is Jumper Marshal Virginia. Next to me is “fat Jesus” Dennis Bennet of Huron South Dakota. 

In this shot you may noticed how red some of our faces are.... full day ride in the Ozark mountains. And most likely 1 beer in. 

This shot was taken at Little Rock Arkansas.... our motel parking lot.  

I love this picture, as it has the best of thoughts of Jumper. Makes me smile every time.

Dennis and I see each other about once a year, and mostly as we arent that far apart. About 6 hours distance. He’s made of good stuff too, and we get a long well.

Ken Bretz also doesn’t live that far away.... Minnesota....   and has partaken with our adventures with the Antique motorcycle cannonballers. Kansas, Iowa, South Dakota. 

Ken, Dennis, and I are all members of the Team Fat Jesus scooter cannonball event this spring. We are the beans...

The social class of this group is all over the place. We have folks that are financially set for life. Huge working class for the most part, that we all have worked hard. And others that struggle to keep their X’s running looking for pennies. We all seem to get along well, and would go out of our way to help each other. 

East coast members seem to be tighter than the rest of us, and to be honest I’m not sure to this day why/how that happened. They are a good intended bunch, and don’t treat the rest of us any different. But there is a relationship they all have that the rest of us don’t appear to have.

So many members go out of their way to support the group as small as we are. I’m constantly amazed at how many across the board type of folks in this group, and yet an extremely small number of problems members, if any. 

I’m used to the rule of thumb experienced by me... once you get around 8 members of anything, there’s going to be at least 1 asshole that is there for the wrong reason.

Not sure how Phil Marks and I got tied together. We talk frequently on the phone. And try to make events that we know each other will be attending. Phil is older than I by a couple of years. Has lived in Pennsylvania his whole life. Always has me laughing at some hysterical story/event that has happened to him. 

With his emotions running full throttle in his stories, and his accent, plus hand language, ... I just can’t help but laugh.  

Our likenesses from our pasts is cosmic... or something I can’t describe. He had a Norton, I did too. He had a Capri, as I. He had an early Ford Broncho, same with us. His Wife’s name is Pat, and mine Hunny is Patti. There are a few more, that make a person scratch their head... 

On the other end of familiarly, thru the group, I became friends with John Kane in England. .... via facebook.  John loved to buy American memorabilia here, and then ship it to England. Cars, motorcycles, parts, etc....  what ever suited him at the moment. Talked to him on the phone once, and lots of DM’s thru facebook back in the day. He was using me as a central point of delivery, and then I’d help him out getting all of his items to a port, to ship home. I really enjoyed it, and it was a great experience. Something new in my flat land slow paced life. It was fun.  John had a severe stroke, and its been difficult at best to keep up to speed with him.   I do miss our short messaging and emails. 

Have met several of the Swedes in the group. Good folks, that enjoy American Motorcycles, and I’d suspect they own several of all the brands. 

At the end of my facebook membership, I was just starting to get acquainted with a younger guy in Russia who owned an X. 

If for some crazy reason I could not be a part of this organization any more...   I’d miss the bunch of them big time.... 

Its been real

UPDATE: AJ Fago...... Hang in there buddy, we are all rooting for you.

[college-girl199328]

As southern Manitobans brace for a major spring snowstorm fuelled by a Colorado low, there are probably more than a skeptical few feeling a bit of déjà vu.

Around this time last year, Environment Canada issued a warning about the same type of low-pressure system bearing down on southern Manitoba and carrying "the potential to be the worst blizzard in decades," but the snowfall was well below what was forecast in most areas.

Asked if there's a chance this one might also skirt by, Environment Canada preparedness meteorologist Natalie Hassell was steadfast in the forecast. "No, I'm sorry, there isn't," she told CBC Manitoba Information Radio host Marcy Markusa on Tuesday morning. "Right now, if it does track differently, we'll actually get more [snow], not less."

The low will center itself over North Dakota and Minnesota later Tuesday, with southern Manitoba affected by its northern extent, Hassell said. Heavy, wet snow is expected to start falling late Tuesday afternoon and continue until Thursday evening, the national weather service said in its winter storm warning.

By the time the system is done with Manitoba, it is expected to leave behind as much as 25 cm in the southeast corner and as little as five centimeters at the western edge of the warning.

Winnipeg is expected to see something in between that, from 10-15 cm. Environment Canada's warning area runs from Killarney through the Ontario border across the south. It stretches about halfway into the Interlake region and in the east, as far north as Manigotagan.

A fringe around the perimeter of that warning area, which includes Brandon, is listed as a winter storm watch, which means those communities could possibly see impacts from the storm, but it is less certain than in the warning area.

The extreme southwest corner of the province has no weather alerts at all. The snow in those areas will be heavy, wet, and sticky because the season is supposed to be spring and not winter, so there is a higher moisture content.

And then there is the wind. Wind gusts up to 70 km/h are likely, Hassell said. "I'm not sure if the winds are quite strong enough to throw stuff around, but if you have things that are loose on your property, it might be a good time to tie them down or put them away," she said.

"And get ready for overall difficult conditions," Hassell suggests being careful and taking breaks while shoveling. "Don't lift everything that you can [usually fit] in your shovel; lift smaller amounts every time, and don't twist as you lift, because that just leads to really bad scenarios."

While the snow is a disappointment for those hoping to see trees budding and new growth sprouting from gardens, it's really not that unusual, Hassell said. "We can get snow well into May. The amounts are reasonable in terms of what we can often see at this time of year for these types of storms."

On April 5, 1997, a Colorado low dropped 48 cm on Winnipeg and a little more in other parts of the south. It locked the Red River Valley in a whiteout that lasted 24 hours, forcing people to abandon vehicles and sleep in airports, offices, and even shopping centers.

That set the stage for the Flood of the Century, as the runoff from melting snow more than doubled the normal spring levels later in the month. Because of the wind gusts.

Hassell strongly advises against driving anywhere if possible so "you can avoid being in this mess because if we do have blizzard conditions, you're going to be stuck there for a really long time."

If you do need to travel, be sure to take an emergency road kit with you, she said. The City of Winnipeg said it is prepared to deal with whatever the storm throws at it. Crews will monitor road conditions and stand by, ready to apply salt to improve traction as needed, a news release from the city said.

Further decisions about plowing operations will be made as the weather system passes through. There are no winter parking bans in place at this time, the release said Tuesday morning.

The Winnipeg Regional Health Authority issued a warning Tuesday that community health services, especially home care, could be impacted by the forecasted storm.

Weather-related service delays or cancellations are possible for clients, depending on the severity of the storm and its impact on transportation and access to clients, the health authority said in a release.

Every effort will be made to maintain appointments, but some weather-related delays or cancellations may be inevitable. People who need home care are asked to initiate their backup plans, and those who have appointments postponed will be notified by the health authority.

The storm could have longer-term consequences after it melts. The province said its Hydrologic Forecast Center will closely monitor the snowfall and expects to have an updated flood forecast once the system passes.

The most recent forecast, from late March, said the Red River is expected to spill its banks in several places but not rise high enough to threaten any communities protected by ring dikes.

Flood forecasters raised the risk for the Red from moderate to major due to a series of snowstorms south of the border at that time. Finally, don't despair; spring is in the air after the storm.

There are actually signs of it in the forecast. Environment Canada forecasts a high of 11 on Easter Sunday and 16 on Monday, though Hassell thinks that might be a little optimistic.

"Considering how much snow we're about to get, it would all have to melt to make it to minus 11 on Sunday," she said. "I'm not saying it won't happen, but… five, maybe six degrees is probably more realistic."

[trivialbob]

Another thing I wanted to do on this trip to Utah was meet my boss. I’ve reported to her at work for the last few years and also for another stint in the past. We’ve known each other at work for about 15 years.

The company allows little travel for people who do what I do. Everything can be readily done over phones and Skype. We don’t use video so I’ve seen only the old picture she has in our online employee directory.

She’s a good manager. I like her. It’s still weird after so many years though to not have met face to face. Minnesota is where I live and work. She is in Salt Lake City. I have coworkers in Colorado, North Carolina, Texas, California, North Dakota, and probably a few more states. We rarely, if ever meet in person.

Today my boss drove up from SLC to Odgen so we could have lunch together. It was really enjoyable to chat. The restaurant wasn’t busy so we sat at the table for two hours.

We talked a bit about people at work. Not gossip, just explaining some personalities of different coworkers that either of us know in person. We shared some funny stories about different offices (when we had offices). It was time well spent.

Working from home is a wonderful benefit I have. But I miss water cooler talk, ranting one might do at lunch, or seeing pictures of the families of those I work with.

[wherevermyway]

bittersweet lullabies // binchan // oneshot // 16+

❄ part of yuki’s favourites! ❄

pairing: bang chan x seo changbin rating: mature! 16+ warnings/tags: angst, friends-to-enemies, enemies-to-lovers, symphony AU, implied sexual content (seriously, it’s barely even there and probably very easily missable), alcohol, referenced underage drinking, past seo changbin x jung wooyoung (ateez). word count: 15,000 also on AO3

originally posted: 07 february 2021

Several years ago, Bang Chan and Seo Changbin were best friends in middle school. They quickly became rivals in high school, starting not long after Changbin got the lead first chair for the viola section, something Chan had also been vying for. When Changbin became valedictorian, they got into a heated argument and Changbin swore he would never talk to Chan again.

After university, they both received offers to work in the same symphonic orchestra. When they run into each other for the first time in four years, conflicting emotions bloom, tensions arise, and it all comes to an apex when Changbin storms off into the Seattle rain, and Chan can’t let him go, not after the guilt he had after all of these years.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are  interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do  not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of  the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable,  please stop reading now.

“I earned this, Chan!” A voice shouted in a cold, empty hallway. “Do you understand how many sleepless nights I pulled to get here? The sacrifices I’ve made?” There was a loud clattering against metal lockers that echoed against the linoleum flooring and the bland drywall. Papers fell, scattering about the floor as the overhead lighting flickered, illuminating two young men dangerously close to one another.

A scoff came from the slightly taller, blonde man. “Do you think I didn’t work hard?” He slapped his hand against the metal locker behind the brunette man leaning up against them. “I tried so hard, had the same grades as you, the same SAT score, and yet you somehow got valedictorian? What’s your secret, Changbin?”

“Can you leave me alone, dude?” The smaller man gave the blonde a shove, and attempted to storm away, before he was tugged back by the wrist. “Come on, man, they could only pick one person for valedictorian. You still get a speech, now let me leave. I’ve got stuff to take care of.”

Chan, the blonde, shook his head, looking down to the floor. “You really think I only want a stupid fucking speech? I didn’t want to be salutatorian; I don’t want to play second fiddle to you for one more goddamned thing.” He looked back up to the brunette, Changbin, and his eyes were glistening and tinted red. “I just wanted this one thing, to be better than you at something for once. You got lead first chair for orchestra. You got lead tenor for All-State. You’ve always been better than me, and this just proves it and it hurts.”

The two of them exchanged a painful glance, but said nothing. Changbin tugged his arm away, glaring at the other man, pity hidden behind his stare. If this were some sort of coming-of-age, poorly-written Hollywood dramedy, this would be the part where they would make out against the lockers. He would ruffle his hands through Chan’s hair, tell him some cheesy line, like “fuck what everyone else thinks, I may be valedictorian, but you’re the top of the class in my heart”.

However, this was real life. Nothing worked like the movies.

“What’s done is done, Chan,” the brunette sighed, rubbing his wrist. “Grow up and get over it. I’m tired of doing this shit with you every time I earn something and you throw a fucking fit and get jealous.” Changbin turned away, stepping on some of the discarded papers as he quickly walked away, down the corridor. “Don’t ever talk to me again,” he shouted, his voice firm and bouncing against the hard surfaces, echoing loudly in the emptiness.

Chan shook his head and let a tear slide down his face. “I miss the old us.” He remorsefully whispered to himself, dropping to his knees and collecting up the papers he dropped when he shoved the younger man into the lockers. He missed his former best friend, lamenting over how much he let his competitive nature ruin their friendship, the only friendship that really mattered to him.

Four years after Chan and Changbin graduated high school, they still found themselves thinking about each other as they graduated from university. Changbin had somehow completed a bachelor’s degree and a master’s degree in four years during his time at Yale, and Chan finally got his coveted valedictorian title at Dartmouth. They may have hated each other, not speaking at all in four years, but they were polite enough to give each other half-hearted congratulatory messages on social media for university graduation.

Everyone did it, right? It was the thing to do for birthdays and graduations, like some unspoken rule. Perhaps it would bring them closer, start the path of building up the bridge back to friendship that they had burned years ago. It was unlikely, but he’d never know if he never tried.

