#this is really sloppy but I wanted to just get this outta my drafts so here ya go

[hargrove-mayfields]

Back when things were still easy, Billy and Max used to have sibling days on the weekends when Neil wouldn’t be home, setting aside their issues to have just one day that was meant for doing something fun together.

The tradition had been dropped after the move to Hawkins, and Max thinks that’s where a lot of the strain on their relationship comes from. Without those designated times to let go of some of the tension building between them, they fall to pieces.

There’s one day in particular where it’s just Max at home all by herself, her mother and Neil having gone on a trip to the city she opted out of, when Billy shows up much earlier than he said he would be back, ruining the calm when he slammed the front door so hard a picture frame fell off the wall.

Neither of them say a word to the other, all she gets is an apologetic and glossy looking glance for the noise as he storms past her like she isn’t even there.

She doesn’t see Billy again for a long time after that, just hears the angry music blaring in his room. By now, she’s wisened up enough to know that meant he was probably crying in there, and though she doesn’t know what happened, she feels bad.

It’d been far too long since they acted anything like real siblings, not that they were actually related, but they used to be just as close, so after her brother’s been brooding for literal hours, she knows she wants to do something.

Her opportunity to bring it up comes when Billy makes his grand appearance at her door, stopping by to ask if she ate dinner just so he, quote ‘wouldn’t get any shit for it.’ She nods in agreement and asks, “Do you know what day it is, Billy?”

He shrugs, “28th of June.”

“Well, doy, but it’s also Friday.” Billy raises an eyebrow, missing the point, and Max rolls her eyes. “Friday. You know, like, the one day we get to hang out.”

Too cool for that stuff anymore apparently, he scoffs and leans against the doorframe, and she just knows he’s going to say something snarky, so she turns the puppy dog eyes up a notch, “Please? It’ll be fun.”

It works, Billy sighs way over dramatic and steps into her room, throwing himself down onto her beanbag chair. She can’t contain the smile on her face when he asks with fake defeat, “What did you want, shitbird?”

“I want a makeover day. Like we used to do.”

“Not gonna happen.”

“Why?” She crosses her arms, “Just because that’s what I want to do?”

He fixes her with a look that says ‘seriously?’, and explains, an edge of frustration to his voice, “No, because you know what’ll happen if I’m struttin’ around in nail polish and shit when Neil gets back.”

“They’re not supposed to come back until like, Monday though,” in response to her excuses, he mimics her in crossing his arms over his chest, so she tries harder to reason with him, “And we can always just take it off when we’re done.”

“That’s just a waste of your stuff, then.”

“Come on, Billy, please?” she’s out of actual arguments and he’s winning, so she brings out the big guns, the little sister privilege, the one surefire way she knows will always knock her brother off guard, “I miss you.”

He squints at her, seeing through the attempted guilt trip, but he can’t muster a frown, and he must know it wasn’t all fake, because he says, “Whatever.”

She knows that’s his version of a yes and he’s just too proud to admit he caved, so she squeals and claps her hands together, taking off like a shot to dig under her bed for the stowed away beauty kit. It’s a little wicker basket filled to the brim with nail polish and makeup, the same one they’d used years ago before everything went wrong, and it makes her happy, bringing the old thing back out.

She stops to put a record in her player, choosing Queen as the closest thing to a middle ground between their respective music tastes, they at least both weren’t supposed to listen to it, and drops down into the other chair beside Billy.

On the latch-hook rug in front of them, she starts to empty the basket, lining up all her brightly colored bottles of nail polish, slightly dried out after months of not using them. “What color?”

“Why do I have to go first?” Billy asks. All Max has to say in response is a know-it-all “Because I said so.”

“Fine. You pick.” The moment he says it he looks like he regrets it, Max is notoriously bad at making decisions, but she ignores him and starts holding up bottles anyways.

First, after few minutes deliberation, she chooses a pretty dark green, and he scrunches his nose and doesn’t say anything. She picks a purplish color, which he tosses away on the bed, a very firm ‘no’ that makes Max giggle. Then she gives him a bright orange bottle, and he holds in front of his face, studying it before turning that one down too.

“God, if I knew you’d be so annoying I would’ve just painted them all the colors.” She remarks, lining up her polishes so she could do just that.

“That’s actually probably not a very good idea, kiddo.” Looking a little panicked, he digs through the bottles himself, settling on one he pulls away and stares at for a second before handing it to her and telling her, “Just do ‘em red.”

