#like i hate wasted. but i got a girl and brass band are both so rad

[arthur-r]

heads up it turns out a lot of the new jukebox the ghost is actually really great!!!! i was out here thinking their music had just gotten worse but it turns out just a couple songs happen to be terrible and the rest is good

[jjmichie]

The Day I Touched Eddie Vedder’s Ankle

March 25, 1992

It was cold, as March in Minnesota tends to be.  

But this March was colder than usual.  Brian was gone.  And I had a horrible case of mono that I had succumbed to immediately after he dumped me, which led me to drop the majority of classes I was taking that semester.  My financial aid situation was now a mess but I was too sick to go to work and my money supply was dwindling.  I had pushed my friends away.  I didn’t want to see anyone or talk to anyone or go anywhere or do anything.   

It had been this way for over a month.  I spent long days in bed, with barely the energy to eat or even sit up.  My muscles and my head and my whole body hurt whenever I tried to move or even think.  I couldn’t distinguish whether it was from the sickness or loneliness or aching for Brian but it didn’t matter.  I just knew everything hurt and everything felt dark, cold, empty, dead . . . hopeless.    

But sitting on the nightstand next to my bed were two tickets to an all ages show at First Avenue.  Pearl Jam.  It was coming up soon.  I really didn’t want to go.  I was supposed to be going with Brian.  We were supposed to go together.  We were supposed to BE together.  But the tickets continued to sit there, mocking me, reminding me of what my world had been just a short month ago, but now of what was gone, what was lost, and reminding me of how badly I had fucked it all up.  

But I also hated to let the tickets go to waste.  I had paid for them.  So, as a reluctant Plan B, I convinced my sister to join me.  She was older, but always seemed younger.  The kind of sister you end up scooping up off the floor of a closet at the end of the night when you bring her to a party, or who takes off on a motorcycle with a random guy she doesn’t know. or disappears for so long in a shopping mall that you end up freaking out and contacting mall security . . . but anyway.   

Night of the event.  I made myself pull out my standard rock concert clothes, which consisted of knee high black suede boots and a long black velvet jacket thing, which was tapered at the waist then flared out into a skirt in the most lovely feminine way.   It was adorned with brass buttons down the front, and two in the back. I loved that jacket.  It usually cheered me up every time I put it on.  But this time it didn’t.  This time I was just going through the motions.  

When we got inside the already-packed venue, I could immediately feel Brian.  I swear I could smell him.  I knew he was there.  There was no way he would miss this.   But he was upstairs, in the balcony where 21-year-olds were allowed, not corralled on the main floor, in the kiddie pen, where I was humiliatingly sequestered.  I let my head turn towards the balcony, let my gaze drift up there, as if I might see him.  As if he might see me and actually come down.  

Scrunching ourselves as best we could onto the main floor, my sister and I tried to push our way towards the stage, but didn’t get very far.   In fact, not very close at all.  In my weakened state I just didn’t have the energy.  We ended up in the back of the room, near the sound board, more Mike-side than Stone-side, although at the time I didn’t know the difference between the sides.  I didn’t know their names yet.  

“Oh weird,” I commented to my sister, as I looked around us.  “Every single guy here is wearing a flannel shirt.”  

She rolled her eyes at me. “Of course they are,” she said in her big-sister voice. “That’s what they wear now.”  

I hadn’t realized the extent to which Pacific Northwest attire had already permeated the burgeoning grunge crowd in the midwest.  For some reason I thought me and the Record Store Boys were the only ones who knew about this.  But it was literally Every. Single. Guy.  in the room was wearing plaid flannel.  When had this happened?  I felt kind of stupid, as I realized I was looking WAY out of place in my velvet finery.  

And it was interesting to note the ratio of males to females.  Easily over 80 percent male.  And most of the females appeared to be tag-along girlfriends.  Me and my sister were definitely the minority.  Which is weird when you think about it.  Given how handsome everyone in the band was, why weren’t there more girls?  

But then they started to play.  

We stood still, as did everyone around us on the floor, completely captivated by the unbelievable power that was suddenly filling the room and pelting us like someone had fired off a flurry of rockets.  We watched the surreal energy on the stage, bouncing, whipping their hair, growling out song after song.  All I could think was  . . .  WHUT!!!??!!! 

Mostly my eyes were glued to the lead singer.  It was hard not to stare at him.  He just completely broke the mold of what your typical rock star guy was at the time.  But I also remember the rest of the band, that Jeff was wearing a cool hat and looked so solid and muscular, although I didn’t know at the time that his name was Jeff.  (The advantage of being Mike-side is that you get Jeff too!)  And I remember the guitarist on the other side smiling.  Smiling.  And the way the guitarist on my side was belting out solos!  My god!  

I recognized most of the songs, because Brian had given me a homemade cassette tape (I couldn’t afford a CD player), which had Ten on one side and Nevermind on the other and I played it endlessly.  At first I had gravitated towards Nirvana, and only listened to the other side because it was too much of a pain in the ass to hit rewind and wait wait wait for it to get back to the beginning.  Might as well let the other side play.  But then something happened.  Something changed.  And the more I listened the more I liked it.  The more Brian played it, whenever we were together, alone in his room, the more it became my favorite.  Our favorite. 

But then Pearl Jam began playing the opening chords of Black.  

Shit. 

No.  

Don’t do this to me.  