Chan wondered how much Changbin had changed in the previous four years. He had typed up an apology that spanned several pages of text, had it saved in his message drafts for weeks, but never built up the courage to send it. The overwhelming guilt and shame for treating his former best friend so poorly would never allow him to send that message.

Changbin appeared to be happy for once, losing himself in his studies and performances, happy and in love with his fiancé Jung Wooyoung, a classmate of theirs that also ended up at Yale. Everything seemed to be going well for him; Changbin had just accepted a job with some renowned symphonic orchestra that he was moving cross-country for.

Perhaps they would never mend, and this was fate telling Chan to move on.

Changbin saw Chan’s polite “congrats, man” timeline post, and couldn’t help but scoff at how insincere it came off to him. He had stalked Chan’s profile for the entire four years they didn’t speak to each other, seeing some bad drunken frat party photos, reading interesting concepts he proposed about the transformational theories in music, and watched a couple of short-lived relationships bloom and subsequently fizzle out within only a couple of months. Chan was always chaotic, and Changbin kind of missed that unpredictable nature about him. Someday he’d reach out, he figured, but that day wasn’t today.

It had been a couple of months since graduation. Changbin had a stressful time planning a move cross-country that his now former fiancé didn’t support. Fuck it, he figured, a career with the symphonic orchestra in Seattle was worth it. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, something that was incredibly selective, that he was invited to be a part of, and he deserved it. Wooyoung was halfway out of the door, anyway. They were always picture-perfect online, but Wooyoung stopped putting in any effort into the relationship well over a year ago, something about “focusing” on some technical project that he’d likely never complete.

Wooyoung never completed anything, and when Changbin broke off their engagement, the younger man simply shrugged it off.

It didn’t matter. Out with the old, in with the new. Whatever it took to convince Changbin to stay sane, to feel like he hadn’t wasted three years on someone not worth his time. He didn’t resent Wooyoung, but their relationship felt like it was lacking from beginning to end. Maybe he would find someone that would light a spark within him on the other side of the continent.

From the week he spent in Seattle during his interview and audition, Changbin deemed that Seattle was far superior to Connecticut, anyways: something about its dreamy, rainy, “chronically sipping lukewarm earl grey tea while listening to chill synthwave” vibe excited him. It was something completely different than what he was used to, and it was going to be drastically different than the uptight nature that the east coast gave off.

Connecticut was vivacissimo. Seattle was andante . It was time for something calming and slow paced for once in his life.

It only took Changbin an hour to bring in everything from his car and settle into his new apartment. The human resources team was kind enough to help him find a cozy, furnished apartment that was a short walk away from work. It was nestled in the bustling Capitol Hill neighbourhood, and he knew he was going to love sitting inside and watching people scurry about from his third-floor balcony. He had a few days to settle in before he would show up for orientation, and he couldn’t wait to explore the area.

For now, though, he would unpack a bit, then sleep. A week and a half of driving cross-country, while beautiful, was exhausting. Three thousand miles. Constant playlist shuffling. Talk radio while driving through Illinois and Wisconsin to hear asinine political commentary. Getting carsick and vomiting where I-90 met I-35 in Minnesota. Nearly breaking down close to Mount Rushmore in South Dakota. Almost hitting a coyote in Montana. Seeing the sunrise as he drove over a mountain pass as he approached the Idaho state border. The thrill of finally approaching Seattle and getting lost as he made a wrong turn, somehow ending up in Tacoma. It was an adventurous trip, but it sapped the life from him.

There was one thing, however, he could rely upon to restore his drained energy: his viola.

He took his prized, cherished viola out of its well-maintained case, running his thumb over the chip under his chin rest, and Changbin felt like he could finally breathe a sigh of relief. This viola got him through so many hard times in life, keeping him grounded and sane regardless of how hectic his schedule was from the last half of high school and all throughout university. If he was stressed, he would simply take the viola out of its case and let something flow from him.

As he brought the viola up to his chin, strategically placing his fingers at the end of his bow, he looked out the window taking in the view of the sunset, and aimlessly started playing something. It somehow slowly blended into his part from Lament, which was a duet that he and Chan had performed their junior year of high school.

Perhaps it was because Chan had been invading his thoughts lately, but his improvised practices always turned into Lament . It was a beautiful duet; they had won first place at the state competition for it, earning a perfect score, which was something that was incredibly rare; it helped them pad their resumes to get into Ivy League universities. They practiced for months, starting the summer before their junior year, because they wanted to actually take home an award for it. “We’ll show them,” Chan arrogantly smirked as he puffed out his chest. “We’re better than just some deeper violins stuck in the middle of the orchestra. That’ll teach them all for making fun of us.”

Changbin remembered being nervous about it. The sweat beading on his palms as they waited in the wings of the stage prior to their performance, the pounding of his heart against his ribcage, the sound of the blood rushing between his ears. He was so nervous that he would trip, or he would drop his viola, maybe that everything would go impossibly wrong. However, the minute he and Chan looked at each other as they prepared to start their duet, a sense of calm overtook him, and he lost himself within the music.

Somehow, they managed to make it through the entire performance without faltering. As soon as they were hidden behind the black curtains of the stage, Chan gave Changbin the closest, warmest hug he had ever received in his life.

“I told you we’d do it, man!” Chan excitedly whispered into Changbin’s ear. “You fucking killed it!”

“You did really well, too,” Changbin had shyly whispered back, offering a couple of nervous pats in between Chan’s shoulder blades. He remembered feeling lucky that the backstage area was so dark, because it was very obviously apparent that he was blushing.

He pulled himself from the memory, unable to finish playing his part from the duet, the notes sounding correct, yet feeling dissonant in his heart as he played. His shoulders drooped as he stared off into the skyscrapers far off in the distance. Sure, the relationship he had with Wooyoung was tumultuous, but Changbin wasn’t entirely innocent, either, often daydreaming about Chan during the most inopportune times.

When Wooyoung would dance his fingers against Changbin’s bare flesh in the darkness of their room, he was guilty of letting his mind wander to the what-ifs: what if Chan were there? Would Chan nip at Changbin’s neck with the same passion? How warm would Chan’s breath feel against his earlobe as his teeth dug into the tender flesh? Would he take Changbin in his arms and pepper his skin with soft kisses and haphazard ‘I love you’s as they tangled themselves up in each other?

It was insufferably suffocating, being weighed down by the ghosts of his past as he tried to move forward with his life.

For a long time, Changbin was infatuated with Chan. Starting in seventh grade, he wanted to spend time with only Chan; they would spend their weekends and summer vacations together, text each other until they fell asleep, and they were a part of all of the same extracurricular activities. To most people, all the way up until their junior year, they were essentially brothers that weren’t related by blood.

Nobody could have been closer than them.

One night, not long after they received the results that they had gotten a perfect score on their duet, Chan invited Changbin to a party at their friend’s house. Changbin, being the shy introvert that he was, would have said no otherwise, but he couldn’t bring himself to say no to Chan. There was nothing special or memorable about the house party itself, not until they both drunkenly stumbled into an empty bed together.

They had slept next to each other several times, but this was different. Changbin wrapped his arm around Chan’s chest, tucking his head underneath the elder’s chin, letting himself get lost in the warmth of their embrace. The alcohol convinced him it was a great time to be honest — perhaps a bit too honest.

“Chan,” Changbin had slurred out in a near-whisper. “Can I, uh, tell you something?”

“What’s up, dude?” Chan responded, sleepily rubbing his eyes.

Changbin took in a deep breath, and sat up, staring down at Chan in the dark. “I think…” his voice trailed off and he swallowed audibly, “I think I kinda like you?”

Chan just laughed, patting Changbin’s thigh. “I like you too, dude. It’s why we’re friends.”

“Nah,” the brunette huffed, smelling the stale, cheap beer on his breath and shuddering as he shook his head. “Not like that.”

“What do you mean, then?”

“Like,” a moment passed and Changbin recoiled into himself. “I like you, dude. I wanna take this to the next level. I dunno, man, this shit’s awkward and hard to admit.”

The two of them sat in silence for a while, until Chan sat up and leaned in close to Changbin. “Bin,” he sighed, firmly gripping his junior’s thigh, “I like you, too, but I don’t know. We could, like, seriously fuck up our friendship. I mean, you saw what Seonghwa did to Hongjoong when they went from friends to boyfriends.” He hiccupped and awkwardly chuckled to ease the tension blooming between them. “I don’t wanna ruin what we’ve got, since we’re basically brothers and shit.”

Changbin shook his head. It really was stupid, after all. The alcohol, however, gave him confidence that he didn’t ask for and didn’t need right now. He batted his eyelashes and brought his face in, up close to Chan. “Can I at least kiss you to see how it feels?”

Chan giggled, likely out of nervousness and drunkenness. “I mean, I don’t see why not. But neither you nor I have kissed anyone, ’s probably gonna be weird.”

“I don’t care.” The words left Changbin’s lips as he boldly reached up to Chan’s neck, pulling them closer to each other. It was awkward, painfully obvious that they really didn’t know what they were doing. Their lips were a little too dry for it to feel as magical as Changbin expected. Still, they continued; a tiny spark igniting between the two of them. It may have been awkward, but it didn’t feel wrong.

Chan brought his hand up to Changbin’s soft, brown hair, letting his fingers grip the strands gently. He brought his other hand up to the small of the brunette’s back, pulling him in. They couldn’t quite figure out which side their noses should be on, and when they opened their mouths to let their tongues adventure around, they clashed their teeth together one too many times, causing pain to echo throughout their heads.

Regardless of the awkward nature of their kiss, it was perfect for them. It felt like they kissed each other for hours, eventually rolling around the sheets, fingers skirting around on warm, flushed skin. Changbin didn’t even remember falling asleep, just the comfort of losing himself in Chan’s touch.

The next morning, however, was far from perfect. They were both grossly hungover, and Chan was oddly distant. “I dunno, dude,” he had sleepily grumbled, avoiding looking at Changbin at all, “I still don’t know if this is right.”

Chan was going to say more, but Changbin waved him off in a panic with feigned confidence. “Nah, dude, it was just us being drunk.” He let out a nervous laugh. “Sorry for being weird, I guess I was just a little too curious to have a kiss. Shame our first kisses were while we were drunk, huh?”

“Yeah,” Chan awkwardly smiled, “little weird, but whatever.”

Unsurprisingly, they started having problems not long after that. Chan had started getting irritated with Changbin putting more and more focus into his studies, starting to surpass him academically. Then, Changbin got first chair for the violas in orchestra. He beat out two seniors, and Chan was right behind him. Chan was always right behind him in everything. They were so close, they were like minor seconds in a chord: just two notes right next to each other that sounded uncomfortably dissonant when played together.

When Changbin got stressed, he focused. Conversely, when Chan stressed, he brooded.

“Come on, man,” Chan had whined right after practice one day, “you and I both got that perfect score on our duet. How’d you get lead first chair over me?”

The annoyance of Chan’s constant negative behaviour was draining on Changbin, causing the younger man to grow more and more irritated by the second. “I don’t fucking know, okay?” He snapped while opening his viola’s case. “Someone had to get it, and it was me. Stop taking out your shit on me, man, it’s exhausting.”

Chan frowned in response. “I’m not taking it out on you,” he huffed, “you’re just getting a lot of good shit lately, and it’s not fair.”

“You should have fucking tried harder, then!” Changbin shouted, taking a step towards Chan, clutching the neck of his viola tightly. “You know what’s not fair? What’s not fair is the fact that you’re being a broody sack of shit at me because you’re just not practicing as hard or studying as hard and that’s not my goddamned fault! You need to grow the fuck up, dude.”

Chan scowled and shoved Changbin back in anger, harder than he anticipated. He didn’t expect it to be such a rough shove, but Changbin didn’t always have a good sense of balance. The younger man tumbled backwards, and his viola hit the ground with a thud, a discordant twang coming from the delicate instrument and echoing throughout the room.

The silence that followed the scuffle was deafening. Chan tried to apologize, knowing just how important Changbin’s viola was to him, but he just incoherently sputtered and panicked. Changbin stared up at Chan in horror, blinking away tears that were budding up in his eyelids.

“How could you?”

It was the last thing that Changbin said to Chan for months.

The memories flooding up in Changbin’s head caused a gnawing pain to bloom within his stomach as he stared out the window, the sky now a deep shade of indigo. He sighed, then put his viola back into its case. He thought playing it would make him happy, more comfortable in his new apartment in a new town, but it just made him feel cold and alone. It felt like there was nothing but dissonant chords reverberating inside of him.

