#i even practiced my english cause i thought at least part of the interview was gonna be in english (that didn't happen)

[jackredfieldwasmyjacob]

okay I LIED (sorta)

[hold-me-sickfics]

14 Days: Taehyung

Hi guys! I’m really happy to be able to post this (somehow my internet came back, and I decided to post while I have it). I hope this is alright, I had a hard time writing it because I’m back home for the weekend and it’s hard to find somewhere quiet lol. I hope you guys like it!

TW: Food, Emeto, Nightmares, Slight anxiety attacks, Bruises are mentioned,  (If there are any more, let me know and I’ll add them in!)

Note: Also, I wanna give some major credit to @thatoneemokpop-02 for all their help with ideas and getting me started. I kid you not, I was entirely blank earlier and in a few texts with them, they had me ready to write! Please go check out their writing, because they’re so kind and amazing and not to mention, they have some of the most well-developed fics I have ever seen. Especially their “You’re my Yellow” fic. I love it!!! <3

Prompt: “What they don’t know, won’t hurt them.” That’s Taehyung’s thought process when it comes to the other members. For the past several weeks, Taehyung has been having relatively frequent nightmares. Only these nightmares aren’t just “bad dreams.” No, they have him waking up gasping for breath, tending to an anxious stomach, and really whatever else bad can happen with nightmares. At first, he had a nightmare every week, but now it’s gotten to the point of every other night. Lack of sleep is catching up with Taehyung, causing him to really need some extra love from the other members. The only thing is, he’s too embarrassed and afraid to talk about them. Luckily for Taehyung, one of the members happens to find out on their own… 

“Ladies and gentlemen, BTS!” The host gestured to the boys who were currently walking on stage.

Once the crowd quieted, the host began talking about BTS’ most recent accomplishments and asking questions to each of the members. As usual, Namjoon translated for them… mostly. BigHit had made a huge deal over them learning English and at least answering one question without Namjoon having to translate. Something about boosting their American support? The boys thought this was rather strange, considering their fans didn’t seem to care whether they spoke in Korean or not, but they did what they were told.

Taehyung watched and listened as the other boys answered their questions in perfect English, and the crowd squealed after every word they spoke. Then, it was his turn.

“Taehyung, let’s talk a little about you. A lot of fans, including myself, were absolutely stunned at your Singularity performance. How did you feel about the song? Any favorite parts in the choreography?”

Taehyung couldn’t breathe. He knew he was supposed to answer in English, but he couldn’t remember the words. Not even the first one.

He said his answer in Korean, hoping Namjoon would cover for him. Namjoon just gave him a look, seemingly saying “I’m not helping. Say what you’ve gotta say.”

Taehyung felt his blood run cold. Everyone was staring and starting to gasp… the cameraman looked worried as to whether or not to shut off the cameras and the members… they were looking at him… disappointed and somewhat angry…

Taehyung woke up unable to catch his breath. He was sweating all over, and not to mention trembling. His vision was blurry with tears.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened. He’d had a nightmare every night since Saturday (which was when their manager told them they’d be doing an English interview soon), and it was Wednesday now.  He’d thought about telling the others, but he turned the idea down. He felt too embarrassed about not knowing as much English as they did, and he also knew they were exhausted and he wanted to make sure they got sleep. Or at least, as much as they could get. The boys already weren’t getting home until 11:45 every night, so when Taehyung actually could come home and go to sleep, he’d usually wake up around 2:00 with the nightmare, and wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep after that. Part of this was because of his anxious stomach.

Speaking of which, Taehyung was now frantically pushing his covers off, and covering his mouth. He knew he had about 10 seconds before his late-night dinner would reappear. Luckily, he made it to the bathroom in time, and was able to kneel in front of the toilet. His knees had hit the tile hard, but he figured a couple bruises wouldn’t be as bad as having his dinner projected across the floor.

No sooner than his hands were gripping the sides of the bowl, was his dinner coming up and to the back of his throat. In one retch, he’d brought up a small stream. Followed by another, and another. Taehyung’s stomach was killing him, since he was so sore from having thrown up so much.

After what felt like an eternity, it was over. Taehyung rested his head on the rim of the toilet, and reached up with a sweaty hand to flush it.

Shakily, he stood up and looked himself in the mirror. He washed his face and brushed his teeth, then went back to his bed.

He walked slowly so he wouldn’t jostle his stomach.

Taehyung got into his bed, and pulled the covers up over himself. The warmth felt nice, being as his sweaty skin had felt like ice in the bathroom earlier. He decided to follow his normal routine after this kind of stuff happened…

“Siri, open LanguageGuru.” He whispered, his throat still sore from all the acid.

The app opened, and Taehyung spent the next two hours working on his English. Somehow, he’d gotten lucky, and at 4:30, he’d fallen back asleep. However, since they had to be up and out of the house by 6:00, he had to wake back up at 5:15.

When 5:15 came, he jolted awake, and went to the bathroom to puke again. It had just become part of the routine by now. He threw on a t-shirt and sweats, brushed his teeth, and combed his hair. Each action made his core hurt. Putting on deodorant was one of the worst parts, being as he had to put his arm up and then use his other one to put it on. Every motion felt like his insides had just been squeezed and beaten. By 5:30, he was able to head to the kitchen.

Jungkook just happened to come out of his room at the same time.

“Morning Taehyung!” Jungkook was awake… somehow.

“Morning Kook.” Taehyung’s voice was at a mere croak.

“Woah, hold on are you okay?” Jungkook gently took Taehyung’s wrist to get him to turn and look at him.

“I’m good. Just tired.” Taehyung hoped he’d believe it.

“Yeah, I don’t know about that. Tired is what Yoongi looks like right now… you look sick.” Despite popular belief, Jungkook was actually following in Jin’s footsteps as a lead caregiver for the group.

The maknae pressed the back of his hand to Taehyung’s cheek.

“You don’t have a fever… what else is wrong?”

“Nothing Kook, like I said, I’m just sorta out of it since I didn’t get much sleep.” Taehyung still allowed Jungkook to hold his wrist since for some reason, JK’s touch comforted him.

“I don’t think so.” Jungkook moved his hand from Taehyung’s wrist to Taehyung’s back. He rubbed up and down, and watched as Taehyung leaned into the touch.

“We’ve got dance practice this morning, but if you feel sick, tell me. I’ll get Namjoon hyung to let you come home. Alright?” The concern in JK’s eyes was shining.

“Thanks Kookie.” Taehyung smiled slightly, and then continued walking to the kitchen.

Jin was already rolling with cooking.

“Okay guys, we’ve got 20 minutes till we’ve gotta be in the car. I’ve made toast, and there’s bacon if you can get it away from Namjoon. Taehyung, Jungkook, what do you want to drink?” Jin was pouring “on the go” cups for each of the boys.

“Orange juice. Thanks Hyung.” Jungkook looked over at Taehyung.

“Coffee please.” Taehyung’s bags under his eyes seemed to be deeper and darker than everyone else’s.

Jungkook didn’t approve of Taehyung’s choice, being as coffee in the morning always upset his stomach, but he allowed it, hoping that it would at least make Taehyung feel less exhausted.

By the time everyone had eaten, it was time to load up and head to the studio.

The car ride was torture. Taehyung had developed a mean headache, and felt like he was gonna throw up at the first stop sign.

Jungkook had sat in the seat next to him, since he still wasn’t convinced that Taehyung was as “alright” as he said he was.

They were almost 15 minutes from BigHit when Taehyung’s stomach finally revolted. Before he even had a chance to ask for a bag, coffee and chewed up bacon and toast was spilling down his legs.  Jungkook was quick to put a bag under his chin for the next round, but it didn’t come. That first one and a mean wave of post-vomiting nausea was enough for him.

Taehyung cried, and Jungkook just held him. Jungkook knew he was sick now, and he could prove it. Before he could even tell Namjoon, the leader had already stood up and looked back at them.

“Oh no,” the concern in his eyes was evident. “It’s okay Taehyung, we’ll be at BigHit in a minute and we can get you cleaned up. Jungkook, can you help him get to the showers?”

“Yeah Hyung, I’ve got him.” Jungkook was wiping the leftover vomit from Taehyung’s chin.

“Taehyung, bud, I’m sorry you feel bad.” Jin spoke up, as he came back from the front. He’d brought a water bottle out of the cooler and a paper towel.

Jungkook helped Taehyung sip the water, and Jin dabbed the sweat from the younger’s face.

“Hey, this is Namjoon…” he went on to tell their choreographer what had happened. (It was always a big deal when one of them threw up. That could mean they were catching a virus, and since their trainer worked with other groups as well, he had to be strict about that kind of thing. It was the same way a few months ago when Namjoon came down with the flu.)

A faint noise told Taehyung that they’d been given the rest of the day off, which they were all more happy about than anything.

Then, they got a second phone call.

“Oh hey um-“ Namjoon wasn’t even able to get a word in. Judging by his expression, whoever was on the other end was yelling- a lot.

“Alright. We’ll be there soon.” Namjoon hung up, and then turned to the group.

“That was the head choreographer.”

Jungkook was still holding Taehyung close. He never was one to let a little throw up bother him.

“He’s still bringing us in. Taehyung… I’m so sorry. He’s letting you take a half-hour to clean up but then you’re supposed to join us…” Namjoon knew they weren’t his own orders, but he still felt like the bad guy having to say it.

“I-I’m okay hyung.” Taehyung shivered mid-sentence. “It was just the c-coffee. My stomach didn’t like it. I’m okay.”

How he looked said otherwise, and Jungkook piped up to mention that.

“Hyung isn’t there anything we can do? We’re all exhausted but Taehyung looks like he’s gonna collapse the second he gets off.”

“I’m sorry guys… he sounded serious… I’d talk to him but it seems the only thing he’s gonna do is make practice worse if we keep bugging him.”

The car stopped, and all of the boys stood up. Hoseok had his earbuds in before, but now that he’d taken them out, Yoongi was quick to get him out of the car and explain to Hoseok what was happening before he saw it. Hoseok’s sympathy sickness was not gonna help the situation at all.

Jin and Namjoon got off as well, followed by Jimin who was headed inside to find some clothes for Taehyung to change into when he got out of the shower.

“Taehyungie, can you stand?” Jungkook sweetly placed his hand on Taehyung’s upper back.

“Yeah I’m alright.”

Taehyung stood up, and Jungkook came right behind him. Luckily, the showers were on the first floor to the left, so Jungkook and Taehyung got there quickly.

Taehyung undressed himself, and then stepped into the shower. The hot water helped to soothe his sore muscles. He used the time in the shower to calm down, and try to refocus on his main mission for the day. Staying awake.

“Hey Taehyung, I’ve got your towel out here and Jimin brought clothes and a toothbrush. I’m out here when you’re ready.”

Taehyung knew what that meant. They’d been called back, and Taehyung’s time for showering was over.

He stepped out of the shower, and Jungkook handed him the towel. He got dressed quickly, and he and JK went to the studio.

By the time they got to the studio, the choreographer had already left, and the rest of the boys were already being led by Hoseok in the routines.

“Woah woah, pause it.” Hoseok waved the music off, and everyone stopped for a moment.

“Feeling better Taehyung?” Hoseok asked, walking toward the two.

“Yeah. The coffee just got me a little. I’m alright now.”

“Okay but if you need to stop just tell me. Joon, can you hit play again?”

Namjoon hit “play” and they started practice up again. Jungkook kept a close eye on Taehyung throughout the day, wanting to make sure that he really was alright.

Rehearsal lasted until 8:30 p.m. When it was over, the boys loaded up and headed back to the apartment.

“I’m making supper for anyone that wants it.” Jin got the chicken nuggets out of the refrigerator, and started to put them in the fryer.

“I think I’m gonna go ahead and turn in.” Taehyung both dreaded sleep and longed for it. H knew he’d end up having a nightmare anyway, so he might as well get some sleep while he could.

“Alright, night Taehyungie.” All the boys said their goodnights, except Jungkook who went with him back there.

“You going to sleep early too Kookie?” Taehyung asked, his eyes already heavy.

“Yeah… hey um if you need me tonight, wake me up okay?” Jungkook gave Taehyung a tight hug.

“I will Kookie. Don’t worry. Just get some rest.”

The boys said goodnight, and Taehyung was asleep almost instantly.

---

2:00 rolled around quickly, and as usual, Taehyung woke up unable to catch his breath. He was crying, terrified once again of forgetting how to speak in their upcoming interview. He felt sweat coating his skin, and he was almost at the part where he pukes, then someone came in.

“Tae Tae, it’s okay. It’s alright. I’m here. Breathe.” Jungkook was at his side, holding him tightly. Taehyung didn’t know how he got there, but he was glad to see him.

“J-Jungkook?”

“It’s me. Taehyung, you’re shaking…” Jungkook’s eyes widened.

Taehyung felt the bile rise in his throat, and he quickly went around Jungkook and ran to the bathroom. Once again, he crashed down, and vomit spilled out of him.

Jungkook came up behind him, holding his middle.

“Just get it up Taehyung. It’s alright. I’m here with you.”

The vomiting part didn’t last as long as usual, and Taehyung attributed that to Jungkook being there. Soon, they were back in Taehyung’s room. Jungkook decided to sleep with Taehyung in case he had another nightmare, but they couldn’t sleep until Taehyung told Jungkook what had him so upset.

“It’s that interview on the 25th. I’m- I’m afraid I won’t be able to speak correctly… or at all.”

Jungkook’s eyes filled with compassion.

“How come you didn’t say anything?” Jungkook rubbed Taehyung’s arm.

“I felt embarrassed about not knowing as much as you guys, and I didn’t want anyone to be worried about me since none of us are getting any sleep anyway…”

Jungkook took Taehyung’s hand, and gently squeezed it.

“First of all, I’m so sorry you’ve been dealing with this by yourself. I know it must have been scary. But now you’ve got me and everyone else. The truth is, all of us have been nervous about the interview. Or at least, I know I have. But that’s a good thing because it means maybe we can help each other.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I’ve been studying pretty hard, and I know you have too… so maybe we can study together! Then if one of us has trouble in the interview, the other once can step in and help them out.” Jungkook smiled.

Taehyung liked the idea, and agreed.

“Good. We start tomorrow.”

After that, both boys went to sleep and thankfully, slept through the night.

For the next couple weeks, they worked hard together on learning English. Namjoon got them some extra time by firing their old choreographer and hiring one that gave them more time between rehearsals so they wouldn’t burn themselves out.

By the time the interview came, Taehyung and Jungkook both aced it. Including the part where Taehyung introduced himself.

“My name is V, and I’m good boy.”

[blu-joons]

Dating Yoongi ~ BTS Headcanon

Getting Together

No one knew what you did to Yoongi, but he lost all his self-confidence the moment he saw you

His eyes stared at you for most of the night

He had no witty remarks; he was just left speechless

When he saw you looking at him, he crumbled, he knew he needed to introduce himself otherwise he’d regret it

Eventually he came over to you, trying to play it cool, a chat up line and his name, and you soon told him yours

He definitely did not ask you if you know BTS! The boys had warned him about that one

The two of you met up the following night, just for a few drinks to get to know each other

Usually he was quite quiet, but he loved talking to you and keeping the conversation going

The boys tried to force details out of him as to how things were going but he kept very quiet

He would always text you asking you what you were up to

Whenever you had free time he would try and see you, just for a coffee, or for a long date, he didn’t mind

It took awhile for you to know his intentions, he wasn’t very affectionate, so you weren’t always sure if you’d been friend zoned

Yoongi wasn’t always sure how to share his feelings with you, but he wanted you to know that he liked you

He did this through eye contact, his eyes would always be looking at you, paying attention to your every word

There was no rush between you both, it was nice to form a friendship between you both before things moved on

His friendship circle was quite small, so he enjoyed having you around for a while

Eventually he decided to ask you out after a couple of months, taking you for a fun date at the arcade

You brought out his inner child which he loved, he could be an absolute fool in front of you and you didn’t mind

The two of you walked along the pier, him stopping you halfway down

“I couldn’t think of a better place to ask you this important question. I want us to be more than friends, I want us to be so much more, would you do me the honour of being my girlfriend?”

For the first time he showed weakness, he was terrified you would decline him

“Yeah, of course I will Yoongi.”

The pier was also the location of your first kiss, he couldn’t wait to feel your lips on his for the first time

If you ever had any doubts about his intentions, they went away as soon as he kissed you

The rest of the evening was adorable, Yoongi would never let go of your hand

He was feeling pretty smug that he’d managed to bag a girlfriend like you

There would definitely be a few photos taken to celebrate such a memorable occasion

Being In A Relationship

The two of you very quickly became inseparable, it was weird to see one of you without the other

His witty remarks always made you chuckle; he didn’t care what came out of his mouth

Yoongi wasn’t the best at expressing his feelings, but when he did, it melted your heart

Most conversations he would try and rap rather than speak knowing it wound you up

Would definitely rap about you, but not release it for the band, it was just for you and him

He would surprise you when you least expected it with little gifts and trips on holiday

You meant the world to him, and he would try and show you that as often as possible

He loved to show off with all of his basketball tricks, playing with you all the time

You always remembered how on your first anniversary that he gifted you one of his chains, so you both had one

This boy loved food; he was always asking you to cook for him

Mornings were very lazy, you had to practically drag Yoongi out of bed most mornings

Every time he came from work, he would cuddle up to you, demanding that you take a nap with him

He was smug, and couldn’t wait to show you off to the boys that he had the most beautiful girlfriend in the world

His family loved you too, they warmed to you instantly because they could see how much Yoongi adored you

Massages constantly, especially on his shoulder whenever it was causing him pain

Crimping his hair for him because he looked so damn cute with those crimps

He loved to take you for drives, showing you his home and the things that meant the most to him

Some nights the two of you wouldn’t even speak a word, just each other’s company was enough

Yoongi was soft for you, he always carried one of your plushies when he was on tour

He would ring you most days, after his naps of course, probably with a plate of food in front of him

One of his favourite things was when you ran your hands through his hair, it was so comforting for him

You would help him with his English, he had the basics down, but he wanted to try and create more well-structured sentences

If you had a pet, he would be obsessed with it, probably more than he was with you sometimes

He would dance for you when you were feeling down, breakdancing around you until you smiled

When he was on tour you could usually be found with one of his basketball jerseys wrapped around you, his scent still strong

Your favourite look was when he wore headbands, he looked adorable

He wasn’t a big fan of selfies, but when you begged him with kisses, he couldn’t say no

It was rare, but Yoongi could be very romantic, with the help of the boys he could whisk you off your feet

He had a very hard exterior, but when you broke him, he would open up about everything to you, talking for hours

The two of you shared a secret code, whenever he was in an interview or on stage, he’d tap his wrist three times, it was his way of telling you he was thinking of you

If the two of you had the day off, you’d spend it cooking together or baking cookies

He would eat them straight away, you didn’t understand how, but he always seemed to be hungry

There would often be little notes left around your house with sweet messages on because he found it much easier that way to express his feelings

Every day, without fail he would tell you that he loved you, even if he was on the other side of the world

You knew when you were getting to him because he’d go all shy, he hated the attention being all on him

There was one time you surprised him on tour, and he broke down into floods of tears, surprising everyone with how touched he was

He loved to play with your hair, tying it up in pigtails was his speciality

Yoongi had the craziest quirks, but they were what you loved most about him

He was actually the first to say I love you, taking you by complete surprise when he came home from tour

You had a whole album on your phone dedicated to that sweet smile of his

His eyes would always search for you in the crowd, he would glance at you the whole way through the concert

You were always stealing his clothes, but he didn’t mind, you looked better in them anyway

He would wink at you constantly; he knew that he had you in the palm of his hand when he did so

Yoongi was always anxious to take you to events, he didn’t want to throw you into the limelight, he quite liked to leave his personal life at home

His perfect dates were ones when the two of you could stay in bed or just cuddle on the sofas

Army were so obsessed with the two of you, you kept so much a secret, any glimmer of your relationship excited the fans

His birthday wasn’t really something he liked to celebrate, but he would go all out for yours

Any special occasion that involved you would mean the world to Yoongi

Affection/Skinship

He’s definitely not the most affectionate person in the world

But it made his cuddles and kisses even more meaningful and enjoyed

He would always be the big spoon when you embraced, proving his dominance and masculinity

It was the same with sex, he liked to be dominant, and tell you what he wanted from you

Selfishly, he quite liked to receive, it wasn’t that he didn’t like to give, but he just loved watching you go down on him

Very rarely did you get the chance to dominate, you were usually a puppet on strings to Yoongi

Sex was when he got loud, he didn’t hold back with his moans and shouts

He didn’t always cuddle after sex, sometimes he’d just lay there, calming himself down

Most of the time it was very passionate and sweet, yet Yoongi wasn’t afraid to get rough

Hickeys were always found on your body from his marking his territory

He likes to play with your hands quite often, it always relaxes him

Compliments are given the most when the two of you are intimate, he wants to show you how much you mean to him

Quickies are not uncommon for you both, honestly, you’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve done it in his studio

He doesn’t have the highest sex drive, sometimes he’s quite happy to just cuddle you and hold you after those long days

He’s most horny when you’ve been apart for a while, anything longer than a week he craves your touch

Most of the time he instigates, he likes to be in control, and if he’s needy, he’ll make sure you’re there to deliver

As rough as he can be, he can be soft, and appreciate every part of your body

Of course, he never wants to hurt you, and will always make sure that you’re okay, asking you constantly that you’re feeling good

Arguments

Yoongi’s very open in that he believes it’s natural to argue, it’s just what humans do

Not to say the two of you argued often, but he just thought it was part of being in love

Conflict made him grumpy, he’d be very moody and sulk if you shouted at him

He would definitely give you space, if you weren’t prepared to resolve it straight away, he’d go to the studio or meet some of the boys

Sometimes even the littlest of things could set him off if he was feeling stressed

They weren’t always talked about, sometimes you’d just pretend that it had never happened

He was very affectionate when he argued with you, he’d always feel guilty afterwards

His mouth tends to run away with him a little bit, but he always apologises for it

Something he says that he thinks his funny, is not always funny to you

Yoongi was never afraid to argue, when you tried to remain calm, he quite wanted to argue and just express all your worries

You were a little less keen on arguments, you hated arguing with the love of your life

Despite it all, Yoongi never really rose his voice, his calm demeanour still remained even if he was frustrated

He always reassured you that arguments were natural, and you should never let it worry you

You tried not to, but it was hard, you just wanted the perfect relationship

Whatever you argued about, it always got sorted, Yoongi would never allow conflict to break you both

Your Relationship With The Boys

They loved the girl that put the smile on Min Yoongi’s face

Yoongi had definitely given them all boundaries, he was very strict with how they respected you and treated you

Jin definitely came the closest to breaking those boundaries, he loved to wind Yoongi up by getting close to you

Jungkook obviously respected them the most, he listened to his hyung and would always have Yoongi in the back of his head

You got on very well with Namjoon, you knew the history between him and Yoongi and bonded with him being of similar age

Hobi was always on hand to make you laugh, he loved spending time with both you and Yoongi

Taehyung loved having a girl around and looking to you for advice and help with his relationships

You also shared a close bond with Jimin, he supported Yoongi in everything he did, and supported you too

You bonded with the boys quickly because they saw the positive changes you brought to Yoongi’s life

The Future

Looking to the future was hard with Yoongi as it was never something, he really wanted to talk about

His proposal took you by surprise as you’d never discussed the thought of marriage

It was remarkably romantic for Yoongi, who pulled out all the stops

Your wedding was very lowkey, neither of you really liked the attention of the whole occasion

Yet again, kids were never discussed when you accidentally fell pregnant, but Yoongi was ecstatic

As soon as his family grew, he realised how desperate all along he was to have a family

Everything with you was just so positive, and Yoongi could not have been more thankful 

Masterlist

[douchebagbrainwaves]

OK, I'LL TELL YOU YOU ABOUT FEATURE

They seemed to have lost their virginity at an average of about 14 and by college had tried more drugs than I'd even heard of. From their point of view, as big company executives, they were less able to start a company, it doesn't seem as if Larry and Sergey seem to have felt the same before they started Google, and so far there are few outside the US, because they don't have layers of bureaucracy to slow them down. It meant that a the only way to get rich.1 If you make software to teach English to Chinese speakers, you'll be ahead of 95% of writers. We arrive at adulthood with heads full of lies.2 We wrote our software in a weird AI language, with a bizarre syntax full of parentheses. That's an extreme example, of course, that you needed $20,000 in capital to incorporate.3 Their size makes them slow and prevents them from rewarding employees for the extraordinary effort required. Doing what you love in your spare time.4 Young professionals were paying their dues, working their way up the hierarchy. By giving him something he wants in return.

Once they saw that new BMW 325i, they wanted one too.5 If you simply manage to write in spoken language. Languages less powerful than Blub are obviously less powerful, because they're missing some feature he's used to. The kind of people you find in Cambridge are not there by accident.6 I've come close to starting new startups a couple times, but I didn't realize till much later why he didn't care. We'd interview people from MIT or Harvard or Stanford must be smart. Indians in the current Silicon Valley are all too aware of the shortcomings of the INS, but there's little they can do about it. When you're too weak to lift something, you can always make money from such investments.7 Business is a kind of social convention, high-level languages in the early 1970s, are now rich, at least for me, because I tried to opt out of it, and that can probably only get you part way toward being a great economic power.8 It must have seemed a safe move at the time. At the end of the summer.9

It's not merely that you need a scalable idea to grow.10 How much stock should you give him? Users love a site that's constantly improving. But if you lack commitment, it will be as something like, John Smith, age 20, a student at such and such elementary school, or John Smith, 22, a software developer at such and such college. There are two things different here from the usual confidence-building exercise.11 But it means if you made a serious effort. Bill Gates out of the third world.12 What's going on? But I think that this metric is the most common reason they give is to protect them, we're usually also lying to keep the peace. The kind of people you find in Cambridge are not there by accident.13

Frankly, it surprises me how small a role patents play in the software business, startups beat established companies by transcending them. The problem is that the cycle is slow. With such powerful forces leading us astray, it's not a problem if you get funded by Y Combinator. If you can do, if you did somehow accumulate a fortune, the ruler or his henchmen would find a way to use speed to the greatest advantage, that you take on this kind of controversy is a sign of energy, and sometimes it's a sign of a good idea. Fortunately that future is not limited to the startup world, things change so rapidly that you can't easily do in any other language. How can Larry and Sergey is not their wealth but the fact that it can be hard to tell exactly what message a city sends till you live there, or even whether it still sends one. They build Writely.14 I'm not sure that will happen, but it's the truth. Stanford students are more entrepreneurial than Yale students, but not because of some difference in their characters; the Yale students just have fewer examples.