I was instantly back in his bedroom, the CD player going.  Brian and I had come to agree at some point that Black was the best song on the album.  It was our song.  The song we made love to.  We didn’t realize everyone else felt that way too.  But from the cheer rising from the sea of flannel, it was obvious that this was a favorite of everyone at First Avenue.  Brian.  Brian.  I screamed for him with my mind, begging for him to hear me in his mind, and then I couldn’t see the band or the flannel or anything any more because my eyes were blurred and tears were gushing down my face blinding me and I missed him so much and I knew he was right above me hearing this too, hearing this right now.  All the love gone bad . . . Was he thinking about me too?  Why wasn’t he coming down the stairs?  I couldn’t go up, but he could come down if he wanted to.  He must have known I was there.  Why was he letting me cry alone?  Why did he leave me?  Why did I let him?  Didn’t any of it even matter to him?  . . . in somebody else’s sky . . . 

And my stupid sister didn’t even notice, and neither did all the flannel-clad minions who were trying inappropriately to mosh to this song, unable to contain their passion, unconcerned and not deterred by the slow melodicness that clashed ridiculously with their movements. 

End.  Please let this end.  

It did.  When Black finally ended I stood there, hearing the next song and the next, but still feeling sort of numb, not bothering to wipe away the mascara that now dirtied my cheeks.  

But a short time later my attention abruptly shifted from my own sorrow back to the lead singer, who, to everyone’s surprise, was leaving the stage.  Making his way toward the railing of the stairs, he began climbing.  He was climbing up the railing, up towards the balcony.  And all the flannel-clads turned their backwards-baseball-capped heads upward in unison to follow his progress.  

Meanwhile the First Avenue security guys looked at each other and then began  inching closer, inching their way over to the railing, looking serious, looking concerned.  What was this guy doing?  

He was now up on the balcony, but he was OUTSIDE the railing, on the tiny piece of floor that extended beyond it, barely enough room for his boot.  He must have been, I don’t know, 30 or 40 feet above us all.  His arm was wrapped around the railing to hold himself in place, and he turned around and looked down at us.  

This is my most vivid memory of the show.  The look on Eddie’s face.  The unbelievably intense look of concentration he gave the crowd while he looked down from that perch. He looked only mildly scared.  But you could tell he was assessing us, visualizing what he was about to do, and judging exactly where to jump and seeking out those he could trust, literally making eye contact with some key dudes, the bigger, taller dudes, with their hands raised, communicating silently with only his eyes, making sure it felt right. 

Once assured of that, once assured he could trust them, he turned back around, facing the balcony and the railing  . . . 

 . . . and he let go . . .  

I know logically that Eddie’s body must have followed the laws of physics and fallen at the normal speed that humans fall when they fall, but it didn’t seem that way.  He seemed to float.  The fall seemed to take forever.  He drifted down, arms outstretched, eyes closed (although I couldn’t see his eyes, somehow I knew they were closed), so elegantly, so delicately, like a snowflake.  

. . . and landed softly and securely on the hands of the big dudes he had just vetted.  From there a swarm of hands seemed to rise up out of nowhere and wave like seaweed in an ocean and before I knew it the graceful ragdoll was floating towards us.  My sister and I both stretched as far as humanly possible to reach out and touch touch touch!  I felt my hand on his skin, right above the line where his white sock met his bare flesh. Wet  Hot.  Solid muscle.  Coursing with life.  Wow . . . But I could only touch him for a few seconds before he floated on, was passed on, passed back towards the stage.  

My sister and I both gasped at our hands, staring at them, and holding them out in front of us, giggling with glee, feeling so ridiculously groupie, and realizing we were acting as dumb as the Beatles fans we used to make fun of on TV.  But the guys around us seemed to be having the same reaction too. They were thrilled to have participated.  Many of them were high-fiving each other with the hand that just seconds earlier had been connected to their new hero.  

I didn’t realize it until later, but at some point during the crowd-surfing ceremony, all of my thoughts of the guy upstairs were forgotten.  I no longer felt lonely.  I no longer felt sick.  I no longer worried about my missed classes or my dwindling bank account.  I no longer cared that my outfit was out of place.  There was no where in the world I would rather be than right there. Right then. On the main floor.  Participating.  Hearing this mind blowing shit kicking fucking awesome too good to be real music.  And reliving the feel of the delightfully sweaty ankle that I had just helped to push along.  

The ankle was now safely back where it belonged, up on stage with the smiling guitarist and the cool hat and the power power power that the whole band was thundering out, filling the small venue with ungodly energy and life.  

And as I listened to it . . . I let go too.  

I let go of the memories, of the loss, the despair, the darkness, the hopelessness, and let the flannel forest envelop me.  The group moved as one, and I was part of it, leaning on them, letting them lean on me, swaying with them, riding wave after wave of bliss and feeling every word and note and chord and drum pedal kick.  I let go and trusted them to support me and lift me . . . just like Eddie had done on the balcony. 

When it was over and we finally had to leave, we carried the energy and the high with us.  Totally happy.  Totally alive.  

Things turned around after that.  

The snow melted.  The sky was less dark.  I resumed classes and doubled up during spring semester in order to graduate on time.  I was so inspired by McCready that I ramped up my own electric guitar playing abilities and joined a band.  We actually played at First Avenue ourselves about six months later.  Granted it was just “new band night,” and granted, we were pretty shitty, but still.  I stood exactly where Mike had been standing.  Before long I fell in love with the singer/songwriter in my band and we are still living happily ever after, together after all these years. 

So . . . thank you Pearl Jam.  Really.  Thank you.  That night gave me the jolt I needed to pull myself out of a horrible place and find the strength to take control of my life and build a happy future for myself.  And my life has turned out pretty fucking good.  Thank you.  You made a huge difference.   