Changbin stared down at his viola, hesitating to close the case. The chip from the day it collided against the ground was still there, glaringly obvious as the memory burned itself into his head. He recalled that the musician that repaired his viola offered to fix it up, even though it was just a surface blemish and wouldn’t cause any musical problems. “No,” Changbin had told the man, “it’s right under the chin rest, so I’ll see it every time I go to play it. It’ll remind me to be more cautious.”

Cautious of his instrument, that’s probably what it sounded like to the musician. What Changbin really meant, however, was how he’d be cautious of letting anyone close to him in the future, no matter who it was.

Uncertainty rushed over him, but Changbin was certain of one thing: he needed to get Chan out of his head. Sooner, rather than later. He couldn’t afford to be distracted when he started with the symphony.

Maybe he’d be alone forever.

Monday came quickly, and Changbin was running early. He had left far too early, showing up nearly an hour before he needed to be at the practice hall. He shrugged the nervousness from his shoulders as he made his way to a nearby cafe to grab something caffeinated to help perk him up. Seven in the morning was far too early for his schedule after all of this time off from university.

It was a brief walk, maybe only a couple of minutes to the cafe down the street. Changbin opened the door, inanely scrolling through his emails as he walked through the front door and got in line. There was one email from the conductor, Lee Minho, sent out to everyone earlier that morning, welcoming the new members of the orchestra. Names, ages, instruments, and where they were from.

“What can I get for you?” The barista at the counter politely asked, causing Changbin to look up from his phone, his face flushing in embarrassment.

“Oh, sorry,” he whispered, locking his phone, sliding it into his pocket. “I’ll take a shot in the dark, medium, three shots, please.”

“Your name?”

“Changbin.” He was curious to see how terribly the barista would butcher his name as he tapped his card against the payment terminal. A minute later, he stepped off to the side, grabbing his phone to scroll through the email again. Since he was early, he might as well try and learn who was who and where they sat, what they played.

The wind and brass instruments were first. A new French horn player, a new trombonist, a new bassoonist, a new flautist. He was about to scroll through the percussion and string players when the second barista mumbled something that sounded kind of like his name. He walked up and grabbed the paper cup that was placed on the countertop, eyeing the scribble on the cup that barely resembled his name, rolling his eyes at the attempt.

Changbin took a cautious sip of the hot liquid as he made his way towards the front of the cafe, taking a seat at the window bar, placing his viola case down on the ground and his cup on the table, looking through his email. He didn’t care about the percussion section, but when he got to the strings, he perked up a bit. Two new violinists, two new violists, and a new cellist.

There was another new violist along with him, and Changbin bit his lip in excitement. He wondered who they were, where they were from. Then he saw the name, right under his. He stopped tapping his toes in excitement and his jaw dropped. If he was holding his coffee cup, he would have dropped it in shock.

Viola: Changbin S., 22, Connecticut. B.A., M.M., Music: Yale University.

Viola: Chan B., 23, New Hampshire. B.A., Music Performance: Dartmouth University.

“Holy shit,” Changbin whispered as all of the colour drained from his face. He had to have been hallucinating. There was no way that Chan was actually in Seattle. There had to have been another Chan from Dartmouth that was coming all the way here, right? That it wasn't just some crazy fever dream that Changbin was having?

He sat and stared at the email on his phone until the screen automatically turned off from inactivity. If Chan was seriously going to be in the symphonic orchestra with him, right next to him, what was he going to do? The two of them hadn't said anything more than polite passing phrases over their birthdays or for their graduations over social media, for fuck's sake. What the hell was going to happen when — no, if, it had to stay as an if — the two of them met?

The soft bell of the front door opening made Changbin shake his head, crashing back to reality. He turned his phone over, putting it down on the counter so he didn't have to look at it, and brought his cup back up to his lips. The coffee in the cup was nice, a bit more mellow and mild compared to the coffee he was used to on the east coast, like this was brewed with care and love, not in a hurry for someone just trying to get their fix.

“That's the third symphony,” a quiet voice came up behind Changbin, his ears twitching a bit as he heard something related to music. Perhaps this person was another musician, part of the orchestra? Letting his curiosity get the better of him, he turned his head over his shoulder and actually dropped his cup, spilling the warm liquid all over the table and into his lap. In a rush, he grabbed his phone as he stood and let out a crisp, sharp interjection.

As the coffee cooled in his lap and the barista from earlier approached him with a towel, his brain caught up to the realization that his former best friend-turned-rival, Chan, was right behind him. Before he could fully process what that meant, Changbin found himself madly dashing back to his apartment, phone in one hand, viola case in the other. Reality hit him in the face and burned as much as his scorched legs as he collided into the door of his apartment.

This wasn't a dream.

Changbin was thankful that he was always early to things. After rushing to apply some burn cream to his legs and change into a fresh outfit, he had somehow made it back to the concert hall with fifteen minutes to spare. He gripped the handle to his viola's case tightly, palms sweating as he tried so hard not to panic. Beyond the doors of the practice hall, he knew that Chan was going to be there. Nothing he did could prepare him for that, and he knew it.

He took in a deep breath, and let off a quick exhale as he pushed the door open. The crowd of other players was massive — there had to be nearly a hundred people crowded up in small circles. The newer people were very obvious, awkwardly off to the side in their respective sections. Some people were off in random seats, tuning their instruments. Then, in the middle of the room, he saw someone seated, alone, anxiously scrolling through his phone. It was the same brassy blonde that was in the cafe.

Chan.

Almost as if the energy in the room cooled as Changbin entered, Chan shifted in his seat and aimlessly scanned the room, looking at the other members, until his eyes landed on Changbin, and his lips parted. They stared at each other, seemingly like they were frozen in space and time, that there was no one else around. A conflicting rush of warmth, excitement, and terror washed over Changbin all at once as he stared at his former best friend.

Changbin shook his head, letting his eyes fall to the floor for a moment. “This is going to be fine,” he quietly reassured himself as he walked towards the middle of the room. “You two don't have to look at each other, speak to each other, just be civil. If you're lucky, you won't even have to interact much. Hopefully.”

That was a boldfaced lie, but it helped reassure Changbin in the slightest way possible.

“Hi,” Chan awkwardly whispered as Changbin got close. “Long time, no see, huh?”

He simply couldn't resist looking up at Chan and somehow wrinkling his face up into an uncomfortable grin. “Hi, Chan.” His tone was a bit cold, but what else could he do? They left each other on horrible terms, not even speaking to each other during their high school graduation ceremony. Changbin had given his valedictorian speech, and remembered Chan walking up to the podium, giving him a pitiful expression as they crossed paths.

“Looks like your assigned seat is right next to me.” There's a tapping noise as Chan's fingernail repeatedly strikes the plastic seat next to him. A large, black binder sat atop the chair, with "Changbin S., Viola’ emblazoned on the top of it in silver, serif lettering.

Fate was a cruel bastard.

Changbin stifled a sigh under his breath, placing his viola's case underneath the chair as he grabbed the binder. He sat down in his seat, pretending to rifle through the paperwork. There was simply no way that he could focus, knowing that Chan was right next to him. It was completely awkward and uncomfortable. Changbin could practically feel the warmth of the blonde sitting next to him, even though they were about a foot away from each other.

“We're gonna pretend like all that time together never happened, huh?” Chan's voice was cold, and he tsked as he brought his phone back up to his face. “I really thought four years would've changed you, Bin.”

Changbin slammed the binder shut and leaned into Chan's face. His eyes darted around, knowing that he was getting some strange glances from people that weren't preoccupied, but it didn't matter. “You're the one that refused to grow up and handle things responsibly like an adult. I don't want to hear another fucking passive aggressive word about this from you.” His tone was hushed, but venomous and seething. “You had all this time to apologize, but you never did. I sincerely hope we don't have to interact much, because this two year contract is going to be hell on me if you're here.”

Chan scoffed. “Whatever, dude,” he shook his head and looked back to his phone. “I just wanted to try and be civil, but if you wanna play that game, then you can. Go right ahead.”

This was outrageous. Changbin opened his mouth to say something, but a man with a calm demeanour walked into the room, his presence demanding attention from everyone as they scattered to their seats.

“Good morning, everyone,” his voice boomed throughout the corridor. It was soft, inviting. “Welcome to your first day of the season. If you would kindly find your seats, we'll get started in a few moments.”

Changbin awkwardly fumbled with his binder, resting it on the music stand in front of him, then bent down to pick up his viola's case. He undid the latches, and pulled out the instrument, his eyes fixated on that damned chip under the chin rest. Naturally, after he stared at the chip for longer than necessary, he lifted his eyes up to Chan, who was rubbing his bow against the brick of resin in his hand.

Chan was always delicate with his instrument. He put in so much love when he polished his viola prior to competitions and performances, always lovingly eyed the hairs of his bow as he carefully watched the resin coat each strand. Typically, he would hum some inane melody to himself as he got lost in the process, in the care of what he did.

Today, Chan wasn't humming.

It felt like the energy around him had gone from its usual bright cheerfulness, and turned into a dark, gloomy cloud.

“Please,” the instructor spoke yet again, looking up from his stack of paperwork on the podium, “if you haven't done so, begin tuning your instruments. Hopefully they're all tuned up, but I'm sure some of you have been slacking since we last practiced together, hmm?”

Changbin didn't need to tune his viola, since he tuned it last night in anticipation, but he went along and pretended to tune it with his plastic electric tuner. The light shone green as he kept strumming against the C string. Changbin tried to stare at the light, but he couldn't take his eyes off of Chan. While he wasn't humming, the elder still put in so much tender energy while he cared for his viola.

It had been all this time, but Changbin still felt his abdomen and chest light up with fire when he saw Chan, no matter how much it hurt. It was apparent that Changbin was still so madly in love with him, even after all of these years and all of the emotional torment they had put each other through.

This man was going to be the death of him.

The beginning of the first day with the symphony wasn't eventful. There were some warm-ups and some scales practice, but that was simply to get everyone prepared for the performance season. After all of that, the conductor, Minho, went through each section and asked the new members to introduce themselves. Percussion went first, then woodwinds, brass, strings. Second-to-last was the viola group, and Chan went first.

“Chan,” he said with a smile, his dimple prominently on display, “I'm 23, originally from New York, but I've been in New Hampshire for the past four years thanks to university. I recently graduated, with honours, top of my class, from the music performance faculty at Dartmouth. I hope we all get along well and you'll treat me kindly. Let's have a great season!” He sat down, and his smile faded as Changbin rose.

“Yeah, uh, hello,” Changbin awkwardly stuttered, folding his hands together behind his back. “I'm Changbin, 22, also originally from New York, but I've been in Connecticut for the last four years where I matriculated at Yale. I have a bachelor's and master's in music, specifically: music performance for viola and piano. I've been playing the viola for most of my life, and I hope I will serve everyone well here. Uh,” he paused, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. “Thanks.”

There were a couple of polite chuckles as Changbin sat down. Despite having a penchant for giving well-manicured speeches, he hated giving unprepared introductions. He felt tense enough already, knowing that Chan was right next to him, making him all the more uncomfortable.

The new violinists introduced themselves, and Minho clapped once. “Excellent,” he praised. “Now that introductions are out of the way, please split off into your respective subsections until I'm able to get to each individual group and assess your skills for placements. Those of you that have finished by your lunch break are welcome to leave, unless your principal seat deems otherwise.”

A couple of musicians groaned.

“It's nearly autumn,” Minho said with a soft smile as he adjusted his necktie, “you all know that placement seats, other than principal seats, aren't guaranteed.”

Changbin nervously swallowed. He knew that placements were, yet again, going to be a source of contention for both of them. Chan was top of his class at Dartmouth; Changbin was top of his class at Yale. Both of them were going to be a force to be reckoned with, especially up against other top-class talent.

This orchestra recorded for multiple high-budget films and would perform in the pits of renowned theatrical performances. There were just over a hundred seats in the orchestra, but thousands applied for open spots after contracts ended and spots opened up. It was nerve-wracking, and Changbin wasn't confident that he, for the first time since high school, would be placed in one of the first viola chairs.

“Hey,” a voice perked up as everyone started to shift around and break off into their own groups. “I'm Seungmin,” a young man stood in front of Chan and Changbin, probably about the same age as them. “I'm the principal chair for the viola section. Changbin and Chan, right?” Both of them silently nodded once in affirmation. “Nice, Ivy Leaguers like me. Cornell, graduated last year. Anyway, don't worry too much about placements. Not much you can do until you actually have to perform, and Minho is pretty great about making you feel comfortable if you're nervous. Why not come meet everyone in the section?”