And whatever you think of a startup. In the US things are more haphazard. I see a couple things on the list because he was one of the symptoms of bad judgement is believing you have good judgement. There are a couple catches. Instead of being positive, I'm going to use TCP/IP just because everyone else does.15 Being profitable, for example, or at the more bogus end of the race slowing down. An example of a job someone had to do.16 But actually being good. There are a lot of people were there during conventional office hours.17

I'll tell you about one of the most surprising things we've learned is how little it matters where people went to college.18 In Lisp, these programs are called macros. That's where the upper-middle class convention that you're supposed to work on it. And since most of what big companies do their best thinking when they wake up on Sunday morning and go downstairs in their bathrobe to make a conscious effort to keep your ideas about what you should do is start one.19 The most powerful wind is users. We're just finally able to measure it. And not only did everyone get the same yield. VCs need to invest in startups, at least by legal standards. Ten years ago, writing applications meant writing applications in C. If you have to operate on ridiculously incomplete information.

Notes

Foster, Richard Florida told me about several valuable sources. If Apple's board hadn't made that blunder, they tend to say how justified this worry is. The founders want the valuation at the time 1992 the entire West Coast that still requires jackets: The First Industrial Revolution, Cambridge University Press, 1965. Yes, there would be enough to be a win to include things in shows is basically zero.

Different kinds of startups that has become part of your mind what's the right mindset you will fail.

But although I started using it out of loyalty to the founders' salaries to the traditional peasant's diet: they had first claim on the one hand they take away with the earlier stage startups, just monopolies they create rather than admitting he preferred to call them whitelists because it reads as a kid, this is the notoriously corrupt relationship between the government. As the name Homer, to mean starting a business, A. The Department of English Studies. Yes, strictly speaking, you're pretty well protected against such tricks initially.

There are also the 11% most susceptible to charisma. Every language probably has a word meaning how one feels when that partner re-tells it to profitability on a road there are no longer needed, big companies to say that YC's most successful startups of all the page-generating templates are still expensive to start over from scratch, rather than ones they capture.

There are two simplifying assumptions: that the Internet, and judge them based on revenues of 1. If the company goes public. This is one resource patent trolls need: lawyers. When that happens.

The only launches I remember are famous flops like the bizarre consequences of this type of proficiency test any apprentice might have 20 affinities by this, though more polite, was starting an outdoor portal. The Duty of Genius, Penguin, 1991, p. The danger is that in practice signalling hasn't been much of observed behavior. When I say in principle is that intelligence doesn't matter in startups tend to be when I was genuinely worried that Airbnb, for example, the startup after you buy it despite having no evidence it's for sale.

Another thing I learned from this experiment: set aside an option pool. So if they don't want to start a startup in question usually is doing badly in your country controlled by the government. But in a company grew at 1% a week for 4 years.

We added two more investors. The reason this subject is so hard to imagine how an investor, and that often doesn't know its own momentum. We think. I'm talking here about everyday tagging.

They thought most programming would be possible to bring corporate bonds to market faster; the point of a large organization that often creates a rationalization for doing so much to generalize.

Many people feel good. So instead of being interrupted deters hackers from starting hard projects. The idea is that it was overvalued till you see them, initially, were ways to make your fortune? In fact the decade preceding the war.

One father told me about a form that would appeal to investors.

Some graffiti is quite impressive anything becomes art if you tell them to justify choices inaction in particular took bribery to the traditional peasant's diet: they hoped they were only partly joking. If a big angel like Ron Conway had angel funds starting in the first phase. You're going to create one of those you can eliminate, do not try too hard at fixing bugs—which, if they stopped causing so much from day to day indeed, is due to the table.

The hardest kind of gestures you use the wrong ISP. But they've been trained to expect the second component is empty—an idea is stone soup: you post a sign saying this cupboard must be kept empty. The two guys were Dan Bricklin and Bob Frankston. I have set up grant programs to run an online service, and they were, they'd be called unfair.

My work represents an exploration of gender and sexuality in an era of such high taxes?

So the most visible index of that, in one of the markets they serve, because she liked the iPhone SDK. For example, because a it's too hard to pick the former, because it is.

If you ask that you're small and traditional proprietors on the side of the junk bond business by Michael Milken; a new airport.

The biggest exits are the only audience for your side project. You're not one of their portfolio companies. He did eventually graduate at about 26.

A lot of time on schleps, but he doesn't remember which.

When I talk about startups. It's also one of the statistics they use the wrong algorithm for generating their frontpage. The reason Y Combinator only got 38 cents on the other: the source of food.

[whindsor]

gbbo au pt 2

wellp, here we go! i’m technically not back on my bullshit cause i was never actually off of it.

p.s. would it be weird to actually name the judges/hosts of the show as paul/prue/noel/matt? or should i just keep it generic? or does it not matter and i should do whatever i want?

week 1: cake week

week 2: biscuit week

No matter how many years he lived in the UK, it still took Bucky a minute to remember that the biscuits were not the same as they were when he was growing up. They weren’t exactly a staple in his New York diet - they had bagels for that - but he did manage to stumble into a southern style diner or two and order a plate of biscuits and gravy. The biscuits were thick, and light, and tender, and tasted so good after a bit too much whiskey. 

But those weren’t the biscuits he was dealing with this week. Well, except for his showstopper.

Florentines were an absolute beast. Sure, it sounded easy enough: a thin, lacy “biscuit” (cookie) with nuts and fruit and a base of some sort of caramel. But here was the kicker: they weren’t supposed to bend, they were supposed to snap. And that was the part that was going to send him home. 

It was the day before the competition was set to begin. He’d woken up even earlier than usual, intent on getting in one last attempt at his Signature and one last practice run of his Showstopper. Plus, it helped that he got a nice PTSD-induced nightmare to get the blood pumping first thing, where he was back on the battlefield, except the battlefield was the tent, and he had no cover except for the flimsy benches. 

He ran further and faster than usual that morning, his lungs and legs burning when he slowed to a walk outside the building. He’d been trying to solve his problem the whole run, and thought he might have a fix...if it didn’t work, he’d be out of options. He was distracted by the sound of a door opening, and looked up to see Mika on her balcony, a baggy flannel thrown over her pajamas and a cup in her hands. She looked half asleep still, her hair tousled all around. She was still pretty...not that he’d ever say anything, of course. 

“You’re up earlier than usual.” she said in Romanian. The few encounters they had over the week, she always spoke to him in the other language; it was probably a comfort for her, and he didn’t mind the distraction. 

“Early bird gets the worm.” he replied in English, knowing the phrase didn’t quite translate. He switched after that, since she looked like her brain wasn’t ready for a second language. “You’re up early too.”

“Couldn’t sleep. Want some coffee?” she asked, jerking her head back toward her apartment. He checked his watch; breakfast wouldn’t be open for another hour, and coffee did sound good. 

“Thank you. Let me shower and I’ll be over.” he said. She nodded, telling him the flat number before going back inside. He supposed he should feel nervous about visiting a new friend in her apartment, but with all the other anxiety-inducing activities going on, this one was actually a relief. By the time he made it to her door, she had managed to get out of her pajamas and wrap her hair into a braid. He thought she might have put on a bit of mascara, but couldn’t be sure.

“Milk? Sugar?” she asked, going to the (beautifully full) coffee pot and pouring some into a mug with flowers painted around the outside. He went to the stools on one side of the island, taking a seat.

“Just black.” he said, earning a suspicious look from her. It fell a second later, as if something dawned on her.

“Right. No sweets.” she said, filling the cup a little more before handing it to him. Her kitchen wasn’t quite as neat as his was, and had the appearance of quickly being cleaned a few moments before. Not that he minded; it almost made it more comfortable, knowing that the space was lived in. “So tell me. How does someone who doesn’t like sweets end up a baker?”

“It was something to concentrate on.” he said with a shrug, taking a sip of coffee. Her question was definitely more loaded than she realized, and he had to try and figure out how to answer without making things more somber than they needed to be. “After I got back, the therapist recommended I find an activity that gave me a physical product at the end of it. I’ve never been good at art, and I wasn’t about to try and figure out sewing, so baking was the next best thing.”

“What’s your favorite thing to bake then?” she said, leaning her elbows onto the counter of her kitchen island. He could see a little white trail of flour on her sleeve.

“You’re just trying to figure out my strengths.” he teased. 

“I am not!” she said. “I’m making conversation, like a normal human.”

“Uh huh.” he said, as if he didn’t believe her. “You have to promise to keep it a secret.”

“Of course. What happens in the back row stays in the back row.” she said, leaning in a bit closer. He couldn’t help but lean slightly away; it wasn’t that she made him uncomfortable, he’d just gotten used to people being a certain distance away from him during the pandemic. She seemed to realize this discomfort, and quietly slid back again.

“Patisserie.” he admitted, making the conversation go on and hoping he hadn’t made her feel bad. Luckily the answer was enough to distract her, her eyebrows shooting towards her hairline.

“I did not expect that.” she admitted. “Patisserie? Really?”

“I like the details. And I have a steady hand.” he said, realizing the unintended joke a moment later. Mika pressed her lips together, as if determined not to laugh. “See? I told you it happens all the time.” 

“I never realized how often hands get talked about.” she said, humor in her tone. “Well, you’ll kick my ass if I make it that far. I’m terrible when it comes to things that require artistry.”

“I thought you did fine last week.” he offered. She scoffed.

“You saw my peak last week.” she said. 

“What’s your specialty then? Don’t tell me biscuits, my pride isn’t ready for that.” he said, making her laugh.

“No, no I’ll be scraping through this week as well.” she said, and he realized that she genuinely meant it. Did she not realize how good she was? “But bread is my favorite. So as long as I can make it to bread week, I’ll be happy with whatever outcome.”

Bucky gave a low, appreciative whistle. He was decent as bread, but could never get the texture just right. “Well, you’ll beat me there for sure.”

She blushed deeply, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t know about that.” she said, taking a sip of her coffee. Hers was a nice caramel color, lightened by the milk. Speaking of which...

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” he asked. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to pick her brain a little bit, to see if she could solve the bending problem. 

“Almost, but not quite. The Showstopper is giving me problems.” she said with a sigh. “I’m probably trying to be too ambitious.”

“Not always an issue.” he said, though there was one contestant that got that feedback on both of his bakes the week prior. “If you get a snappy florentine, you’re already ahead of me.” 

She looked surprised at that. “What’s your ratio of sugar to cream?” she asked. When he told her, she shook her head. “Less cream. More butter.” she said confidently. He let out a sigh of relief; that had been his last (and only) idea. 

“That’s what I was thinking.” he nodded. “What’s your meal for the showstopper?”

“Hmm. Trying to get ideas?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

“Of course. I have no idea what I’m doing.” he said. He sounded a bit more serious than he meant to, so she looked at him for a long time before shaking her head. 

“Full of shit.” she muttered. “I wanted to actually put beer into the pitcher or the glass, but I don’t think it’s going to work.”

“Make it a mousse.” he said. She looked surprised for a minute, the looked away into the great beyond.

“Beer mousse...so crazy, it just might work.” she said. “Are you doing something similar?”

“Me? No. Whipped cream as gravy, that’s about it.” he said, and she nodded again. 

“Beer mousse.” she said again, more to herself this time. She stood up suddenly, going back to the coffee pot. “Going to need more of this. You?”

He glanced at his watch; he really needed to get a move on if he was going to get everything done today. He gave her an apologetic look. “Unfortunately, I’m afraid I have to go practice. Less cream, more butter.”

“And beer mousse!” she said, holding her mug up in a cheers. He laughed, saluting with his empty one.

“And beer mousse. Thank you, for the coffee and the company.” he said. They said their goodbyes, and he made his way back to his own flat to get to work, definitely more calm now than when he first awoke. Maybe, just maybe, he could make it through this. 

The next morning, he made sure to get up early enough to get his run in, though he was definitely a little sore from the morning before. It was also a little chilly that morning, making the stump of his arm ache. When getting dressed, he thought about how hot it felt last week working in the tent, and decided to go ahead and just wear a tshirt with his jeans. Of course, after the tshirt, he put on his special shoulder cap, which would help the sensitive nerves that still gave him trouble sometimes if they spent too much time in open air. He then grabbed the little spiral hair tie, tipping his head over so that he could pull the majority of his hair into a little bun away from his face. 

The interviews were still uncomfortable, but he was good at pretending to be at ease. “I’m a little nervous this week, but at least now I kind of know what to expect.” he said when the interviewer asked. “Does that mean I’ll make it out the weekend? That still remains to be seen.” Across the grass, Mika was laughing and smiling. She’d seemed nervous last week, but was much more relaxed this week. Impressive, really, how she adapted. 

They went into the tent, and while they weren’t at the back of the class this time (which added another layer of nerves), at least they were still across the aisle from each other. Mika made a dramatic pout at their bench assignments, giving Bucky a wink before paying wrapt attention to the hosts and judges. Bucky tried not to think about how that little sign of affection made him feel. He’d been honest about his last relationship - how it ended amicably, how they were just in different places - but he had failed to mention that it had happened before he lost his arm. His best friend Steve constantly tried to get him to go out, but considering a friendly wink from a cute girl just threw him for a loop, Bucky reckoned he needed to remember how to be friends with people first. 

“Bake!” the host said, startling Bucky into action. He started organizing his bench, putting everything exactly where he needed it before getting to work on the caramel. Almonds went into the food processor, and when that was done, he started making quick work of the sour cherries, which was of course the best moment for the judges and hosts to come to him.

“Florentines, James. What have you got for us?” the male judge asked. It was still weird that technically he was James for the show, but he would have to get used to it. Or maybe he would be sent home before then, who knew. 

“Well, I’m not big on sweets, so today I’m combining almonds and sour cherries with star anise and some really dark chocolate.” he said, not looking up from where he was working with a very, very sharp knife. 

“Now that’s not something I expected. But you do like to try different spices, don’t you?” the female judge asked.

“Spicy James. That has a good ring to it. Like a bar drink.” the host commented, making them laugh.

“Just remember not to overdo it.” the male judge commented, and Bucky nodded. 

“I’ve practiced it a lot. It should be right this time.” he said. The judges smiled and nodded, moving on to the next bench, but the host and cameras stayed for just a moment.

“A Spicy James. What kind of drink would that be?” he asked, making Bucky laugh. He put the knife down to think.

“Probably whiskey with hot sauce in it.” he said, the grossest thing he could think of. The host took it in stride, nodding philosophically. 

“Just burn everything. Really warm you from the inside out, just like the sight of your man bun.” he said, making Bucky laugh again before he took up his knife. “And now that you’re holding that, I’m going to fly away. Goodbye!”

Bucky shook his head, not minding the brief reprieve as he got back to work. He wetted a tea towel, rolling it up and nestling his mixing bowl full of ingredients into it. Then he was able to add his caramel, the towel (and his stomach) holding the bowl in place as he stirred the thick mixture. From there, he used an ice cream scoop so that he could place perfectly portioned cookies onto the baking sheets, making sure to leave enough space for them to spread in the oven. 

He took a deep breath and let it out before checking his watch. So far, he was right on time. He chanced a glance over to his accomplice, who looked a bit stressed but overall handling things. She was also pretty from this angle. Dammit, Barnes, focus. It was time to temper chocolate.

Even though it would have been some sort of illegal not to let him bring his adaptive equipment, he was still very thankful to have his clip thermometer. Usually he could make the whole one-hand thing work, but stirring chocolate and monitoring the temperature was definitely a two-handed ordeal, and he had to make do. The timer for the cookies went off just as the chocolate almost reached temperature, which left him caught between the two. Finally, he had to make the choice, putting down the spatula to pull the cookies out of the oven. He nearly threw them onto the counter, quickly going back to the chocolate and barely pulling it off the heat before it went over the temp. He lost a few pieces of the seed chocolate when he dumped it in, but it was a welcome sacrifice to keep things under control. Cool it down, heat it up, cool it down, and then let it stay at a working temperature. Easy, right?

He held his breath as he moved to the florentines. They were cooled enough to work with...but would they bend, or would they hold? He carefully peeled one from the silpat; so far, it was holding, and the caramel underneath felt more solid than his other attempts. He pulled the rest, laying them out so he could go through the messy business of coating one side in chocolate. He pulled out his secret weapon - chopsticks - and thanked chef David Chang before getting to work. The camera men, noticing his odd tools, of course came to ask about it.

“It’s hard to keep the chocolate on one side if I use my fat fingers.” he said, hoping to earn a laugh and distract from any unwarranted pity at his situation. “I stole the idea from an American chef, who made the point that these are much better than tweezers or tongs.” 

Mika apparently had noticed his chopsticks as well. “Can you teach me how to use those?” she asked, making him almost drop the florentine he was coating. He looked up in surprise.

“You don’t know how to use chopsticks?” 

“No! That wasn’t a thing where I’m from!” she said, laughing. Romania had probably changed since she’d been there last, but her family had never been ones to invest in the skill. 

“Fine, fine, I’ll teach you later.” he said, not noticing the grins between the producers. 

“Thank you!” she sang, going back to her bake. After all, they only had five minutes left. Bucky swore under his breath in Russian, deciding that was the safest language for the British viewers, and quickly went to make a piping bag. He made a mess dumping the chocolate into it, and an even bigger mess trying to cut the smallest corner from it. Then, it was on to the small concentric circles on each of the biscuits. Bucky was glad he had a steady hand; it made this work significantly easier. 

He technically finished the last circle after the time call, but no one seemed to notice. He tossed the pastry bag back into the cup, the chocolate oozing out of the bottom of it. He wasn’t sure if this was going to be good, but he hoped it was good enough. 

His back ached already as he left the tent, his forearm definitely feeling like he worked it. Next week, he’d have to remember not to practice too much leading up to the competition days, lest he fatigue again. If he even made it to next week. Mika immediately walked up to him, her eyebrows already up in a question.

“So? How do you think it went?” she asked. She crossed her arms over her stomach, apparently cold underneath the shade of a tree. Bucky wished he hadn’t left his jacket back in the tent, otherwise he could give it to her. 

“So far it was my best one,” he said with a shrug, “but whether or not it snaps remains to be seen.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.” she said, waving his concern off. “They looked beautiful. I can’t wait to try them.”

“It may not be sweet enough for you.”

“It’s food, I’ll enjoy it.” she replied.

“What flavors did you end up going with?” he said, changing the subject. He didn’t want her to think that he only cared about his own bakes, plus he was curious. He’d caught her in the communal kitchen a couple times, always trying a new combination.

“Pistachio and apricot. It felt right.” she said, as if that was something that people came up with every day. “Even though it doesn’t look particularly appealing. Hopefully that doesn’t count too much against me.”

“Just mention ‘jewel tones’ and they’ll praise you for it.” he replied, earning a surprised look from her.

“And where does a man like you hear about ‘jewel tones,’ hm?” she asked. “Let me guess: another ex?”

“Actually, asshole best friend is an artist.” he said, referring to their earlier conversation. Mika put a hand on his arm, and though the movement initially startled him, he found he really didn’t want her to pull away.

“You’re joking.” she said. “Asshole sister is an artist too.” 

“Oh my God they were made for each other.” Bucky said, a little more dramatic than he’d been in a long time. He was suddenly glad that Steve made him sign up for this; at the very least, he got to have fun and act like a human again after slowly becoming more and more hermit-like after his accident. They were denied further socializing by the producers calling them in, instructing them to return to their now clean benches and wait for their judging.

Judging maybe made him antsy, but he wouldn’t go so far as to say he was nervous. He was nervous about making a fool of himself, about saying the wrong thing or being too candid about the trauma he’d been through. He was nervous that he would disappoint his friend. But getting critique from people that knew baking much better than he did? He’d gotten an arm blown off. A couple judges did not make him nervous. 

“Alright, James, let’s see how this goes.” the male judge said, rubbing his hands together and picking up two florentines from the plate. The female judge turned it over, admiring the dark chocolate along the bottom.

“Beautifully tempered. Look at that shine.” she said, impressed. He felt like he could breathe a little easier after that praise. The male judge went to bend the biscuit; the chocolate gave with a satisfying crack, but unfortunately the rest of the cookie bent like a green tree branch.

“Ah, no snap.” he said, shaking his head.

“Damn.” Bucky agreed, making them laugh. To further ease the tension, one of the hosts grabbed a florentine, and immediately tried to fit the whole thing in his mouth. 

“Something snapped.” he said around the mouthful.

“Your molars, likely. Or your brain.” the male judge said, though he was clearly amused by the joke. He then took a bite of the florentine, chewing thoughtfully. “I was hesitant about your flavors, but you have managed to make something with a lot of bitter elements, and balance those out with the right amount of sweetness.”

“It tastes like the last of winter, just before the turn of spring.” the female judge said, earning a hearty “oooooh” from the host. “I enjoy those flavors a lot.”

“Thank you.” Bucky said with a nod, turning back to the male judge.

“Shame about the snap, though.” he said, wincing appreciatively.

“Shame indeed.” Bucky agreed, bidding them goodbye as they moved on. He let out a breath and let go of that part of the competition; there was nothing he could do about it now. He glanced over at Mika, who looked like she thought that went rather well. He wasn’t sure he agreed, but he’d pretend to for now. 

She was much more relaxed when the judges arrived compared to last week, but he could tell by the tightness in her shoulders and the tapping of her thumb that she was still anxious. And of course, it didn’t help when the male judge said, “That looks a bit like what the dog coughed up.”

“That’s just cruel.” Mika cried, covering her face with her hands. The female judge smacked him and the host chastised him, and Mika laughed, though a blush was covering her neck and chest. 

“Honestly. You’re terrible.” the female judge muttered, picking up florentines for the both of them. “The chocolate looks good, and despite the unfortunate coloring, you do seem to have a good spread of fruit and nuts.”

“I was going for a jewel tone.” she said, her eyes flicking over to Bucky for a split second. 

“Don’t know many jewels like that.” the male judge remarked. He was still clearly joking, but Bucky could see Mika chipping away at her nail polish underneath the edge of the bench. The judges went to break the biscuit in half, and it broke with a satisfying crack.

“Now there’s a snap.” the female judge said, and Mika’s smile became more genuine, the blush receding slightly. They bit into it, and even from here Bucky could tell she’d gotten the texture spot on. “That is...exquisite.”

“It isn’t something I would’ve attempted.” the male judge started. “And I’m not sure it’s something I’d pick out if I saw it on a menu. But the ratios of your ingredients, and the way you’ve mixed them and have the perfect caramel...yea, that’s well done, that.” he said with a decisive nod. “Perhaps just needs a bit more thought on presentation.”

“Right, yea,” Mika agreed. “Thank you.” 

The judges nodded and moved on to the next person. Mika looked to Bucky, making an exaggerated face and wiping imaginary sweat off her brow. He mimed for her to take a deep breath; besides the look of it, they’d given her a glowing review. Considering some of the other things he’d heard, even in his own judging, he didn’t think she had anything to worry about. 

He was itching to get out of the tent by the time lunch came around. Like the week before, they had a sandwich spread for them, and he collected his food and his book before going out to the fire pit. He didn’t know if Mika would join him this time, but he certainly hoped for it. He sat and got himself arranged, getting a few pages in before he heard boots on the gravel, looking up to see his new friend smile at him and settle into the next chair over, content to sit on her phone while he sat with his book. He inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. So far, he’d managed to have multiple conversations with her without doing something completely off-putting, and the more he could stay silent, the better his record would be. Plus, it was just nice to sit with someone besides Steve and not have to stress about conversation. 

They passed lunch in silence, only acknowledging each other once they were called back into the tent for the technical challenge. If he was honest, technical challenges were the part that made him most uneasy; everyone got the same ingredients, and the same tools. He didn’t want the judges to make any special arrangements for him, but just the nature of the challenge put him at a bit of a disadvantage. Of course, that also made him get a little riled up, wanting to prove that he could do anything with one arm that the other bakers did with two.

When the hosts announced that macaroons (not to be confused with macarons) would be the challenge, he figured that it would be easy, that he would totally have this in the bag like he did with the last technical challenge. Then he read the instructions, and everything promptly fell to shit. 

First, cutting out circles? Why on earth did they need to cut out circles of parchment? Why not just outline the circles like an efficient person?

Then, make a curd. Fine. He could make a curd. He just couldn’t do anything else while he was making the curd because of the whole “continuous stirring” thing. They had hand mixers, but apparently they were only supposed to use that for the egg whites. Well, it was implied, not explicitly stated, so he was going to bend the rules a little bit.

Getting the coconut mixture right and in the pastry bag wasn’t the hardest part, except that he was currently low on time because of the whole parchment circle thing. So he had to try to rush, not knock the air out of the egg whites, and also manage to pipe perfect little coconut discs. Easy. So easy.

Oh, and chocolate! They had to make chocolate too! Fine! Easy! So easy!

Far too much time had gone by the time he actually got the macaroons into the oven, and he cursed himself a little bit. When he baked at home, he had all the time in the world and all the information he could need to set himself up for success. When applying, he hadn’t thought about the time constraints as much as he should have. Well, he was thinking about it now, and he was definitely going to start working on that for next week. If he made it through to next week.

The macaroons took even longer in the oven than he thought they would, and when he finally gave in a pulled them out, they still seemed too pale. He’d seen pictures of these things before, but he’d never tasted one, let alone made one. 

“Those don’t look quite right, huh?” he asked the camera man filming him. He rested his hand on his hip, trying to decide if he had enough time to put them back in the oven or if he should just let them cool so he could put the curd in the little welled ones. 

“Five minutes left!” the host yelled, making a couple of the bakers jump. Mika was definitely calmer than she was the week before, peeling the parchment layer from her cooled macaroons. Bucky sighed; the time call answered his question for him. He carefully turned his macaroons and tried to quickly and carefully peel the parchment from the bottom; since they were still warm, they were all too willing to lose their shape or leave coconut bits on the paper. He didn’t have time to worry about it, he just had to get something presentable on the plate. His wells were a little shallow and he had some chocolate leaking from the bottom of some, but when the host called one more minute! he was at least working on spooning the curd into them. They might be the worst macaroons the judges had ever seen, but at least they’d be finished. 

Mika claimed the seat next to him, which was a welcome comfort. They’d only known each other for a week, but it still felt good to know that someone was in his corner. He eyed the biscuits behind her picture, noticing that they were perfect golden brown with bright yellow curd and no chocolate smudges in sight. Ugh, she was the worst.

“This one got away from me.” he murmured before the judges came in.

“I’m sure you did just fine.” she said, patting his hand. The judges eyed the plates, questions on their faces that they didn’t quite dare to say out loud. Bucky noticed, with some relief, that his didn’t look the absolute worst.