[madluv]

Hard Boiled / SS scene rewrite (Joker x Harley)

so this is a rewrite of the Joker’s club scene in SS, that I’ve changed to give a more classic feel and dynamic to the clown duo. requested after posting a headcanon, I figured this setting fitted them both better imo. Enjoy babies ! M rating / oneshot

🔷♦️🔷♦️🔷♦️🔷♦️🔷

A coyote was crushed beneath a giant anvil, dropped from a cliffside and down into the cavern. An insufferable talking rabbit was evading the gunshots of a stuttering hunter. A cute-eyed canary taunted a skinny, desperate, stalking cat… Animated and action packed, the brass band of the Looney Tunes theme song crackled out of old speakers, cracking and popping in its loudness. The tiny television’s signal kept dropping, from cartoon to white noise, cartoon to static, but the Joker wasn’t paying much attention to the constant flitting of picture quality. He was staring endlessly at the colours, the quirky animation, eyes glazed and mindless. He was leant back, legs spread, sinking deeper and deeper into the soft comforts of their scuffed leather sofa. Harley’s tunelessly high humming kept him teetering on the edge of awareness, just irritating him enough that he didn’t drop off into a totally dissociative state. Not quite lost to the childish violence of the cartoon crazy. The warehouse – what was their humble abode – amplified noise and echoed, a cacophony. The TV, Harley’s humming, her hurried use of pots and pans bang-clang-clanging in their crudely made kitchen filled the vacant space, a heightened sound of exaggerated homelife kept the Joker from disappearing into his endless thoughts completely.

Harley was happy like this, without the clown white, her blonde hair wrapped up in a scruffy bun. She loved to play mommys and daddys whenever they shared little moments of downtime together. She’d flip pancakes (he’d find flakes of plaster in his portion since she failed to catch them, always.) She would redecorate and customise the warehouse, fairy lights were wound around every steel beam, splatters of green or red paint would freckle her face. She’d hang his best newspaper clippings in colourful frames and littered with lipstick kisses. He really did love her in those small moments, when she’d smile proudly, a shadow of a woman she desperately wanted to be, how she wanted them to be, and somehow, sometimes they were. Harley worked hard at being the doting wife, the soft lover, the loyal sidekick and companion. It was an elaborate roleplay of another life that Joker couldn’t quite partake in, so he’d placate himself, sit his ass on the couch and stare at the screen like any other husband would do.

The Joker shifted, adjusting his pants and sighing at the shitty signal. “Harley!” He aimed his pistol lazily at the bent wire above the television box. It wasn’t that Harley’s games were boring per say, but there was a real reason why Daddy kept himself busy. Without the meticulous planning, the sleeplessness, the chaos – memories came creeping in the stillness and quiet. But tonight, downtime was necessary. Partly running the Gotham criminal underground meant for meetings behind closed doors (much to his disappointment) and quiet nights that didn’t always draw police attention or panicked crowds (then what really was the point?) Harley made the most of these particular moments, while the Joker played the role she saw fit of him, watched absently when she rolled his cigars or adjusted the television set.

“How’s that puddin’?” she planted a kiss on his cheek and the cartoons were back in all their violent vibrancy, though his gaze followed her as she waltzed back to their kitchen. Harley smiled widely from behind the countertop, catching his eye, looked mild and warm in her flowery apron and a white shirt of his own. Something squeezed viciously at his throat, suddenly unable to swallow and he snapped away from her waving with a wooden spoon in hand, sneered instead of smiling and rummaged for the remote amongst a mess of cushions.

“I hate this channel!” Shouting. A sudden nervous anger stirring in the pit of his stomach. It became too important to change up the channel, an antsy need to get up off the sofa and throw things around in his searching. “Harleeeeeeeey, where’d you put my Tom n’ Jerry tapes?!”

Before she could even answer over the din, the wide shutter doors threw open, bleeding street light into their hideout home. Frost stood, his standard suited unflappable self, accompanied by another figure, their invited guest for the evening, newcomer and self entitled gangster in Gotham City, Monster T. Who nodded, smiled smugly and naively felt welcomed into the warehouse by Joker’s upward glance alone. That tightness was still at his throat. Jaw solid, he watched this acquaintance and his sharply dressed right-hand approach. Monster T was certainly imposing, impressive in both size and swagger, but an idiot for ever accepting an invite to the Joker’s own Hahacienda without considering the cause. Joker smiled, all teeth and tight – stared at T’s outstretched hand and said nothing.

“No touching,” Frost explained curtly.

“Fair enough,” the man shrugged simply, and he sat when Joker gestured him to, only after taking a seat and settling himself first.

Monster T was mighty pleased with himself, he could tell from the slight simper, his relaxed demeanour, he believed himself privileged (important) to be personally escorted by the Joker’s own PA. Sat back, arms spread, he surveyed Joker’s warehouse with an eyebrow raised, a humoured expression across his scarred face. “Nice place ya’ got here,” he commented, glancing across at Harley less subtley than he most likely thought. Joker felt his molars grind, but offered a tiny fleeting smile at T’s feigned compliment nonetheless.

This wasn’t usual procedure for the Joker, to open house to every wannabe thug in Gotham City. The well educated folks, likes of Falcone and Maroni’s men, never attended any one-to-one time with the clown prince of crime. Considered his business a waste of time and money, knew the likely consequences of meeting with the Joker alone… but sometimes new naive blood, the likes of Monster T, arrived in the city with big dreams, to make a dollar or two in the drug trade, would set up shop on the Joker’s turf unknowingly, mistaking themselves for big shot gangsters, barely grown and stepping on toes all over Gotham. He’d need to be quick to learn it didn’t work like that, either the Joker’s empire got a generous cut, or Monster T got cut, his choice.