There were polite greetings and less-formal introductions shared, a couple of people made jokes to ease the tension, as to be expected. Seungmin discussed the projected schedule for the season, going over some of the pieces that they would need to practice together and individually. They went over all of the general housekeeping, discussed the placement procedures, and that they were free to go after they were done, since there was no real point in sticking around for the rest of the day.

“Alright, well,” Seungmin stood up as his alarm went off, “lunch starts now, so I'm gonna head off. See ya in an hour; just meet up here and don't be late. For strings, the violin section goes first, then us.”

Changbin looked down to the floor, an uneasy pit growing in his stomach. Part of him knew he should stay and practice, just to get his mind in the right order, but he couldn't pull himself away from the fact that Chan was still there, right next to him.

“Get up,” Chan muttered, lightly tapping Changbin's chair with his foot, startling the brunette to attention. “Look, dude,” he tucked his hands into his pockets and huffed with discontent, “I know we haven't spoken in years, but there's some things I wanna talk to you about before we go in and compete against each other for yet another stupid thing. Come grab lunch with me, alright?”

“I'm not hungry.” Changbin's eyes darted to the side, furrowing his brows in frustration. He just wanted to focus on practicing his piece for placements; there was no time to worry about eating at a time like this.

“No,” an exasperated sigh came from Chan as he folded his arms and rolled his eyes. “You're just nervous and you don't wanna talk to me. Unless you've drastically changed, you do this shit before performances, too. Just come on, it's not gonna be that bad, I promise.”

Changbin wasn't sure why he agreed to this. The two of them sat at a table in the hipster pho shop next to the cafe, awkwardly poking at their warm bowls of noodles and broth as they sat in silence for at least a good five minutes. “So,” the younger man sighed, “what did you want to talk about?”

The blonde sucked his lips in between his teeth and chewed on them for a second before he set his chopsticks down into the bowl and looked up, meeting Changbin's gaze with a hint of nervousness behind his eyes. “Changbin,” he huffed, tilting his head to the side, “all those years ago, I was horrible to you.”

“I know.” The brunette abruptly cut him off, seething through his teeth while he sat back in his chair.

“Bin,” the older man shook his head, his eyes wincing with pain, “dude, I had this big ass draft saved in my messages that I wanted to send to you after we graduated.” He brought an elbow to the table and nestled his head into his palm. “For some reason, I couldn't bring myself to ever send it. I don't know why; it was probably out of embarrassment and cowardice. The way I treated you all that time, over some stupid competitive shit, I'm sorry, Changbin. Honestly, I'm so sorry.”

A tsk left Changbin's lips as he rolled his eyes away, looking at the wall to his side, just for a moment. He leaned in, pressing his arm into the table, mere inches away from Chan. “Yeah, you did a lot of shit, and yeah, I know you’re sorry or whatever. But you know what hurts me the most, Chan?”

Chan nervously swallowed and bit his lip.

“You did all of this shit to me after I kissed you. None of this started until then.” Changbin shook his head in disappointment. “I'm not upset about the way you reacted, not really, at least, but I am upset over the fact that you kissed me back so hard, like you actually wanted me as more than a friend. After all that, you started treating me so horribly, like you had to prove that you were better than me. Like our years of friendship suddenly didn’t matter anymore.”

“Changbin, I just couldn’t—” Chan started, but Changbin sat back and shook his head, speaking up and cutting off the blonde.

“You hurt me.” There were tears budding up in the brunette's eyes. “It's taken you four and a half years to apologize. Chan, I’ve waited for fucking years for this. I wish you would have sent me some bullshit, half-assed stupid text message apology that summer. It would have hurt less than this. All of this time, I thought you hated me. That my best friend wanted nothing to do with me. Nothing else hurts more than that, to have your favourite person in the entire world suddenly hate you, and it’s all because you thought he had feelings for you, too, but he just threw them back in your face and laughed at your pain.”

Changbin stood up and grabbed his phone from off of the table. “I'm not ready to forgive you, Chan. Not after all of this shit. So, please,” a couple of tears rolled down his face as he bit his bottom lip, “just respect me enough to leave me alone for a little while. I need to think about this, about us.”

He stormed off before Chan could attempt to stop him. An overwhelming fear of nervousness took over: partially due to the unsteady ground their relationship was on, and partially due to the fact that his placement exam was going to take place soon, and Changbin was nowhere near the right mental capacity for that.

“Shouldn’t have done this,” Changbin whispered to himself as he wiped the tears from his face, his footsteps hard and heavy against the concrete sidewalk. “Fuck you, Chan.”

“Capriccio,” Minho smiled, his face relaxed and expression warm. He held his clipboard in hand as Changbin eyed the sheets of music in front of him. “Composed by Vieuxtemps. I picked this as the sight reading for today’s placement exams.” The conductor was welcoming enough, but his calm demeanour didn’t ease the nervousness vibrating throughout Changbin’s body.

All those years ago, I was horrible to you. Chan’s apology still sounded so clear in his head, Changbin constantly replaying the memory unwillingly as the notes on the sheet music danced around, tangling itself up into an unintelligible mess.

“Changbin?”

I’m so sorry, Changbin. He was so angry: at Chan, at himself, at the fact that he ran away, that he couldn’t concentrate on the important task at hand in front of him.

“Hey,” Minho’s voice was layered with concern as it pulled Changbin from his thoughts. “Are you feeling alright? It’s just a standard placement exam, nothing to be too nervous over.”

Changbin stood in the empty office, viola carefully cradled in his hands as he blinked his way back into focus, the sheet music suddenly becoming clear and normal. “Sorry,” he shook his head, trying to rid Chan’s voice from the depths of his ears, “I guess I’m just nervous.” Capriccio. It was a piece Changbin had heard, but he had never played it before, as to be expected for sight reading, but the anxiousness in his stomach blossomed like a large black lily of doubt, poking its petals at his ribcage. “How long do I have to look at this?”

“I’ll give you two minutes to look over it,” Minho leaned against the back of his chair and rubbed his chin with his thumb. “Once you’re ready to start playing, I’ll take notes. We’ll do the scales exercise before that, as well as a piece of your choosing. Are you sure you’re ready, Changbin?”

“I’ll be fine,” Changbin huffed, trying to calm the nerves inside of him as he readied his viola. He had to be fine, he had to beat out Chan with this. “Let’s do the scales, then.”

Changbin kept telling himself that had to beat Chan, but he didn’t know exactly why.

“Hey, man!” Seungmin said with excitement as he patted Changbin on the back, right outside of the practice room. “How'd it go?”

Changbin groaned and rolled his eyes, gripping the neck of his viola a bit tighter. “It was alright,” he grumbled, walking to where his case laid on his chair. Chan had gone before him, and was deliberately looking away from Changbin as he approached. As soon as he started shuffling with his case, Chan got up with an exasperated sigh and walked away.

“Are you two,” Seungmin pressed, lowering his voice as he approached Changbin, “do you know each other or something? I'm getting some weird vibes from you both.”

The brunette gritted his teeth as his bottom eyelid twitched. “We were classmates, yeah,” he admits, “back in high school.”

“Oh! That's exciting!”

“No,” Changbin sighed, “I wish it was more interesting than that, but we stopped talking after we both got into different universities”. It wasn't a complete lie, yet it wasn't a complete truth, either. Changbin quickly weighed the options of being honest with Seungmin about how strained their relationship was, and chose to just fake it for the greater morale of the group. They were both too new to start something so petty so early on in the season.

Seungmin grinned as Changbin turned around. “Well, hey,” he bopped his head back and forth to the side, humming a bit, “it's kinda cool when you've got people that know each other and work well together in the same group. Maybe the violas will be a bit stronger this year.”

“We'll see,” Changbin said with a fake smile. Whether he was talking about the group or about his relationship with Chan was uncertain.

It was nearly a full day until placement results were revealed. Both Changbin and Chan got first chair, but they were at the bottom of five. What stung the most, however, was that Chan had beaten Changbin, likely due to nerves.

Changbin was at the bottom of something for the first time in his life, and he didn't know how to handle the whirlwind of emotions raging inside of him.

“Sorry,” Chan whispered as they both stared at the sheet. “At least we're both first chairs, not second, though, yeah?”

He shouldn't have been upset, because these were some of the best performers in the entire country, but Changbin was seething. Fists clenched, teeth gritting, and he was sweating with how infuriated he was at being in the bottom for the first time. Ever. Seos were never anything but first, and this was going to eat at him from the inside out for a long time, especially since he was beaten out by Chan of all people.

“Hey, guys,” Seungmin leaned up against the wall, causing them both to break their gaze at the sheet of paper for a moment. “Congratulations on getting first chairs during your first contract year. Not many people get that.”

Changbin didn't care if “many people” got first chair or not, he was still fixated on the fact that he got beaten out by Chan. He wanted the assistant principal seat, but wasn’t even remotely close to it. So, he determined he’d have to work harder, to set his eyes on the principal seat when placements opened. This step backwards could cost him that opportunity when it came up in the spring, and he hated it.

Chan elbowed Changbin in the side, causing the brunette to snap back to reality.

“What?” The younger man bit back, viscerally reacting as his eyes widened and he bared his teeth. He wanted so desperately to throw Chan up against the wall and yell at him for distracting him right before his placement exam, when he knew he should have just stayed back and practiced. Chan broke his routine and all Changbin could think about during the exam was how angry he was at his former best friend.

“Chill out,” Chan sighed, eyes widening for a brief moment in shock. “Seungmin just asked if the two of us had any plans after practice.”

Seungmin shook his head. “It's cool if you do,” he smiled awkwardly, sensing the tension blooming around them, “a bunch of us, including most of the newbies, are all going out to Vivace. It’s that little bar down the street. Could be a good chance for everyone to get to know each other a bit better. Seems like you two have a head start on that, but now it's time for us to get to know you.”

His voice was sickeningly optimistic. Changbin gritted his teeth together under pursed lips and was about to decline, until Chan spoke up for both of them. “Yeah,” he said in a fake pleasant voice, “Changbin and I are down for that.”

“Don't speak for me,” Changbin said through his teeth, but Chan turned to look at him and frowned.

“Team morale. Be a good player, dude.”

Brooding. Failure. Fucking failure.

Changbin never was one to brood, but he was never one to fail, either. Today was a day of firsts, none of them good. He frowned as he leaned over his glass of warmed cognac, staring down into it in disgust at his reflection. The entire group was bonding with each other, smiling and laughing without a care in the world, and he was being the awkward loner in the corner again, silent and reserved.

“That didn't seriously happen,” a young man with short platinum blonde hair drunkenly giggled. Felix, probably. That's the name that Changbin thought he heard him mention when they all introduced themselves. He was the new French horn player. “Hyunjin, dude, you've gotta stop it with picking up random people in clubs.”

“It's Cap Hill, baby,” the man with long, black hair half-heartedly whined, martini against his lips. Hyunjin. Second chair cellist. “Sometimes you see someone hot, and you just gotta take them home, y’know? Of course you don’t, you’re too prudish to get fucking laid.”

A laugh bubbled up from the group, but both Chan and Changbin were staying relatively quiet. “Hey,” Chan said in a low voice, leaning against the table that Changbin was resting his elbows on. “You should come participate with everyone.”

“Why?” Changbin rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Nobody here really cares about each other. It's all polite bullshit anyways.”

“Seriously, would you just fucking stop with this mopey shit, dude?” Chan tried to keep his voice down, setting his pint of stout on the table. “Come on, you're not a kid anymore.”

Changbin tilted his head back and sighed. “I never lose, man,” he brought his head back upright, staring down Chan as the alcohol loosened his lips. “You know I've never come in second, much less last, for anything. Let me just be down for once.”

As Chan opened his mouth to retort, another short, young man came up to the table. Jisung, the lead second chair violinist slammed his lager on the table with a wide grin. “What’s up, newbies? We're doing shots. Team bonding, yeah?”

Changbin's lip curled up in disgust, already annoyed by how chipper the other man was. “I don't do shots,” he grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jisung dismissively waved his hand in the air and scoffed. “We get it, you’re pretentious and better than us or whatever. You're doing a shot with us anyways, a'ight? If you're drinking, it ain't optional.”

Seungmin, Felix, and a quiet brunette carried a few small glasses of amber liquid, setting the tiny shot glasses down on the table. “I don't know why you recommended Fireball for this, dude,” Hyunjin grumbled as he shook his head, taking a shot glass from the table and stepping right behind Jisung.

“It's good!” The smaller black-haired man shouted with a wide smile. “I've met nobody that doesn't like this stuff.”