“Right. Let’s get started.” the male judge said, going to the end of the table and picking up the first one. One by one they went down the line, the same process that they did last week and all the other weeks in the seasons before this one. And yet, there was still something foreboding about it. With no one staring directly at them, the judges were free to be more ruthless in their assessments.

“Oh dear,” the female judge said as the male judge picked up one of Bucky’s macaroons, the biscuit breaking in half before he could set it down. “Not a good start.”

“No, this one needed more time in the oven, and more time to cool.” the male judge agreed, licking chocolate off his thumb where it escaped. Luckily, one of the mango curd ones stayed together as he moved it. They took their bites and chewed, the female judge making a noise of surprise.

“It’s further baked than I thought.” she said. “And the flavor is very good.”

“It’s barely baked, a few more minutes would have done it well to get that golden brown layer. But the curd is perfect.” the male judge said. Bucky relaxed slightly, and Mika looked like she wanted to pat his hand again, but held herself back. The reviews for her macaroons were far brighter, their only complaint being that she hadn’t ground the coconut as fine as she needed to. But at least hers stayed in one piece when they put it on the plate. 

In the end, Bucky got eighth out of eleven, which was a big downturn compared to the previous week. Mika, the cheeky knave, smiled her way into second. He didn’t particularly want to do the end of the day interview, but that was part of what they signed up for, so he put on his blank face and waited until they set up the camera and got their warm up questions out. 

“No, today didn’t really go the way I wanted it to.” he said, adding a self deprecating laugh so that he didn’t sound so bitter. He’d forgotten how competitive he could be - actually wasn’t really sure he had a competitive nature anymore - and the two losses today awoke a part of him that had been asleep for a long time. “But that just means I have to come back with a vengeance tomorrow, right?” He should have stopped there, and almost did, but then had to be a little bit of a turd and add, “But those parchment circles. That was nonsense.”

Luckily they ended the interview quickly so he didn’t have time to make any more Salty Disabled Veteran comments, which was probably for the best. He’d signed up for all this, and he’d made it through the preliminary rounds, so clearly he was good enough to be here. Like every other time in his life, it was time to adapt and overcome. 

But first, he was hoping Mika would meet him for another drink. 

“Fire pit?” she asked as they walked out, as if she read his mind. 

“It might be a two glass night.” he sighed. She tossed an arm around his shoulders, giving him a comforting squeeze. He was very proud of himself for not flinching, and borderline enjoying the affection.

“Cheer up, daisy. You did fine today.” she said, making him smile.

“I think you mean, ‘cheer up, buttercup’.” 

“All flowers look the same to me. See you soon!” she sang, going towards her wing of the building. He shook his head, going to scarf down some food and shower before heading back outside, whiskey and glasses in hand. The fire was going again, a welcome source of warmth now that the sun was down. He’d brought his book in his back pocket just in case, but Mika was already waiting for him, a blanket around her shoulders. He handed the glasses to her, and she held them so he could fill them.

“Well, start digging my grave. Dead man walking.” he said, leaning into the chair and sighing heavily.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” she said, waving him off. “You’re going to be fine. You’re not going to get star baker, but you’re not going home.”

“You have much more confidence in me than I have in myself.”

“Well the first challenge wasn’t as bad as you thought. And the technical was bullshit.” she said. “Your flavors are spectacular, and tomorrow you’ll wow them with whatever you make.”

“And what about you? Did you get beer mousse figured out?” he said, switching the attention to her. He was used to having his one cheerleader (Steve) and he wasn’t sure how to handle another one. She barked out a laugh.

“Not in the slightest. I’m just going to try tomorrow, but not tell them about it, in case it doesn’t work out.” she said with a shrug.

“Tricky tricky. I think that’s cheating of some sort.” he teased. His glass was only half empty, but he wanted to refill it already. He pushed down that desire, knowing that it would not end well. 

“It is not! It’s just...equivocating.” she said with a wry grin. 

“So full of shit.” he laughed, shaking his head. “Have you talked to your sister since last weekend?”

She nearly choked on her drink, her cheeks coloring for some reason. He patted her back as she coughed, clearing her airway. “Yea, yea I have. She was very impressed by you.”

“And what about you?”

“She was glad I didn’t get sent home. Mum was mad that I wore a leather jacket and said I need to get my nails done, which is her way of saying I didn’t completely shame the family.” she said. “What about you? Did you talk to your friend...?”

“Steve. Yea, he said I needed to loosen up a little.”

“You? No.”

“Hush, not you too.” he said, finishing his drink. If he’d drank it a little faster, perhaps he would loosen up, but he and Mika were still just acquaintances, and they were in a massive competition. He could self medicate better tomorrow. Mika wasn’t close to finishing hers. so he simply put his glass down.

“I thought it was a two glass night?”

“Nah.” he shook his head. “Two glasses leads to the whole bottle leads to things I’ll regret in the morning.”

“Oh, that sounds like it has a story.” she said, leaning towards him. “Spill.”

“Not so much a story as multiple data points.” he said. “After...well, you know...I uh, didn’t handle things so great. There was a lot of poor choices trying to put myself back together.”

“But you did.”

“Huh?”

“You did put yourself back together. You fought through it all. And you’re amazing for it.” she said. Something in her tone made him think something - or someone - particular was on her mind, but when she didn’t offer the information, he didn’t pry.

“Thank you. That’s very kind of you to say.” he said softly. Sure, Steve had told him the same thing a thousand times, but it was different hearing it from someone else. 

“You’re welcome.” she said with a smile, reaching out and patting his hand. “Now, chin up. I can’t have my bench buddy leaving so soon. You haven’t even gotten to the best one yet!”

“Patisserie? I know.”

“No! Bread!”

“Bread is only the best to you.” 

“...Maybe.” she said, smiling and laughing. He couldn’t help but join in; God, he had an honest-to-goodness friend in her. Perhaps he should have done this whole “socializing” thing sooner. Either way, he was glad to have her in his corner. 

The next day, they all scarfed down a nervous breakfast and made their way down to the tent, the sunny weather laughing at their anxiety. This challenge was going to be tough; but before they started, Mika threw a wink and a thumbs up his way, helping to bolster his confidence. She was right, he could do this. He didn’t need to be star baker, he just needed to not be the worst. He’d been thinking about what to do for this week’s Showstopper challenge, and after having a mess of a time the day before, he decided to just go all out. The judges wanted a table setting from a memorable meal, but made out of biscuit. And that’s what they were going to get. 

He went to work quickly, knowing that it was going to take him longer to shape his biscuits than the other contestants, and that he had probably given himself a little too much to do.

“Right, James, what shall we expect from your place setting?” the male judge asked as the crew sidled up to his bench. Bucky couldn’t afford to stop and chat to them, so he continued measuring and mixing as he spoke.

“I’m making the setting of a traditional New York diner. It reminds me of the times we used to stay out too late and partake a little too much.” he said, grinning at the judges. 

“Oh, what’s the best meal for that? A big burger?” the host asked, getting excited. Bucky shook his head.

“Oh no, burger’s too heavy. Today it’ll be biscuits and gravy.” Bucky replied. The male judge laughed, but the female judge paused.

“Not real gravy, I hope.” she said, so suspicious he almost said that it was. But he didn’t think he needed to lose any points right from the get-go.

“No, no. I’ll be making American-style buttermilk biscuits, but with lemon zest, and vanilla whipped cream for the gravy.” he explained. The male judge raised his eyebrows.

“And what will the rest of the display be made out of?”

“Homemade graham crackers, which is really just left of gingerbread.” he said with a shrug. He’d struggled with how to make his display different than the others, and that was the best he could come up with. “They’ll be flavored with honey and a pinch of cinnamon, with a very, very thin layer of white chocolate to make it that diner-ceramic.”

“Just a pinch of cinnamon, eh?” the female judge asked, looking over the rims of her glasses.

“Scouts honor.” he said, acutely aware that they had told him multiple times that his bakes were overspiced. “And then we’ll also have a coffee flavored biscuit for the carafe and mug.”

“So you’re making two types of biscuit?” the male judge asked, one grey eyebrow raised.

“Yes.”

“And American-style biscuits?” he continued.

“...Yes.”

“That’s a lot to do. We’ll let you get to it.” the female judge said, patting his hand and shepherding the male judge away. The host stopped for a moment, leaning towards Bucky.

“What’s in an American-style biscuit?”

“A lot of butter.”

“Excellent!” he said, pumping his fist once before following the judges to the next bench. Bucky took a deep breath to center himself. He knew that he’d probably done too much, but he needed to go all out if he was going to stay in the competition. His performance yesterday was not what he wanted. 

And so he got to work. The dough was easy enough to pull together, though rolling it out and shaping it on the molds was tougher. He had to be very careful, because if he used too much of his strength, he’d rip the dough and have to start all over. So he carefully rolled it onto the back of a pie plate, trimming the excess and setting it aside. That was the easy one. The hard one was the coffee mug, which went around the outside of a single serve cake tin. He’d purposefully chosen one with rounded corners even if it wasn’t visually accurate, and when he was able to shape it the first try (and nearly pass out from holding his breath) he found he had no regrets. The carafe was easy enough; he’d just do the hexagonal percolator that diner’s used ages and ages ago. Then, after awkwardly fumbling with some foil to make molds for the handles, everything went into the oven. He now had sixteen minutes to make biscuits.

Biscuits themselves weren’t difficult to make, but when one had to rub butter into the flour with only one hand, it tended to take a little longer. Then, when one had to zest a lemon with only one hand, that added some time too. There was a minute left on his timer when he went to add the buttermilk, and he decided he just had to wait for that part so that the rising reaction didn’t take place too soon. 

That’s when he remembered the chocolate. He muttered a curse, in what language he didn’t know, and started weighing out white chocolate to temper. He should have done this earlier, so that as soon as the other biscuits went into the oven he could get started on it. Shit. He didn’t bother chopping the chocolate to weigh it, instead breaking off bits with his hand until he had the right weight. He tossed it in a bowl just as the timer went off, and he plumb forgot to put a mitt on to grab the tray out of the oven. Turns out, things in a 350 degree oven were also 350 degrees, and he had to force himself not to drop it despite the fact that he was probably burning his whole hand off. He nearly pushed the tray off the back side of the bench in his haste to put it down, and he had to step back and shake his hand, red welts already appearing on his fingers. 

And the plate was still in the oven.

Mika was by his side in an instant, her own oven mitts on as she reached into the oven and pulled the plate out, setting it much more carefully on the bench. “Are you alright?” she asked, her brows pinched. She reached out, her hands still covered, and took in the damage. The pads of his fingers were bright red and raw; that was going to suck this week. Unless he got eliminated, then the pain in his pride would probably eclipse it. 

“I’m okay. Thank you, for saving that.” he said, gesturing to the plate.

“Do you need anything? How can I help?” she asked, tenderly touching his hand. It looked silly with her big oven mitts, but the sentiment was the same. The medic in the white polo was weaving his way through the tent, carrying the tackle box full of supplies.

“I’ll be fine. I just need a quick clean and a glove. You need to finish your bake.” he said. She looked doubtful for a moment, but the medic pushed his way between them, and she had no choice but to go back to work. She kept glancing his way ever so often, and after the medic patched him up, he sent a quick smile her way before going back at it. He was now way, way behind. 

His tunnel vision returned as he mixed the buttermilk biscuits, cutting out two of them and throwing them in the oven. From there he started tempering the white chocolate, which was finicky even at the best of times. He wouldn’t know until he coated everything if it was tempered correctly, and between now and then he had to pull the biscuits from the oven and make his whipped cream. 

“Fifteen minutes left, bakers!” one of the hosts called, and Bucky let out a low noise of frustration, quiet enough that the cameras and the other competitors didn’t pick up on it. His hair was starting to slip from its tie, but he couldn’t pay attention to it. He had fifteen minutes to put literally everything together. 

Paintbrush for coating with chocolate. He didn’t have time to make it perfectly smooth, but at least it was all covered, and shiny, and looked like it was right.

Caramel, to start sticking together the pieces. This was the most difficult part, and if Mika wasn’t bent over her bench with a piping bag of royal icing and an intense look of concentration he might have asked for help. But now it was just him and the biscuits.

“One minute left!”

The whipped cream!

He poured it into the mixer and turned it on high, splashing in some vanilla paste and sugar as it mixed. He got everything on the tray just in time, and as the hosts counted down the last ten seconds, he managed to stop the mixer, grab a huge spoon and add a few dollops of whipped cream on top.

Through some kind of miracle, he finished. 

“Take a break, bakers!” the producers called, shepherding everyone out so they could get the benches clean and set up for the judging. Mika’s plates and cups were expertly decorated in a mismatched way, and he saw that she was able to come up with something that resembled beer mousse. Damn, she was quickly becoming his biggest competition (and his biggest ally). Bucky schooled his face back to neutral as he exited, the sun feeling just a little too warm. He grabbed the edge of the rubber glove with his teeth and peeled it off, his hand disgustingly sweaty underneath it. He was just stuffing it into his pocket when Mika came up, grabbing his wrist.

“How is it?” she asked, looking at his hand as if she could see through the bandaids.

“Just stings a little.” he said. It was the truth, but he’d admit he was putting on a little more bravado than necessary. “Not the worst I’ve ever been through.”

Mika gave him a dark look, clearly not amused. “Well, good thing is, your bake looked amazing.”

“Not as good as yours.” he said with a raised eyebrow. This time it was her turn to shrug.

“I’ll admit, it turned out better than I thought it would.”

“I sense a star baker in your future.” 

“Oh absolutely not. I just need to make it through.”

“I think I’m the one living on a prayer at this point.”

“You’ll be fine.” she said, waving him off. But uncertainty was their constant companion in the tent, and even Mika couldn’t completely hide the doubt of possibility in her voice. She was saved from overexplaining anything by the producers calling them in, sending them back to the now-clean benches. Bucky eyed his set up, letting out a breath of relief just at the fact that it was still standing. The judges followed soon after, their eyes drifting over each and every showstopper before the male judge clapped his hands together.

“Alright, let’s get started.” he said. He called the first person up and immediately ripped them to shreds, harshly judging their design, their execution, and how overworked the biscuits were. Bucky took a deep breath and reminded himself that no matter what, he’d been through worse. He glanced over to Mika, how seemed a little pale after the first display, and when he finally caught her eye he gave her a smile. Hers really did look good, and he had no doubt that she would get at least a little praise for it. 

“James, let’s see yours.” the judge said a few times later, gesturing for him to come front and center. One of the hosts came to his bench, holding one end as Bucky carried the other. He could have managed if he needed to, but he’d learned approximately three months into his recovery that it was not deadly to ask for help. They placed the setting in front of the judges and he stepped back, slipping his hand into his pocket.

“American biscuits, hm?” the female judge said, looking at him over her bright blue glasses. He couldn’t help but giver her a grin.

“Cheeky, I know.” he said. 

The judge laughed appreciatively, then gestured to the sculptures. “And the rest is graham, yes?” he asked, gesturing to the sculptures.

“Yes.” he said with a nod. They slid the edges of a fork along the chocolate, and Bucky was supremely happy to see that it held.

“Excellent chocolate work.” the female judge said as the male judge broke pieces off for them to try. They took delicate bites of the various biscuits, the silence thick as they tasted it.

“That’s good, that.” the male judge finally relented. They took their forks and tried the buttermilk biscuit, the female judge laughing as she did.

“It’s rather like a cake, isn’t it?” she asked. “I’ve had them before, but this is different. The layers and the butter...I might think they’re pretty good.”

“This was a good execution. Well done.” the male judge said, nodding towards him. Bucky gave them another smile and a nod.

“Thank you.” he said, glad to finally hear something good this weekend. The host, before grabbing his end of the tray, made sure to take the rest of the buttermilk biscuit and shove it into his mouth.

“I like that.” he said, mouth full. The room tittered with laughs, and Bucky just gave him one of his flirtier smiles.

“They’re even better when you’re hungover.” he murmured, keeping his voice low enough that the cameras couldn’t pick it up. The host made an intrigued sound.

“Do you often cook for your guests the morning after?” he asked, and Bucky did not miss the insinuation - or Mika looking at them with a quizzical look as they walked by.

“Every time.” he said, not minding if she heard him. He definitely hadn’t performed as well as he wanted to this weekend, but he was hoping that he’d done well enough to stay. Mika gave him a brilliant smile once he was settled on his stool - one that quickly dropped whenever they called her name. She brought her set up to the table, holding her hands behind her and chipping at her already very chipped nail polish.

“Tell us about this setting, Mika.” the female judge asked.

“It’s from my favorite pub back in Romania. They have the best drinks and atmosphere and is where I had my last birthday party before moving here.” she explained. They nodded, asking her questions about the biscuit flavors and construction. He was impressed that she’d managed to recreate the shape of a Guinness glass out of biscuit, and based on the reactions after their first bites, the judges were impressed with her flavors.

“This is good. You’ve definitely stepped up from last week.” the male judge said, acting as if the compliment pained him a little. Mika rose up on her toes a little, then rocked back on her heels.

“Thank you.” she said. She picked up her display and brought it back to her bench, giving Bucky an exaggerated face as she sat down. He waved off her dramatics; she was very clearly going to make it through. The rest of the contestants went with varying degrees of success, and in a blink they were back outside as the judges deliberated.

“I don’t know.” Bucky said, shaking his head and stuffing his hand in his pocket. Mika looped her arm through his, gently guiding him on a little stroll around the perimeter of their waiting area.

“You’re going to be fine. They gave you excellent feedback on your bake.” she said, rubbing his arm.

“But the first two were...subpar.” he said. “Not like yours. You’re in the clear.”

“Don’t say that, you’ll jinx me.” she said, pinching his elbow. “Trust me, it’s going to be fine. I matched your payment from last week so that they’d put you through.”

“I didn’t pay them anything last week.” he reminded her.

“Exactly.” she said, as if that solved the problem. It didn’t increase his chances of advancing, but it did make him laugh, which was almost better at that moment. “You’re not going home. I need to see your patisserie!”

“I better not, I still haven’t tasted your bread.” he said. She shrugged.

“You can try that any time. I’ve always got some.” she said. “I’ll give you coffee and breakfast after your run next time. Unrelated, I’m very impressed that you’ve managed to keep up your exercise routine.”

“Come with me in the morning.” he said, making the offer before he realized he was doing it.

“You still have to be there for that.” she pointed out. “So sure, I will. I’m slow, but I’ll go.” 

“Slow is fine.” he said. The producers called from the door of the tent, but Mika didn’t let go of his arm. She kept them linked all the way to the line of stools, even holding his arm as they announced star baker. He couldn’t help but clench his fist when they paused to announce the person going home, and even Mika grew still as the host paused dramatically. 

Bucky was a little surprised not to hear his own name. The only way he knew for sure it wasn’t him was because the other bakers were saying goodbye to the person who’d been cut. Mika collapsed against his shoulder for a moment before giving his hand a hearty pat, shaking her head.

“Dammit. Now I have to go running in the morning.”

[kazarinn]

Roundup of all the things I’ve translated within the last month

Those who have been following me for a while might know that the last month saw me be very unusually prolific with translation (especially Digimon-related ones), to unprecedented extents. I'll be very honest about the fact that it's because of the current quarantine, which has left me with not a lot to do and a sense of boredom that translation somehow happens to satiate a bit ^^;; That said, the very large number of translations I'd been posting has caused things to get a bit buried, and has made things easily missable, so I've decided to make a bit of a roundup post summarizing everything I've done in the last month.

Of course, there's probably still more to come in the near future -- I have two books (the Digimon Official Super Encyclopedia and the Gakken Digimon Adventure tri. Memorial Book) hopefully coming in the mail soon, and I still have some stuff lying around I might take up if my mood warms up to it, but since I've finally cleared up a ton of the backlog I felt I should take a breather to summarize stuff. (Although, every time I say I've cleared the backlog, suddenly more interesting things pop up...^^;;)

Digimon Adventure, Adventure 02, Tamers, Frontier

Digimon Adventure 02 Drama CD "Armor Evolution to the Unknown" I will be honest in that this is actually my favorite thing to have translated in this past month. Actually, fiction translation has a higher level of difficulty for me than things like interviews -- because I want to be careful with what real people have said, I tend to be less stringent about rewording things, whereas with fiction I hold myself to a higher standard to make things flow well. But that's actually what makes it so much fun, because I can challenge myself to play with wording and broaden my horizons, and moreover Adventure 02 has a ton of characters, and it's really fun to try and make unique "voices" for all of them. That said, translating this was a bit of a wake-up call, because the sheer amount of pop culture references (to things made before I was even born, at that) and wordplay everywhere led me to the very harsh realization of why so few people have attempted to translate this drama CD into so few languages over the past two decades ^^;; I give my thanks to the anonymous Japanese commenters on Nico Nico Douga who pointed out many of the really old and obscure pop culture references, and I ended up spending several hours on Japanese Wikipedia looking up things like said old anime and British punk rock artists. I might not have gotten everything, and I'm sure there are people out there who probably would have been able to pull it off better than I did, but it ultimately became a test of my abilities as a translator, and if it's fun and entertaining and enjoyable, then that alone makes me satisfied. But I think this will be the last time (at least for a while) that I try translating something audio-only with no transcript -- my hearing is not that great, not even in English ^^;;

The Mystery of the American Box Bug A story from Adventure and Adventure 02 director Hiroyuki Kakudou that has some very tangential (at best) relation to Digimon, but is amusing nevertheless.

Digimon Adventure Character Complete File -- Future Encyclopedia Little "dialogue" snippets from an Adventure/Adventure 02-related book, checking in on the kids-turned-adults during the time of Adventure 02's epilogue. I actually translated this a long time ago, but I lost the transcript for it and I'm pretty sure (given how long ago it was) it was probably pretty embarrassing by my current standards, so I went ahead and did this over again. There are some other things in this book that are interesting and/or amusing, like further background info on the kids' family lives and room layouts, so if I have some spare time I might do some of those in the future, although naturally doing the entire book would probably be practically impossible.

Digimon Series Memorial Book: Digimon Animation Chronicle — Special interview with Hiromi Seki, Hiroyuki Kakudou, and Yukio Kaizawa An interview with some perennial Digimon staff members about Adventure through Frontier (and a bit of X-Evolution). We've had no shortage of these kinds of interviews over the years, but this one happens to summarize a lot of things that used to be considered "obscure" in the Digimon fanbase outside Japan, even though this book (and thus this interview) is one of the most prominent resources for diehard Digimon fans out there. Also, Frontier-related development info tends to be somewhat rare, so it's nice to hear about it. The Digimon Official Super Encyclopedia that I'm hoping to get my hands on soon allegedly has a similar interview with the same three people. I don't know specifics about it yet, but I'm informed that it mostly covers similar territory to this one, but also allegedly has some very fascinating details that weren't in this, so I'm looking forward to that as well.

Message from Digimon Adventure producer Hiromi Seki, to Toshiko Fujita Posted by Adventure producer Hiromi Seki to the LAST EVOLUTION Kizuna Twitter on February 8, 2019, right before the 49th day (last day of mourning, in Japanese tradition) after Taichi Yagami voice actress Toshiko Fujita's passing.

Mimi Tachikawa and Lilimon Posted by Adventure director Hiroyuki Kakudou on his blog, talking about the intent behind Mimi Tachikawa's character and her corresponding track in the drama CD Digimon Adventure: Two-and-a-Half Year Break.

Digimon Adventure tri.

On Creation and Production for “Super Evolution Stage: Digimon Adventure tri.” A post by Director Kenichi Tani about his work on the Adventure tri. stage play. Despite technically being under Adventure tri. branding, the stage play actually has surprisingly little in common with the Adventure tri. anime in terms of both content and production background, and moreover Digimon hasn't had a lot of contact with the stage medium all that much, so I thought it'd be interesting to translate something about its production, especially since this tends to be a lesser talked-about part of the franchise.

October/November 2018 Gashapon Blog interviews with Kenji Watanabe This is actually two interviews, one where Digimon franchise creator and character designer Kenji Watanabe talks about design for a Digimon gachapon set, and one where he talks about Adventure tri.'s Omegamon Merciful Mode, but I'm categorizing it under the Adventure tri. section because I figure the vast majority of readers will be reading the interview for the latter.

Digimon Adventure tri. voice actor comments (Part 1: Reunion | Part 2: Determination | Part 3: Confession | Part 4: Loss | Part 5: Coexistence | Part 6: Our Future) A series of voice actor comments that were posted to the official website prior to each Adventure tri. movie being released. I'd actually had it on the brain to try my hand at these when they were first posted, but various circumstances happened and I never got around to it, until now. In retrospect, though, I think it turned out for the better that I didn't attempt them on the spot. Adventure tri.-related interviews tend to be much more difficult to translate than most Digimon-related ones, and although there are a few reasons why, the biggest one is that, during its run, it had a very tight spoiler embargo, resulting in a lot of vague language being used, and so when you translate from a language like Japanese -- where having proper context can be life or death -- not knowing the original context behind what was being said can throw the end result into completely incorrect and misleading interpretations. While I was working on these, I did actually end up having to pull up the movies again and reference what scenes were being referred to multiple times just so I could phrase the sentence correctly, so yeah, I think it did ultimately work out. Incidentally, this is also the first direct Adventure tri. production-related thing I've translated since 2016 (mainly due to the expenses incurred by importing magazines and my difficulty with translating print media at the time). Looking back at it, I'm honestly kind of ashamed at my own inexperience from back then, but sadly, I don't have the original magazines anymore, so I can't do much to fix it, and so I'm kind of glad to have these as my sort of attempt at "redeeming myself".

Digimon Adventure tri. — Yoshimasa Hosoya interview on “To Me” Also from the official website, discussing voice actor Yoshimasa Hosoya's involvement with the ending theme song from part 3 (Confession), "To Me".

Digimon Adventure LAST EVOLUTION Kizuna

Anime! Anime! interview series (Director Tomohisa Taguchi interview | Natsuki Hanae and Chika Sakamoto interview | 02 human cast voice actor interview | 02 Digimon cast voice actor interview | Producer Yousuke Kinoshita and supervisor Hiromi Seki interview) I didn't actually know this was a series until very recently, so you'll have to forgive me for translating these out of order. Technically, all of these were posted in February to March 2020, after the movie was released in Japan, but it's pretty much spoiler-free. It's got a huge amount of development and background info behind LAST EVOLUTION Kizuna, so I recommend them as reading for anyone interested in seeing the movie.