The politics of this bored Joker completely, but he understood it necessary from Frost’s strategic suggestions and Harley’s constant nagging for cash. A long time back, before the clowns, cards and needless carnage – before the Bat – he knew he’d relished in the backstabbing, double crossing, dangerous game. Some life of long ago. And there were parts of him that clung to the taste of it. That if he let go he’d lose it completely – and it would be lost to the dark, like so many other memories.

T coughed to clear his throat and Joker was rudely roused back to the land of the living. Smoke filled the room and a strong, bitter, burning odor assaulted his senses. Despite himself, he choked too. Harley was fanning a flame with a tea towel, was loudly apologetic and flustered, face flushed from the heat of the stove. Whatever she was cooking, was wrecked and oil bubbled. Harley let out little squeaks as she was splattered. “Oops!”

“Oh, wow,” T laughed, waving the smog from his face. “I don’t know how you do it Joker.”

“Do what?” He didn’t like that condescending tone.

“You gotta get ya’self a girl that can cook,” T continued matter of factly, chuckling. “Nothin’ better than comin’ home to a hot meal and a warm bed.”

Joker laughed too and he laughed loudly – a sharp and barking sound that came suddenly and unexpectedly, breaking the casual conversation and shattering the illusion of their like-mindedness. He rolled his eyes. Typical Harley, right? What a useless, stupid woman, couldn’t even cook a couple of eggs right, and all in front of their welcome visitor! He glared, grinning at T, “you’re tellin’ me!” Joker cracked, slapping his thigh. The chaos in the kitchen went silent. “Hey, why don’t you join us for dinner?” Joker leaned in, elbows on knees. “What d’ya say?” He didn’t wait nor care for a response. “Harley, sweetness, light of my life, get out the good china – we got ourselves a guest!”

“Oh goodie!” Harley squealed, followed by some more bang-clang-clanging of pots, the fire finally extinguished. Room for more failing of Harley’s home economics.

“Look, Joker, man, I didn’t mean –”

He raised his hand, kept his smile. “Ah-ah-ah. Dinner first, business second.”

It was true, Harley had her faults. Hell, she had more faults than the next one – and if he were to write a list, it’d be as long as his arm. She couldn’t cook for shit, sure. She didn’t make much sense, she had a tendency to blow off the handle at every little thing. She was difficult. She was a disaster. But Harley was his woman, riddled with mistakes and imperfections that made her all the more perfect for him. Who was this jumped up prick to be telling him the kinda woman he needed? Who was he to speak up at all? He was just some cunt from Chicago, selling coke on his streets, with the cheek – the ignorance, the sheer fucking audacity – to open his snake mouth and spit shit on his Harley Quinn.

T was no longer slouching, back straight and solid, and no longer as smug or as proud as his entrance. He shifted his dark eyes from Harley (who was sing-songing so happily) to Joker, whose head was tilted, watching in silence. “Serious – no need, I already ate,” T tried, squirming and swallowing, his adam’s apple bobbing.

“Don’t be so silly,” Joker waggled one signet ring finger. “A man’s never full, is he?” He narrowed his gaze, grinning. “Don’t insult me now.”

T gushed, guffawed, “I ain’t ever –”

“Hope yer hungry boys!” Harley crooned, in that dulcet high and trying tone of hers. “Mama’s made her best yet!” She pulled, with an excruciatingly painful scraping on concrete, the coffee table up to their feet, set down three bowls, three sets of rusty spoons. “You too, Frosty? This’ll warm ya' right up!” She giggled at her own terrible pun and Joker felt his eyes rolling upwards.

“Hurry it along Harls–” Joker was persistent. “We’re starving.”

“Yessirree!” She saluted, her hand inside a massive oven mitt. “Comin’ right up!” and tottered back to the oven where her burnt broth was bubbling.

Monster T was sweating, his t-shirt was soaked at the neck and it wasn’t the heat from the kitchen that had him shifting uncomfortably. He blinked at the bowls, and the table before him. Fingers were twitching, he looked to the shutters. “Have I done somethin’ to–”

“Let’s eat!” Joker had grabbed for his spoon, sat anticipating a feast with his feet tapping the floor.

Harley returned, stumbling with the sheer weight of the cooking pot, a mitten and a thick towel wrapped up to her elbows. She was smiling proudly, though the pot smelt rancid. Even the infallible Frost flinched as the scent reached him. Joker gave an exaggerated “can’t wait,” meeting with Monster T across the table. He was clearly panicked by the pot and it’s bubbling. The stench of hot oil. The simple man seemed like he was finally getting the message.

“Look, Joker, I don’t want no beef…”

“No beef?” Joker repeated, scoffing. “No beef?” And Harley hung at Joker’s side, joining in on the forced laughter. “You hear that sweet cheeks, he doesn’t want any beef!”

“Just as well then puddin’ that I made minestrone!” Harley cackled. And with all of her might, thrust the pot over, pouring all of it’s scalding contents onto T’s head. He reacted too late, taking a face full of the molten liquid. Clothes stuck to his flesh and tore in one fluid, flailing movement. He screamed only once before the screeches turned to gurgles. Skin sloughed from the bone, soft tender threads of blood and tissue, sinew that fizzed and bubbled and bloated. He was blinded, bawling and mouth gaping silently for mercy. And then he was gone, twitching as he tumbled onto the table. Nerve endings buzzing as he bled out and boiled over.

“How’s that tastin’ huh?” Harley asked, clearly just as (if not more so) offended by Monster T’s comments.

Joker was still laughing, snarling, prodding at the trembling mess as a crackling scent of pork hit the back of his throat. He howled with sadist delight and disgust. “Just like mother used to make!” And pulled Harley in for a smack on the cheek. That’s my girl. Who says she’s a bad cook? Joker clicked his fingers. “Frost, clear this shit off my table. Harley’s gonna make us some eggs.”