“I hate it,” Changbin grumbled in protest, vaguely recalling memories of getting hammered on the foul liquid during a house party his sophomore year of college. A layer of regret gripped at his ribcage, thinking of the way Wooyoung’s boozy breath lingered on his lips as they made out on the patio of some stranger’s house. The regret clawed at him while he recalled how he looked up at the stars and wished that it was Chan there instead of Wooyoung. “I hate it a lot,” he repeated, unsure if he was still talking about the liquor or if he was talking about the memory creeping into his head.

His quip earned him a finger in the face from the loud young man, pulling him from his lamenting. “Not tonight, you don't. You can hate it after our fifth shot of it. Hate it tomorrow morning. Yeah?”

Everyone grabbed a shot glass, several reaching out in reluctance, and Seungmin puffed his chest out. “Alright,” he proudly said with a triumphant grin, holding his glass in the air, “we're gonna have a great year. Newbies and violists may be outcasts, but we're all a family. Yeah?”

The group let out an affirmative, albeit jumbled, noise.

“On three,” Jisung said with a smirk, then counted to three. All of the men lifted their glasses to their lips and chugged down the cloyingly sweet and uncomfortably spicy cinnamon-flavoured liquor.

“Oh, that's horrid,” Changbin shuddered, nearly dropping the shot glass as he recoiled. Chan nodded his head as he hissed, while Seungmin and Felix scrunched their faces in discomfort.

“You're disgusting, Ji. Let's get more!” The brunette from earlier perked up, the first time Changbin caught him speaking during the gathering. “It's not a good night unless someone pukes before we leave, yeah?”

Jisung slapped his hand on the table and collected the empty glasses from everyone. “Hell yeah, Jeongin, that's my dude!”

It wasn’t until the cool, late summer breeze hit Changbin as he stumbled outside that he realized that that fifth shot of Fireball that Jisung convinced everyone to take was, in fact, not a good idea. He groaned to himself as the cool air gradually revitalized him. “That shit was horrible.”

“Yeah,” Chan's aching voice slurred up from behind him. “You gonna be good getting home, Bin?”

Changbin wouldn't have responded if he was sober. He would have, and should have, just walked away, waved Chan off with an insincerely polite farewell, but the alcohol gave him a slight boost of confidence. He shrugged and sighed. “Probably. I live just down the street, uh,” he brought one hand to his temple as he blinked, eyeing his surroundings, eventually slinging his right arm up and pointed lazily towards the right, “that way. Somewhere.”

“You've never been a good drunk, have you?” Chan sighed, walking up to Changbin and interlocking his arm with the younger man’s, gently pulling him towards the direction he pointed in.

The brunette shook his head a few times and whined. “What're you doing?”

“Making sure you get home in one piece.”

“You dunno where I live, man.”

Chan tugged Changbin’s arm a bit and sighed. “You said this way, so I'm making sure you go that way. Besides, I live over here, too. It's on the way.”

“The Bushnell Apartments.”

The blonde stopped in his tracks and stared down at his drunken compatriot in shock. “How'd you know?”

“What?” The younger man lazily lifted his head up and knitted his brows together in confusion.

“That's where I live, dude.”

“No,” Changbin scoffed, “you big dummy, that's where I live.”

“Wait a minute,” Chan chuckled inwardly, “you live in the same complex as me?”

“Sounds like it, yeah,” Changbin nodded once, bringing his free arm up to rub the back of his neck, “third floor, room 325.”

“Holy shit. I'm in 324. I wondered who was playing music a few weeks ago when I was moving my stuff in.”

Changbin laughed nervously as the realization that Chan lived so close to him, not only in the same apartment complex, but right next door to him, slapped him in the face. “Fate's a real bastard, innit?”

“What?”

As much as Changbin wanted to say something, a look of discomfort quickly washed over his face. “Oh shit,” came out instead of the quip he was planning on, and he quickly, awkwardly dashed to the curb of the sidewalk, violently emptying the contents of his stomach all over the pavement instead.

A drunken laugh came up from behind him as Chan cackled maniacally. “I knew you were a lightweight.”

The next morning, Changbin woke up and even the most ambient of sounds were painfully louder, every light was uncomfortably brighter. He let out a weak whimper, and curled into himself as the world spun around him. “Goddammit,” he grumbled. “Fuck Jisung and fuck last night. I'm never drinking again.”

As if fate was teasing him, taunting him with how unfair it truly was, there was a knock against the door, the faint rapping pulling him out of his daze. He sighed heavily, rolling over onto his back, coming to terms with the fact that he was going to have to get up in a moment. “Be there in a sec,” he attempted to shout in the most decent, cognizant way possible.

It took Changbin a few moments to reorient himself as the walls spun around him. He stumbled his way through his bedroom, out to the front door, not bothering to look through the peephole. Changbin fumbled with his deadbolt for a moment, scolding himself as he realized he forgot to do the chain-link before he passed out at some point earlier that morning. He pulled the door open, instantly regretting leaving his bed as he saw the man at his door.

“Chan?” He rubbed his eyes and grumbled. “How'd you find out where I live?”

“You told me last night, dude.” The taller man offered a plastic bag around his finger, almost as if it were some sort of physical apology. “Figured you could use some of this, especially since you don't remember all of last night, do you?”

Changbin stepped back, opening his door wide. There was no way he had the energy to yell at Chan, not when the man had brought him food as a peace offering. “I'm still upset with you, you know.”

“You told me last night,” Chan shook his head, tutting in feigned irritation as he took a couple of steps into Changbin’s apartment. “Several times, actually.”

The two of them sat on the couch in awkward silence as they ate their lukewarm, greasy diner takeout. Changbin curled up into a ball, clutching his sports drink to his chest as he rolled his face into the couch cushion. “God, I feel like shit,” he whined. “How are you so okay after all of that? You ended up drinking more than me.”

Chan chuckled. “I was part of a frat, dude,” he took a sip of water from his glass, then set it back down on the table. “Beer was an acceptable substitute for water in Sig Ep. Practically its own food group. Ah,” he stuck a finger in the air and his face turned stoic, “unofficially, of course.”

In all honesty, Changbin never realized that Chan had become such a different person after he went to university. He was still caring and kind, but to picture him as a typical frat boy was jarring. “You still got honours and valedictorian after all that shit?”

“Yep,” the older man clasped his hands together, bringing them behind his head as he leaned back into the couch. “Don't know how I did it, though. Talent probably got me far enough.”

“You were always really good at playing the viola, dude.” The compliment was sincere, Changbin rolling his eyes up to catch the profile of his best friend, staring longer than he should’ve.

Chan turned slightly, sucking in some air through his teeth as he looked at Changbin. “Never as good as you.” His voice was low, like there was something hidden deep under his words.

The two of them were quiet again. Changbin couldn’t help but ruminate on Chan’s words, memories of their constant rivalries and the night of their drunken kiss violently replaying over and over in his head. Chan always wanted to beat Changbin out on one thing, and Changbin was afraid it would cause Chan to look down on him as somehow lesser than.

Oh.

A sour, queasy feeling rolled up the back of Changbin’s neck as he realized he had probably treated Chan poorly in everything they competed for when he beat him out. How could he have treated his childhood friend so terribly for something so petty and trivial? Changbin had no other friends, not since he and Wooyoung split up, and the loneliness he felt bubbled up in his chest, commingling with how horrible he felt for the way he had treated Chan after all this time.

He should have apologized, too.

“Hey, Bin,” Chan leaned further into the back of the couch, drawing his arm out against the frame and he stared down at his sickly junior. “If I had reached out to you and apologized, do you think you would’ve forgiven me? We said some horrible shit to each other and, honestly, I never thought we’d see each other again. I’m glad we got to see each other after all this time, but I can’t help but think we’d never talk to each other otherwise.”

Changbin couldn’t help but look away, staring off into the tiny chip on his wall next to his calendar. He chewed on his teeth, unable to resist thinking about all of the stupid, petulant rage he felt over their trivial fights. He brought his thumbnail to his teeth and anxiously nibbled at it, honestly unsure if he would’ve forgiven Chan if they didn’t end up in Seattle together after all this time. “I dunno,” he muttered, words coming out with a slight lisp against his nail. “I think you’re probably right. I mean, we hadn’t talked in four years, why start now? What’s the point of resurfacing old wounds just to tear into them?”

A heavy sigh came from Chan as he looked up towards the ceiling. “I guess you’re right. I figured you had everything going perfectly for you. You graduated with a bachelor’s and a master’s degree, were happily engaged, and had just accepted some prestigious job somewhere. You were succeeding and surpassing me in so many ways yet again, and I couldn’t even come to terms with the fact that I—” Chan quickly cut himself off.

Changbin lifted one of his eyebrows at the sudden silence, turning to look at Chan in confusion. “The fact that you what?”

The blonde shook his head, quickly standing up and brushing his shirt off. “I-it’s nothing.”

“Wait,” Changbin reached out to grab Chan’s arm without thinking, loosely grasping at his thin wrist. “Chan, I know it’s been years, but you can tell me anything.”

“No,” Chan shook his head, refusing to look at Changbin. “I promise, it’s not that important right now.” Almost as if he could sense Changbin opening his mouth to protest, Chan spoke up again. “Look, eat the rest of your food and drink a lot of fluids. We can talk about this all later, I just,” Chan offered a quick smile over his shoulder before he tugged his wrist free of Changbin’s grasp and made his way towards the door, “I can’t talk about it right now. Sorry, man.”

Changbin cursed himself for drinking so much the night prior, his hangover preventing him from chasing after Chan. As much as he wanted to know what Chan was about to say, he figured he would just drop it for now, then press for more information later.

Chan’s ‘talk about all of this later’ turned into a lot longer than Changbin expected.

It should have been days, weeks at the most. However, the end of summer resigned itself to Seattle’s torrential autumn rains, the symphony’s first performance of the season came and went, they all worked through their planned Thanksgiving break to finish recording a score for a film with an unbelievably large budget. All of that came and went, and there was still no conversation broader than casual discussion between the two of them.

Every time they passed each other, Changbin’s eyes lingered on the blonde. What was Chan thinking? What was he going to say that caused the energy between them to shift so drastically?

There were polite conversations in passing between Chan and Changbin off and on. Occasionally, they would walk to the practice hall together, but it was by sheer accident, only because they had left their apartments at the same time. Every interaction between them seemed accidental, too pleasantly sterile for what had to have been harbouring beneath the surface.

Autumn bled into winter. Rain turned to sleet, which morphed into snow a few times during January and February. February blended into March. March blossomed into April. More performances, more anxiety, more productions, more nervousness, more expectations, more, more, more. More from the symphony, and less, less, less from Chan.

The sleepless nights brought on by extensive late-night practices were tolerable; tired mornings after these were easily remedied with a few cups of coffee. Conversely, the few times Changbin had gone to bed at a reasonable hour, he found himself tossing and turning, restlessly thinking about Chan, unable to sleep. His heart pounded with nervousness, Changbin swearing he could hear his heartbeat echoing against the beige drywall of his bedroom. He reached his fingertips up and brushed them against the wall behind him, where he assumed Chan was laying on the opposite side, peacefully slumbering away.

So close. So far away. Chan was always right there, but so far out of reach.

I couldn’t even come to terms with the fact that I—

What exactly was Chan going to say on that day? Months had passed, but Changbin could still hear every syllable that came from Chan’s lips, the way that his tongue punctuated each hard consonant with a staccato against his teeth, haunting his dreams. He could picture the moment that Chan’s expression changed, shifted from ease to uncertainty, how his eyelashes twitched when his eyes went wide with fear.

Late one sleepless April night, Changbin had found himself staring upwards yet again, lost in the grooves and valleys of stucco against his ceiling. His nervousness of the upcoming principal seat exam weighed him down, forcing him to sink further and further into his mattress, heavy with doubt. Earlier that day, Chan stepped back, saying he wasn’t interested in fighting for the position, which Changbin read as neither truth nor fiction.

“I just want you to have the best chance possible,” Chan had told him with a seemingly fake smile. “You’re so incredibly talented, Bin. You’ve got the leadership skills, and I support you all the way.”

No. Something about that wasn’t right.

Changbin frowned, knitting his eyebrows together as he bit down on his lips. He tried to recall exactly what the expression was on Chan’s face while he said those words with a layer of insincerity. The insincerity was juxtaposed with honesty and pain, so many conflicting and contrasting things said without words.

Then, it hit him.

You’re so incredibly talented. It sounded so familiar, the layered pain and genuine jealousy.

Never as good as you.

It had been months since Chan told him that, when they were sitting on the couch nursing their hangovers at the beginning of the season. Months had passed, but the words were suddenly so crisp and clear, as if Changbin was right in that moment again.

It wasn’t jealousy. No, it was never jealousy.