"In regards to the new Digimon project" Otherwise known as "what happened when Hiroyuki Kakudou accidentally revealed that they were making another Digimon Adventure-related movie". Since the news that original Adventure director was recusing from LAST EVOLUTION Kizuna due to some kind of creative difference over lore ended up naturally being a hot topic, I felt like having a proper translation of his statement on the matter would be a useful thing to have. Despite technically being LAST EVOLUTION Kizuna-related, it also has a transcription of his tweets regarding Adventure/Adventure 02 background lore along with some surprising production details, so it may interest fans of the original series as well.

Digimon Continues to be Loved Thanks to its Creator’s Commitment — With Digimon Character Designer Kenji Watanabe An Asahi &M article (sort of a half-interview) with Kenji Watanabe over his involvement in LAST EVOLUTION Kizuna, which, unusually for a Digimon anime work, actually had him directly involved in production from beginning to end. I put this on the post already, but this article gets a lot dangerously closer to outright spoilers than you'd expect for this kind of material, so if you're particularly keen on going into the movie "completely clean", best to maybe avoid this one until you've seen the movie.

Digimon Adventure LAST EVOLUTION Kizuna — Website messages from Hiromi Seki and Yousuke Kinoshita It's just a short greeting message on the official website. I wanted to translate it mainly because it's not on the official English site.

Animage Plus interviews with Yousuke Kinoshita Also something I'd wanted to translate for a while but never got around to (until now). A triple set of interviews with LAST EVOLUTION Kizuna producer Yousuke Kinoshita, who also talks about Adventure's 20th anniversary and the "Memorial Story" short story collection crowdfund.

Digimon Adventure:

Interviews with Yabuno Tenya and Atsuhiro Tomioka (Part 1: V-Jump Web | Part 2: Digimon Web) A two-part interview (each part on different websites) with Digimon Adventure V-Tamer 01 artist Yabuno Tenya and Digimon Adventure: lead writer Atsuhiro Tomioka, discussing their respective works and Adventure:'s surprising relation to V-Tamer.

Digimon Adventure director Hiroyuki Kakudou’s initial comments on the Digimon Adventure: reboot A triple set of blog posts from original Digimon Adventure director Hiroyuki Kakudou about the Adventure: reboot and what relation it has to him and the original Adventure (along with some fun trivia about the latter). I figured some people out there might be curious about what the original Adventure director thought about Toei rebooting his series.

Digimon games

Explore the Secrets of Digimon World Re:Digitize Decode’s Evolution! Interview with Habu and Tomono Decode is rather inaccessible to the West right now (being unlocalized, and on the region-locked 3DS at that), so the idea of translating too many things relevant to it is pretty low-priority to me at the moment, but it's still a game of significant interest to the Digimon fanbase outside Japan, and is also notable as one of the first major titles spearheaded by Digimon game producer Kazumasa Habu, so I felt that there'd be quite a few people interested in this one.

Interview with Producer Habu of Digimon Story Cyber Sleuth: Hacker’s Memory: Highlights and Future Prospects A 4Gamer interview that I'd wanted to translate since I'd first read it, but never got around to. Incidentally, I decided to go back and make some revisions to the wording for the Famitsu interviews I translated for the original game. They were some of the first things I ever translated, and it...kind of shows. ^^;; Normally I don't like to lock myself into a habit of constantly going back and revising old work, as doing so tends to be a bit of a black hole, but since the original Cyber Sleuth is still quite the hot topic among the fanbase right now (and especially with Complete Edition being recently released), I thought it might be worth it this time.

Famitsu.com interview with Kazumasa Habu on Digimon Story Cyber Sleuth: Hacker’s Memory Another Hacker's Memory interview, a bit less detailed than the above but still fairly informative.

Other

Iwata Asks #14: Hatsune Miku and Future Stars: Project mirai Somehow this ended up the only non-Digimon thing on the list ^^;; The version of this game that eventually did make it to the West (Project Mirai DX) is so different from the original game that it meant this Iwata Asks was never officially translated, so I thought it'd be worth taking a shot at this one. I don't have any plans to translate any other Iwata Asks at the moment, mainly because it requires me to have more than a passing knowledge of how each game works for proper context, but I hope you can at least enjoy this one.

[maryjancwatson]

IC PORTION; BASICS —

CHARACTER NAME/ALIAS: Mary Jane Watson

FACECLAIM: Madelaine Petsch

AFFILIATIONS: At the moment, unaffiliated. 

AGE (physical age as well, if different): 24

SPECIES (human, metahuman, alien, etc): Human

IS YOUR CHARACTER’S IDENTITY SECRET OR PUBLIC? N/A

IF SECRET, OR YOUR CHARACTER IS A CIVILIAN, DO THEY HAVE A CIVILIAN OCCUPATION?: Mary Jane very recently snagged a job at the UN in Sokovia as their Goodwill Ambassador. Mary Jane is also working with a local charity, both in relief work and working to raise funds independently due to her following on social media platforms.

IF YOUR CHARACTER LIVES IN THE FORTRESS, WHAT ARE THEIR DUTIES? : Maybe one day she will return to being Tony Stark’s coffee bitch.

DESCRIBE SIX TRAITS (3 positive, 3 negative) YOUR CHARACTER HAS AND HOW THESE AFFECT THEM: + Passionate: Anyone that meets Mary Jane knows that she has passion, as it’s clear within the first five minutes of talking to her. She’s passionate about everything: coffee preferences, movies vs. books debates, and in particular, Broadway shows. It goes deeper than that, though, and that becomes clear in knowing her better. Mary Jane practically bleeds for things that she believes in. She gives 110% into everything she does, and it shows. + Adaptable: Mary Jane grew up in an ever-changing environment, and it turned her into a person that can roll with the punches. She’s able to adapt to situations quickly, and is able to think on her feet. She can stay relatively unphased with change and adapt accordingly. + Charismatic: Mary Jane is a people person. She spent so much of her childhood and adolescence moving around that she had to learn how to socialize quickly, and it made Mary Jane into a social butterfly. She knows how to talk to people, knows how to make small talk and easily does the back-and-forth with just about anyone. - Hot-headed: There is no way around it: Mary Jane Watson has a temper. She goes from 0 to 100 in the blink of an eye, and sometimes struggles coming back down to 0. It’s not easy to light the flame under her and set her alight, and it’s something she’s been working on since childhood. Even on the rare occasions where she does manage to keep a lid of the explosions, her facial expressions give it all away. - Commitment-phobic / flighty: Mary Jane doesn’t like to stick to one thing or one place for long, and sometimes has trouble sticking to things. While she gives 100% in passion, sometimes it’s a solid 60% in commitment. She dropped out of college, almost dropped out of high school a few times before that, and never signs more than a six months lease. Most of her romantic relationships have ended poorly because Mary Jane never knows what Mary Jane wants, and she starts to feel claustrophobic when things get tough. This is more on a personal level. Professionally, she sticks to her guns a little more. - Selfish: Mary Jane is always looking out for Mary Jane. She’s trying to do better, but her bottom instinct is always to do what’s best for herself. She’s scrappy, as one needs to be in the showbiz world, but it impacts her personal relationships as well.

POWERS AND/OR ABILITIES: Mary Jane is very human, and possesses no super-human abilities. However, she’s semi-famous with a solid social media following! (if only that were a super power) MJ is charismatic and highly organized, and has a leadership quality to her. She enjoys organization and administrative-type tasks, and is a go-getter to get shit done.

WEAKNESSES: Again, MJ is definitely human. I would say her strongest weaknesses are her fear of commitment and her tendencies to be selfish, as this only gets in her own way of what she wants. Mary Jane is also a chronic over-thinker, and can think herself into a box at times.

WHAT DREW YOU TO THIS CHARACTER? MJ is a spitfire and my spirit animal. She’s feisty and fiery and I love how she’s always unapologetically herself, even when it shoots her in the foot. She’s not the traditional-type character to bring to Sokovia considering she is very much a civilian, but I think her personality can definitely bring some fun.

IC PORTION; DETAILS —

WHAT BROUGHT YOUR CHARACTER TO SOKOVIA? It’s a little complicated. She applied for a job at the UN in Sokovia to be their Goodwill Ambassador, and somehow someway she’d gotten through the first several rounds of interviews. She had gotten a job with a charity working out of Sokovia for the moment as well, as a back-up just in case they went with someone else. But, surprisingly enough (or so it felt to her), she’d gotten the job. The charity work and the Goodwill Ambassador job went hand in hand, and MJ found that it was more joy-bringing than she’d thought it would be.

DID THEY SIGN THE ACCORDS? WHY OR WHY NOT? This isn’t exactly applicable, considering Mary Jane is most definitely a citizen, however she would certainly not have if she was on the other side. 

PROVIDE 3-5 HEADCANONS RELATED TO YOUR CHARACTER: MJ is a chain smoker. She’s tried to quit, though those have only ever been passive attempts at best. She does not do well when she’s off her nicotine. She’s also a fan of the other kind of mary jane, if you catch my vibe. MJ blogs, has a YouTube channel, and practically lives on TikTok. She’s verified on her social media platforms, and has a pretty big following. She still has fans from her Broadway runs and from her short-lived fame on Netflix, and so she does her best to stay relevant and keep them despite her current break from acting. The term ‘social media empire’ comes to mind, even if she feels weird about her claim to fame. MJ lives in high heels and generally dresses nicely. She has a very firm belief that first impressions matter most but all impressions matter. She always wants to look like hell on wheels, even if it’s impractical at times. She usually saves jeans and t-shirts for time at home only, and even then finds herself more comfortable in a dress. Despite having a party girl persona and having dropped out of college, Mary Jane is intelligent. She excelled in history and English courses in high school and in college alike, though her passion was in performing. She’s obsessed with trivia games and trivia-type TV shows. Wheel of Fortune is absolutely her favorite. She’s also super fond of reality TV, the more mind-numbing the better.

POTENTIAL CHARACTER ARCS: Maybe a potential Iron Spider or Spinneret arc? I love civilian!MJ, but I think this would be interesting. This would be a little complicated and would require a lot of thought and plotting, but maybe down the line! IS THERE A THEATRE/DANCE PROGRAM IN SOKOVIA? BECAUSE MJ WOULD BE SO DOWN TO RUN ONE. TEACH LITTLE KIDS BALLET AND SHIT. GIVE HER THAT. Nomad-y things. MJ obviously wouldn’t be affiliated with the rebels from the jump, considering her position in the UN. However, she may gravitate towards at least a sympathizer down the road, considering her connections with Tony.

CHARACTER BIO —

Mary Jane was the second born child to Madeline and Phillip Watson, the first being her older sister Gayle. Her father was a professor, though changed jobs often, resulting in multiple moves throughout Mary Jane’s childhood. Her father wanted to be a writer, not a professor, though his books never succeeded. This led to anger that was often taken out on his family, usually while drunk. Mary Jane was in middle school when her mother decided that enough was enough - her father had been turning on her mother for years, but he’d finally turned on one of the girls. The three left Phillip for good.

Unfortunately, the constant moving didn’t seem to stop. Mary Jane’s mother still moved them around often, usually to be near relatives. Her mother usually worked as a waitress or a bartender, relying on tips for income, which wasn’t always stable. Thankfully, her mother’s family was kind, and would help with the girls as much as they could. Her mother went back to school, deciding that she and her children deserved more. Mary Jane’s favorite relative to stay with was Aunt Anna, who lived in Queens.

The frequent moves caused Mary Jane to have a rather extroverted and fun-loving personality, a way to try to get noticed and make friends quickly. She knew she would never be in one place for long, so she tried to remain care-free. She never allowed herself to get too close, because she knew it would only be so long before she would be moving again. It was easier to have a lot of people she barely knew that were fun to be around than to have a few close friends she would have to say goodbye to.

She was fifteen when her mother got sick, and things went downhill quickly. Mary Jane watched her mother wither away before her eyes, and vowed in that moment to never take life for granted and grab it by the horns. After her mother passed, Mary Jane refused to move back in with her alcoholic father. Part of her blamed him for robbing Mary Jane and her sister of quality years with their mother, and memories of the abuse were still fresh. Instead, she went back to the home where she’d always been the happiest - Mary Jane moved in with her Aunt Anna in Queens.

Her life of the party attitude and fun/over-the-top personality quickly gained her friends in school, though Mary Jane still had trouble letting people in. she knew she wouldn’t be moving again this time, but it was somehow easier for her to have her walls up. People liked her, she liked them, and she told herself that was enough. It wasn’t, really, though it was all she knew how to do. She participated in the drama club and the choirs at school, as well as in community theatre.  This was where she made her true friends, where she made real connections that actually meant something. She had Broadway aspirations and spotlights in her eyes, and worked hard to perfect her craft. However, later in high school she found she had to put some productions on the back burner to get a job to help support the household she was living in. She mostly did waitressing jobs, though found a few assistant/secretary type positions to hold down as well after school.

Mary Jane was accepted into NYU’s musical theatre program at Tisch, and starred in many of their productions. However, she learned that in the real world, auditions were hard to secure and she found obtaining roles was even more difficult. She’d been praised so heavily in high school and during her time at Tisch that this was a harsh slap to the face, though she didn’t give up. She worked at Ellen’s Starlight Diner while in school, and was cast in the off-Broadway production of Heathers as an ensemble role and an understudy to Heather Chandler. Shortly after, she was finally cast in a Broadway production. She was cast as an ensemble part in American Idiot, and she’d never been happier.

After securing her first role, Mary Jane’s name slowly made its way around. She dropped out of school after a lot of consideration, deciding to devote her full attention to work. Her second show was Wicked, another ensemble role though she became Elphaba’s understudy after a few months. She left for the Spring Awakening tour, where she was cast as Wendla.

When the tour ended, Mary Jane experienced a huge wave of auditions due to praise she’d gotten from critics. She landed her first TV role, the main character for a show on a Netflix YA murder-mystery series. Unfortunately, as things went in that genre, she found her character killed off at the finale in the first season. She was brought back to film some flashback type scenes for season two, and then her contract was completed. The rise to fame was quick and unforgiving - MJ went from near constant press and finally feeling like she was making it to nothing. She returned to New York and experienced a drought in auditions, which many actors face. While she knew that, it was a hard pill to swallow after success, and she didn’t want to go back to the diner. An opportunity arose (mostly thanks to her sister’s husband, who worked for Stark Industries and brought up her name and vouched for her) and Mary Jane found herself working for Stark Industries. She was the personal assistant to Tony Stark, and MJ found that she and F.R.I.D.A.Y. worked well together and that she didn’t hate administrative work. It wasn’t acting, but it was a job, and Mary Jane was more than competent in the role. She proved to be organized and efficient, and MJ liked it more than a little. However, before long, the events of Sokovia transpired and MJ found herself without a job. To be fair, she’d quit, finding herself unable to work for Simon Trask and deciding that she’d rather find other opportunities elsewhere.  She’d snagged a role in an off-Broadway production she wasn’t really feeling, and found herself applying for other positions, surprisingly in charity work and using her time at Stark Industries as a reference. She loved performing, would always be an actress at her core, but she found herself searching for something more meaningful. Her time away from film or stage had made her think more clearly on what she wanted in life, and she couldn’t help but feel like she needed more. She snagged a job for a charity in Sokovia, which Mary Jane only really knew about due to the press that had been drawn in after the events that transpired with the Avengers and with the Sokovia Accords. She found herself in the last round of interviews for a job at the UN in Sokovia as the Goodwill Ambassador (she was the right kind of famous, is what they said), and with the charity job already secured, Mary Jane was booking her ticket. 

EXTRAS —

MYERS-BRIGGS: ENFP Sin: Greed & Pride HOGWARTS HOUSE: Slytherin ZODIAC: Scorpio

[ubernoxa]

Broken Voodoo: The Story of the band that brought Rock N’ Roll back to life

Chapter 1: From the Begining

Prologue

Red, pinks, and yellow hues filled the sky as I watched the sunrise while the plane began to descend. It reminded me of one of the paintings that hung in the law office where I worked; however, instead of a small lake with a sailboat, the city of Los Angeles was staring back at me. A very intimidating city, if I may add. I would much rather have the calming lake staring back at me. Now before you begin to think that I am a lawyer with some fancy law degree, I should let you know that I am by no means a lawyer. I don’t even have a law degree, I have a two year degree in English. I performed patent research and proofread reports at the law office. Don’t get me wrong, some of the research is interesting and it's always exciting to work with inventors, especially when I help make the patent for their invention a reality. The only downside is that I hate working with lawyers who see me as a second class citizen with my English degree.

Luckily for me, the office was rather large, and my desk was far away from the condescending lawyers that filled the office. I would go about my day with ease only dealing with them for a couple of hours a day while I sat in their long boring meetings where I would constantly debate how much I actually needed this job while they would try to one up each other by playing the game I like to call ‘I am the smartest one in the room.’

I was able to keep to myself away from the lawyers for the most part, until a few months back when I thought I was going to get fired. It all started when I sat down at my desk one early Monday morning, and saw a handwritten note from my boss’s secretary saying to visit his office as soon as I arrived. Unsettling is one of the many words that came to mind when I first found the note taped to my desk. I would get fired if I said the other words that came to mind. I took one last glance around the room, making eye contact with one of my coworkers who shared a similar facial expression. There was no doubt in my mind that I was going to be fired.

Dead girl walking.

“Oh Andi, I am glad you could join me,” I sent a soft smile to my boss as I closed the large wooden shrieking doors behind me.

“No problem at all, the meeting seemed important, so I moved my calendar around,” I replied, making sure to keep my hands under the table. They weren't shaking, they were trembling. I was terrified by not only the eyes that were now watching me through the large glass wall that he had in his office to make it a ‘friendlier’ environment, but also by the fact that I may be fired in the next ten minutes.

“Do you still play guitar?”

I could feel a confused look flash across my features as he spoke.

“Yeah, helps me relax after a long day. Why?” My mind was racing in circles trying to understand why he had asked me to come to his office first thing in the morning.

“Would you be interested in playing in a band?”

I let a nervous laugh escape me before I replied. “I am sorry what? Did you call me here to fire me or not?”

I was met with a hardy laugh from my boss. “No no no, to make an incredibly long story short, my niece’s boyfriend’s band entered into some silly band competition, and they need a replacement guitarist for a competition that is in a month. I have heard rumors around the office that you played, and I wanted to see if you could help out my niece. To be honest, I haven’t been the best godfather, so I was hoping you could help me out by joining the band for a month to play at the competition. My niece, such a foolish girl, believes that her boyfriend will become the next rockstar.I hope she quickly realizes how irrational she is being, and moves on. Hopefully sooner rather than later.”

“Yeah I would love to help,” I quickly responded, trying to hide how off put I was by his casual nature towards me. Within a couple of days I was Skyping the band for an interview and the rest is history.

I was pulled from my thoughts as the pilot announced that we had landed and welcomed us all to LA, the city of dreams. An older man helped me remove my carry on from the overhead bins, and after what felt like hours, I was off the plane. I felt like I could finally breathe again the moment I stepped off the pain and walked into the airport.

I watched through the skylight as the sun continued to rise, as if mocking me that I was still in the airport. Lucky for me, everything I needed was in my backpack and after a quick debate with the flight attendant who said I couldn’t bring my guitar as a carry on, I didn’t have to go to baggage claim. One of the few perks of working with lawyers and doing law research for a living is that I came prepared with a printed section of the FFA Reform act that said I could which quickly shut her up.

I kept my eyes peeled as I followed herds of people who appeared to be leaving. I felt like I was in pandora's labyrinth weaving through the various waiting areas, food courts, and shops. This airport must have been at least ten times larger than the one in Maine. I felt relief fill me as I finally spotted some familiar faces.

I spotted Jax’s blonde hair first as he towered over several of the people around him. Holy shit, at 5 ft 4 inches, I was going to look like a munchkin standing next to him. He stuck out like a sore thumb as he stood next to a smiley Robin in his leather pants with a jean vest. I guess shirts were not required in LA like how they are in Maine. He sent me a wave which I quickly returned as he motioned for us to meet off to the side, and not in the herd of people that were looking for relatives or loved ones.

I only knew three things about Jax.

He was currently dating Robin, but after talking to him over Skype during band meetings, I wondered how long that would last.

He was a charismatic and a good dancer, just like every lead singer in rock band before him

He may not look like it, but he had the voice of an angle from the heavens above.

I smiled at the small sign that Robin was holding that said ‘Welcome to California Andi’.. I felt underdressed in my athletic shorts, hoodie, and sneakers as I approached the pair, secretly wishing that I had worn a sundress similar to Robin.

“Welcome to LA, is it everything you hoped for?” Jax smiled as he welcomed me.

“It’s sunnier than Maine,” I replied once again looking at one of the hundreds of skylights.

“Well it’s good to finally meet you in person, let’s get going to the car, so we can get the fuck out of here,” I nodded at his words. Getting the fuck out of the overpacked busy airport felt amazing. For the past 9 hours I had felt like a sardine in a can. I craved fresh air.

“Here let me take that,” I cautiously eyed Robin as I handed her my guitar case.

“How was the flight?” She chirped walking by my side as we followed Jax to the parking garage.

“Can’t complain much. I had to fight the flight attendant about having my guitar as a carry on, but I won in the end. She was a bitch to me the entire flight though,” I replied earning a small giggle from Robin.

“How did you manage that?” I had assumed Jax had tuned Robin and I out as we made it to his truck.

“Law says I can bring it as a carry on, so I printed out the section I needed. Once I handed the paper to her she shut up. I hate causing problems, but there is no way I was ‘gate checking’ my guitar. I didn’t want some random guy tossing it around on the tar mat, or watching my baby slide down the luggage ramp before it slammed into a wall,” I quickly replied before hopping in the back seat.

“So I have to ask, what is it like working for my uncle?” Robin was currently sitting shotgun, as Jax backed up the truck and began to leave the spaghetti jungle that was the parking lot.

“I honestly only talked to him twice. The first was on my first day at work when he introduced himself to me. The second was when he asked me if I could help Broken Voodoo out which by the way I thought he was going to fucking fire me when he called me to his office,” I laughed at myself thinking back to the moment only a month ago.

“Ohh Sorry about that Andi.”

“Don’t worry Robin,” I smiled back, earning one in return.

“So the plan for this morning is to drop you off at my place to get some additional practice with the rest of the band while I head up north to check us into the competition. We won’t be playing until day two so we don’t have to get there until tomorrow night,” He said as he pulled up into some random parking spot.

“Don't you need to practice with us?” I asked out of curiosit.

“Honey, don't worry about me. I'm so good I don't need to practice,” I was glad we were walking up a creaky staircase as he replied. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep my jaw from dropping to the floor. I was impressed by him and his ego could fit through the small doorway that led to his apartment. No, it was not an apartment. It was a studio. I placed my guitar by the drums and other instruments that took up half of the studio.

“Hey Andi! Welcome to California!” I turned to see Oli shout across the studio the moment he saw me. Before I could respond, someone threw something across the room at Oli.

“Shut the fuck up, Oli. It is too early for you to be this loud,” I didn't have to see the bassist’s face to know Seb was the one over in the corner on the paper thin mattress.

“Oli, Robin and I gotta head out to sign in and get our backstage passes for the competition. Get to practicing to get her ready,” Jax said before leaving the pathetic excuse of an apartment.

“Don’t worry Andi, I have heard you play countless times, you’ll do fine. It is more of the stage presence we are worried about. We should have plenty of ‘stage presence’ with that throwing trick you came up with, but we have to cover the whole stage,” Oli patted my back as we headed over towards his drum kit.

“I’ve been practicing with the rod you sent a few weeks back, we can practice the trick once we get our instruments good to go. We sound the part, now we have to look the part,” Seb paused as he took a second to look me over. The worst part wasn’t that he was being incredibly obvious he was checking me out, the worst part was the unsatisfactory look he had on his face.

“You don’t look like a rocker,” I scoffed at his comment. Of course I didn't look like a rocker. I just got off of a nine hour flight.

“Well, you look like a complete dick, so at least one of us is dressed appropriately,” I sassed back before moving towards my guitar to retune it.

“Alrighty!” I was brought from my tuning by Oli who was once again playing peacekeeper by breaking the silence and clapping his hands.

“Alot is at stake here, so let's get to practicing,” he added once he was seated behind his drum kit.

Seb counted us in, and we began our setlist from the top.

I brushed off Seb’s comment, and began to focus on the music.i could already feel the pressure to perform perfectly. As a rhythm guitarist, playing as the solo guitarist felt foreign. As we played through our setlist, I tried loosening out by copying some of Seb’s dance moves. I chose not to mimic the ones that looked like just sex.

Oli was right, there was a lot at stake here.

I was surprised when I found out that there was no cash prize. Instead, according to Jax, there was something more valuable. The shot at a record deal.

With this competition only happening once every couple years, this was their shot to make it big.

[infiniteshawn]

Since We’re Alone | 3

a/n: 3.5k words. the calm before the storm. and a whole lot of fluff.

Andrew had hoped to have Phoebe on a flight to Los Angeles within twenty-four hours. This was not the case.

Ideally, Phoebe would have had her Handmaid’s Tale-induced epiphany and replied to Shawn with a simple “I’m in.” Instead, she agreed to continue thinking about it, and if all went well, there was a chance for a possible meeting.

Which she never intended on following through with.

“Yes, I know he’s hot, mom, but it’s just n-“

Phoebe sighed and chewed her lip, interrupted once again by her mother on the other end of the line. She felt as if her own self was the only one with actual morals, as everyone in her life insisted that she bite the bullet and take part in a completely dishonest and misleading attention-cry.

Her boss pointed out that he’s famous.

Her mother pointed out that he’s attractive.

Sophie pointed out that it would make for a fantastic article.

And Shawn himself was on television talking about it. Oh, my god, Phoebe thought to herself.

“I’ll call you back,” she muttered to her mother, unmuting her practically-Jurassic Sony Wega to tune into the interview.

“I’m just really happy right now,” he flashed those damn pearly whites, causing the interviewer to erupt in a giddy blush-fest. Phoebe scoffed.

“With the success of the album and tour coming up, everything seems to be coming together.”

Phoebe cursed herself for leaving the TV on. She forgot Entertainment Tonight—an even worse version of what she did for a living--existed.

“That’s great, Shawn,” the young woman grinned, uncrossing her legs to cross them again, “and I understand that love is in the air for you, too?” she asked, and Phoebe wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be a question or a statement. The world seemed to be in this unsure state of limbo about Shawn Mendes’ relationship status, and she felt relieved that she wasn’t completely subjected to this so soon. No one really knew what was going on. Not even Phoebe.

Shawn tossed his head back with a chuckle, “Caught the Grammys, eh? Yeah, my girlfriend’s great.”

Fuck. There goes that, Phoebe thought. He so easily admitted it. A public confession in full confidence was her biggest nightmare. Even though she’d barely scratched the surface, she knew she was in deep.