It confuses her, but she agrees regardless, and makes him turn in his seat so he’s facing her and his hands are flat on the floor. His hands are a little shaky, so her paint job isn’t the best, she even drips some on the carpet, which she hopes her mother won’t notice, but Billy doesn’t say anything about the mess.

With his nails done she moves onto his hair, she wants to do double braids like how he taught her to do in her own hair, so she shoves his arm to get him to turn around. “Scoot.”

He lets her push him around until he’s in the right place that she can reach his hair, but once he’s facing the far wall he tells her, “Don’t you dare use that brush on my hair, Maxine.”

“Jeez, relax. I’m not gonna mess up your princess curls.” She mocked, but she still went for the comb to run through his hair instead.

She waited until she could get it through without catching on any tangles before bothering trying to talk to him. When Billy was upset, he tended to clam up, but she didn’t particularly like feeling awkward in the silence, leaving all the talking to the record player. “Can we talk about why you were mad earlier?”

“Nope.”

“Would you tell me if I told you about my day?” She tries, but he shuts it down again with an “Unlikely.”

“I’ll tell you anyways.” Max didn’t know what had happened with Billy, but she knew she hadn’t had the greatest morning herself either. “I had to ask Lucas to bring me home early because me and Mike got in a fight.”

Billy snorted, and spoke with just as much sarcasm as Max had used on him. She learned that from him anyways. “You and Mike? No.”

“Yeah. He was being a total ass about El, trying to like, own her or something, so I told him to lay off ‘cause that’s totally not fair.”

She knew that Billy, having graduated and turned 18 now, was probably getting a little old for this type of drama, but he was a good listener, no matter how much he pretended not to care, always giving little bits of insight and saying things to make her laugh.

She continues, “Well, anyways he like, totally bit my head off for sticking up for her, so then I told him he was just a miserable mouth breather who’s jealous of El being happy, and he tried to kick me out.”

Billy laughed at that, muttering a little ‘ow’ when the action made Max pull his hair, “But you left before he could kick you out right?”

“Duh.” She sighs a little, the fun part of the story over. “Then when we pulled up outside, Lucas said something stupid about it being my fault or whatever, so I dumped him again.”

“Good. I told you not to take any shit from them anymore.” Billy had been less than happy with her friends a lot recently, when she’d come home from school or from hanging out upset over something they said. They never meant to hurt her feelings, but Billy didn’t like it all the same, and made her promise she’d stand up for herself a little more. Like she did to him.

“Yeah, I guess.” It makes her feel light on the inside, to know Billy was proud of her for following his advice, in his own way at least. “So? What happened to you?”

He shrugs again, and blows her off, “It’s nothing.”

“You were crying.”

“Yeah, and it’s none of your business.”

“Maybe not,” she fumbles with the braid and loses it, Billy’s stupid uneven mullet making it way too hard to braid so many different lengths of hair, “But I’m like, an expert now. El says she likes my advice.”

Under his breath, Billy mutters, “‘Course she does.”

Max purses her lips and pretends she didn’t hear that before continuing her offer, “Anyways, I can always try to help.”

“Listen, it’s just stupid dating stuff. Nothin’ you need to be worrying about.”

“But I’m a girl. I can give advice about that.” She thinks about it for a second, “I mean, I know more about being a girlfriend than having one, but it’s probably about the same.”

“Maybe.” Billy mumbles, focusing all his attention on picking at the nail polish that had missed the edges of his nails, and just from the way he tensed up she can tell she’d overstepped Billy’s boundaries in some way or another.

She finishes of the braid she had already started over twice now and puts a blue scrunchie on the end of it, giving him a minute.

When she starts combing out the rest of his hair is when Billy speaks again, not a drop of his distinctly Billy attitude in his words as he admitted softly, “You know, shitbird, I never said anything ‘bout having a girlfriend.”

That’s confusing to her at first, because he had just told her it was a dating thing, but Max’d been hearing all the nasty things Neil said about Billy for years now, and while she might just be a kid, might be the clueless and annoying little sister, she still knew the weight of what he’d just admitted to her.

It had always made her sad, to know Neil didn’t really like Billy, all the mean words he used, ones she wouldn’t dare repeat, to describe Billy and his friends, all the lies he told about him behind his back. But she doesn’t buy it, what her asshole step-dad had to say.

Her brother was cool, and she liked hanging out with him, when he wasn’t being such a jerk. The fact that he had a boyfriend instead of a girlfriend didn’t change that in the least bit.

She hums, trying to gather words and, her voice strained against the outburst of happiness, says “See? I can totally help with boy stuff.”