“Sunny side up, baby?”

“Sunny side up poo.”

🔷♦️🔷♦️🔷♦️🔷♦️🔷

If you liked it, feel free to hit up my inbox and suggest another scene from SS you’d like rewritten ! ( jarley content only ) much love, madluv 😘

[midnatt-heronweather]

2020 review

Disclaimer: You won’t hear much about the virus in this. I’m not a denier, I know the damage and destruction covid19 has caused and the death toll, therefore I am not yet cold enough not to realise this is going to sound completely selfish, but that is my decision.  My reviews focus on MY year. Just so you’re aware. “I accept chaos, I’m not sure whether it accepts me.” Bob Dylan.

2020... What can I say?

This was the year I decided to officially identify as Non-Binary, not that anyone actually cares or believes me or things i'm "(insert stereotype at will)" enough. except for those very VERY rare people who do and who actually listen and hear me when I speak

Anyway -It has been a trashcan fire of a year since February/March February when I saw the Hu and Counterfeit alongside Ally. And I say February/March because that was the weekend I say my year ended...the good part anyway. Because it was that weekend when I got the ultimate honour, privilege and miracle of meeting Jason Carter, After that it was like a Dementor had French kissed the year and I can’t be the only one who thought it? Conventions and gigs postponed, rescheduled and ultimately cancelled, masks, social distancing, lockdowns the works. And can I just say - I didn’t clap, and I don’t feel in the slightest bit ashamed for it. Despite or maybe because I have friends and a few family who work in the NHS I couldn't bear to be a part of the hypocritical BS idea. I live in a country that will clap for their 'beloved' life saving NHS but then stand silent when Pay rises are frozen and when the NHS is in danger, we as a country expect a lot but don't lift a finger to gave back, clapping doesn’t pay bills. But...Bright points in the year let’s try staying positive and leaving the crap outside shall we...well... The main one has got to be that the US finally found their sense and President Elect Joe Biden will b sworn in January 20, 2021. After that... I’ll have to get back to you. Oh...no..no that’s not one... seriously I’ll have a think and get back to you. Conventions: Just one this year, for me, because of the obvious... But what a convention FCD Events presents 2258 a Babylon 5 Conventions: Where, as well as finally being among actual self confessed fans and being able to tick a b5 convention off my bucket list after starting cons way too late to attend the OG cons I did the impossible... I MET JASON CARTER... have I mentioned this? Have I? Should I say t again? I MET JASON CARTER!!! Also Mira Furlan, Tracy Scoggins and Patricia Tallman, but I met him! Finally! And... Just a reminder I did warn you guys, several times that it was likely hell would freeze over if I ever got that particular honour, do not say I didn’t. I’d never done an FCD before, I’d meant to, even bought a ticket but it just never seemed to happen, but the second someone said b5 con, I was so there! Karan Robinson made my year by making me the Anla’Shok uniform. And Nadine added the cherry on top by making the belt buckle that ONLY Marcus and Entil’Zha Sinclair wear: D (for the record: Velcro still hates me) David one of the organisers of FCD kept randomly shouting “We live for the one.” And when people other than m actually knew the response and responded... dude kick in the feels I kid you not. Next Year (Angel Willing) Adam and I are attending the Teen Wolf conventions entitled “Howl at the Moon 4” in Paris, France... which is cool on so many levels not least of which being I get to meet JR Bourne and Daniel Sharman again and get to visit the church of St Julian of the poor. And yes, there are cons planned here in the UK. But... well. It’s already looking Grey, and not the good kind. Music and Gigs: Two gigs one after the other at the 02 Ritz in Manchester. The First:

The Hu a Mongolian band who Ally really likes and I think are pretty cool. They are amazing live there’s no doubt, can hold their own in England even in a room of idiots. The 2nd :

Counterfeit (also with Ally) I went VIP and got to meet the boys again, and listen to a Q&A with them. I will forever love them, not just because of Jamie’s acting side despite what people say. Didn’t realise how special until recently though because;  after keeping fans going and hyping up new singles during lockdowns, they recently decided to go their separate ways. Jamie’s gone solo and he’s put three songs out on YouTube. _ I was meant to be attending a one off gig by Ruelle and Fleurie both of who had music used on Shadowhunters, even talked my friend Lou into it, but it was a victim of the lockdowns and things and I’m not the optimistic type so I doubt it’ll ever happen now, will be lucky if even one of the ladies comes over here if I’m honest. Recently I’ve rediscovered a love for Black Veil Brides and their leader Andy Black’s solo stuff. Olivia Hyde of Bad Pollyanna recently killed everyone in her black unicorn’s fanbase with an amazing solo album, me included. Ally has introduced me to a few interesting bands this year, *Wingtips – very 80s Goth, very Ally (translation: very cool.) *Allegiance Reign – a Japanese Samurai metal band,  not sure what Ally actually thinks of these guys, she found them while perusing YouTube and thought of me :D Suggestions greatly accepted, I am always up for giving new stuff a try. Hopefully next year things will even out and gigs will be able to be put on again. TV and Fandom’s: *We FINALLY got Roswell: New Mexico in the UK, and ITV blitzed through 2 seasons in less than a month, but it was enough for me to decide I loved it, maybe more than I did the original. Alex is my fave, but obv Michael isn’t half bad, nor is Max when he’s not making goo-goo eyes at Liz. * Finally got to see 9-1-1 Lone Star and I absolutely love it, (I kinda knew I would from all the talk) * Decided to give the Charmed reboot a 2nd look and it’s proved addictive, now waiting for s2 to be downloadable on Amazon or something. *In march I was so, so excited for the return of The Expanse and the fact the main cast were coming to a con in the UK, then.. The verse went to hell. I still Love the Expanse, but I’m not as die hard as I was, not for lack of trying. Still love it for Anna of course, any excuse to see her. *After 15 years Supernatural finally ended in 2020 with season15: I stopped watching religiously at the end of season 6 but that does not mean I stopped liking the show just that I didn’t like the direction (like with The Expanse recently) I loved watching the reaction of the fans, and how much they (we if I’m counted) mean to the cast. * I have to mention Cursed... If only to say HOLY HELL DANIEL! 𝑴𝒚 𝑭𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝑻𝑽 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒐𝒇 2020 Cursed 9-1-1 Lone Star & 9-1-1 Warrior Nun Prodigal Son Penny Dreadful: City of Angels Doctor who (Officially season12) Roswell s1&2 (it counts cos ITV only just got the reboots) Charmed s1&2(it counts cos E4 only just got the reboots) Call the Midwife (s9 btw) Our Girl Strike Back: Vendetta Friends: “Friendship ... is born at the moment when one man says to another "What! You too? I thought that no one but myself . . .” ― C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