_________________________

What the fuck she messaged, still refusing Shawn’s offer to just text him. Giving him her number would give him complete access to her any time, and she didn’t need his management on her tail. She hadn’t agreed to anything.

Phoebe hoped she hadn’t worried Shawn with her DM, reminding herself that it was his team forcing him into this mess. As far as she knew, Shawn was pretty innocent.

Sorry she added, and then, ET interview caught me off guard

Shawn was already typing.

@shawnmendes: Can we talk about it?

Phoebe huffed. If she was being honest, she didn’t want to talk about it. But he’d seen the message, and the seconds were ticking, and Phoebe’s stomach dipped when she saw he was typing again.

@shawnmendes: Andrew says you live in Toronto?

Phoebe groaned. She’d read the message, she did live in Toronto, and there was no way she could lie because he was definitely going to find out anyway.

I can call you she sent, willing to surrender her ten digits of freedom in order to avoid what was to come. But Shawn was hot on her heels.

@shawnmendes: No, can’t talk about it over the phone

Phoebe wondered if this was more serious than people were leading on. Maybe his phone was tapped, monitored by the people in charge of him. The thought made her mouth dry.

And then an address popped up. An address that was two blocks away.

@shawnmendes: Red or white?

_________________________

Phoebe chewed her lip in the mirrored elevator, questioning if she was underdressed. An oversized long-sleeve shirt and bottoms that couldn’t be described as anything other than airport pants hung off of her. She looked down at her socked feet inside of her Birkenstocks—definitely underdressed, she concluded.

“10” lit up the LED display and the doors opened, and rather than being greeted by a carpeted beige hallway, the last man she’d locked lips with stood before her. With a massive grin on his face.

“So good to see you!” he smiled, pulling her in for a hug.

Phoebe blinked, regaining feeling in her arms and bringing them up to wrap around his firm torso. Before she could get much of a grip, Shawn was releasing her and walking down the long hallway.

“Thanks for agreeing to come over,” he spoke, looking over his shoulder, “I just figured,” he paused, looking forward again, “we probably shouldn’t be seen until,” another pause. Shawn cursed himself for talking too much, especially before whatever this was had been established.

“Don’t worry,” Phoebe interjected, slowing her short legs as Shawn twisted the doorknob, “I don’t want to be seen either.”

Shawn pushed the door open and motioned for Phoebe to go inside, where she stepped out of the way and waited for him to tell her what to do or where to go. Shawn took note of her manners.

Phoebe was hesitant to look around, feeling as if it wasn’t her space. Afraid to get too close but too curious to hold back, she obliged when Shawn poured her a glass of sauvignon blanc and began showing her around.

“I signed the lease when I was nineteen,” he spoke, pausing to sip his drink. She’d seen the kitchen, admiring the dark cabinets and chocolate marble countertops. It looked nothing like the late-80’s vibe her appliances radiated.

“And since then I’ve just kept renewing it,” he added, stopping where the tile transitioned to hardwood and the kitchen became the living room, “I always thought I’d buy it out, but, I don’t know,” he chewed his lip, twinkling the rightmost keys of the upright piano as he passed, “it’s just never been home. I’m twenty-three. Who knows where I’ll be in five years.”

“Surprised you’re still here at all,” Phoebe spoke, taken aback as Shawn looked down at her with a surprised expression.

“Are you crazy?” he giggled, “I love my job, but you wouldn’t catch me dead living in LA.”

Phoebe nodded. All signs were pointing her to the realization that Shawn didn’t want this either, and the whole thing was being orchestrated by the people managing him. He didn’t want to leave Toronto. Fuck, he hadn’t even looked like he wanted to be at the Grammys.

“And then through there’s just a spare bedroom—the other one’s back there,” he said, pointing back to the kitchen, “and then my room. Bathroom attached, just so you know.”

Phoebe nodded, swirling her wine around in its glass. Shawn had a beautiful home, but she was having a hard time understanding why she was in it. Her hair fell from behind her ear.

“I’m sorry, can we,” Shawn spoke nervously, almost in broken English. He was bouncing around on the balls of his feet, but not in an excited way, “Can we talk about this? Here,” he motioned back toward the living room, adjusting one of the cushions of his stark-white couch for Phoebe to have a seat.

“I know this must be so weird for you,” he started, finding her gaze. She took the opportunity to give him a one-over, too nervous to so obviously check him out before. He was in black jeans and a Henley. She once again felt underdressed. At least he’d forgotten socks.

“We’re already in this mess, though,” he continued, and her gaze fell to his lips, and then his chin, where she noticed that he had a bit of scruff that she’d never seen before, “it’s just, they’re really pushing me to do this,” he spoke lowly, as if he was worried someone would hear him. Phoebe half-expected him to look over his shoulder, “that was a really close call, at the Grammys, and if we just swept it under the rug, they feel like there would be a lot of loose ends.”

Phoebe nodded, still not having added to the conversation.

“Plus, you’ll get some time off work. This is probably good experience for your job. You might see the world or whatever. Who knows? It could be fun,” he grinned, and she smiled back. But it wasn’t convincing.

“Look,” Shawn spoke, voice low again, “my best friend got married last year. He’s got a kid on the way. I just feel like everyone’s, you know, living, and I’m at this standstill where I’m doing the same thing I was doing when I was seventeen,” Phoebe frowned. He avoided eye contact, “it would just be nice having someone around that’s,” he paused, “normal. Not so-LA-it-hurts.”

It broke her heart.

Phoebe sighed, and Shawn looked at her once again. His eyes looked sunken in. Dark circles accented the paleness of the rest of his face, “Okay, I’m in.”

Shawn’s lips parted as he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly, “You’re in?”

“For now, yes,” she nodded, stretching her legs out in front of her and wiggling her socked toes, “on the terms that the contract is nice to me.”

Shawn grinned, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. The tone was still heavy.

“Play me something,” Phoebe blurted, and Shawn’s eyes widened in response.

“What?”

“Come on, Rockstar,” she grinned, figuring the glass of wine was reaching her brain, “I’m supposed to be dating you, but I’ve never heard you play?”

Shawn grinned and shifted in his seat uncomfortably.

Phoebe relaxed her shoulders and leaned a couple inches in his direction, “Please?”

Shawn sighed, but it wasn’t a disappointed one, “Alright.”

He placed his glass on the coffee table and stood from the sofa, retrieving an acoustic guitar from its stand in the corner of the living room, “Do you,” he paused in disbelief that she was making him do this, “have a preference?”

“I was actually a big fan of yours back in second year.”

“Really?” Shawn laughed with his eyebrows raised and a sly grin gracing his lips.

“Yeah,” she nodded, “SM-three days.”

“What’s your favourite?” Shawn asked with the excitement of a puppy.

Phoebe took a deep breath. She couldn’t believe she was admitting this, “Mutual, but it’s kind of upbeat, you can play something els-“ she spoke, but Shawn was smiling and already plucking the strings, and she knew she didn’t need to keep going because of how quickly he interrupted.

“I can do Mutual.”

_________________________

The next morning, Phoebe danced in her kitchen to the sounds of sizzling bacon and “Mutual” by Shawn Mendes.

For the very first time, she was excited about this.

“So you’re really gonna do it?” asked Sophie on their morning commute, navigating through the herds of Toronto-banker-sheep. People moved even more frantically in the winter months.

“No,” Phoebe answered, “I’m going to LA to scope it out. Then,” she emphasized, looking up a few inches to meet Sophie’s denying gaze, “I’ll decide.”

“That you’re gonna do it,” Sophie concluded flatly, sticking her hand out and motioning to an Uber that was driving far too fast.

“If I’m gonna do it,” Phoebe corrected.

They began crossing the street, Phoebe struggling to keep up with the swift movements of Sophie’s long legs.

“You won’t have any issues convincing Margaret,” Sophie sighed as they made a right, forcing Phoebe behind her for a few strides.

Phoebe wondered if what she was sensing was jealousy. She figured she’d worry about that later.

“As much as I wish it were me,” Sophie spoke, and then stopped abruptly upon reaching their building, “I think you should do it.”

Sophie smiled as she swung the door open for Phoebe, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

_________________________

It was a small plane. Andrew had been nice and placed her in business class—probably some sort of a bribe, Phoebe figured—but she wasn’t complaining. There was plenty of room for her not-very-long legs, and the drinks were complementary.

She sat on the aisle, although it didn’t make much difference because there was only one aisle and two seats on each side. The spot beside her remained vacated, and she was hoping to sneakily scoot over once the seatbelt lights went out and the plane was in the air.

Ten minutes to takeoff. Phoebe put her tattered copy of American Gods in her fraying Longchamp and closed her eyes, pressing “play” on a podcast she was sure she wasn’t going to pay attention to.

David Dobrik’s laugh was loud in her headphones when she felt a tap on her shoulder, causing her to quickly tug her earbuds out and clutch her bag a little tighter.

Of course.

The tree of limbs that was Shawn Mendes was stowing his backpack--with his sweatpants-clad thighs in front of her face.

“Make some room,” he spoke with a smile as Phoebe tucked her legs in, allowing him to crawl across her. She hadn’t been expecting this.

Her cheeks were red hot as Shawn made the most noise possible getting settled in, stopping abruptly to ask, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” she breathed, “just didn’t know we were travelling together. I guess you’ve gotta get to LA too,” she gave a tired, tight-lipped smile.

Shawn looked a little discouraged.

“Sorry,” he paused, breathing in, “I guess I should’ve asked you if this was okay, I wasn’t think-“

“We could’ve carpooled,” Phoebe grinned, and Shawn looked as if she’d taken the weight of a train off his shoulders. Shawn smiled with a slight tilt of his head.

“So,” Phoebe spoke, “what are we watchin’?”

“What?”

“Five and a half hours, Mendes,” she replied, “that’s a whole lot of Pheebs.”

They both giggled and began looking for a movie, determined to press “play” at the same time.

_________________________

Phoebe looked around. The lights were out and they were halfway through some alien film that neither of them cared for but were both too polite to object. Her screen had been paused for a while, allowing her to observe the white interior of the aircraft as her mind ran wild.

Shawn’s movie was a few minutes ahead, but he seemed to have caught on because his headphones were out and his right cheek was pressed against the headrest.

“What’s up,” he spoke, and it wasn’t really a question. The awkwardness of not knowing each other unfortunately called on small talk to fill silences.

Phoebe tugged the plastic from her ears, though nothing had been playing. She released a little laugh and spoke, “What am I doing?”

Shawn sighed and straightened his back a little, but kept his head tilted in her direction as he responded, “I don’t want to say anything because I don’t want to push you.”

Phoebe shook her head, “I did it to myself when I kissed you.”

Shawn turned a darker shade of pink and hoped she wouldn’t notice.

“Phoebe,” Shawn spoke, and she woke up a little. That was the first time she’d heard her name escape his lips. She liked it. “Come on, let’s start small. Tell me about yourself.”

“You want the whole life story?”

“No, I want to discover that stuff on my own. How about,” he paused, searching her dark blue eyes, “what’s your biggest weakness?”

Phoebe squinted a bit in his direction as she wondered if he was taking note of her weak spots for future reference.

But his curious chocolate eyes and boyish grin suggested otherwise.

“I think my greatest weakness is myself,” Phoebe started, “I expect too much because I expect everyone to think like me. I go above and beyond and they don’t, and I wind up disappointed. Every time.

“But it always results in my being used because I’d rather be taken advantage of than abandoned, I guess,” she admitted, and it was merely a whisper.

It didn’t stay so grim for long, though, because Shawn said something and then Phoebe said something, and they were both laughing louder than intended.

It took the gentleman behind them popping his head up and asking, “Do you mind?” to shut them up.

They laughed.

_________________________

Shawn must have drifted off at some point, because Phoebe noticed he was lightly snoring with his head resting between the seat and the wall of the plane.

“Attention passengers,” the pilot came on the PA, “we will be landing in ten minutes. Thank you for flying with Air Canada.”

She smoothed her ponytail, sitting up with determination. Phoebe knew what she wanted. She just had to be stealth.

She leaned toward Shawn’s limp frame, right arm outstretched, trying her best not to disturb him but desperate to see LA illuminated in the pitch black.

Shawn snapped awake, catching Phoebe off guard.

She stumbled, redirecting her hand to his thigh to catch herself, landing with her face just inches from his own. Shawn gulped.

Her gaze fell to his lips.

“Hey there,” they spoke.

“Sorry,” she apologized, pushing off his leg to get herself back into her seat, “I just really wanted to see out the window.”

“Oh!” Shawn quietly exclaimed, seemingly putting the pieces together. Effortlessly, he reached over and slid up the window cover.

It was gorgeous. Clusters of lights winked hello to Phoebe Rose for as far as she could see. If she squinted hard enough, she could just make out where they ended and the Pacific began.

“Don’t fly often?” Shawn asked, eyes on her as she admired her view.

“Rarely,” Phoebe spoke, and Shawn leaned back so she could get a better look. She instinctively responded, leaning forward.

But Shawn could feel her breath on his neck and her hand on his knee and he wasn’t sure if all of this was a blessing or a curse.

He wanted to find out.

The seatbelt light came on. The wheels came out. The plane touched down.

Phoebe grabbed Shawn’s hand.

A few minutes later, Shawn crawled across their seats to retrieve his bag. Phoebe regretted bringing a luggage big enough to check because she didn’t want to be an inconvenience, but then she quickly remembered that without her, Shawn would likely be in deep shit right about now.

Coming back to reality, she watched as he reached above his head, causing his hoodie to ride up and bring his cotton t-shirt with it. He’d developed more fuzz below his belly button since she’d last seen him shirtless—in 2019, on a larger-than-life billboard in Yonge-Dundas Square.

She wanted to touch it.

Then, she wondered what was wrong with her.

And before she knew it, Shawn was pulling her out of her seat and off of the plane toward baggage claim.

“Flight AC753” flashed on the screen above the metal conveyor belt, and Phoebe switched out of Airplane Mode as bags began emerging.

She watched the cell phone provider texts roll in before switching off roaming, and Shawn had located her bag and pulled it from the contraption before she could even tell him which one it was.

The platform for car pickup services looked busy, but before they could fully round the corner, Shawn came to a halt.

“You might want these,” he spoke, retrieving his black Ray Bans from his carry-on. Phoebe looked at him, confused, but listened as he talked, “out the doors is our Uber. I think it’s just a black Malibu. Ask if it’s for “Shawn” and he’ll let you in. I’ll be there in ten.”

Phoebe mentally questioned his methods but did what he said, and once she saw the crowd of fifty-some teenage girls with their iPhones out, she understood.

She had no idea what she had gotten herself into.

______________________________

taglist: @enchantingbrowneyedgirl @its-the-unknownspidey @everytigerisakity @harold-hugs @ccidk @particularshawnn @ssweet-empowerment @tamegray @loveat2 @heyits-claire @martinimendes @shxwnmxndess@sunriseshawn @jollybonkpatroldonkey @jesuscheistkaren@casuallycoolcloud @sinplisticshawn@deafeningdeanhoagieturtle @rosieblondie @hannahlouiseee @change-perspective13 @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day @calthesensation @livsalzy @illumelilac

[penninstitute]

CASE #0070824-A

Statement of Lance Richards regarding a road-trip from Chicago to Austin, Texas. Original statement given August 24th, 2007.

Every summer, since I turned 18, I've been visiting my uncle down in Texas. I drive down from wherever I might be staying--it used to be from my parents' house in Salt Lake, but ever since I came out and they kicked me out, it's… not very consistent. There was a seven month period where I was living out of my car and doing odd jobs, it was rough. But I always made a point to visit my uncle Evan and his partner Tova. The two of them could barely make enough to support themselves, let alone me, but I was always welcome for at least a few days at a time.

Eventually I began making enough to support myself and my own place, and I didn't need to go stay with them, but the rest of our shitty family never made a point to visit, and I figured I'd turn it into a tradition.

Road trips are pretty fun. Driving is relaxing, and I mean, other than gas money and hotels and, y'know, food, the trip doesn't really cost too much in the grand scheme of things, even though it's a few days' worth of driving. This country is so big, and the fact that I've barely seen any of it is really weird to me. I'll take any chance I can get to grow more familiar with different states. But this road trip has been consistent for the better part of four years.

I've been making this drive for years. It's not anything new, and I'm familiar with it. I know when it's normal, and I know when it's not.

I mean, this drive wasn't normal, for obvious reasons. I'd been driving on the I-35 South for about three hours when I finally noticed just how empty it was. I mean, there were barely any cars near me at all, only two others travelling in the same direction. I only saw two cars go by in the other direction over the next fifteen minutes. It was weird enough already.

It definitely threw me off a bit. I mean, it was a June afternoon, school had let out for most places a week or two before--wouldn't people be out and about? With all this free time, at least some teenagers should be running around, families should be going on trips, right?

There wasn't anybody, save for me and the two other cars nearby. It was weird. That's definitely weird.

I just kept driving. It wasn't like it was an impossible scenario, I'd driven on empty stretches of highway before, but this one just felt strange. About thirty minutes later, it felt like I was driving past the same trees over and over and over again. I'm not sure if that was true. I think I saw the same exit sign a few times, actually, thinking back on it. I can't really be sure, considering what happened next.

One moment, I was driving on an empty highway, the other two cars long since gone, desert flying past in a blur, and then I blinked.

Everything was gone.

The car was still there. The road was still there. Everything else had just vanished. In place of the sprawling desert around me was nothing but black, and after a moment I think I began to see things moving in the darkness. It was terrifying, seeing nothing but darkness, and something darker than darkness within it. The other side of the highway had vanished as well, it was like I was driving on a one-way highway. 

I just… kept driving. What else was I going to do, get out of the car? That would've been fucking stupid. It wasn't like the road had vanished, anyways, so I figured I'd just… keep going.

There were still signs. The speed limit sign that came up didn't have any discernible numbers on it, just a jumbled mass of lines that looked like they should have been symbols of some kind, but the harder I tried to decipher them, the harder it became to read them.

The other signs indicating exits and the like were the same. They had things that looked more like words on them, but not in any language I would've recognized. The alphabet was similar to the English one, but it was just… strange. Something that looked like an a would look more like a w after a few seconds of squinting at it. It wouldn't change at all, it was just… something about the letters made them difficult.

A few exits went by before I even considered getting off of this strange cosmic horror highway. The roads stretched out until I couldn't see where they went anymore, so the exits didn't just… drop off. I spent another few minutes debating with myself, but couldn't decide. I just kept driving straight for a while, trying to figure out what to do. Stopping the car felt like a bad idea, like if I did, the road would fall away underneath me, and I'd fall into that awful blackness.

The thought was dizzying. It made my stomach twist in a way that properly hurt, and I had to keep my eyes locked on the road right in front of me, because looking into the writhing darkness made me feel sick if I did it for too long.

I don't know how long I spent driving on that main highway. Every time I glanced at the clock, the time changed to something entirely different from before. Sometimes it wasn't even numbers. I hadn't dared to touch the radio, since I could only imagine what sort of awful sounds I might hear if I turned it on. It just seemed like a poor decision to make.

I did get off of the highway, in the end. I mean, what else was I supposed to do, really. I decided to take the exit labelled "2?3N", and followed the ramp as it curved away from the main highway. I don't know how long that ramp went on for, but then it merged onto another highway. Once I was back on, I realized it was the same one from before.

Although… I don't know how I knew it was the same one. They were identical, but the exits were all identical as well, and none of the signs meant anything. I think I just… knew, somehow, that I had looped back to the same highway.

I finally tried turning on the radio, but all I got was static. High-pitched, headache-inducing static that roared in my ears and filled the car with that awful squeal. I turned it off as quickly as I could while not careening off the road. It was terrible. It physically hurt, listening to it.

I glanced up at my rearview mirror after a few seconds, and froze.

The highway was falling away behind me.

It started a few dozen meters back, but it began to catch up quickly. I couldn't see any exits coming up, and the road just kept… flaking apart behind me, scraps of asphalt being whisked away into that roiling, shifting darkness. I floored it. I just kept speeding up, practically flying down that awful fucking interdimensional hellscape of an interstate.

The edge of the road behind me kept getting closer until my wheels were on the verge of slipping off. By then, I'd pretty much accepted death, I think, and slammed on the brakes as hard as I possibly could.

I fell. I could feel the falling sensation, the car plummeting through darkness, nothingness in all directions, I couldn't even feel my seatbelt on me--I felt completely weightless, unburdened, my stomach doing backflips. I've never enjoyed the way your stomach drops when you ride rollercoasters, or… fall to your death in a spooky magical void.

I closed my eyes so I didn't have to see that darkness. Then there was light on my face, and I opened my eyes to see the highway again. The regular one. The normal I-35. I almost started crying right then and there, I'm not going to lie.

I found the nearest rest stop and sat down for a while, but eventually I just… kept going with the trip. I'd somehow skipped eight hours of driving, I was a little under an hour away from Oklahoma City.

The rest of the trip went fine. I didn't talk about it when I got there, I didn't know how to explain it. I get vertigo really easily, now, and I've found that I can just about always smell ozone wherever I go, but I don't know if that can be attributed to whatever this was. I have no idea how or why that happened, but maybe you can do something with it. Or not. I just needed to get this story out.

FOLLOW-UP NOTES

- Mr. Richards could be reached, though he had no interest in a follow-up interview.

- All of the natural parts of the statement can be confirmed--obviously the I-35 exists, as do the cities, though there is no concrete evidence that this was not a hallucination.

- Mr. Richards’ medical history suggests he had no existing conditions that would have caused any hallucinations, however, so while the statement cannot be confirmed, it also cannot be discredited entirely, as something strange certainly happened here.

[therachelperspective]

BOOK | Unqualified by Anna Faris

Remind me to pay more attention.

When I was about to begin this book, I was blindsided by the subtitle that I have never seen and only found on the official title page once I opened it. This is not just Unqualified by Anna "Rhymes with Donna” Faris; this is Unqualified: Love and Relationship Advice from a Celebrity Who Just Wants to Help. Excuse me WHAT?! Turns out, I’ve been under a rock and this is the gist of both her podcast and her book. And here I thought I knew things. *facepalm*

While she may not necessarily be qualified in the love department, she is actually qualified to write a book. Or at least a little more qualified than some other celebrities. Our lovely Anna actually has a degree in English from the University of Washington, and that honestly gave me so much hope going into Unqualified. One thing I always struggle with is when celebrities are given book deals seeming to only sprout from their fame; most are horrible writers, but I suppose that’s what gives those books their charm, proving even in the slightest that yes, celebrities are just as flawed as we are, except with more money. ANYWHO, finding out that Anna knows her stuff was such a promising fact. ‘Cause let me tell you, if I based reading a book on it’s Foreword, I would have put this one down and walked far away. (That’s not entirely true, but you know what I mean).

Let’s start by talking about the Foreword by her then-husband Chris Pratt.

First and foremost, I want to say that, knowing that Anna and Chris announced/got divorced shortly after the publishing of this book in 2017 kind of puts a damper on the whole thing. Not because it may insinuate to some readers that she should not be giving advice on love and relationships, but rather because they were such a cute couple and, as many fans said once it was announced, makes it feel like love is dead if these two couldn’t make it. So the dedication, the foreword, and the plethora of times she discussed her relationship with Chris throughout the book were all so sad. And the way she talks about him and the anecdotes of what he’s done for her... it really is so difficult to believe that these two didn’t last.

Secondly, Chris Pratt should not be writing. This foreword was so painfully awkward that, like I said, if I were basing my continuation of a book on that first introduction, I would not have read it. And if you Google the topic, you will find numerous online articles with this same connotation; we all agree it is baaaad. Not only did he spend more time talking about himself and how he doesn’t know what a “foreword” is, he also made it sound like it was just an obligation with a word count. “I love her and respect her and told her I would” was his reasoning. Not once did I feel like he set the mood for the book from a more personal perspective, as a person who was her family for a decade, but rather he was giving us a short biography of Anna – things like how they both grew up in Washington, how they’re both actors that play idiots (his Andy Dwyer to her Cindy Campbell), how acting is her passion, various traits of her personality (how she is kind and what he calls an “information collector”). There was one line that made me believe that he was writing this foreword as a way to convince us to give Anna a book deal as if we were the publishers. He says “Anna deserves this book. I can promise you it will be a great and interesting read.” Yes, Chris, it was. But your foreword could have provided so much more than a grade-school style report on your ex-wife. I’m so glad Anna also wrote her own introduction. If you do end up reading this book, please just skip right to her intro.

In the first handful of chapters of Unqualified, I wasn’t entirely convinced that this book was worth reading.  Especially during those times where she straight up admitted that she was giving advice based on speculation instead of actual experience. I’m not saying that Anna has to have experienced everything experience-able in order to talk to people about it, but saying that she didn’t actually have a relationship related to a certain topic just puts a damper on what she’s trying to help with. Like the list of men she says to not date; it includes musicians, doctors, athletes, chefs, therapists, and actors. (It also includes magicians, but I think most women steer clear of them anyways lol). With the exception of actors, none of those are based on her own personal experiences with anyone in those professions. She even says to us “I have zero experience.” So who should you date, as per Anna Faris? Woodworkers. Or a guy who makes boats, because they brood. *shakes head* Girl, I can’t even.

While I’m indifferent to the portions of Unqualified regarding her childhood through most of her young adult life (college shenanigans don’t really pique my interest), there is a passage that has stuck with me long after finishing this book. Anna’s childhood crush/ “boyfriend” (she was 8 years old here, call it what you will) had just dumped her. So she goes home, grabs an orange from the fridge, writes this horrible boy’s name on it in marker, and then proceeds to chuck said orange into the forest behind her family’s home as a means to get over him. Anna dubs this the “orange ceremony,” which she says she must have felt it symbolic, wherein casting fruit into the “abyss” would rid her of the emotions of the situation. She may have been a child at the time, but as an adult, I absolutely love this concept. This sort of symbology is very reminiscent of various practices in paganism. Obviously not her intent as I highly doubt she was a practicing pagan at eight-years-old, but the truth is, things like this can actually work. Some of us older individuals would just need a lot of oranges.

The reason it has taken me soooo much longer to write a review for Unqualified (I finished it months ago, yikes!), is because I honestly just don’t know how I feel about it. My notebook is filled with pull-quotes and excerpts that stirred me in some way, shape, or form – and many of them, very good! – but as an overall novel, I can’t decide if I should keep it for a future reread, or donate it.  The only thing I feel that really sticks out in my mind about this book was how much I hated Chris Pratt’s introduction. And that is sad and depressing.