#billy hargrove #max mayfield #billy and max #harringrove #it’s implied harringrove at least because Steve is the boyfriend in question #story by ej! #ej writer #this is really sloppy but I wanted to just get this outta my drafts so here ya go #it was also initially from a much larger story #I just decided this was the only part I like #if you take note of the date tho I think y’all can probably tell where I was going with this #just wanted to write Billy coming out to Max because we as a fandom kinda decided that she already knew bc of that one vague convo #but like that stuff is really hard to pick up on when you’re the clueless little sister #(trust me lol) #I think it’s more something like maybe she snitched on him for doing smthn neil knew was Bc he was gay but she didn’t #and she never put the pieces together until he told her #featuring (subtle) autistic Max bc when doesn’t my writing #and colorblind Billy if you squint with the nail polish

[papa-rhys]

Benevolence - Preview

Here’s Chapter One of my novel for your viewing pleasure. 

It’s only my first draft so it’s subject to change! Enjoy!

The papers have spelled my name wrong again – damn mess that they are. 

It ain’t like “Olivia Sullivan” is difficult and if they was strugglin’ so damn much, they coulda just used “Black Olli” like everyone else. They say I got some Indian in me, that it’s what makes me so “savage” in nature, but I don’t know if that’s true or not and I don’t reckon the press knows a damn thing they’re talking about when it comes to Indians. To be honest, I don’t know how much of anything them papers say about me is true, these days.  

Probably most of it. 

When you live the kinda life I live, you get in the habit of forgettin’ all the awful things you do. All the dead faces you leave behind ya tend to blur into one, and after a decade or so, the papers can say anything they damn well please about you ‘cause you can’t remember enough of what you’ve done to confirm nor deny it.  

Readin’ through the paper feels like I’m reading a Penny Dreadful, only I’s the subject of it. I ain’t got the foggiest idea whether or not I killed that man like they’s sayin’, just like I ain’t got the foggiest whether or not I got Indian blood tricklin’ through my veins. But I guess there could have been a point between the seventh and eighth shot of whiskey a few nights back where I did indeed bounce that man’s head off the edge of the bar and kill him. I suppose it does align with my reputation. 

I close the paper and fold it in half, slapping it onto the wooden bench beside me and getting to my feet. It’s a painfully hot day in El Santo, New Mexico - hotter than usual, even. The black shirt and jeans I’m wearin’ ain’t helpin’ matters, but us Sullivan’s always did value style over comfort. Stupid, really. Good fashion sense never did much to help ‘em when The Law came chargin’ into camp. The thought makes my skin flush even hotter and I shake it off. God, I’m achin’ for a little rain. 

Folk around town are busying themselves, taking advantage of the sunshine overhead. Cowboys mosey on by, dipping in and out of the saloon despite it only being just past ten in the morning. The ladies are dressed in their cotton dresses and holding their lace parasols, chatterin’ to each other about their god-awful husbands. 

Ma ‘n’ Pa always reckoned I’d make some feller a fine wife. And I suppose I would. If I wanted to. But I reckon I’m built for the life I got. I can shoot, I can brawl, I can lie, and I can damn well rob a feller blind. The Lord didn’t design me for cookin’ and cleanin’ and watchin’ babes in their cradles. I ain’t no damn maid and it’d be a waste of all I’m good at if I settled for bein’ one. I don’t gotta be cooped up in no farm house in order to show a man I love him.

I head for the general store and pick up a few supplies for the road. Baked beans, jerky, some cartridges for every one of my weapons, and a few carrots and corn cobs for my horse, Monty. It’s a long day’s ride ahead of us until we get into the next town over and I reckon we’ll both be beat by mid-afternoon and dyin’ for a good bit of grub. 

“Hey there, boy,” I coo, patting him on the side of the neck as he huffs. There’s a funny lookin’ guy standing outside the saloon a little ways up the street that’s been eyeing me since I went into the general store and I reckon I’ve been made. But I ain’t too keen on letting him know that I’m aware of him, so I keep my head tilted down as I fuss over Monty a little more. “We should make a move, I reckon,” I tell him, earning a shake of the head from him. “Yeah, well I’s the boss, not you.” 

I untwist the reins from the hitching post and mount up, keeping my head forwards as I bring Monty around and keeping my eyes off the man outside the saloon. I observe him from the corner of my eye on the way past – black hat, long black coat coverin’ a brown shirt, and gold capped boots. Ain’t no mistakin’ who he is. 

He’s a Red Wolf. Hell, I’d bet my life on it. 