In a near panic, Changbin reached out for his phone on his nightstand, bringing it up to his face. The bright light burned his retinas, but it didn’t matter. He started scrolling through Chan’s social media page, down countless months and years, endless photos that started with him in various spots in Seattle, then to his graduation, followed by various frat gatherings and university happenings.

It was like Changbin was travelling backwards in time, seeing several familiar names and faces pop up, partially reliving the moments he had spent over the years angrily scrolling through his timeline on the nights he where Wooyoung was sleeping soundly next to him. Names that caused Changbin’s stomach to tense with varying degrees of jealousy started popping up with each season he travelled through.

Senior year: Son Chaeyoung, five months.

Junior year: Minatozaki Sana, seven months.

Sophomore year: Im Naeyon, three months. Hirai Momo, two months.

Freshman year: Park Jihyo, two months. Yoo Jeongyeon, two months.

Changbin recalled all of the people — all of them women — that Chan had dated, how none of them really seemed like they were serious relationships, that they were maybe friends with benefits at most. The photos Chan had taken with them were all stiff and felt rushed, like he was putting on a show that he was happy with them, when he clearly wasn’t genuinely happy.

It wasn’t jealousy. Of course it wasn’t jealousy.

Chan was hiding something, and Changbin’s heart sunk into his stomach as he found himself staring at the ceiling yet again. All he could find himself thinking about now was a single word ruminating, burning into his head.

Why?

Changbin made sure to leave well in advance prior to the start of the day. He didn’t want to risk running into Chan, not when the principal seat exam was today. He had spent too much time ruminating and worrying over Chan and the what-ifs the night prior, his lack of sleep apparent as his limbs ached with fatigue.

The walk to the practice hall was uneventful; drizzle had languidly fallen from the sky, embedding itself into Changbin’s jacket, temporarily turning the crimson fabric just a few shades darker. After several months, Changbin had gotten used to the nonstop Seattle rain, varying from drizzle to torrential downpours with occasional reprieves of sunshine peppered in throughout the year.

In a way, it was oddly calming. The rain kept people from lingering in the streets too long to chatter, but there was also a stubborn resiliency as people just accepted the downpours. Umbrellas and ponchos were only seen with tourists, people that seemed afraid that the slightest bit of drizzle would cause them to melt. There was an influx of tourists in March, when the cheap cruises up along the coast to Alaska started. With the influx of tourists, there were more and more performances that were crammed into Changbin’s schedule.

Honestly, the transition from March to April seemed so minute, like the drizzle turning to heavy droplets of rain, the rainstorm he constantly found himself in. It was a beautiful time of year, and Changbin hadn’t ever truly appreciated the fact that there were so many varying shades of grey along the spectrum of white to black.

The transition from August to April seemed to be so subtle, too. Within a few months, the barista at the cafe got better with his name, eventually able to speak it with confidence at about February. Changbin assumed she was flirting with him a few times when she passed his cup to him with various doodles and scribbles on them, but he shrugged it off.

Today’s cup holding his shot in the dark had a heart next nestled up to his name. Perhaps it would bring good luck for the principal seat exam.

Practice was uneventful, since the entire group was only together for the first half of the day. As the group disbanded into its respective sections for individualized practice, nerves bubbled up in Changbin’s veins as he steeled himself in preparation for the principal seat exam. Seungmin had wished him the most polite “good luck, man,” he could muster, even though they were both competing against each other.

Changbin had been in the middle of practicing his solo piece when a familiar voice pulled him from his concentration.

“Fantasia Cromatica?” The voice was layered with nervousness and anticipation.

The brunette sighed, trying to bite back his irritation at the loss of his focus. “Yeah,” he turned his head over his shoulder, eyeing the man that approached him. “Surprised you recognized it, Chan.”

Chan’s hand twitched as he lifted it for a brief second, like he was about to reach out to Changbin. “I’ve eyed that piece several times,” he brought his hand up to the back of his neck, awkwardly chuckling as he stood a respectable distance away from the brunette, “it’s intimidating, but it’s such a well-known viola solo. I guess I’m not surprised you picked something without accompaniment with how independent you are.”

It was supposed to be a compliment, but Chan’s words struck a sour chord within Changbin. The younger man shook his head once, eyeing the floor before he turned to look at the blonde. “I’m trying to practice,” his voice came off harsher than he had meant it to. Chan’s expression fell from nervously optimistic to slightly hurt, and Changbin rolled his eyes with a huff as he tried to pedal backwards. “Look,” he started, making awkward eye contact with Chan for a brief moment, “after I’m done with all of this, can we talk? I’ve got some stuff on my mind I wanna discuss with you.”

Chan looked excited for a moment as he nodded rapidly. “Sure,” he bit back a smile, “yeah, I’ll be here.”

“Thanks,” Changbin half-smiled as he turned back to his sheet music.

“Good luck, Changbin,” Chan brought his hand up to the brunette’s shoulder, offering a quick, warm squeeze that didn’t last nearly long enough. The slight touch caused Changbin’s breath to hitch in his throat, all of the air around him turning cool as Chan left.

Somehow, the younger man felt revitalized with the well wishes of his friend still lingering on his shoulder and dancing in his ears.

“So,” Minho greeted Changbin with a warm smile as the brunette entered the room. “You’ve decided to audition for the principal viola seat. After the initial chair placements, I didn’t think you would try, in all honesty.” The auburn-haired man smiled, tipping his wire-rimmed frames down his nose slightly, red pen in his hand.

Shit. Nerves lit up all over Changbin as he started to doubt himself, like he wasn’t supposed to be here.

“I’m glad you did.” Almost as if he could sense Changbin’s nervousness, Minho offered kind words in his usual soft, gentle voice. “Listen, I should be clear about something. I specifically sought out both you and Chan, as well as a few others, for this year’s contract placements. I don’t think you recognized me during the interview process, and I’m surprised you didn’t notice after the season started.”

“What?” The brunette cocked his head to the side, eyelids squinting upward in confusion.

Minho set the clipboard down on his desk, leaning forward as he rested his elbows on the table. He interlaced his fingers together and rested his chin on the backs of his hands. “I used to live on the east coast. I was in New Jersey for a while until I moved to Seattle a couple of years ago for this job. You and Chan performed Lament at the state competition in New York a few years ago. I believe you were both juniors back then, correct?”

Changbin’s throat went dry as he recognized Minho from so long ago, feeling somewhat dumb for not realizing it sooner. All those years ago, he was sitting in between two other judges, wearing the same wire-rimmed glasses as he wore today. “Y-yeah,” he stuttered. “That’s right.”

A smile crept up Minho’s face. “You both earned a perfect score, which was a rarity in and of itself, but what really captured me was how well both of you worked, the way you both blended together so naturally, beaming with raw, unadulterated talent. Such balance can’t be taught, only naturally weaved together by fate.”

Uneasiness came over Changbin in waves, like he was about to be judged far more critically than he anticipated.

“Anyway,” Minho brought his hands to his desk and sat back a bit. “The details of it all aren’t important. Just know that I’m happy that you’re both here. I’ll admit, however, that I was disappointed when Chan told me that he wasn’t interested in auditioning for the principal seat.”

A jolt surged up against the length of Changbin’s spine. “What?” He pressed, taken aback, unsure if what he just heard was accurate. “Chan told you he wasn’t interested?”

Minho nodded once. “He told me that, if given the opportunity, you deserved it more than he did, that he believed you were more talented and had the right leadership skills for the position.”

Changbin knitted his brows together. Nervousness had been replaced with a rush of anger. He initially found it odd that Chan wasn’t going to audition for the seat placement, sure, but the fact that he deliberately told Minho that Changbin was more talented and deserved it? That they didn’t even get to have a fair chance of competition between the two of them?

He felt strangely hurt, like Chan had somehow betrayed him. All for what, a seat placement? Something so trivial, after all these years?

His eyes looked down at his viola, eyeing that familiar chip one more time. The familiar word that echoed against Changbin’s head the night prior was so loud yet again.

Why?

Chan was pacing in the hallway when Changbin emerged from Minho’s office. “Hey!” He perked up with a smile on his face. “How’d it go, dude?”

Changbin shook his head, unable to look at Chan. A scowl curled up his lips as he bared his teeth, briskly walking to where his viola’s case rested. Practice was supposed to be for another hour, but he couldn’t bear another minute of being under the same roof as Chan, in the same claustrophobic space as him, not when he was seething with anger.

“Changbin?” Chan’s voice was closer, but quieter than before. “Was it that bad?”

The brunette’s fingers trembled as he shakily rested his viola in its case, eyeing the chip one last time before he slammed his case shut. He didn’t say anything as he made his way over to the instrument lockers, deciding to leave his viola in the practice hall overnight. Chan trailed behind him, his voice growing more and more concerned as Changbin paced away.

“Dude,” Chan pressed, reaching out to grab Changbin’s wrist as he slammed his locker door shut. “What the hell happened? Are you okay?”

“Why?” Changbin wanted to say so much more, but the single syllable was all he could muster.

Chan winced, shaking his head in confusion. “What are you talking—”

“Why didn’t you audition for the principal seat?” His voice was terse, yet was still draped in a layer of fragility. “No, why did you tell Minho you didn’t deserve it? We’re supposed to be rivals, right? Push each other and make ourselves better, like when we were kids. What the fuck happened?”

“Changbin,” the blonde’s composure dropped with his shoulders, a look of pity washing over his face. “I didn’t mean for it to be like that. I just… I didn’t want you to worry about it.”

“Tch, typical. You know, Chan,” the younger man scoffed, rolling his eyes before he stared down the blonde, “I don’t understand you. I’m not some fragile thing that needs to be protected, not by anyone, not by you. I deserved a fair shot at the principal seat placement, I deserved to compete against you, and you just insult me like I had no chance if you competed.”

Chan curled into himself slightly, hurt by Changbin’s words. “I didn’t realize—”

“Of course you didn’t.” Changbin shook his head and spun on his heel, padding off towards the exit in anger.

After a moment, Chan heard the downpour come through the door as Changbin ran off. He rushed to his locker, grabbing his jacket and his umbrella. “Changbin, wait!”

Seattle rain was never forgiving, especially during spring. The precipitation clattered against the ground at near-torrential speeds, the heavy noise only amplified as it reverberated against the concrete and the walls of nearby buildings.

“Changbin, please,” Chan shouted as the younger man stormed out of the practice hall and into the downpour that enveloped Capitol Hill in a dark haze. He took a few long strides as he chased after the seething brunette.

Changbin spun on his heel, shouting at the top of his lungs as he stared down Chan with wild eyes, his voice barely carrying along the heavy pattering of rain against concrete. “I don’t understand why you keep hiding, Chan! Why did you turn me down all those years ago?”

Chan shook his head, avoiding eye contact as he motioned for Changbin to come back. “Come here, Changbin, get under my umbrella before you get sick.”

“No!” Changbin shrieked in anger, tears streaming down his face as all of the emotions he had bottled up over the years suddenly erupted all at once. “Do you not understand how much I’ve loved you all these years? Ever since we were kids?”

“Bin, please, I—” The blonde’s shoulders sunk down as he recoiled into himself, eyes darting around as he was frozen in place.

“Everything! Everything I did was because of you, Chan!” The words burned as they came up from Changbin’s chest, the black lily of nervousness entangling its petals in between the empty spaces of his ribcage. “I put myself through hell to distract me from you, to get all of these thoughts out of my head, to stop fucking thinking about you for once!”

Chan was quiet, lips parted as he stared at Changbin in disbelief, tears unknowingly spilling from his eyelids.

The brunette refused to relent, shouting over the Seattle rain. “You were the only person that believed in me. You pushed us to do that duet, even though I thought it was stupid. You’re the reason we got the perfect score. You keep saying that I’m so much more talented than you, that you’d never be as good at me, but you’ve always been the one that’s naturally better at all of this.”

A beat passed between them before Changbin let out an anguished, angry shout. He was so tired of all of the pain and anguish he had felt over the years, and letting it all finally explode after so long, like a rubber band wound up too tightly, felt unnaturally liberating. Regardless of how Chan felt about Changbin after all of these years, he could finally let go of his agony, which was equal parts terrifying and relieving.

“Why? Why the fuck did you never apologize to your best friend, Chan? I have been in absolute fucking misery since you and I kissed so long ago and I don’t think you understand how much I wanted you to be there. How you kept creeping into my thoughts, even after all of these years, all I could think about was you.”

The blonde advanced, his face pulled into a downward scowl as his footsteps were heavy against the slick concrete. “It’s because I didn’t want to admit something,” Chan spoke in as low of a voice as he could while he pulled Changbin to his chest. “When you kissed me all those years ago, I was terrified about all of the what-ifs that started rushing around in my head. Like, what if I ruin my friendship? What if you’re not actually into me? What happens when I’m not good enough for you? What if I was actually straight and I was going to cause you nothing but pain after all this time?”