I did like that Unqualified was not just purely about love and relationships advice, and that it was intermixed with her personal memoir. I say that because there were plenty of times where her advice was not even advice at all. Like, for example, when she moved to Los Angeles with/for her then boyfriend. It’s reminiscent of an action many women take in tales of love. However, Anna also followed a career venture. This wasn’t solely about following her boyfriend out of sheer infatuation; if the relationship didn’t work out, she still had something there to fall back on, and that’s not something typical of an experience like this. Granted, yes, it’s kudos on her part for going for her own reasons, as well as for a guy, and it plays into her discussion of feminism at the beginning of the chapter. But in this of many parts of the book that was supposedly advice-driven, I made the note that maybe one sentence or one small paragraph at the end could have passed for guidance. At least, in most cases, she’s aware it’s not helpful.

Despite my typical qualms with books like Unqualified, at least for the time being I think it will remain on my shelves with my other keepers. Although her counsel is indeed questionable at times, it’s hard to deny how much I relate to Anna Faris and agreed with a good handful of the statements she makes in the book. And instead of doing all the talking herself, portions of Unqualified found basis from her podcast listeners through "Listener Responses,” as well as discussions and interviews with some people in her life (like Sim Sarna, her podcast partner in crime, and then husband Chris Pratt), and I like that aspect about it. It’s not just Anna retelling information from her perspective; it’s letting those people she has learned from have a voice as well.

I jotted a final note that I think sums up my thoughts on this book pretty well: Unqualified probably could have just remained a podcast. But for those of us not necessarily interested in listening to hours upon hours of content, the book is a good alternative, especially since Anna mentions in the beginning that the book is based on what she learned through two years of the podcast. A lot of Unqualified contained thoughts and experiences I personally could relate to and has happened to me, so, to quote myself “I suppose her book did what she wanted it to do.”

[ladyhistorypod]

Episode 8: I’m Holding out for a She-ro

Sources:

Ida Lewis

Thought Co

Atlas Obscura

Smithsonian Learning Lab

Archive.org

Traditional Music

Further Listening: “The Memory Palace”,  “The Eyes of Ida Lewis” by Reg Meuross

Selena Quintanilla-Pérez

Smithsonian Insider

National Portrait Gallery

PBS: Latin Museum USA

CNN

Biography(dot)com

20/20

National Museum of American History

Sábado Gigante

Interview

Further Reading: To Selena, With Love

Rose Valland

Rape of Europa (documentary)

Monuments Men Foundation

The Collector

WideWalls

Statue “of” Rose Valland (image)

Attributions: Airplane Seatbelt Beep, Sailor Song, Spanishy Guitar Thing (that’s the actual name of the file), French Horn Sounds, Trio for Piano Violin and Viola

Click below for a transcript of today’s episode!

Alana: We were talking and I was giving Lexi like things that she could cut from episode six and I was like you can cut just like most of me talking and let someone else… give them, give everyone a break from my voice. And then Lexi was like you're our fearless leader though and I was like no. I'm scared of everything and I just love listening to myself talk, that's what the deal is here, that's what's happening.

Lexi: The fear doesn't come across. So.

Alana: Oh that's good. I wasn’t on TikTok because I don't go on TikTok because I don't have a TikTok because I don't get it. But I follow an account on Twitter that just posts all of Hank Green’s TikToks. Apparently there's like some dance challenge, I bet, or something, I’m making an assumption, where you like put on your shoes or something, and I don’t know. I don’t know. But he was like leaning over doing something with his shoes and then he threw his shoe at the phone and yelled “do your homework” which I thought was very funny.

Haley: Are you gonna talk about Hank Green every episode?

Alana: Yes.

(Haley laughing)

Alana: I wish he was my dad!

[INTRO MUSIC]

Alana: Hello and welcome to Lady History: the good, the bad, and the ugly ladies you missed in history class. It's time for my favorite Zoom meeting. Up in the top left corner is Lexi. Lexi, what's your superpower?

Lexi: My superpower is writing essays the night before they're due, not double checking them, submitting them, and then having the professor say wow you're a great writer.

Alana: And down at the bottom is Haley. Haley, what would your superhero name be and why is it Sprinklebear McPuss-n-Boots?

Haley: Ugh. I really, I had my super power all ready to go and you switched it up on me. Sprinklebear McPuss-n-Boots was something off of a whim. That was like a gut visceral reaction to my super power name. I guess I'll stick– I don't know why it's that long. I have a really long last name. I love short and sweet names. I hate that it’s Sprinklebear McPuss-n-Boots.

Alana: I need to– we need to like keep bringing it up so that we can have Sprinklebear McPuss-n-Boots merch someday.

Lexi: Please if you'd like to contact Haley write to our podcast.

Alana: We cannot stress this enough. Even if you don't have anything to say, send us a DM and just be like this is for Sprinklebear McPuss-n-Boots

Haley: This is why I can't speak freely and… I don't know. I can't have nice things because then I say crap like that.

Alana: And I'm Alana and I watch blockbuster superhero movies the way they were meant to be seen; on the tiny airplane screen on the back of the seat in front of me. Or at least I used to.

Haley: Alright. I have a question for you all. What is the definition of a she-ro?

Lexi: A hero who uses she/her pronouns?

Alana: I love that. I think I'm gonna second that. Yeah. I'm also gonna say like people who were overlooked. I know that's like our whole podcast is like people who were overlooked but… That's– that's how I feel.

Lexi: I'm holding out for She-ro.

Alana: Holding out for She-ro. Til… how does the song go I don’t even know.

Lexi: Til the end of the night.

Alana: Can I tell you the first time I heard that song?

Lexi: She’s gotta be strong and she’s gotta be tough.

Alana: The first time I heard that song.

Lexi (high-pitched): She’s gotta be fresh from the fight.

Alana: For reals.

Lexi (somehow even higher-pitched): I’m holding out for a she-ro!

Alana: For reals the first time I heard that song? Shrek 2. Dead serious.

Haley: Yeah. I think that’s… I think that’s the same for me too.

Lexi: No the first time you heard “Holding out for a She-ro” was right now when I wrote it. You may have heard a different song.

Alana: The original song. The original song.

Lexi: This is parody, therefore it's protected under parody law.

Haley: She-ro on the oracle that is Urban Dictionary has like two top definitions in their like first thing that comes up. The first one is a woman or man who supports women's rights and respects women's issues. The second is female hero, basically saying he as in hero and it's like Greek and Old English rooted words going into all that, we're not here for,  it's not fun. The fun part is just how someone put in she-ro as an obnoxious word built off the word hero but in the same breath is like a man or woman who fights women's issues and then truly just like a whole mix of how this word’s obnoxious.

Lexi: Thoughts; I hate the term women's issues.

Alana: Me too.

Lexi: That makes me sick to my stomach.

Haley: Yeah I don't like it either.

Lexi: Second, let’s edit Urban Dictionary. My definition was better because I don't like either of those definitions.

Alana: Me neither.

Haley: There are like a whole host of definitions and that was me dwindling it down.

Lexi: Like the fact that it says female hero like that makes me upset because someone can be female and not use she as the pronouns that frustrates me.

Haley: Exactly.

Lexi: And then also I don't like the term women's issues that just doesn't sit well with me. You know, I don't like that.

Haley: Also I didn't think of like hero as like he I always saw it as H. E. R. so like her.

Alana: So that's why you said her-o in the original spreadsheet.

Haley: I also had a few drinks in me but that's neither here nor there.

Lexi: Also the feminine form of hero is heroine but then that sounds like drugs.

Haley: Yeah that's true, that's also true. Honestly I’d rather be a drug than like a woman. If it– women’s rights or like heroin’s rights

Lexi, laughing: In 2020 America, if you were a drug that was being sold by a pharmaceutical company, you would have more rights than a woman.

(Haley laughing)

Alana: Lexi leave that in.

Lexi: Oh hell yeah I will.

Alana, laughing: Oh god.

(Haley and Alana laughing)

Lexi: So our first she-ro today is Idawalley Zoradia Lewis who was born on February 25, 1842, and in 1854 her family moved to a little island called Lime Rock. It was off the coast of Newport, Rhode Island. The family made the move when her father became keeper of the lighthouse there, and living on a rock meant her and her three younger siblings needed to row a boat back and forth to school on the mainland each day, so Ida became a strong rower. She also learned to swim against really rough waves and so she was just all around really good in the water. In 1858, sixteen year old Ida rescued four young men. The group had been sailing when a strong wave capsized their boat near Lime Rock and Ida, by this time a well-practiced rower, rowed out to where the boys were struggling to tread water. She hauled all four of them aboard and brought them to shore. The event received very little publicity even though this sixteen year old girl saved four people. When Ida was in her teens, her father's health began to decline and he became wheelchair-bound, so Ida had to learn the skills needed to keep the lighthouse running so that her family can continue to run the lighthouse and receive an income. In 1869, a pair of soldiers were on a boat near Lime Rock during a snowstorm and the snowstorm turned their ship over. Ida, who was actually ill at the time, didn't even stop to put on her coat and went out to rescue the soldiers with the assistance of her younger brother. In recognition of her service at this time, President Ulysses S. Grant awarded her the Congressional Medal of Honor. Grant and his vice president visited Ida’s lighthouse to congratulate her and the story about the rescue was published in the New York Tribune. In 1872, Ida’s father unfortunately passed away and her mother briefly became the lighthouse keeper. In 1870, Ida became the lighthouse keeper because her mother was beginning to be sick. At one point, she was the highest paid lighthouse keeper in America. Her mother, who was now at this point very ill, eventually passed away in 1887. There is no written record of the exact number of people Ida saved, but accounts from the time estimate she saved at least eighteen people or possibly as many as thirty-six. Many national magazines acknowledged her for her great heroism and she became a household name in New England. In 1911, Ida is believed to have suffered a stroke. She died shortly after. The city of Newport flew their flags at half mast and thousands of fans came to Lime Rock to bid her farewell. After her death, the lighthouse was renamed Ida Lewis Lighthouse and Lime Rock was renamed Lewis Rock in honor of her 54 years of service. Lewis Rock is now home to the Ida Lewis Yacht Club. Though Ida’s actions and career were considered masculine and caused much debate during her lifetime, she was recognized as a heroine by many young women who admired her. She inspired girls, showing them women could be strong, and save men, something young women at the time likely did not see reflected anywhere else in their lives. And that's what makes her a she-ro.

Alana: I was literally today talking about when I was– when I was like 11 or something we did…  my family did like a sort of driving tour of Cape Cod, Connecticut, and Rhode Island and I was literally talking about that trip with my mom on the phone today because it's Sunday, it's call your mother day. So I was like actually talking about Rhode Island today which is really interesting. Like what a weird coincidence. I didn't know anything about her. That's cool.

Lexi: She is a little-named person. She's not frequently mentioned, but she does appear in some historical books, sometimes. Like there's a book in the Smithsonian Libraries that is called like “Women Heroes of our Great Nation” and it's from like 1890-something, like during her lifetime, and it mentions her. And it has a cute little drawing of her rowing a boat.

Alana: Do you have a link to that in the show notes?

Lexi: I do not have that specific link, but I can give it to you and I will put– we’ll put it in the show notes. That link will be in the show notes. It's not yet but I will put it in there.

Alana: I have to see this drawing.

Haley: So this shero might come as a surprise because you might be like why did she save the day? But hopefully the story I tell will kind of steer you on that path. Selena Quintanilla-Pérez, or the queen of Tejano music, was one of the most iconic singers of the late 20th century and a trailblazer in Tejano music. I know I know the theme is “saved the day” and you're probably thinking why Selena? What did she save? Well I basically wrote half a page of this long winded story on why she saved the day in my middle school Spanish class, but honestly just Google the testimonies on how Selena changed the lives of so many people and you be the judge of this whole story. So let’s crack open this history book on Selena. Born on April 16, 1971 in Lake Jackson, Texas, her family wasn't originally from fame, but before fame she was a singer of her family's band Selena y Los Dinos, that worked weddings, fairs, and other venues along the US-Mexican border. And her father was also a musician back in the day, so not only did the kids get the musical talent from him but they also were trained and mentored by him. And you see a lot of the family influence come out and her music later. So funnily enough she grew up speaking English, not speaking Spanish but her father taught her how to sing in Spanish so she could connect better with the Latin American community. And in the HBO 1997 Selena movie with J. Lo you kind of see like how and why Abraham, her father, picked that. And she did learn to speak Spanish fluently because actually rose to fame she had to kind of be in interviews and a lot of these were Mexican broadcasting news organizations, which they were going to be asking and expecting her to answer in Spanish. So her rise to fame, she had to break so many barriers because of Tejano music, which is a style of music that fuses Mexican, U. S. and European elements together, was heavily male dominated. In 1990, her Ven Conmigo album was the first to Tejano album by a female artist to go gold, and in the following years songs like gonna Como La Flor, Bidi Bidi Bom Bom, Si Una Vez and others quickly made it to the top of charts and are still iconic songs. Even on the radio, a few days ago I listened to this. I was listening to some channel and Como La Flor came on and I was like “I'm doing her this is like a sign” because I really struggled to pick a shero. Through all this fame, she is noted as humble, caring, and overall a lovely girl who truly put her family, friends, and fans above her own happiness sometimes, and people would just comment on how great she was in interviews, just meeting her on the street, and even the HBO and other documentaries, movies, show that she was just a lovely lovely human. To pivot slightly she was most definitely a renaissance woman while continuing her musical career, she started a whole fashion experience. Her style overall was considered to be breaking bounds of toting the line between “sexy rebel” and “Mexican American good girl” and for those who do not know, she is most known for her bustiers, tight pants, and jackets. All these fashion icons were inspirations from her stagewear, which she made available to the public because she made those herself which I thought was pretty cool like all her stagewear is coming from her. Especially when they were just like a touring small band along the border, they would have to get creative and Selena would take charge in what everyone would wear on stage. The Smithsonian's National Museum of American History actually has one of the leather outfits she wore and I couldn't figure out if it was on display or not but they do have that and I believe other Selena artifacts and have done a lot of stuff of Selena which will all be on the show notes. She is also sometimes is referred to as “Mexican Madonna'' which I personally think is garbage for so many reasons because both of those females, women, ladies are their own identities and like her music doesn't sound like Madonna. 

Alana: No. The only way that Selena is the Mexican Madonna, is if Madonna is the White Selena.

Haley: Yeah.

Alana: Like I would accept like either of those because I love flipping that script.

Haley: I saw that quote like “Mexican Madonna” too many times to not put it in and just be like this is a dumpster fire

Lexi: But like I think only similarity is the leather.

Haley: It’s like the leather and the bustiers, and the bustiers she would wear would be like bedazzled bras... so I was thinking like Madonna and the cone boobs. And it’s like, what, we're gonna call Katy Perry like...

Lexi: So many female singers dress like that

Haley: Yeah, so like I wish I was born, I was born right after #1997Baby because I would have totally gotten a leather jacket from Selena. Like when she did her whole public appearance, there are so many interviews of her talking about her clothing, and you see how passionate she is. She broke even more barriers when she became the first Tejano artist to win the Grammy for best Mexican-American album in 1994 and this was at the 36th Grammy Awards. Unfortunately, only a year after her Grammy win at the height of her fame she was murdered. At age 23 she was murdered by the president of her fan club, Yolanda Saldivar in Corpus Christi, Texas, and Yolanda was considered like her close friend, part of the family even though Abraham has been on record saying like he didn't trust her, especially when a lot of like paper trails of money going missing and just fans being like this is not right like I ordered this thing and this came instead or nothing came at all, where he was like “okay, why is Yolanda in our life, how did she come about?” and really Yolanda approached Selena and was like “I’m your number one fan, let me do all this stuff for you.” Once the money laundering and all the other like sketchy stuff was coming to light that's when she killed Selena with a gun. So there's a lot of info about like Yolanda and her head space for this and since she survived and Selena didn't obviously they use Yolanda. Like 20/20 did a whole episode interviewing Yolanda and there's a clip even where she is saying her conscience is clear, she didn't mean to kill Selena, and the murder was a complete accident and like she... I got the sense that she felt worse that she didn't commit suicide versus like murding Selena. Yeah, Alana is giving me that face. It was just such a horrible, horrible scenario. I got the sense that Selena went to confront her or told her dad that she’ll confront Yolanda, starting like “Hey, there’s a lot of sketchy, criminal activity coming out, and you are the president of my fan club, what is going on? I’m talking to you as my friend and I want to work this out with you.” Apparently Yolanda had a gun, was willing, and did use it on Selena. I believe she died either on the way to the hospital or at the hospital. I couldn't get a full confirmation from a reputable source of what happened there. Honestly that whole 20/20 I linked in the show notes it's on YouTube and different parts, someone kindly posted that and it just shows you how sketchy Yolanda was and clearly the interviewers were trying to like kind of be like okay you're kind of a kook we don't have Selena's mark, we want to do a tribute of her overall legacy, we're gonna pick you. And Yolanda is actually up for parole in 2025 which I knew when I saw the movie in middle school, hence she saved my day that day going back to that. Now it just feels so much more real being like in 2020 versus like some random mid 2000s because all our whole like middle school class was obsessed with Yolanda. Honestly most people were for like the wrong reason like they start looking at her Wikipedia's seeing that Yolanda has like a fan club now which is like completely inappropriate. But I kept thinking like yo, why is she on parole and she would be on patrol because she would have served at least thirty years of her sentence so it's like thirty years to life sentence. Honestly, I don't think she's going to get paroled. I never read an indication that she was but you never know.

Alana: The Yolanda fan club kind of goes back to what we were saying in our lady criminals episode. 

Haley: Yes.

Alana: Like these friggin serial killers that have fan clubs and that's so messed up.

Haley: I almost actually paved Yolanda Saldivar as my lady criminal because just whole rap sheet on her and there's just so much on like her publicness, she is still alive, and in the interviews she's like wearing makeup, wearing nice clothing, and I’m like you are painting her as an innocent, sweet lady, she is talking about murder! This is… no. I feel like we wouldn't do that for certain people like people still have sympathy for her, hence she's not wearing like the prison jumpsuit they're not doing in a prison yard. They're like creating this space to paint a picture. So to end on a happy note I've kind of compiled the list on her legacy and Boy Howdy even just in the past few years the list goes on and on. I made like a whole list from when she died and after so like 1995 to 2020 and yes it's a lot of years, but just all the stuff. There's a lot of family drama, court drama, stuff with Yolanda Saldivar and to keep it positive and keep it with stuff that we can use as Lady History and just like us as a community, loving her… Mac cosmetics has created two makeup lines in her honor. The lipstick is chef's kiss gorgeous. It's like her iconic red lipstick. I'm still looking for it. I keep thinking I’ll see it when I go to Mac or Sephora and I should probably just order online. She also has a Hollywood Walk of Fame star which you can go visit. Lastly, we have a ton of documentaries and biopics, notably the movie with J. Lo that is and back on HBO and I believe Netflix is also in the works with creating a series within the near future. The trailer’s out it looks fantastic and in my ever so humble opinion, a lot of these biopics are actually pretty decent. They do show the good, the bad, and the ugly and I could be wrong, you could totally fight me but when I watched the movie when I had HBO, made a list of points I wanted to hit or kind of corroborate because I thought it was interesting when I was watching the movie of like oh the J.Lo movie did like a great job because all that like I could find in like interviews or like the Smithsonian had a bunch of PBS, CNN for a PSA for the sources; lots of visuals this time, so if you're a visual, you like the videos you like the audio for it, rather than the text of all the books definitely check those out.

Alana: That was cool. Definitely not someone I think of as fitting this topic, that was awesome.

Haley: We defined sheroes like anyone who makes an impact 

Alana: Yeah. 

Haley: And honestly I had the whole joke of how I really do want to be in my Spanish middle school class and I didn't know of her existence beforehand. I've listened to some of her music growing up I didn't realize like her whole story and that was Seleh-na, Seleena, however you want to say it, I don't know you can you can fight me on how to pronounce the name but like it was the first time I saw Spanish representation in a Spanish class which is saying a lot. 

Alana: Awesome, That's so cool. I guess it helps when you are telling real stories and not being, or at least trying to tell real stories and not making shit up.

Haley: Yeah, also at least for the cast for J. Lo, I'm thinking off the top of my head weren't like white people playing Hispanic, Latino characters. The Spanish was good. Like we'll see West Side Story and Natalie Wood with brown face on that was not the situation will not be the situation for Netflix.

Lexi: sings * MMMAAARRIIIAAAA *

Haley: I will get so mad if that comes around like that again.

Lexi: Ya know I can play Maria on the French Horn.

Alana: So something that Lexi and Haley know about me and now all of our lovely listeners are going to know about me is I have two favorite things: museums and fucking over Nazis. This story has both. Lexi is giving me a round of applause. We love it. So did you two see “Monuments Men?”

Haley: No I have not.

Alana: Lexi is nodding. Well my lady for today is the inspiration for the character Claire Simone played by Cate Blanchett in the movie “Monuments Men.” She's kind of turned into just a love interest but this is not a movie review podcast this is a history podcast. So. Rose Valland. She was born on November 1, 1898 in a small town in France that I'm not even gonna try to pronounce. It occurred to me that this is why we tend to stick with ladies who are American and British is because so many of these sources were in French and I was like I don't speak French. Sometimes I feel bad about that but other times I'm like I can't read these sources.

Lexi: We should get some listeners to send us translations of ladies from their home countries that we can use. So if you have a lady from your home country or speak a language of a country, translate some sources for a rare lady and send them to us.

Alana: We would love to talk about rare ladies who are like– that's the whole point, like overlooked by history.

Haley: Google Translate does not help. I'm ready for someone to be like use Google Translate because I’ve seen that on so many podcasts.

Alana: Yeah. I have a Google Translate story later in this about how bad it was. Rose earned two separate degrees in art history from the École du Louvre and The Sorbonne. I over-pronounce things in French because you can't be corrected if you're wrong on purpose. She also has two previous degrees from École des Beaux-Arts in Lyon and in Paris which I think translates just like to school for fine arts or school of fine arts. And yet, she takes an unpaid volunteer job at the Jeu de Paume in 1932. It says volunteer, I've been thinking of her as an unpaid intern because that just resonates with me personally. I watched the documentary “Rape of Europa” which is all about this project. I did that while I was a little bit drunk and I looked at my notes afterwards and I have this line here in all caps, holy shit she was unpaid. I was very excited about her being an unpaid intern because unpaid interns can do anything.

Lexi: The amazing thing about that is that for most of museums’ history, once women were allowed in, they weren't allowed to be paid to work.

Alana: That's a whole other issue.

Lexi: When you look at the Smithsonian archives, the number of women that were just there because their husband was there but then actually contributed way more than their husbands but then got paid like eighty bucks as a present one time? Like… crazy. I digress.

Alana: And the Jeu de Paume is an art museum a little bit further from Paris, a little bit lesser known from Paris. It's like… for my DC friends, my DC audience it's like the Louvre is the National Gallery of Art and the Jeu de Paume is the Hirschhorn. So like it's a little bit lesser known but like still really cool. I can't find a good timeline for like her level of promotion and how far she came which… how? This was like less than a hundred years ago, but okay. Eventually she gets a job being a paid attaché and then becomes assistant curator when the curator falls ill. She was in charge of modern art exhibits which is very interesting because a very prominent art school reject has just become Chancellor of Germany and hates modern art and thinks it's degenerate. Oh. This will come into play later. It was Hitler. I just want to be like Hitler was an art school reject who thought modern art– I guess 1930s art was degenerate. I just wanna explain the joke. 

Lexi: That’s my second favorite fact about Hitler.

Alana: What's your first favorite fact?

Lexi: That he only had one testicle.

Alana: That he only had one testicle. Okay. So. In October of 1940, the Nazis commandeered the Jeu de Paume for storing looted art. This was the Eisen– I don’t speak German. I’m gonna get it clean. Einsatzstab Reichsleiter Rosenberg Project. It was the name of the operation that Hitler used for all of the basically art looting that he did. That was like the name of the project; name of the operation. And then the director of the French National Museums says to Rose Valland “stay there. Be a spy.” And she's like “okay” and she works the phones which is an amazing way to like listen in to keep track of movements. But guess what? They're like being all loosey-goosey with their info around her because they're like “oh she's French, we're speaking German, it'll be fine.” Plot twist, she knows German! So she managed to keep a diary of which, like, prominent Jewish collectors owned what and what went where and who took it and where it was going and catalogued all this stuff. She was interrogated for being a spy twice and there is a quote from her– like she wrote a memoir about this, this time in her life and she says “he looked at me straight in the eye and told me I could be shot. I calmly replied that no one here is stupid enough to ignore the risk.” And that is movie dialogue level shit. Like, oh my god. Incredible. But like so, she's interviewed a couple times and she was like “no look I'm a woman I can't be a spy, look at my glasses.” (Alana laughing)

Haley, whispering: I’m a spy.

Lexi: Remember, women can't be money, women can't be spy.

Alana: Women don't be money women don't be spies.

Haley: We all have glasses, so we are all spies.

Alana: We are all spies. Can’t be glasses. She has– there are like all these cute little pictures of her and she was wearing Harry Potter glasses but this was way before Harry Potter and also like Harry Potter's kind of cringe now so I think we need to call Harry Potter glasses Rose Valland glasses. That's my new social movement, that's my new fight.

Lexi: Acceptable. We should start a Twitter campaign.

Alana: Yeah. I should. After the war, she kept working with the museum and she kept working with the Monuments Men. That was like their actual name, that's not just the name of the movie. And she was looking for the stolen art and she was part of the French Commission on Art Recovery. At age 54 she was finally made curator. Women… Women don't be museums, women don't be money, women don't be spies, women don't be museums. She's also given so many awards before she's even made curator. She's like the most decorated woman in France and then she's made curator. And like, that's all she ever wanted, was to be a curator but she has like– she's awarded the Legion of Honor, the Medal of the Résistance, the Officer’s Cross of the Order of Merit of the Federal Republic of Germany, she's made Commander of the Order of Arts and Letters. In 1948 she was given the Presidential Medal of Freedom, but all she wants is to be curator of this museum.

Lexi: I have never felt a story on this show so hard.

Alana: And then , wait, how us is this part? She retired from the museum in 1968, but she went back to being a volunteer for ten years. I've never felt closer to a woman.

Lexi: Incredible. Yeah. I think this is my past life.