I dig my heels in and Monty starts into a trot; his hoofs thudding rhythmically against the dirt road. I don’t want the Wolf to know I’s made him, but I sure as hell do want him to be able to catch up with me farther along the trail that leads outta town. He’ll follow, for certain. He wouldn’t be able to resist a young woman  and besides, he knows exactly who I am and Red Wolf creed says he’s gotta kill me soon as he recognises me. Here’s hopin’ he abides and manages to catch me.  

Otherwise, how else will I be able to kill him? 

I pull the reins steady and Monty comes to a stop at the side of the trail just before a winding tree. We’re about two miles outta town now and it’s one of the last few trees around before the scenery fades into open land, offering nothing but sky and half-dead grass either side of the trail.  

I’m outta my saddle in a split second, hopping down onto the dirt and securing Monty’s reins to the tree. He gets skittish around gunfire. Not all that useful for an outlaw, but he’s a good boy and does what he’s told, so I’ve kept him all these years regardless. He gets antsy as the man from town appears a ways down the trail and I lean against Monty with my elbow rested on the saddle and one boot crossed over the other, waiting for him to reach me. 

It takes a few minutes for him to catch up to me and for a moment I think he’s gonna keep ridin’ west, following the open road into the next town over; which would be a shame ‘cause I’m really in the mood for killin’. But he stops just ahead of me and drops down off his beige Arabian; his spurs clinking with the impact. 

He’s a few years older than me – maybe 30 ish – and his jaw is shadowed with a scruffy stubble that looks more than a few days overdue for a trim. There’s wrinkles in the corners of his eyes as he scowls at me and what’s visible of his cheeks between the wide-brimmed hat and the previously mentioned stubble is littered with scars. He makes his way towards me with his hands on his hips - flicking his coat open to flash me a glimpse at his twin pistols - and I turn to face him, lowering my arm to my side where my Colt sleeps, cradled against my hip. 

“Mornin’, Miss,” he says, nodding his head. He seems friendly enough but I know who he is. I know it’s feigned. That friendly neighbour act might work on cowboys and workin’ girls, but he ain’t foolin’ me and there’s no way he’d expect to given who I am and the history our clans got with each other. 

“Why don’t you go ahead and stop right where you stand, partner,” I tell him, stopping him in his tracks a few feet away. “I don’t reckon you’s as dumb as to not know you I am.” 

He smiles and his crooked, blackened teeth make my stomach churn a little. “I know’s exactly who you is, Miss Sullivan.” 

He dares to take another step – his hands still on his hips and his chest puffed out – and I draw as fast as the thought flits through my mind. Raisin’ a gun to a man is second nature to me. He chuckles and raises his hands, but not high enough. His chuckle stops and he draws too and in the blink of an eye, we’re both starin’ down the barrel of each other’s weapon.  

I fire first, but I don’t got any use for him if he’s dead, so I aim for the hand that holds his gun and blow a hole in his thumb, earning a roar from him. The pistol falls to the dirt and he stumbles and I’m on him in seconds; pouncing on him like a rabid dog. I’m straddling him now and he fights back until I clock him around the jaw three times with the butt of my Colt and he finally gives up. 

“Alright, alright, you made ya damn point,” he hisses, spitting a mouthful of blood into the dirt beside us. 

I grip him by the collar of his shirt, curling the fabric around my fingers and pulling tightly. “Who named The Sullivans?” I ask him. “Who told The Law where we was campin’?” 

He smirks up at me. “Your gaggle of inbred yeller-bellies had quite the bounty on yer heads,” he says. “Happens y’all just got sloppy.” 

I hit him again. “You know as well as I do that that ain’t true, so cut the shit ‘n’ give me the name of the Wolf who tipped ‘em off.” 

“I ain’t got –“ 

Another smack should do it. 

This time I angle my strike downwards and get him in the nose and the crunch it makes under the impact of my Colt is enough to damn near echo. It’d surely turn my stomach if I hadn’t done it a million times before.

He yells and his head flops back and for a second I’m worried I’s killed him, but he starts shakin’ his head and I reckon he don’t think his buddy is worth dyin’ for.  “Jacob Dixon,” he breathes, his head rolling on his shoulders and his eyelids fluttering. “Goes by ‘Dix’… he’s the feller who ratted ya damn gang out. Just… enough with the damn hittin’, girl.” 

“Where’s this feller at?” I ask. He shakes his head and swallows hard. “You tell me where he is ‘n’ I won’t bleed ya like a stuck pig,” I spit, my face inches away from his. 