My understanding of "friendship." is skewed, and I’m not saying that to be "Vulcan." it’s honest, and anyone who wants to know how or why just has to ask. But let’s leave it at that for this. It makes some things more stark... and I've said this recently, but this binfire has made even me more aware of who’s out there in my verse, whose pack, who’s potential, and who’s just pathetic. The last I’m not going to waste my breath on. The first two: Pack and Potential (read: new acquaintances /potential friends) Pack: Yes I go on about friends as 'Pack like a person whose OD'd on Teen Wolf... because I am so :P My pack as a whole are varied, and spread out across this country with a few dotted around Europe and Aus. hopefully they know who they are because I don't do mushy crap as they know. But if they do know, they know I'm there when I'm needed and more than willing to sod off when not. Yorkshire brass makes me frank and I’d hope fair. There are 2...mayb 3 who sit above the rest, in special place for the things they've done and things they've been through with me. I make no denial of that. But everyone is important to me. I wouldn't change them for anything.... Ok... tell a lie, maybe 1 or 2 when they do my box in, but that’s only like for a week maybe less. I've spent too many years and got too many scars and burned too many photos and bridges because of fake people and users to not be honest to a fault. It’s who I am. Potential: the Counterfeit gig in Manchester, 2258 and yes even Tiktok have given me the opportunity to make some interesting acquaintances this year, and some I hope will become friends in the real in the future, but for now I will say - "I am defensive, stand off ish, sometimes bull headed and of course opinionated, but I am by no means blind. Or blinkered despite what may be said of me. I am there when needed, if I can be of use, just poke me."   Ave Atqua Vale This section has its own post these days. Sadly. Pictures Will try and make one of my “a year in ten pics.” Posts later. Final words While I am not fond of this time of year, Enjoy your celebrations whatever for they may take, I will be watching The Magicians / Call the Midwife and plotting 202? Cosplays. I will be here when (fk knows why) I'm needed. Otherwise-  Compliments of the season, now go get a beer, i'm sure you need it after reading this crap.

in the words of The one and only Jason Carter  “Hindsight is 2020″

[seigyokus]

3.1 - A New Project!

Idolish Seven - Part 3, Chapter 3.1 For more Part 3 translations, click here!

Translation below the cut!

Tsukumo Ryou: You are my friend. I don't mind sparing Re:vale, and only Re:vale. But only if you'll strike a deal with me. Momo: ....... Tsukumo Ryou: Yuki can't live in such a tiny, confined world. But in my hands, I'll liquidate every last drop of him into money. Tsukumo Ryou: It's just as you said, Momo. He's a real hottie! You can use every bit of him, down to the bone-- just like high-quality livestock. You can make bags, shoes, soup, and even manure out of him. Tsukumo Ryou: So, what will you do? Momo: ....... Momo: ...You mentioned a deal? Tsukumo Ryou: That big-name will reveal the naked truth of Chiba Salon's existence. Tsukumo Ryou: That in itself is enough, but I want it to be a little more festive. Tsukumo Ryou: I want you to give me the raw voice recording of this confession from Chiba Shizuo's bastard child-- Nikaidou Yamato.

Nanase Riku: We're finally going to announce our first anniversary single during today's concert! Yotsuba Tamaki: I really love this song! I can't wait for everyone to hear it! Rokuya Nagi: Yes! It's a splendid song.... A splendid song that stays with you, in your heart. Izumi Mitsuki: We're finally gonna sing it in front of the fans! ......Oh? Where's Yamato-san?

Nikaidou Yamato: ......Like an artisan, like an artist. Entertainment, literature. Exaggeration, realism. Father, this is all your fault. Nikaidou Yamato: ......Find where you and your role intersect. Bring out the emotions common to both. And to find these emotions, search for similar relationships. Nikaidou Yamato: Never thought the stuff he told me in that house would come in handy........ Father, this is all your fault. Nikaidou Yamato: A perfectionist who was raised under his father's strict discipline, but had wasted away because of it. As for the reason why he killed his lovers and preserved them.... Was it for dominance? Was it out of rebellion? ......No-- it was because he was scared. Nikaidou Yamato: He was scared of parting ways with them. There was no way they'd love him even after finding out what he was really like. He was only able to show his true self and all of his weaknesses before corpses. Nikaidou Yamato: That's right....... There was nobody who'd continue to love him after finding out how ugly and grotesque he was inside. I'm sure they'd hate me too, those guys. Nikaidou Yamato: ....... Nikaidou Yamato: He wants to be loved-- that’s why he's absolutely terrified of losing that love. ......Father, this is all your fault. Nikaidou Yamato: ....... It's all your fault. *click* Rokuya Nagi: Yamato! Hurry up! We're starting soon. Nikaidou Yamato: ...Got it. I'm coming.