Alana: Yeah, right? She published a book called– it's basically like “The Front of Art” like “The Art Front.” It's a pun on a different book called “The Art of the Front.” But so she's just talking about like fighting the war but from the perspective of an art museum, essentially. It became the Hollywood movie “The Train” in the sixties but in her book she's not like a hero or glorifying herself. She's very objective and her fictionalized character in “The Train” has like ten minutes of screentime. She just wants to talk about the deeds, not really herself; she's just like “I was doing my job…” Which is the only way you should be using that phrase in the context of World War II. But James Rorimer, who is fictionalized to James Granger and Matt Damon– Matt Damon's character in “Monuments Men”– in an early draft of his book, he literally says “Rose Valland is the hero of this story.” I just think it's so amazing that she was so prominent in this, and all she's like “okay I just want to go work at my museum now, goodbye” but with a French accent… because she was French.

Lexi: I was gonna attempt it but I'm not going to.

Alana: I’m not gonna do it, I can't do it. There is a statue of– it's sort of, there is a statue that's sort of of her in Lille, France L. I. L. L. E. France. Which is like a little town about 225 kilometers or 140 miles north of Paris. It's pretty close to the Belgian border. The way in which I had to go to the Hebrew language Wikipedia page and translate it to English to find out that's where the statue was… So here's my Google Translate story. In Hebrew, I speak very little Hebrew, shout out to my at-home synagogue who gave me a job teaching Hebrew even though I don't speak it. I love that. But there's a prefix V- which means and. And so when I translated the page into English, the computer translated Rose V-alland to Rose and Allan. So that's why we don't trust the Google Translate. That's why we don't trust the computer translate. We only trust the people. The humans. Because there's like no capitals in Hebrew, so you can't tell what's a name and what's not. This statute does not look like her at all. It's more like a monument to her. It's like a woman, wrapped in a sheet, surrounded by empty frames, and it's kind of weird but it's like a memorial to her. There is ongoing work with the recovery project. There are still paintings that the Nazis looted that haven't been found; it is called the E. R. R. project for. Eizen– Eizenstab or whatever. And they're trying to find the stolen works and it is sponsored by the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum– please give me a job United States Holocaust Memorial Museum– and the Jewish Claims Conference. So it's like her life is not– like her life's work is not complete and we have to finish it. I had a really good time researching this story. Shout out to my dad for the four bucks he gave me so that I could rent “Monuments Men” on Amazon. Yeah. I also have documentaries this week. It's fun that we've like done different kinds of sources.

Lexi: We covered such different she-roes like–

Haley: I love it. 

Lexi: Mine’s like the classical like she literally like pulled someone out of water.

Haley: Yeah.

Lexi: And then Haley's is more like look how many people's lives that she touched and therefore like saved people through music and then Alana’s is about saving art. Which is so cool that we all have different types of heroes. There's no wrong way to be a she-ro.

Haley: That's why I wanted to ask the question.

Alana: What is a she-ro.

Haley: Yeah. I love that.

Lexi: Anyone can be a she-ro.

Alana: Anyone who uses she/her pronouns can be a she-ro. Lexi's doing a fist pump and it's very funny that she has a screenshot from one of our previous Zoom meetings as her Zoom background.

Haley: What would be the non-binary version of hero/she-ro? 

Alana: They-ro.

Haley: Okay. 

Lexi: Yeah, I love that.

Haley: Well, I wanted to say that but then I didn't want to be like– that was in my head, but…  

Alana: They-ro.

Haley: Trying to like pronounce it sounded weird.

Alana: Like my favorite joke that nobody likes, like happy Rosh– or like, Shana Tova to all my Hebrews, shebrews, and theybrews. 

Haley: Yes.

Alana: My favorite joke in the whole world and I made it on Twitter nobody liked it. If you see me on Twitter no you don't.

Lexi: You can find this podcast on Twitter and Instagram at LadyHistoryPod. Our show notes and a transcript of this episode will be on lady history pod dot tumblr dot com. If you like the show, leave us a review or tell your friends, and if you don’t like the show, keep it to yourself.

Alana: Our logo is by Alexia Ibarra you can find her on Twitter and Instagram at LexiBDraws. Our theme music is by me, Garageband, and Amelia Earhart. Lexi is doing the editing. You will not see us, and we will not see you, but you will hear us, next time on Lady History.

[OUTRO MUSIC]

Haley: Next week on Lady History; we're heading to the zoo to monkey around. Get ready for some zoologists, zookeepers, primatologists, you name it. It’s going to be such an animal party.

Alana: I have a confession to make. Every time you say the birthdate of one of your ladies I’m like “Oh, so her star sign is…” 

(Lexi laughing)

Alana: Like, Haley was like “she was born on April 16th” and in my head I'm like “so she's an Aries…”

Haley: I think of the same thing. I like–

Alana: It's just like where I am. I always think that like… every time I write down a birthday I'm like “oh maybe this time I'll be like oh that makes her a Scorpio. Like, Rose Valland, Scorpio.

[rt8815]

OC Ask Game

I was tagged by the amazing @illegalcerebral

I put a Keep Reading link because this is looong.

1) Name (and why you chose it if you like) McKinley Campbell Durand. I named her after McKinley Morganfield, better known as Muddy Waters. However, the “in universe?” reason that will be given - which I haven’t written yet - is that McKinley and Campbell are family names from a few generations back.

Campbell comes from the Gaelic words for ‘crooked’ and ‘mouth.’ I just like the name. Here’s a post (that I had to rewrite because Tumblr’s a dick and wouldn’t let me edit the typos in the original. The rewrite had typos too! Blargh!) that discusses her first and last names. I thought it would be funny for her full name to consist solely of last names.

2) Fandom and how they fit into the story Criminal Minds. She works at a D.C. museum practically around the corner from the J. Edgar Hoover building (as indicated in “Let It Bleed”). That’s a tiny hint that it’s the National Museum of African American History & Culture, but I don’t think I’ll mention it very often, if for no other reason than I’ve never been to the NMAAHC and don’t want to describe it inaccurately.

The official story is that Spencer and McKinley met at the museum (again, in “Let It Bleed,” which is probably the least favorite thing of mine that I’ve written). However, they’d met once before, and texted a few times after that. Because my brain is all over the place, and because I’m telling the story in non-chronological order, I haven’t written their first meeting yet. The only details I’ve revealed thus far are that it was nighttime in a park, McKinley caught Spencer off guard and made him fall to the ground, and whatever they talked about set Spencer straight and lifted his spirits. Also, a swingset was involved. Beyond that, I’ve inserted McKinley into the plotlines and events of the show, with necessary alterations, and there’s a ton of domestic Spencer and off-duty team stuffs.

3) Do they have any family? Biological family: daughter Sophie and son Jason; her Mom (no name yet); maternal grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins; and her estranged father (no name yet). Chosen/found family: husband Spencer; the BAU.

4) As a child, what did they want to be when they grew up? When she was a toddler, McKinley wanted to be a pediatrician (a doctor just for kids?! Cool!) or an ophthalmologist (she’s worn glasses practically her whole life). As an older child she aspired to be an entomologist or herpetologist. In her teenage years she considered a career in forensic pathology or criminal psychology. While earning her BA in English, she discovered that Public History was her true calling.

5) Their greatest dream To be a good Mom. To inspire learning in others.

6) Their worst nightmare Losing her family; having to see her father again.

7) Strengths Empathy, insight/self awareness, forgiving nature but knowing when to cut her losses

8) Weaknesses McKinley struggles with imposter syndrome.

She can be very mean. I mean, downright nasty cruel, verbally. This is rare though because, and I’m paraphrasing a future bit of dialogue here, anyone whose behavior could arguably warrant such a response is beneath her notice and not worth the effort. She’s more likely to close the door on someone. When she’s removed a person from her life, she is done. They become literally nothing to her. McKinley will rightly claim that this is about self-preservation and boundaries, but she really takes it to the next level.

9) What would they chose between: morning and night, sweet and savoury, beaches or meadows, cities or countryside, winter or summer, Christmas or Halloween (sorry, Spencer!), movies or TV shows, action or rom-com, clowns or vampires, stars or the moon (both!), cocktails or pints [Neither. McKinley doesn’t care for cocktails or beer. Scotch, brandy, rum, and dry wines are her poisons. She’s been known to add Kahlúah to vanilla ice cream, Baileys Irish Cream to coffee (she wants to try Drambuie next), or make hot toddies when she has a cold (obviously not mixing any alcohol with any medicine)]

10) How do they relax? Reading, or having Spencer read to her; knitting; listening to her records or playing her guitar; exercising with Boogie so she’s exhausted enough to sleep that night; baking and cooking

11) What makes them angry? Injustice, apathy/indifference, ableism, willful ignorance

12) What makes them afraid? The awful things she’d possibly do under duress; her family getting hurt or worse; spiders and other bugs that bite and/or sting

13) What is a moment from their childhood that has shaped who they are? It’s not a single event, but growing up with an abusive parent has certainly had a lifelong impact on McKinley. You’ve heard the expression “once bitten, twice shy?” She’s “once bitten, there’s no twice because you no longer exist.” She’s working on that. It’s also cultivated empathy, though, and is part of the reason she volunteers in the hospital’s rehab wing.

14) Do they have a sense of humour? Intellectual humor, pop culture references, puns/Dad jokes, science jokes. Sometimes morbid.

15) What do they value in their friends/loved ones? Honesty and empathy

16) Do they have any pets? An Aussie Collie/Border Aussie named Boogie-Woogie. He’s her first child.

17) Worst memory? Probably the day Meadows shot her and she thought she’d never see Spencer and Penny again.

18) Best memory? The days Sophie and Jason were born. Minus, y’know, the agonizing pain of labor and delivery.

19) Do they have any tattoos? (If no would they get one?) Nope and nope

20) If you could write them into another fandom, which one would you choose? If I knew the MCU better, I’d love to write her in as a Stark Tower employee! She’d be an anthropologist and would study alien societies the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. have encountered. She’d naturally be drawn to Loki, initially in a professional capacity (they quickly discover they relate to each other on a personal level as well).

He’d first find her annoying: “Why are you pestering me, Mortal? Surely you’d rather interview my oaf of a brother?”

“No, not even remotely. He only ever wants to discuss battles he’s won. There’s so much more to Asgard and the other realms than that. I want - I need - to learn your literature, your science, your culture and history. You’re well versed in all of these subjects and you’re an excellent teacher.”

He stares at her impassively over his mug of tea, but his heart - that Judas of an organ - flutters slightly at the compliment. And how can he say no to a fellow scholar?

“I prefer your company to Thor’s too. You have this calming presence. Thor’s sweet but he’s also obnoxiously loud and brash and he always hugs me even though I keep telling him I don’t like it. And he’s constantly swinging his hammer around, which makes me think he’s overcompensating for something.”

Loki nearly chokes on his tea. Yes, this mortal is considerably more tolerable than others.

“Very well. Friday evenings at 6:00, my chambers. Arrive late and suffer my wrath.”

From that day forward, whenever Thor tries to hug her, he gets mildly electrocuted.

Did I accidentally sorta kinda write a drabble? Would anyone be interested in making this a collab? That’s what they’re called, right? (Can you tell I’ve given this some thought? Haha! I have even more details in my head.)

21) Do they like their job? (What else would they do if they could?) She loves it! Hmmm, what else…? A librarian maybe. Or animate and produce an educational cartoon series.

22) What is their sexuality? Demisexual

23) Do they believe in love at first sight? Soulmates? One true love? McKinley believes in “seeing the potential for a good relationship at first conversation.”

Yes, although she feels that term has become overused and poorly redefined.

People can find love again after it’s been lost.

24) What music do they listen to? Has that changed over time? I actually recently answered an ask about this. Yes, she grew up on what passed for country in the ‘90s. God help her, she had a boyband phase in junior high.

25) Can they cook? What food do they love? McKinley does pretty well in the kitchen. She loves a wide variety of food. She grew up in the south, so tons of carbs/comfort foods. She loves Thai, Japanese, and Indian food. She cooks up Middle Earth-inspired dishes (ha! nerd). She’s especially proud of a seed cake she bakes.

26) What are their hopes for the future? For her family to be healthy, safe and happy. To be debt free.

27) How do they react to being threatened? It’s a coin flip. McKinley might curl up like an armadillo and hope the predator gets bored and leaves, or she might kick the stool out from under them and cause their chin to slam into the bar and crack several teeth.

28) What is their love language? McKinley and Spencer both exhibit the Acts of Service love language, because just saying “I love you” isn’t enough. You ought to show it. She’ll randomly bake doughnuts for Spencer or play guitar for him in bed, and he’ll take care of laundry, dishes, and any other chores he sees need doing.

Quality Time is important for them too. Once a month, Luke and Penny babysit so Spencer and McKinley have a day alone together. It doesn’t really matter what they do. The point is it’s just them.

It caught McKinley by surprise how much she enjoys physical affection, given that she can be touch averse but holy moly she was more touch starved than she realized. She lives for snuggles and makeout sessions and playing with each others’ hair. When one of them doesn’t want to be touched, they hook their pinkies together.

29) What do they find most challenging in relationships? At work? In general? At work she struggles to gain her colleagues’ respect (think “Boy Genius” treatment except she has lady bits). In general, she struggles with trusting people.

30) What do you as a creator love best about writing this character? Giving her everything I wish I had but don’t.

Bonus: Include a link to your favourite work with this OC or write a small drabble.

October 12, 2021

Warm sunlight filtered through the curtains, gently rousing Spencer from a pleasant sleep. Just when he’d decided to get up, he felt the mattress dip behind him and his wife’s breath fanning over his ear.

“Who’s the birthday boy?” whispered McKinley.

Spencer smiled softly but feigned being asleep.

“Who’s the birthdaaay boooy?” she repeated, bouncing slightly.

“The good-looking guy to your left?”

“Happy Birthday!” she laughed, pressing kisses along his neck, suddenly shifting the mood from playful to sexy.

“Would the birthday boy like his birthday present?” she asked as she lifted the covers.

“Well, look at that - it’s already unwrapped!”

[rigelmejo]

 2 more thoughts regarding the massive immersion approach:

Flashcards and Massive Immersion Method

while i’ve seen some people who do it insist that its about moving AWAY from flashcards/srs grinding, and only doing that in order to make it easier to immerse... i am not sure that’s how it ends up in practice. i’ve read comments by some people about how immersion should be where the a lot of the progress is coming from. But on the other hand, from my view, even the immersion eventually involves a lot of sentence mining (you making srs flashcards from immersion, to study). And the creator of the method, Matt, seems to think a good indication this method will work for you is if you have a decent tolerance for flashcard grinding. 

Also, on a more practical level, he thinks structured study is very helpful for your learning and is part of what helps you learn faster. He thinks a combination of immersion (both reading and pure listening) starting early on and regularly, with structured study to help you learn first very useful things to you (common words, writing system, grammar patterns, eventually words/grammar in the things you specifically want to understand) helps support your immersion efforts. Structured study in his plan is srs flashcards and sentence mining - although I personally think you could also substitute ‘structured study’ for textbooks, word lists/flashcards/podcasts you pick based on your needs, basically any material where you’re actively studying and reviewing instead of immersing. Now I mainly agree with this point, as much as I don’t like structured study of any kind any more then much anyone else. It really does help make immersion more tolerable, and more effective, at least for me. Structured learning is kind of like scaffolding you put on yourself, or floaties before diving into the deep end. It gives you things you can grab onto more easily when you immerse, and help you remember more effectively the things you pick up as you immerse. It’s probably why most language learners, no matter what structured study methods they use, do more then ONLY listen/read in the language with absolutely nothing else being done (a lot of polyglots on youtube seem fond of making word lists with example sentences which sounds a lot like a more chill non srs sentence mining method, a lot of articles i’ve read of learners going for basic ability to speak/read go for using frequency lists and grammar guides early on as their base to learn from - which is what i tend to do). 

Anyway... basically, as much as I’d love if massive immersion approach had less flashcards... it doesn’t appear (to me) to have any less flashcards than AJATT or 10k sentences methods. Maybe it does, but once the sentence flashcards go into the thousands it all seems like an Awful Lot to me. On the upside, I would again like to mention there is at least one example of a guy named Chris who did the massive immersion approach for japanese for 18 months and got to a good reading comprehension, listening comprehension, and speaking level, who did the kanji flashcards and 2000ish frequent words in sentences and grammar example sentences in the beginning, then mostly did not sentence mine after. Here’s his interview about it. During, and after those initial flashcards, he immersed, looked up words occasionally (and did not always make flashcards of new words). He tried to switch to a monolingual dictionary halfway through, which seemed to help him. And he didn’t really study/immerse more than 1-3 hrs a day, with the heaviest ‘dedicated’ time in the earlier months when he grinded through the Heisig kanji flashcards. He’s a good example of a ‘less flashcards in the sentence mining’ version of the approach, that seemed to work out fine for him. So burning out on flashcards, and eventually doing less of them and primarily immersion/looking occasional words up, is a possible way to do the massive immersion approach. And I think this might be the way some people are viewing the massive immersion approach who say the flashcards are really just needed to push you to get into immersion easier - perhaps they’re also people who used less flashcards once the immersion part became more comfortable for them. 

---

Immersion

A second note: I really do want to reiterate again how much effort I do think this method takes. From an outsider’s perspective, to me it initially looked kind of ridiculous until I actually looked it up. Because all i saw were learners making targeted videos about Only one element of their studies (so it was helpful in a specialized way, but i wrongly thought that video’s tips would be about ALL of studying the language lol). So I kept seeing videos insisting you need to immerse immerse immerse and you’ll learn super fast! But like of course, these learners were also doing studying from sentence mining and grammar example sentences and I just did not know that. 

About immersion: it really does help though. At the bare minimum, you should try it some time just because it will REALLY reaffirm your goals in the language. Or it will help you set goals, if you aren’t sure what those goals are. It is also a real fast way to actually check if you’ve 1. made any improvement, 2. are lacking in any areas you’d intended to make improvement (and therefore you need to fix your study plan to address this), 3. what you immerse in might help you realize what you really want to prioritize learning first. It also gives you a dose of reality, to see if you’re worse or better than you thought you were. It gives you chances to PRACTICE what you’ve learned, which will help you remember that info and recall it faster, and get you more comfortable so it’s easier to use that info you know the next time you immerse etc. It puts you into real material you want to eventually be able to engage with, so you can actually see how you’re doing in the language up against more realistic use of the language (versus textbooks and learner made material that is probably on some level tailored to either be easier or focus on some specialties a bit more than the real world which focuses on all kinds of things). 

In French, I unintentionally ‘immersed’ in reading from the first few months, and I fully believe that boosted my ability to comprehend the language immensely. I really genuinely did not put that much effort into studying french. I took one well made beginner semester in college, most notably great because our teacher focused on pronunciation, speaking often, learning a ton of regular verbs and conjugations, and learning basic ways of saying past/present/future tense immediately (which broadened what we could talk out in a tremendous way - especially compared to any other beginner course I’ve ever taken). I studied one 300 word list, then sort of studied a 625 and 1000 word list, none of them with flashcards - just looking at and reviewing somewhat regularly. And I read... a lot... especially in the beginning when it was super hard. I read and looked up a handful of words (only ever handfuls, cause I’m lazy). Eventually, I read and rarely looked up words, because I’m lazy and context guesses were enough to me. Eventually, I speed read through a beginners grammar guide in english. Then an intermediate grammar guide in french. My listening suffered cause i rarely ever practiced that, but when i do practice it the skill builds up pretty fast since i generally know most words i run into now. If I went back to french, it’d mostly be a lot of listening/shadowing immersion (shows, and comprehensible input youtube channels), and then having lots of convos to boost my speaking/writing abilities. French... genuinely was SO hard in the beginning. But I think immersing very early got me through the “doing this for more then 5 minutes FRIES my brain its so HARD” stage within a few months. 

I think whenever I put off immersion... that just delays when i’m gonna feel that frustration. And its not fun to feel that frustration, but its expected because there will always be some difficulty as you get adjusted to it. And when you’ve studied for over a year? It really sucks to feel like you’ve made progress, only to try to read simple captions on pictures or headlines and website links and understand NOTHING. That’s what happened to me in japanese - I didn’t try to read real stuff for a year, and when I finally did I was pretty crushed that outside of the most basic school/daily life discussions, I couldn’t comprehend anything. Even though in my studies I’d flown through my textbook materials. I should also note, for languages ‘more difficult to learn’ for an english speaker, yes its going to take longer or more study hours to comprehend the same as one could in a ‘less difficult’ language like french. So immersion hurt that much MORE cause I knew even less then after a year of french, even with more hours of study, and immersion was so much harder. It was super demotivating. But in retrospect, I should have just pushed through and planned my goals according to what specifics were making that initial push SO HARD so I could fix them and make my life easier. I eventually did, but I would have loved that kind of clear focus on what I needed to do with my goals BACK THEN.  

Because of how my French versus Japanese studies went, when I started Chinese I just immersed right away. A great thing about studying chinese, is at the time I was super into their storytelling and works, and the chinese world has a HUGE amount of incredible works AND a ton of them are easy to access. It’s super easy to immerse in chinese! (I imagine similar is true of english). In French, I only really was invested in french history books, so I didn’t dive into reading much unless it was just those or ‘informational’ stuff like news. (Thankfully french took less effort to improve in). In Japanese, while I’m into some very specific creators and works, I’m actually not really that into anime or manga. And the stuff I am into, I need to grind though goal-focused study to actually finally be able to comprehend enough to immerse in (it took 2.5 years to even scratch the bottom of ‘maybe’ for trying to do that, since I didn’t immerse early on and build my comfort in being able to immerse). I started trying to read in Chinese early, just because I was like “well i did it in month 3 in french so WHY NOT do it with chinese too, it helped my french a ton!” And, well... it did help my chinese a ton, and still does. 

It’s also been... way harder every single step of the way then french ever was. And I’m so glad I did it with french first... I built up some tolerance at engaging with materials i only 50% comprehended in french, I built up reading skills with that kind of difficult material, and I had experience seeing that comprehension level noticeably improve every few months. So in chinese, I started with like 20% comprehension and it HURT my brain. But I expected it to be harder than french, and i expected any foreign language to start off well below the comfortable suggestion of ‘98%’ for reading for pleasure. On the upside, it helped me set goals I needed FOR the goal of reading super early. It helped me practice parsing how hard chinese was going to be to comprehend, super early. And I think the difficult comprehension curve for immersing in chinese, compared to romance languages for english speakers, might be why a lot of learners on forums insist reading in chinese took them 2-4 years to even start graded readers. And why many of them say its taking them 20 minutes to read a page, or they ‘pre-study’ with flashcards for like 1 hr a day when they read, etc. While I’m sure those approaches work for them, I think in a way its also kind of a matter of When do YOU want to do those things? When do you want to face that super-intolerable low comprehensibility curve? 

Because it will be a few phases: first it will be brutally intolerable, then you’ll get used to seeing a huge amount of incomprehensibility and not getting so bothered by it even though you still don’t understand much, then you start comprehending a bit more each time (possibly aided by some other study methods/reading strategies etc), you feel relieved the comprehension is getting EASIER (even though its only like 60% now that feels WAY less brutally frustrating then 20% did!), and the process continues. You basically first get used to tolerating how brutally incomprehensible it is, how much lower than 98% comprehensible it is. Then every step after feels like achievement and relief because it just keeps getting easier. And by the time you do get to a decently high comprehensibility, it feels fantastic and much easier. No matter when you start immersing, it’s going to progress like this. So if you go from ‘comfortable 98%ish percent comprehensible textbook sentences and flashcards, or podcasts, and comfortable comprehension in your own language mainly’ to ‘dropped into native material in your target language where you just definitely are not 98%, maybe 80-90% at best?’ Its still going to feel brutal. 

In a big way I do think it’s partially just a matter of when you want to face the brutal beginning of the comprehensibility curve. Do you want to tackle it early on in the learning stages, in the first couple years? The upsides are, you will only feel like its easier over time, so once you’ve studied more, your immersion also is getting easier. So study progress lines up better with how comprehension progress ‘feels.’ The downside is, of course, you face a brutal challenge that feels insurmountable early on. That could cause you to give up. And because its actual native content in the language - realistically you are NOT going to be able to comprehend as much as you can in your own native language in a year. It’s going to start a low comprehension level, and you aren’t going to be able to just quickly bring it up to comfortable 98%ish comprehension level. It’s still going to take years of study for that. So part of the process genuinely is getting more okay with accepting lower comprehensibility in your target language, and learning to not let that frustrate or demotivate you, learning to not get upset, learning to let go of trying to absolutely always understand everything perfectly, and instead learning to notice milestones in your own personal progress. Learning to appreciate an improvement from 20% comprehended, to 50% comprehended, to 70% comprehended. Instead of super angry you’ve studied for months, only to still be struggling to comprehend - because it will definitely still technically be a struggle at least until you do hit those 90%s in comprehension. So it could be demotivating to think ‘oh yeah, I’m gonna be fluent in a year!’ then you immerse early on, and realize that you may not actually to able to comprehend this target language as easily as your native language in a year. But it definitely grounds to back to reality. On the upside, even if you waited to immerse, you’re probably going to hit this difficult comprehension experience for at least a few months - so you’ll eventually get the reality check. It’s just when do you want to experience it. Early on - so you can use the experiences to both practice and focus your goals on what YOU specifically need? 

Or after studying for years - finally getting practice, and now needing to possibly readjust a lot of your long-used study methods because they left some noticeable blank spots that are now impeding your ability to comprehend what you want to comprehend? There are of course benefits to waiting to do immersion until later - you’re less likely to quit studying the language, if you’ve already been studying it for years and are dedicated. Depending on how good your study plan was, you might be starting out at 70-90% comprehension of materials, instead of 20-50%. Which means your difficulty curve might take less time to power through, and be more tolerable depending on if you can handle moderate incomprehensibility more than significant amount incomprehensibility. I don’t know... I tried to do immersion later on with Japanese, and while I definitely won’t give up, it was also such a huge difficulty curve that I had to replan my study methods to fill in all the blanks before I was ready to try immersion properly. I think with chinese, where i started some immersion early on, i would have been SUPER ready to give up and quit, if I didn’t have my french experience telling me ‘just stick with it, it always starts hard and gets easier over time, chinese will just probably take longer to make progress with than french did.’ 