“Chan, stop.” Changbin shook his head, bringing his damp hands to Chan’s clammy face, rubbing away the tears that started spilled over, down his chilled cheeks. “You’re always good enough for me. You’re the only one that’s good enough for me; the only one I ever wanted.”

“What?”

“Listen,” the brunette sighed heavily, trying to ease the tension in his shoulders. “Don’t get me wrong, I loved Wooyoung, but, the thing is…”

Chan watched the expressions on Changbin’s face cross a spectrum from confusion, to anguish, to regret.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you, as horrible as it sounds. Sure, we were drunk when we had that one kiss, but it was the best kiss of my life. Hell,” he hiccuped, trying to swallow back tears, “I thought I lost my chance with you forever after high school. So, I settled. Wooyoung was the only other friend I had, and he was interested in me. I took a shot with him and, yeah, we were fine, but it wasn’t anything spectacular. I was ready to settle for a life of mediocrity until he decided he didn’t want to come to Seattle with me. I was finally free of both of you when I got here. I could leave you both behind.”

Changbin brought his forehead down to Chan’s wet shoulder, the fabric squishing against his skin as he rolled around and sighed. “It’s horrible,” he dropped his hands and clutched at the lapels of the blonde’s jacket, pulling himself closer into the older man’s embrace. “I was so glad to be free of both Wooyoung and the ghost of you. So, when I saw you that day at the cafe, it was like all hell had broken loose; everything came rushing back and I was overwhelmed by the weight of my past. I was forced to reconcile with the one person I hurt the most, the one who hurt me the most, and the one I never thought I would be able to forgive.”

A soft chuckle echoed around Chan’s chest as he rested his cheekbone against Changbin’s sopping wet brown hair. “We can’t escape each other.”

“I guess not,” Changbin quietly relented, releasing Chan’s jacket from his grasp, his arms languidly falling to his side in exhaustion. He was tired of being angry for so long, for harbouring such a deep-seated resentment against his best friend, for being mad at himself for never forgiving Chan after all this time over something so minor. So fucking tired. “I’m sorry, Chan. For all of this shit.”

The tapping of Seattle rain against Chan’s umbrella seemed so muted as the men stood up against each other, lost in their little bubble as the world disappeared around them. Nothing else mattered but being warmed by each other. Chan dropped his hand from Changbin’s back for a moment, then brought his fingers up to the underside of Changbin’s chin.

“Changbin,” his voice was timid as he tilted the younger man’s chin upward, both of them making awkward eye contact for a moment. A few drops of rain fell from Changbin’s hair, mingling against the tears that were rolling down his face, the droplets joining to become something greater, a small river down the valley of his cheek. “Even if you don’t forgive me after all this time, I forgive you. We were both idiots back then. What matters is that we’re here now. We can leave everything behind and move forward — together.”

“Together.” Changbin repeated, his voice cracking in between the syllables. He hated feeling so weak, but he couldn’t help it. All of the emotions from the past few years coming up, burning in his chest as the realization that what he yearned for all this time settled. After all this time, he was finally where he felt comfortable, secure, happy, with no strings attached.

Chan.

His arms were warm, a shelter to protect him from the weakness he was feeling. The happiness in his eyes and the bright smile on his face was Changbin’s sunshine during the overcast, dreary Seattle days.

Chan was home. His home.

The pattering of rain against Chan’s umbrella was suddenly so quiet, a rush of warmth blossomed up from Changbin’s cheeks to the tips of his ears. The black lily of anxiety that rested in between the spaces of his ribcage blossomed from black, to crimson, to a vibrant pink. All of his feelings for Chan became crystal clear, and he couldn’t hold them back any longer.

There was nothing left to lose.

“I love you. Still, after all of this time. I love you so much, Chan.” The words left his lips before he crashed them against Chan’s, much less awkwardly than their kiss so many years ago. His hands reached up to Chan’s blonde locks with a sudden renewed, yearning energy, grasping at the strands and tugging at them as if he would sink into the ground if he let go.

Rain came pouring down all around them as Chan dropped his umbrella, bringing one of his hands down to the small of Changbin’s back, the other hand softly cupping the younger man’s face. “I love you too, Changbin,” he whispered breathlessly as he pulled back for just a split second. Chan brought the brunette closer into his grasp, droplets of rain falling between them, rolling down their faces and in between their lips.

Like Connecticut, Changbin was vivacissimo, as wild as the hustle and bustle of the east coast. Like Seattle, Chan was andante, languid and calming.

Chan was his home, where Changbin belonged all along.

[boggirlsummer]

Roadtrip Rewind

Where did we leave off… After Bozeman I took two days driving through Montana, South Dakota, and Minnesota to get to Minneapolis, where I met up with Zoey. We spent two nights there, one night in Madison, two nights in Detroit, one night camping in upstate NY, and one night camping in New Hampshire after a day in Vermont. The next day I dropped Zoey in Portland and drove up to boat school. A few highlights:

In Minneapolis we stayed at 300 Clifton, this old mansion in the Loring Park neighborhood that was recently restored and is now a 10-room hotel/B&B (it’s on AirBnb!). It was spooky and fun and way cheaper than some shit motels I’ve stayed in. It’s probably haunted which is a plus for me. Also there were free scones. Another thing that makes me feel like I’m getting older - I’m starting to like all the dry biscuity foods I’ve always hated (scones, muffins, biscuits, shortbread).

There must have been a little cyanide in my tea

My claim to fame - we went to a camera store to get our film developed and the person who helped us shouted me out on their Instagram! 🥰 And they happened to know the guy from the camera shop in Portland where we bought our stuff earlier this summer and tagged him too, sweet small world of vintage cameras.

Golf courses are a waste of space

I love Crossing to Safety by Wallace Stegner so I’ve had romantic ideas about Madison for a long time and thought maybe I would want to go to grad school there. In reality it was kinda weird and sterile which is a bummer because they just announced the UW Madison Transdisciplinary Center for Research in Psychoactive Substances with a focus on therapeutic applications for psilocybin and MDMA #therapygoals

John K. King Used and Rare Books in Detroit is massive and chaotic. Loved it! We were hunting for Caliban and the Witch by Silvia Federici and we met two hella hot and tall employees who were very invested in helping us find the book. One wrote the title down and said he was looking to read more feminist anti-capitalist texts… Like okkkk fucking marry me and read to me in bed until the day that I die!! If I published a hot socialist bookstore employee calendar would anybody buy it?? These two guys would be May and November. I have a copy of Caliban and the Witch sitting in my AbeBooks cart with the shipping address: “Sexy Employee 4th Floor - You Know Who You Are, c/o John K. King Used and Rare Books, 901 W Lafayette Blvd, Detroit, MI 48226.” Venmo me $1 if you care to support my missed connection quest.

Laughed out loud…one million books in the store and this is their choice of doorstop

Our hostel in Detroit was in the Corktown neighborhood and next door was the Pink Flamingo pop-up which has been happening there every Thursday for the past ~six years. It’s basically an airstream serving a rotating food and drink menu and a cool hangout spot with music and firepits. We had a fruit plate cuz we’d been eating straight junk for days while the DJ made an impromptu and rambling fireside speech about community and the meaning of life. Near the end the airstream hostess started handing out free rice balls as an apology.

After Detroit we had two long drive days to get to Vermont where we had maple creamees at Bragg Farm Sugarhouse (shoutout to our friend and former housemate Brett for the recommendation!) and caught one of the last Bread and Puppet shows of the season (if you haven’t heard of Bread and Puppet it’s a political/radical puppet theater company based in Glover, Vermont). Holy shit Vermont is so beautiful it’s like a magical hobbit land. The lady at Bragg Farm tried to recruit me to come back and work through the spring maple sugaring season, maybe I should. Straight maple syrup is the new Red Bull.

And that’s it! I can’t believe I drove myself all the way here. Thanks to Zoey for the company and cheers to a summer of buses, bookstores, bikes, and backpacks.

Before I literally burst into tears

Maine is so beautiful and boat school is keeping me busyyyyy. Does anybody know what the hell a woolen is? I think I’m going to need some here. More soon! Send letters or junk mail my way at 440 Old County Rd, Pemaquid, ME 04558.

XOXO

[penaltbox]

Enemies to lover blurb w Brock boeser or cole caufield

“You told Brock I would do what?” You ask your mom, your jaw dropping slightly.

“I told Mrs. Boeser, not Brock, that you would house and dog sit for him for the weekend,” your mom explains, but it doesn’t calm you down at all.

You argue and fight back for the next few minutes but she won’t listen. She’d already gave them an answer and she wouldn’t go back on it.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Brock. You’d obviously grown up as neighbors and so you knew him and his family well. It was more that you and Brock always seemed to butt heads no matter what. Both strong willed and determined to do more in life, you constantly found yourself competing with him. There was a time when things became more between you two than competing but it had disappeared when he left for college and you stayed close to home.

Now that he was in Vancouver more often than not your life had relaxed somewhat. Until now anyways when your mom decided you’d be the perfect person to take care of his prized possessions... and his house.

You drove the speed limit the entire way to his house, eyes rolling when you saw how gorgeous it was. A knock on the front door doesn’t get answered so you let yourself roam around to the backyard. You gasp a little at the gorgeous view as you step onto the back patio.

“About time you got here,” Brock grumbles from a patio chair, “I have to go right away. I left a list on the counter of things to check on. Call me if anything is urgent. Also, the code for the alarm system is on that sheet. You may want to memorize it.”

You huff, ready to argue, when Coolie wanders over and noses your hand, “hi, sweet boy. You mind if I hang out for a couple days?”

You squat down and scratch right behind his ears, knowing he loved that. Brock stands there for a second and watches, making you blush.

“I’m just in Minneapolis for some media stuff, okay? I know it’s not far but they’ve got us pretty packed for a couple days. I’ll text you when I’m on my way home,” he says, tone much softer than before.

You look up at him and nod, “I got this. Go do your fancy hockey stuff.”

He nods in return and heads into the house without another word, successfully letting Milo out in the process. The rambunctious baby almost knocks you over but you can hardly be mad.

You spend most of your afternoon outside with them, playing fetch and hanging out on the dock while they chase each other around. They keep you busy and staying at Brock’s house certainly isn’t half bad. It’s much more clean than you had expected and fancier than you think you’ll ever own.

The two days go by quickly and before you know it Brock sends you a text that he’s almost home. You don’t bother dashing off, figuring you’ll give him a little update when he gets back, but you’re also not ready to leave the view.

You let him find you on the back deck this time, both pups passed out by your feet as you watch the sinking sun reflect off the water. You don’t hear Brock at first, but Coolie is quick to sit up, staring towards the house.

The sliding door opens and you look back to see an exhausted looking Brock, “uh oh,” you say teasingly, “someone looks dead on their feet.”

He squints a little and leans down to pet Coolie before Milo bounds over jealously, “very funny. I’d like to see you do hours of interviews and photo shoots and stupid questionnaires.”

He comes over and sinks into the seat next to you with a big sigh. You reach down, petting Milo who had settled between you two, and trying not to stare at the boy you’d known since diapers.

“They were really good. Your kitchen is clean and the dishwasher is ready to empty,” you tell him, preparing to get up and go.

“Oh, thanks,” Brock smiles, his head rolling to the side so he can look at you, “you don’t have to run off, you know. I don’t hate you like you think I do.”

You bite your lip then, “Brock, it’s fine. I know we don’t get along super well anymore. We don’t have to pretend like we do.”

“We could get along well. We’d probably get along really well if we actually tried to,” he says, frowning as he sits up a little.

“What?”

He sighs, running his hand through his hair, “I never hated you. You were one of my favorite people growing up. You kept me on my toes and gave me good competition. What’s not to like about that?”

You hum, thinking about it a little. Did you really think Brock hated you or were you just mad after all these years that he’d pulled away so suddenly. He went to North Dakota and you essentially never heard from him again. He’d just disappeared one day.

“You never called,” you whisper, eyes locked on the lake in front of you, “you just left and you never check in on anyone.”

“I’m sorry about that. I just never knew how to say goodbye to you. I still don’t,” he says, nervously fidgeting with his fingers.

“Brock, you never had to say goodbye. Who understood what you were leaving for more than me?” You finally look over at him as the feelings wash back over. You’d basically been in love with him and then, poof, he was out of your life before you could even try and hold onto him.

“I’m sorry,” he emphasizes, “everything happened so fast and you were still here in Minnesota, still hanging out at home, helping my mom with my dad. And I wasn’t any of those things anymore. I know this place makes you happy and I damn well know it’s somewhere I’m not around very often,”

“How was I ever supposed to say goodbye? Because I still can’t figure it out. I still don’t know how to let you go.”