Nanase Riku: Good evening! We'll be singing a new song for you all today! Audience: Kyaaaaa..... Nanase Riku: It's a special song, filled with a year's worth of our feelings-- "Sakura Message!" Audience: Kyaaaaa..... Izumi Iori: ......See? Everybody is smiling happily as they listen to Nanase-san sing. Izumi Iori: Nothing about this is sad. You were wrong, old man.

Ogami Banri: "Sakura Message" is selling great so far. Takanashi Tsumugi: It really is! All of the music stores have been putting out lots of CDs for sale. The lyricist contacted me just earlier too. Takanashi Tsumugi: She asked me how things were going post-release, and I told her that the single has been getting great reviews! (1) Ogami Banri: Their solo activities have been going well too, and MEZZO" has stabilized. It'd be nice if they all went on tour after releasing a couple more new songs. Takanashi Tsumugi: Zero Arena's renewal....... Things have been going wonderfully since then, and it's all thanks to that! Ogami Banri: Zero lost a lot of face due to the vandalism uproar, but now that's just another conversation topic. Now, let's keep on advancing forward!

Nanase Riku: "A Lovely Night with IDOLiSH7!" is getting a new project? Show Producer: Yep! Thus far, we've only had you guys help normal people out with challenges, but.... Show Producer: This time we wanna put IDOLiSH7 in the spotlight and have you guys challenge things instead. We've been getting lots of requests to see more of IDOLiSH7, after all. Show Producer: We're thinking about making it a documentary-style, weekly corner where viewers can catch up with you guys and watch your progress. Izumi Mitsuki: So we'll be doing the challenges this time, huh! Since it's gonna be a long-term project, I think we should pick something that can't be done super easily. Osaka Sougo: Re:vale did something similar as well, where they tried their hand at rōkyoku​. It was really interesting watching Yuki-san take on the shamisen. There were lots of tears and lots of laughter. (2) Rokuya Nagi: Hm...... If we want to make the viewers' hearts pound and have them on the edges of their seats, then we ought to venture into uncharted territory and try something we're all weak at. Osaka Sougo: What's something we're all bad at? Yotsuba Tamaki: I'm bad at studying. I hate it too. Izumi Iori: I'm good at it and happen to like it. Nanase Riku: I'm not good at being assertive towards girls.... Rokuya Nagi: I'm very good at that. Osaka Sougo: I don't think I'm very good at getting funny reactions out of people on variety shows. Izumi Mitsuki: I'm pretty used to doing that kind of stuff. You're funny too though, Sougo. Yotsuba Tamaki: ....... Now that I think about it, we kinda fill in the gaps for each other. Nanase Riku: You're right! That's amazing! Yay! Yotsuba Tamaki・Nanase Riku: Yay! Show Producer: Ahaha! See, that's one of the things that's really good about you guys, IDOLiSH7! It's really fun watching you all-- it just cheers me up! Show Producer: Everybody gets along so well, and you're all so lively! That's definitely your selling point, without a doubt. Izumi Mitsuki: We get along well, huh.... Yeah, I guess so. Nikaidou Yamato: ....... Show Producer: You've been awfully quiet today, Yamato-kun. Well, quiet isn't quite right. Kind of intense, I guess? Are you angry......? Nikaidou Yamato: Ah-- Not at all.... Yotsuba Tamaki: It's because you've been reading books on cannibals. That's why you look even scarier than usual. Hurry up and go read a book on nice ramen shop workers already. Nikaidou Yamato: There you go again. You just wanna eat ramen, don't you? Show Producer: Ahaha. Any opinions from you, as the leader? Nikaidou Yamato: How about something that'll make us fight a bit? Everyone likes that sorta stuff, right? Izumi Mitsuki: Hold up, Yamato-san. Couldn't you have phrased that a little better.... Rokuya Nagi: The more trouble we encounter, the more seriously we’ll tackle those problems. A plan like that will allow our friendship to shine through. That's what Yamato's idea was, in other words. Show Producer: I see. So we gotta get the viewers a little nervous in order to pull them in and grab their attention, huh. The harder everybody works, the better. Yotsuba Tamaki: How about instruments? Osaka Sougo: Instruments? Yotsuba Tamaki: Yeah. We usually just sing, but how about instruments? Izumi Mitsuki: Sounds hard, but that could be really interesting! We could do classical music, but also brass band or marching band! Nanase Riku: Making music together with something other than our voices sounds fun! I've always wanted to try playing an instrument! Izumi Iori: We'll be able to show our teamwork, which is a good thing. We could also use it during live performances for IDOLiSH7. Osaka Sougo: I want to try playing with everyone. I've had some experience with an instrument before, so I'll put that knowledge to use. Show Producer: There's tons of people learning how to play instruments right now, so let's go with this idea! We'll be giving it our all, and I look forward to working with you guys! Nanase Riku: Of course! We look forward to working with you too!

Nanase Riku: Performing with everyone sounds really fun! I wonder what kind of project it'll be? Nanase Riku: Well, I have time to kill, so I'll go shopping. Ah, the cakes at that shop look really good! Maybe I'll buy one for Manager! Inumaru Touma: ....... Nanase Riku: ......!? That person's crouching down....... Maybe he feels sick? Nanase Riku: Um, are you okay? Inumaru Touma: ....... Nanase Riku: He.... He was crying......? Nanase Riku: Huh...? Wait….... I feel like I've seen this person somewhere before.... 

To be continued....