I only pushed through with immersing in chinese early on, because I KNEW the same study methods worked for me in french so I was going to use them again. And I adamantly tried to just tell myself it wasn’t that hard. I had a chinese teacher in high school, he was great, and one of the things he did was never treat anything as hard. He didn’t act like tones were hard, he just gave us an example and had us repeat him. He didn’t act like hanzi were hard, he just wrote vocab, gave us the pinyin, then told us to write it in our notes - and write only hanzi in tests and homework and classwork. Bam, that’s it. No insistence that we had to use mnemonics to ever learn them (although mnemonics would’ve helped speed it up probably in retrospect). No insistence anything was hard, it was just how the words sounded and were spelled, so we learned. He had a class of 40 kids who were rambunctious and many of whom didn’t pick chinese and just got put into the class, and he still managed to teach well enough that most people passed just fine. That class was fun, and not any harder then any other class. I think one part of the reason was how he treated nothing as overtly difficult or challenging, just another thing to learn. In comparison, I’ve had a japanese class where things WERE taught as very difficult to learn, and i think that intimidated me and demotivated me (along with the myriad of language study tip sites that really hammer home how ‘hard’ japanese is). Realistically, they aren’t necessarily hard, some languages just take more study time then others to cover the same ‘ground’. So anyway, whenever I study chinese, I just remind myself its not any harder then french to learn - it just takes me some extra study time. And I really think this mindset has made tackling both immersion and even just studying vocab much easier to me. I don’t see new words made of characters and freak out, I just think ok ‘this sounds like X, looks like this Y, do I need to do anything extra to remember this?’ Then come up with some mnemonics or examples of it being used etc if it will help me remember it, then move on. With chinese I really... mostly tackled studying the same way I studied French (but BETTER, because I practice speaking, writing, and listening MUCH more in chinese then i ever did in french). But like... I did not study the hanzi with Heisig or anything - and I do think in retrospect, I should, since I think it’ll make new words a bit easier to remember. (I remember new words way easier when I already know each individual character from other words - I don’t need mnemonics for the meaning or the pronunciation when I already know the characters that spell a new word so I can speed up learning it). The only extra thing I did with chinese was listen to tones in the beginning, some tone explanations, and listen to the audio of new words (so i can better remember the tones, so i can have better listening/speaking skills then i did in french). Overall, my progress was not too bad for just diving into chinese with the same overall study method. I managed to learn 1000 words and all the characters in them without heisig etc. (Although, genuinely, shout out to the Tuttle Learn Chinese Characters - 800 characters book, because the mnemonics include pronunciation, help a ton, and I learned probably 500 characters from that book starting out that served as a helpful foundation in studying chinese). 

I did not ever try to go the route of ‘study with only pinyin first.’ I know some people think learn to speak first, read/write later, and it is easier. But like? Reading’s always my main goal baby. Everything else is a secondary goal, so there was no point to me putting off characters and real reading. Plus? In chinese??? Knowing how to read helps with shows SO MUCH cause nearly every show has mandarin subtitles!!! If you can read some basic mandarin, picking up words and some phrases from shows gets so much easier! Also, like my chinese teacher did not treat them as overly hard, I don’t want to treat characters as overly hard either. Pinyin is very good to know for typing, and for learning tones/seeing how to pronounce words. But I didn’t want to use it as the only thing i could rely on, any longer then the minimal necessary amount of time I needed to. Also, my lacking listening skills in french really hammered home how important it is to listen to pronunciations ALL THE TIME and especially when learning new words, so I try to make sure a majority of my chinese study and immersion materials have audio I can listen to. I try to learn most new words with audio, since pinyin is not the same as me hearing how to actually say it and recognize it. 

[scarofthewind]

Brahms Heelshire x Reader

A/N: I have been wanting to write this for a while now. I will start back on requests after this has been posted. (REQUESTS ARE OPEN). Female Reader! This is ‘A’ for the masterlist under Brahms Warnings: Foul language. (This is really long btw)

“The loneliest moment in someone’s life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart , and all they can do is stare blankly.” -F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby. 

You had prepared for everything except rain. Cold, hard rain that beat down on you mercilessly as you slammed the broken down car’s door shut; suitcase by your feet and bag on your arm. “This can’t be happening.” You sighed, looking around for a sign of civilization anywhere near the English countryside you were located at. 

There was no bother in even checking your phone because it died while giving directions to the hotel you were supposed to be arriving at soon. Biting back tears of frustration, you pulled your suitcase behind you, walking the path made by cars, trying to find your way through the heavily wooded area before it gets dark outside. “Of all places to get stranded!” You mumbled angrily, your shoes getting stuck in the mud as you walked quickly.

Taking time away from home to have a fresher mind was one thing, but having your publishing company tell you that you needed a new start was another. The pages in your bag were no doubt ruined, and that only made you want to give up your hike to shelter. However, you weren’t someone who quit easily. Not when it came to making money to pay for your rent, that is. 

After what seemed liked hours, you came across a metal gate, the latch was rusted and the front mail slot had a name you could barely make out. Your eyes looked up at the huge house that stood past the gate and you continued inside, managing to break the latch in the process. 

Practically running to the front door, you knocked hard, hoping whoever was inside, could hear you despite the rain. “Hello! Please help me! My car broke down and I have no where else to stay!” You shivered from the soaked clothes you had on, your eyes stinging with warm tears as you feared for the worst. “Please! Hello?! Anybody?” You tried to open the door but it was locked.

The sound of cries where what made Brahms’ heart beat fast in his chest. Ever since Greta had left, he’d felt no reason to hide in the walls anymore, so he sat up off the couch and looked out the window; careful to not be seen. His eyes wandered over your dripping and shaking frame. “I don’t have much, but I’ll give you anything I can. Please just let me in.” You sniffled, wiping at your eyes and letting your bag fall off your shoulder.

Cursing under his breath, Brahms quickly unlocked the door for you before running and going to hide in the walls. As soon as you heard the door unlock, you turned the knob and went inside, dragging your suitcase and bag behind you. When the door closed, an echo went through the house. “Hello?” You asked, looking around but not seeing anyone. “Thank you for letting me in. My name is (Y/N) and I’m...” you bit your lip, running a hand through your dripping hair. “I’m lost.” 

Brahms watched you from a mirror across the hall, his gaze following you every step you took. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say this place was empty.” You said aloud, looking at the dust that collected on the dark wood linings of the house. 

Silently, you took your suitcase upstairs, finding a room that had a bed and bathroom. You grew excited when the shower’s hot water turned on and undressed, stepping inside the warm water and letting the cold be taken away. Not taking too long, you finished your shower and left the bathroom, changing into warmer clothes and pulling out your wet pages. “What am I supposed to do?” Your heart hurt thinking of worse thoughts like getting fired. 

However, your thoughts were interrupted by a soft thud in the room across from yours. “Hello?” You asked, getting up and going to the door and opening it slowly. Your eyes widened for a second when they met a pair of glass ones, sitting on a small bed. 

It was a doll. 

Your breath caught in your throat as you pushed the door open and looked around. This was, or used to be a child’s room, you thought, moving around and looking at all the toys. Turning around, you looked to the bed, the doll staring into space, cracks all over it’s face. 

“Who broke you?” You asked, gently touching the cracks and smoothing the hair out of its eyes. With a sad smile, you stood straight, trying to find a sign of a name. “You wouldn’t happen to be able to tell me your name, would you?” 

In the silence you frowned to yourself, “I’m talking to a doll.” You turned and walked back to your room, taking the ruined book pages and throwing them into the trash. You jumped when thunder rolled loudly outside, your nerves getting the best of you. 

“It’s fine. Everything is fine.” You told yourself, going to the kitchen and trying to find any source of food, which you found nothing. “Great. My work was ruined by the rain and now I’m going to starve.” You sighed, rubbing your face with your hands and stomping back up to your room. 

Turing the corner to enter the doorway of your room, you froze and gasped, seeing the doll sitting on your bed, a piece of paper laying next to him. You stayed where you were for a moment, slowly walking over to the object. “Are you...alive?” You asked, staring the doll in the eyes as you took the paper in your hands. 

In somewhat neat handwriting was a name, bold in black ink. “Brahms.” Lighting flashed and you felt your heart stop as the name left your lips. Your mind flashed to the article you’d written a few years back, about a woman who was a nanny to a ‘possessed doll’. You tried to remember the rest but you couldn’t focus on anything but the name and the connection the lady. 

Your skin crawled when a bump sounded from in the wall next to you, your heart raced faster than you thought possible. “That’s right.” You stood up, the paper in your hands shaking as you were. “Brahms...damnit what was the last name?” You bit your lip, pacing a bit. “It wasn’t the doll, someone was actually living...” You stopped mid sentence, remembering the woman’s face as she’d told you what happened when you had interviewed her. “He’s in the walls.” You said as you thought of her saying it. 

“Brahms-” 

“Heelshire.” The paper in your hand floated to the ground and you didn’t dare move a muscle, the deep voice came from near you but you couldn’t move. You just stared at the doll and hoped that if you blinked it would all be over with. 

“She left. I didn’t want her to go.” The voice was dangerously quiet as it moved around you. “Greta...she was mine!” A sudden crash made you jump in your place and you watched as a figure moved behind you, reflecting in the doll’s polished eyes. 

“Brahms.” You mumbled, causing the figure to stop. 

“What?” He snapped, he was right behind you. You could feel his towering presence and you cursed yourself for feeling his warmth comforting. 

“None of that should’ve ever happened to you.” Your voice was quiet and for a moment Brahms was at a loss for words. No one had ever remotely said anything like that to him, not even Greta, who faked the whole thing just to survive. 

“I don’t want your pity.” He growled, watching as you shook your head. 

“I’m not. I mean, I do feel sad that you’ve been so alone for all this time. But I don’t pity you entirely. What Greta did was something rude yet understandable.” You said, feeling your nerves start to calm down. Taking a deep breath, you slowly turned around to face a broad chest, clad in a stained tank top and the exposed skin covered with black chest hair. 

You took a step back and looked up at the man who wore half of a mask that you were confused by. Brahms stared down at you with the same confusion in his eyes. “Who are you?” He asked.

“My name is (Y/N). I’m a writer and I wrote an article about this case a while back. I didn’t know I’d ever actually come across this place. I’m sorry if I bothered you and I will leave-”

“No.” Brahms frowned, his eyes darkening.

“I have to otherwise-”

“NO!” He slammed his fists against the wall next to you and you nodded quickly. 

“Fine. That’s fine, I’ll stay.” You stared at him, wondering what he went through to be this hurt. 

“What did you mean when you said that stuff about Greta? That it was understandable?” 

“I just meant that no woman likes it when a man goes to extreme lengths to keep them in a place they don’t want to be. You were kind of rude as well- at least that’s what she told me.” You stared at each other for a few moments, your mind finally working normally again. “Phantom of the Opera.”

“What are you talking about?” He glared at you, not feeling comfortable underneath your stares. 

“Your mask. In Phantom of the Opera, his mask covered the part of him he never wanted the girl he loved to see. However,” You started, your writer’s mind thinking of a new way to start a book, a fresher way. “Brahms you don’t mind your scars do you?” Your hand slowly reached up to touch his face but was grabbed roughly by his. 

“You truly are afraid of being left alone. Not by your scars or not by the idea of never finding love. Loneliness.” Your eyes didn't break away from his until he let your wrist go. 

“You asked earlier who broke me? Gret- that woman, did. She was supposed to be mine forever, but she ran away!” Brahms hated himself for talking to you so casually, but for some reason, he felt that you understood him. 

“Brahms let’s make a deal. If I am to stay here with you, will you be my muse?” His tired eyes glanced over your frame.

“How do I know you won’t leave?” 

“I won’t. I have nothing back at home that can’t be worked it’s way over here. There’s nothing for me there.” You tensed, noticing his eyes flash in a way that made him grin. Brahms knew there was a reason you didn’t run. Your faced captivated him the moment his eyes landed on you. Maybe his parents didn’t mean Greta was his- maybe you were meant to be the one for him instead.

“Deal.” 

Learn how to be alone, without being lonely. Learn to admire beauty without finding fault. Learn to love yourself without the love of others. -h.r.d.

-Author’s note: If any of you are ever feeling upset or just want to talk, I am here for you guys. I’ve been through the darkest of my demons for now and I am finding ways to smile. Please message me if you need anything. 

[hopeworldfan]

RO5EY (1)

summary: you were an idol, but didn’t look the part.

pairing: hoseok/reader

word count: 3k+

genre: fluff, angst, idolverse

warnings: mentions of bullying

Being an idol was never in the cards for you. Or, at least, that was what you always thought. You were a smart girl, a realistic girl, and you know you didn’t fit the ‘idol standard.’ From a young age, you were what your mother affectionately described as ‘big-boned’ and that alone squashed any dreams of being an idol. There were other things too, your crooked teeth, your too-big nose, all practically nails in the coffin to your childish dream of being an idol.

It seemed like an elaborate prank when you were approached on the street. Surely it was part of some cruel hidden camera show, approach undesirable girls and make it seem like they were getting scouted. It wasn’t a prank though, as much as it seemed like on. You were exactly what the new company wanted for their debut group. They wanted something different, someone different, and you were who they chose.

That was how you ended up in a group with four other girls, all as equally as gorgeous as the famous idols. You trained for two years, being assigned the role of rapper despite how no prior experience with rapping. However, you poured your heart and soul into the craft until rapping became your second language. This was the only chance you were going to get, and you weren’t going to let it slip away.  

Your group, dubbed RO5EY, received a rocky reception when you debuted. RO5EY defied the standard of what most girl groups were with your overly complex choreography and differentiation from Korean beauty standards. None of you have up though, the adversity only motivating you to work even harder. It wasn’t until two years after your debut that it finally happened. South Korea may have been hesitant to accept a group that defied the standard, but America embraced it. They loved the way you were inclusive and body positive. Your home country soon followed suit and it was like a dream.

“So, RO5EY, you all have a lot of American fans, can they look forward to the five of you heading that way anytime soon?” The American interviewer asked. She’d traveled to Seoul to do a segment on your group, something you were all excited about. You all excitedly talked over each other to answer the question, getting the gist of what was said even without the translation.

“I love you America!” Seung, your rapping partner, shouted excitedly in heavily accented English, winking at the camera.

“Yes! America! Love you!” Youra, one of the vocalists and the lead dancer exclaimed, also in heavily accented English.

“America! We come soon! We love you Blooms!” You added happily, blowing a big kiss to the camera after addressing your fans by their fandom name.

“As you can see, we are all very enthusiastic about going to America soon.” Hana, the lead vocalist, and leader of the group answered in perfect English with an amused smile. You all envied her mastery of the elusive language, you were the only one who was even close to being as fluent as her, and that wasn’t saying much. “We owe a lot of our success to our American fans, so we want nothing more than to have a chance to repay all the love they have given us.”

“Do you think the five of you will have an easier time making the jump to America now that BTS has sort of opened the door for K-Pop in America?”

Hana translated before she looked around at us, giving someone else the chance to answer so you grabbed the microphone. You took a second to organize your thoughts and search for the right words. Hana would have no problem translating what you said if you chose to do so in Korean, but you tried to ease some of your leader’s burdens whenever you could, being the second eldest. “I definitely think so. People…uhm…hear BTS and listen to their music and see how good it is so they’re…uhm…likely to give other groups more of a…uhm…chance since they have been….uhm…exposed to how good it can be.”

All four of the members cheered for you when you finished stumbling through your answer. Seung wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you close to her as you fought the blush that wanted to spread across your face.

“Of course, of course, now just one more question before we go. Who is everyone’s favorite BTS member and why? Let’s go one by one starting with Hana.”

Hana chuckled politely and translated before answering easily. “Namjoon. I think he’s an excellent leader and I really admire that.”

She passed the microphone to Youra who was sitting next to her on the couch and the blonde thought heavily for a moment. “Jungkook. He’s really good looking.”

The four of you laughed at her answer, always the honest one. She then handed the microphone to Byeol, the beloved maknae. She was a blushing a hundred shades of red and you laughed, reaching forward to rub her back. Without a doubt, she was one of the shyest people you had ever met. “Come on ByeBye, I believe in you!”

“You got this ByeBye!” Seung cheered.

“Jin, He seems very nice.” She answered quietly and Seung all but ripped the microphone out of her hands.

“Sugaaaaa! Your raps are dope! Call me.” She shouted, winking at the camera and you laughed before grabbing the microphone from her and answering immediately.  

“J-Hope. His…dedication to making his fans happy is amazing. Not to mention he’s an amazing dancer and a great rapper. And he’s very handsome of course.” Your cheeks were the slightest shade of pink as the interviewer laughed, not having to wait on a translation for your answer and Seung clapped you on the back.

“Alright, well thank you so much for your time. It’s been an honor to spend these last few days with the five of you.” After saying your goodbyes to the interviewer, the five of you set off to pile into the SUV and head home for some much-needed sleep.

“Good job everybody.” Hana complimented happily, a wide smile on her face. She was a fantastic leader, mature and caring, you couldn’t have possibly asked for better. “Your English has really improved (y/n)!”

“Thanks, unnie, I’ve been practicing a lot.”

“And good job Seung, really shooting your shot there.” Youra giggled and you wrapped an arm around said girls’ neck.

“Sugaaaaaa, your raps are dope! Call me!” You mocked and everyone laughed.

“J-Hopeeeeee, your dedication to your fans is amazing! Please be dedicated to me like that!” She shot back and you groaned, feeling your cheeks heat up and your friends teasing. You weren’t that embarrassed by the ordeal, the question was a common one from interviews and having spent so many years in the spotlight, you had learned to not be so easily flustered. After all, you and Seung were considered the mood makers of the group, doing the most outrageous things just to entertain. Seung was presented as the most extroverted, but you were definitely a close second.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough of that,” Hana said diplomatically when her own laughter died down. “We need to get back to the dorms, tomorrows a long day.”

The four of you groaned at your leader’s words. Tomorrow was going to be packed full of interviews, again. Not that you would ever complain, you loved what you did, it was just exhausting at times, all the people.

“Last one to the car has to do everyone’s laundry for a week!” You suddenly shouted, unwrapping your arm from Seung’s neck and making a dash for the door. The other girls didn’t move for a second, in shock at your declaration, before you heard them scrambling after you to not be the last one.

“Hana-unnie! Why didn’t you tell us we were doing this interview with BTS!” Seung screeched when you all arrived at the studio and saw the name of the dressing room next to yours.

“Didn’t seem important.” She replied mischievously and your jaw dropped.

“How could you do this to us! Your beloved members!” You cried out, rushing into the dressing room to check your reflection. Sure, you’d seen the members in passing before, performed at the same events, but you’d never said more than two words to any of them. What if heard J-Hope what you said about him? He was always your choice for favorite member.

“You’re the worst Hana-unnie.” Youra groaned.

“Poor ByeBye is going to pass out seeing Jin so close!” Seung cried and you all turned your attention to the youngest member whose blush was covering her whole face. Byeol’s shyness was one of her most endearing qualities, and it wasn’t something she ever had to fake.

“Aww poor ByeBye, he’ll probably fall in love with you instantly.” You comforted, wrapping an arm around the girl’s shoulders.

“I’ll be okay (y/n)-unnie.” She said softly and you pulled back, affectionately ruffling her hair.

“Okay girls, time for hair and makeup,” Hana announced just as your team walked through the door. You swore she was psychic sometimes.

Thirty minutes later and the five of you were seated on the stage, talking and goofing around as you waited for the host and the guys. It always helped ease everyone’s nerves.  

“You know, in hindsight, we should have realized there we be another group interviewing with us today since that’s literally what this show is.” Youra pointed out and your jaw dropped at the realization.

“Oh my god we’re all idiots.” You breathed, still in disbelief at the realization. She was right. The show you were all doing always interviewed two groups at the same time, people turning in to see interactions between their favorite groups.  

“Hana-unnie still should have said something.” Seung grumbled causing said woman to laugh.

“It’s not my fault if you all aren’t observant.” As if to prove her point, she got to her feet, having been the only one to notice the appearance of the seven boys.

The rest of you scrambled to follow suit, already feeling flustered at having been caught off guard.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” Hana said politely, bowing her head and the four of you mirrored the motion.

“The pleasure is all ours,” Namjoon replied and the seven of them dipped their heads in greeting.

“Ahh, this is so formal!” Seung complained and you snickered. Of course, she would be the first to break the formal appearance.

“C’mon Seung! You could have let them think we’re quiet and polite for at least five minutes!” You jokingly chided but she just waved you off. However, the tension and awkwardness did fade a bit, leading to a bit of interaction. Keeping your eyes off J-Hope was much harder than you thought it would be. He was even more attractive in person, something you had forgotten. The interviewer arrived before you could approach him, but you hoped there was a chance after the interview.

The interview was going more smoothly than you could have hoped. The boys were all extremely charming and so funny, J-Hope was literally like a ball of sunshine and your face was starting to hurt from just how much you were smiling. It took all your self-control to not stare at him the whole time from across the stage, not wanting fans to draw conclusions from your stare.

“So, as is customary, to end the show, one member from each group has to get up and perform an excerpt from a song the fans voted on last week. We’ll have ladies go first; you can decide who’s going to get up however you want.”

“Rock-paper-scissors?” Hana asked, turning to the four of you. You all nodded, visibly nervous at the prospect at having to perform of BTS’s songs in front of BTS.

Byeol was safe first and you couldn’t even be upset because the poor girl probably would have exploded if she had to perform one of the songs. Hana and Youra were both safe next and you glared at both of them. It was down to you and Seung, a common situation.

“I’m sorry unnie, but I’m not letting you win.” You both took a deep breath, dragging out the match and making it much more dramatic than it had to be.

“Rock-paper-scissors!” You immediately screeched, throwing your body back onto the couch when you comprehended that she had thrown scissors to your paper. Everyone was cheering at your demise.

“Alright! The song fans chose for a rapper is Cypher Pt. 4 so why don’t we have the boys rock-paper-scissors for whose part gets performed!” Of course, they’d choose Cypher, you thought ruefully. It wasn’t that you weren’t confident in your rapping abilities but messing it up in front of them would be the most embarrassing thing in the entire world.  

You were so caught up in your own little world that you didn’t notice the three rappers had begun the came to see whose verse you’d rap. It wasn’t until the commotion of someone winning brought you back to reality and you had to school your expression to not grimace when you saw it was Suga. Not that you didn’t like his verse, because you did, you loved it, it was probably your favorite, but it was the fastest.

Out of the two of you, Seung was the faster rapper.

“You got this unnie!” She cheered as the mic was handed to you. The boys shouted words of encouragement as well, but your nerves were still at an all-time high. A comforting hand was placed on your leg and you exhaled when you met Hana’s warm gaze.  

“You’ll do amazing.” There was no doubt in her voice, and it eased the butterflies in your stomach. She always had confidence in you, and it helped to know that someone did, even if it wasn’t you.

“Alright, we’re going to start the music a few moments before the verse starts, the words will be on the teleprompter.” The host informed and you nodded, taking a deep breath as the music started, sinking into the role.

Like most performers, your stage person differed from your off-stage persona. When off the stage, your goofy, mood-maker role with Seung, but on-stage you were confident, self-assured, and a little cocky. The music started and you schooled your expression, crossing your legs and smirking at the camera.

The words flowed from your lips without hesitation. You couldn’t afford to hesitate, if you did you would stumble, and you didn’t know if you’d be able to find the flow again. It wasn’t easy and you considered yourself lucky you were so familiar with the song, that you’d sung along to it before, so you had some semblance of practice.

By the time the last words left your mouth you were out of breath. You hadn’t been breathing properly during the verse because of your nerves, a dangerous thing to do. Both groups immediately started cheering along with the audience and you giggled when Seung wrapped her arms around you from behind and Youra did the same from the side.

“You killed it unnie!”

“That was amazing unnie!”

“I told you you’d do great.”

“That was really good unnie.”

“I think she did it better than hyung!”

“You really gave hyung a run for his money (y/n)!”

“You better watch out Suga!”

You laughed at the glare Suga was sending his members at their teasing.

“Now to decide which BTS member will perform!” The host exclaimed, getting everyone back on track.

The five of you watched in amusement as they went through the process of playing rock-paper-scissors. You were all in stitches by the time it came down to J-Hope and Jin. While you had thought your reaction to losing was dramatic, it had nothing on J-Hope’s, who immediately screamed and collapsed onto the floor.

“Looks like today is for the rappers.” The host laughed. “The song for a rapper is Get Better, (y/n) and Seung can decide whose verse you’ll perform.”

“Ahh, what a good choice!” Seung cheered, and you had to agree. It was one of your subunit songs on the latest album, a big fuck you to all the people who criticized the two of you. The overlapping theme was for them to ‘get better’ and get on your level if they wanted to talk shit.  

You turned in your seat to face Seung for rock, paper, scissors.  

“Rock-Paper-Scissors!” You cheered when she threw scissors and you threw rock. Having J-Hope rap your verse in the song was exciting, to say the least.

“Ahh! I’m so nervous!” He exclaimed, squirming in his seat as he was handed the microphone.  

“I believe in you J-Hope!” You shouted in encouragement, sending him a thumbs up and fighting the blush threatening to overtake your face. He smiled so brightly it practically blinded you.

The song started and you couldn’t take your eyes off of him as he flawlessly rapped your verse. It was over much too soon, and everyone was on their feet, cheering for the man.  

“That’s all for today! Thanks for joining us today, RO5EY and BTS everyone!” The host announced and you all smiled at the camera, waving to viewers. You all walked off the stage, moving to the privacy of backstage before your groups started to mingle.

The boys showered you in compliments for your performance and you absolutely ate it up, even having a short conversation with Suga about the complexities of the verse. You blushed when J-Hope appeared at your side, a wide smile on his face.

“I think you’re going to put me out of a job.” You joked and he laughed. A pleasant feeling ran through your body at the sound, at the knowledge that you caused it.

“Not anytime soon. That was so nerve-wracking! They’re so cruel for having people do that so sudden!”

“Ahh, I know! I was so nervous the whole time I practically forgot to breathe.”

“You didn’t seem nervous at all!”

“What?!” You laughed. “I was practically shaking the whole time.”

“Alright girls, we still have another interview to get to.” Hana interrupted and Namjoon sighed.

“So, do we. It was a pleasure working with all of you, I hope we do so again in the future.”

“Let’s do it again!”

“So much fun!”

“See you soon.”

You spared one more glance at J-Hope, blushing when you saw he was already looking at you. He happily waved and you mirrored the action before hurrying into the dressing room.

“Okay so like, J-Hope’s totally in love with (y/n)-unnie right?” Youra asked the minute the door closed, and you squeaked in surprise.

“What are you talking about?” You asked, your voice embarrassingly higher than normal.

“You should have seen his face when you were rapping! And he looked so disappointed when he lost to Suga and you couldn’t rap his verse. You literally had one short conversation and he’s completely whipped for you.” Seung laughed loudly before clapping you on the back.

“That’s ridiculous.” You huffed, cheeks ablaze.

“He was staring at you, unnie.” Byeol added quietly and you groaned.

“Stop teasing (y/n),” Hana chided, and you shot her a grateful look. “Congratulate her for making a boy fall in love with her in five minutes.”

You groaned loudly, throwing yourself on the couch as your members laughed. They were the worst.