You blink back tears and reach for his hand to keep him from picking at his cuticles, “why do you have to let me go, B? Why?”

“You don’t want to go to Vancouver and that’s where I am now. It’s not here, it’s not home,” he sighs, giving your hand a squeeze as he threads his fingers through yours.

“But it is where you are, just like you said, and that used to be all I needed,” you remind him.

“Do you still need me?” He asks but then shakes his head, “no, that’s a stupid question. Of course not.”

You laugh a little and scoot your chair closer to him, “I do still need you. You were my rock and you know that. But most of all I still want you, too. I want you around, I want you to be part of my life. I don’t want you to leave after summer again and leave me here thinking we don’t get along anymore.”

“Don’t go then. Stay here tonight and we can keep talking,” he suggests, one corner of his mouth threatening to turn up into a smile.

“Brock,” you say hesitantly, “is that a good idea? I don’t want to get close just to get pushed away again.”

“You won’t get pushed away. I still need you, too. Probably now more than ever,” he says, being completely honest with himself finally.

You look over at him, ready to debate the situation again, but he leans over quickly. He kisses you gently but the grip he has on your hand tells you he’s worried you’ll pull away. Instead you lean closer, free hand coming to gently grab the back of his neck.

He can’t help but smile when he finally pulls back, his tongue darting out to run on his bottom lip. Your face feels hot and you swear that was better than any other kiss you’d ever had.

“So what do you say? Will you stay?”

You smile, nodding at him, “I’ll stay. However long you want and wherever you want us to go.”

[incorrectpeterparker]

There's a midwestern dialect around Missouri and Illinois (separated into north and south); a dialect in Michigan that also spreads into Illinois, Wisconsin, and Pennsylvania and New York (!); and one in Michigan, South Dakota, and Minnesota. And yeah it probably varies by city, and on top of that you have your own idiolect which is the way you personally pronounce things. Now excuse me while I go and write down every American dialect and wonder why I did it later.

yeah i know when i speak (just esp with certain words, bc when i’m speaking i don’t like think anything of it) i’ll either have a very obvious midwest accent or one that’s specific to my city/the area of my state

[thecollegefootballguy]

The Real 2020 Season: Week 2

Hello everyone, welcome to Week 2 of The Real 2020 Season! We’re imagining how things would have gone in the 2020 football season if COVID hadn’t ruined everything.

Week 1 featured a few big games amid a sea of tune-up matches without much excitement. Nothing too earth-shattering, but we’ve got some real good matchups this week.

If you want to start from the beginning here is Week 0.

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The Rankings

Week 2 AP Poll

1. Clemson 1-0 (1-0) 2. Alabama 1-0 (0-0) 3. Ohio State 1-0 (0-0) 4. Georgia 1-0 (0-0) 5. Oklahoma 1-0 (0-0) 6. LSU 1-0 (0-0) 7. Penn State 1-0 (0-0) 8. Florida 1-0 (0-0) 9. Oregon 1-0 (0-0) 10. Notre Dame 1-0 11. Auburn 1-0 (0-0) 12. Texas A&M 1-0 (0-0) 13. Texas 1-0 (0-0) 14. Oklahoma State 1-0 (0-0) 15. Washington 1-0 (0-0) 16. UCF 1-0 (0-0) 17. Minnesota 1-0 (0-0) 18. Utah 1-0 (0-0) 19. Indiana 1-0 (1-0) 20. USC 0-1 (0-0) 21. Cincinnati 1-0 (0-0) 22. Iowa State 1-0 (0-0) 23. Iowa 1-0 (0-0) 24. Tennessee 1-0 (0-0) 25. Michigan 0-1 (0-0)

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The Narrative

The Big Ten took one on the chin in Week 1 as Michigan fell to Washington and the Wisconsin was upset at home by Indiana. Two of the league’s better programs already have their Playoff hopes on life support after one week. It’s not a good look for the conference. The ACC similarly had a disappointment after North Carolina fell at UCF, leaving Clemson the only team in that conference in the polls.

The SEC and Big 12 didn’t have many marquee games so not much changed for them. Besides USC’s scheduled loss to Alabama in Dallas, the PAC-12 actually had a pretty good week thanks to the Huskies’ win combined with Utah’s victory over BYU. Oregon also didn’t get upset by North Dakota State which should count for something.

UCF’s win over the Tar Heels is another big win for the G5 and the American specifically. The Knights are once again charging for the NY6 spot. I’d say they’re gunning for the Playoff but we know that the committee probably won’t let them in unless something very weird happens.

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The Games

Week 2 still has a high number of bodybag games, but we’re still going to see some high profile out of conference matchups.

Winning teams are highlighted in bold.

Ohio at Boston College Louisville at #1 Clemson Samford at Florida State Mississippi State at NC State Syracuse at Rutgers Appalachian State at Wake Forest Elon at Duke Gardner-Webb at Georgia Tech Wagner at Miami FL #11 Auburn vs North Carolina (Atlanta, GA) Pittsburgh at Marshall VMI at Virginia #7 Penn State at Virginia Tech Kansas at Baylor #22 Iowa State at #23 Iowa North Dakota at Kansas State #24 Tennessee at #5 Oklahoma Tulsa at #14 Oklahoma State Prairie View A&M at TCU #13 Texas at #6 LSU Alabama State at Texas Tech Eastern Kentucky at West Virginia Western Kentucky at #19 Indiana Northern Illinois at Maryland Ball State at #25 Michigan Michigan State at BYU #3 Ohio State at #9 Oregon Connecticut at Illinois Tennessee Tech at #17 Minnesota Central Michigan at Nebraska Tulane at Northwestern Memphis at Purdue Southern Illinois at Wisconsin Norfolk State at Charlotte FIU at #16 UCF Indiana State at Middle Tennessee Hampton at Old Dominion Louisiana Tech at Southern Miss North Texas at #12 Texas A&M Army at Rice Alabama A&M at UAB UTEP at Nevada Akron at New Mexico State Robert Morris at Bowling Green Saint Francis at Buffalo Kennesaw State at Kent State Arkansas-Pine Bluff at Miami OH Coastal Carolina at Eastern Michigan San Diego State at Toledo Western Michigan at #21 Cincinnati Boise State at Air Force Colorado State at Oregon State New Mexico at #20 USC Southern Utah at Utah State Wyoming at Louisiana Fresno State at Colorado Fordham at Hawaii UC Davis at San Jose State Arizona State at UNLV Cal Poly at California Stanford at Arizona Sacramento State at #15 Washington Houston at Washington State Montana State at #18 Utah Kentucky at #8 Florida East Tennessee State at #4 Georgia Vanderbilt at Missouri East Carolina at South Carolina Georgia State at #2 Alabama Arkansas at #10 Notre Dame Southeast Missouri State at Ole Miss Campbell at Georgia Southern Troy at Massachusetts Howard at Arkansas State North Carolina A&T at Liberty

Now that’s more like it. Week 2 produced some incredible games and huge upsets that shook up the Playoff picture. Three top ten teams fall as #9 Oregon held off #3 Ohio State in Eugene to give the Buckeyes a horrific blow to their Playoff candidacy. Meanwhile, #13 Texas came to Baton Rouge and managed to beat the defending champions. In the biggest upset of them all, #7 Penn State was downed by a Virginia Tech team that was supposedly reeling from a loss to Liberty in Week 1. The rest of the usual suspects did just fine but the top 5 is going to look different.

To further the embarrassment for the Big Ten, #25 Michigan was upset by Ball State of all teams, completely humiliating the 0-2 Wolverines. Perhaps less surprisingly, Nebraska and Purdue were upset by Central Michigan and Memphis respectively. It was a blood-letting of a week that could very well keep the Big Ten out of the Playoff entirely. The only silver lining was #23 Iowa’s close victory over rival #22 Iowa State.

The other ranked vs ranked matchup saw #5 Oklahoma shake off a slow start to beat #24 Tennessee in Norman. The third Chick-fil-A Kickoff game in two weeks saw #11 Auburn beat UNC. If the Tar Heels hadn’t lost to UCF in Week 1 it would have been a ranked vs ranked affair but oh well.

The G5 had a very good week overall. UCF and Cincinnati continue to roll as the spearhead of the AAC. Marshall beat Pittsburgh at home to announce their candidacy for the NY6 bowl. The MAC is on fire, following up Buffalo’s Week 1 upset over Kansas State, meanwhile Ball State and Central Michigan recorded upsets. Toledo beat San Diego State as well, likely knocking one of the Mountain West’s more consistent programs out of the NY6 race. Appalachian State, the usual torch bearer for the Sun Belt, lost to Wake Forest.

Outside of perhaps two dozen interesting matchups the rest of the games aren’t worth talking about. Week 2 still means that plenty of teams were playing snore inducing tune-up games.

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The Standings

We’re still mostly in non-conference play so the standings won’t change too much yet, but here they are if you’re curious. Each league is already having a storyline develop.

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The Big Picture

By far the biggest story of the young 2020 season is the apparent complete collapse of the Big Ten. For over five years, Ohio State, Penn State, Michigan, and Wisconsin dominated the league and each had squads capable of making the Playoff if they weren’t beating up on each other. In just two weeks, all four of these teams have lost a game they were favored to win and it looks like the Playoff chances for the entire league are on life support already. Michigan’s loss to Ball State is extra embarrassing, and starting out 0-2 is not good for Jim Harbaugh’s job prospects.

The other huge event is the home loss of the defending champions. LSU lost a ton of talent from their 2019 team and struggled to keep up with a Texas team that gave them trouble the year before. On the flip-side, it finally looks like the Longhorns might be back. It definitely is one of UT’s best true road wins in a long time. Time will tell if the Big Ten will rebound and if the Horns can capitalize on their victory.

At the G5 level, the MAC is making a big push for the NY6. Long considered one of the weaker G5 conferences, the MAC already has three P5 scalps only two weeks in. Gotta love that MACtion. On the other side, the Mountain West, usually the #2 G5 league, only has one unbeaten team left in Boise State. The Broncos are of course the favorites to win the conference, but it still hurts the league’s image. The American is still the top dog with 4 unbeaten teams led by UCF and Cincinnati.

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The New Rankings

Week 3 AP Poll

1. Clemson 2-0 (2-0) 2. Alabama 2-0 (0-0) 3. Georgia 2-0 (0-0) 4. Oklahoma 2-0 (0-0) 5. Oregon 2-0 (0-0) 6. Florida 2-0 (1-0) 7. Texas 2-0 (0-0) 8. Notre Dame 2-0 9. Auburn 2-0 (0-0) 10. Texas A&M 2-0 (0-0) 11. Ohio State 1-1 (0-0) 12. Oklahoma State 2-0 (0-0) 13. Washington 2-0 (0-0) 14. LSU 1-1 (0-0) 15. UCF 2-0 (0-0) 16. Minnesota 2-0 (0-0) 17. Utah 2-0 (0-0) 18. Iowa 2-0 (0-0) 19. Indiana 2-0 (1-0) 20. USC 1-1 (0-0) 21. Cincinnati 2-0 (0-0) 22. Penn State 1-1 (0-0) 23. Missouri 2-0 (1-0) 24. Liberty 2-0 25. Memphis 2-0 (0-0)

Polls usually change wildly following such a bloody week. Ohio State is knocked out of the top ten, but only just. Oregon now replaces the Buckeyes as the fifth real Playoff contender outside of the usual suspects. Even with LSU and Tennessee’s losses, the SEC still dominates the polls. Five of the top ten come from the SEC and Missouri jumped into the top 25 to replace the fallen Vols. The Big Ten is completely outside of the top ten which is a staggering sight to see. With Iowa State’s loss to Iowa it looks like the Big 12 is going to be fought over by Oklahoma and Texas, just like the old days, unless Oklahoma State has anything to say about it. The Big 12 has 3 teams in the top 15 so they have a great case to be the #2 conference in the nation following the SEC at this point, though even the PAC-12 can start making noise with Oregon and perhaps even Washington in the mix.

The American is still the only G5 league represented in the polls, but they now have three teams in the top 25 with Memphis joining the party. UCF has even cracked the top 15, this early in the season it might give a bit of hope for G5 fans that they could even make the Playoff if, say, the Big Ten and one more P5 conference can’t fill the slots. Liberty joins the AP poll for the first time ever thanks to their week 1 win over Virginia Tech and the Hokies’ upset of Penn State. How high can the Flames fly?

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So that’s Week 2 of the Real 2020 season. Things are just heating up, so tune in next time for another exciting installment!