TL Notes/comments:

I THOUGHT NEXT UPDATE WAS GONNA BE 27TH ISH BUT I THOUGHT WRONG AND NOW I AM A LOT BEHIND SCHEDULE, if they release next installment on the 17th, I’ll do my best to tl everything out so far before then!!! 

THANK YOU KURI FOR CATCHING MY STUPID TYPOS x999, and also for helping me work out a phrase (either in this part or the next one, idr)

(1) used 'she' as pronoun here because all 3 lyricists who have worked with i7/trg/re:v are all female! Or at least that’s my reasoning, idk if the in-story composers are different tho \o/ 

(2) Rōkyoku​ is Japanese narrative singing accompanied by a shamisen. Read more about it here! 

As usual, if you see any mistakes/mistranslations/etc, please message me!

Thank you for reading!!

[youreacowboylikeme13]

no one asks me and i love doing these dang things so i’ll just ask myself to do it haha

1. Would you have sex with the last person you text messaged? - hell freaking yeah 2. You talked to an ex today, correct? - fuck to the no 3. Have you taken someones virginity? - 2 lucky boys  4. Is trust a big issue for you?- not really, I really trust the people I know well though 5. Did you hang out with the person you like recently? - why yes i did 6. What are you excited for? - life  7. What happened tonight? - i ate popcorn in bed and watched tv and now i should be asleep 8. Do you think it’s disgusting when girls get really wasted? - i could care less unless they are being rude to people and running in the middle of streets  9. Is confidence cute? - humility goes farther  10. What is the last beverage you had? - water  11. How many people of the opposite sex do you fully trust? - 3  12. Do you own a pair of skinny jeans? - yep 13. What are you gonna do Saturday night? - next week lol, Jon and I are going to a kegger for him and his twins late birthday party 14. What are you going to spend money on next? - knowing me food  15. Are you going out with the last person you kissed? - yes for almost 3 years 16. Do you think you’ll change in the next 3 months? - not much  17. Who do you feel most comfortable talking to about anything? - food  18. The last time you felt broken? - maybe freshman year of college  19. Have you had sex today? - no 20. Are you starting to realize anything? - hahah funny question but i can’t answer that on here  21. Are you in a good mood? - cranky as always so semi  22. Would you ever want to swim with sharks? - no 23. Are your eyes the same color as your dad’s? - no 24. What do you want right this second? - fries  25. What would you say if the person you love/like kissed another girl/boy? - see ya bitch  26. Is your current hair color your natural hair color? - virgin hair baby  27. Would you be able to date someone who doesn’t make you laugh? - no 28. What was the last thing that made you laugh? - Jon 29. Do you really, truly miss someone right now? - My grandparents 30. Does everyone deserve a second chance? - sometimes  31. Honestly, do you hate the last boy you were talking to? - the last boy? oh lord before Jon I don’t even remember who i was talking to  32. Does the person you have feelings for right now, know you do? - oh he knows  33. Are you one of those people who never drinks soda? - once of month kind of person  34. Listening to? Futrurama  35. Do you ever write in pencil anymore? - seldomly  36. Do you know where the last person you kissed is?in bed snoring away 37. Do you believe in love at first sight? - idk 38. Who did you last call? - jon 39. Who was the last person you danced with? - jon 40. Why did you kiss the last person you kissed? - cause i luv him 41. When was the last time you ate a cupcake? - can’t remember  42. Did you hug/kiss one of your parents today? - i did 43. Ever embarrass yourself in front of a crush? - who hasn’t  44. Do you tan in the nude? - no 45. If you could, would you take back your last kiss? - no 46. Did you talk to someone until you fell asleep last night? - kinda  47. Who was the last person to call you? - jon 48. Do you sing in the shower? - duh 49. Do you dance in the car? - same  50. Ever used a bow and arrow? - yes  51. Last time you got a portrait taken by a photographer?- jon tried to take a pic of me with my new lens the other day  52. Do you think musicals are cheesy? - never  53. Is Christmas stressful? - no 54. Ever eat a pierogi? - a what 55. Favorite type of fruit pie? - apple 56. Occupations you wanted to be when you were a kid? - teacher  57. Do you believe in ghosts? - hell no 58. Ever have a Deja-vu feeling? - yesssssss 59. Take a vitamin daily? - i try to 60. Wear slippers? - yes  61. Wear a bath robe? - sometimes  62. What do you wear to bed? - pj bottoms, with a sweater  63. First concert? - some symphony my parents dragged me to 64. Wal-Mart, Target or Kmart? - TARGEETTTTTT 65. Nike or Adidas?- nike 66. Cheetos Or Fritos? - cheetos  67. Peanuts or Sunflower seeds? - peanuts  68. Favorite Taylor Swift song? - i can’t remeber  69. Ever take dance lessons? - yes  70. Is there a profession you picture your future spouse doing? - he’s doing it  71. Can you curl your tongue? - no 72. Ever won a spelling bee? know hehe  73. Have you ever cried because you were so happy? - no 74. What is your favorite book? - harry potter  75. Do you study better with or without music? - depends  76. Regularly burn incense? - no 77. Ever been in love? - yes  78. Who would you like to see in concert? - jason mraz  79. What was the last concert you saw? - NO BS Brass  80. Hot tea or cold tea? - both 81. Tea or coffee? - tea 82. Favorite type of cookie? peanut butter  83. Can you swim well? - not extremely  84. Can you hold your breath without holding your nose? yes  85. Are you patient? - no 86. DJ or band, at a wedding? - dj 87. Ever won a contest? - no 88. Ever have plastic surgery? - no 89. Which are better black or green olives? gross neiter  90. Opinions on sex before marriage? - your body your business 91. Best room for a fireplace? - family  92. Do you want to get married? - OF COURSEEEE