“Don’t go pokin’ around for him,” he tells me. “You’ll only find stuff you didn’t wanna know.” 

“I swear to the heavens if you don’t tell me the location, I will kill you.” 

“Alright, alright… But if I tell you, you’ll let me go?” he asks, blood trickling into his mouth from his nostrils and spitting back up at me as he talks. 

“Sure, I’ll let ya go,” I tell him. “If you give me the location.” 

“We’re camped before the Arizona border. I don’t know the name of the place, just that it’s inside the boundary of the New Mexico Territory.” He coughs and splutters and spits another mouthful of blood. “We’s been there a few weeks.” 

“How many of ya?” 

“I thought was gonna let me –“ 

I’m runnin’ real low on patience and the thought of a bullet carvin’ a path through this guy’s skull is lookin’ real temptin’. “How many?” I roar. 

“Five of us! The rest of the fellers is spread out in different states. Boss wanted us coverin’ the way from here to California. Said you was gonna be comin’ for him ‘n’ didn’t want ya to get closer than he’d like.” 

I push myself up onto my feet and dust myself off, smacking the dirt away from my knees as he flops onto the floor. “What’s ya name?” I ask him, fixin’ the position of my hat. 

“Tommy,” he croaks, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and looking at the blood smeared across it. 

“Thanks for yer help, Tommy,” I tell him, raising my Colt and bringing the sights flush with his forehead. “But I never liked folk who grovel.” 

“No, wait, I –“ 

With a squeeze of the trigger, there’s one less Wolf in the pack. One less name on my list. Tommy’s blood seepin’ into the dirt of the trail beneath him, the liquid poolin’ around his head and creepin’ its way towards the spot where his Arabian had stood before takin’ off at the sound of the gunshot. His eyes are still wide with fear, his arms and legs sprawled out in every direction, and I feel damn good about it.

I wipe my mouth and then raise my neckerchief to my forehead to mop up the beads of sweat I’d earned in the sun-doused scuffle. Stuffing my Colt back into its holster, I head for Monty, who huffs and stomps at the gunshot that surely rings in his ears as much as it does in mine. “There, there, boy. It’s alright,” I tell him, placing my hand to his nose and soothing him. “I’s got us a lead on that rat of ours.”

#my writing #writeblr #writerblr #excerpt #writing #w benevolence

[flightykickback]

LAWD! This took forever to write!

I legit had… *counts*…three drafts that I scrapped.  What’s crazy is I had so much to type even though this was one night only; All I, and my bank account, had to give.  Why am I overthinking the details? LOL!

But, it’s finally here for your reading pleasure:  our crash and dash to see BTS Speak Yourself Tour in Chicago!

WARNING: This post is long and hardly edited.  I’m tired of looking at it.

When I say this was a crash and dash, I truly mean it.  My friend and I drove early morning from Cleveland, stopped by the Hello Kitty Café Truck in Westlake, then made it to Sleep Inn near Midway Airport by 2 PM on concert day.  We were on our way downtown to the BTS x Live Nation Pop-Up Shop shortly after.  Before we knew it, we were on our way home the next day.  Did we breathe? I don’t think so.

The weather in Chicago was *insert Alaska Thunderfuck voice* TERRIBLE! This wasn’t normal rain and cold, this was a cut through your bones kinda chill.  I was woefully underprepared, no thanks to checking weather reports! Sunny, they said.  ZERO chance of rain, then it rained on our way and was misty all day in Chicago.  Swear, I wanted to pack light, so I didn’t bring anything other than a thin jacket and my ballet flats.  Not only was I freezing, but I also kept stepping in puddles and mud at Soldier Field.  By the end of the night, my hands and feet could’ve been amputated.

Regardless, I had only one chance to complete my mission:

Visit the BTS x Live Nation Pop-Up Shop

Find Disequil Merch

Buy Tour Merch

Die at the Concert

I couldn’t lose!

Originally, my friend and I were to take the transit to the Pop-Up Shop, but she was gracious enough to get us a Lyft since we were an hour away by transit.  The driver was real chill and indulged my hyperactivity enough to withstand me asking if his earlobe gauges hurt (to which we learned he just increased the size today! (☉｡☉)), complaining that Blueface is throwing all rappers off-beat, and asking him to cut-off a FL plated minivan trying to jump ahead of us.

Um, excuse me, this Chicago, baby! You can’t just barge in.  Fend for yourself! *Doesn’t really mean any of this since there’s hardly any traffic in Cleveland and traffic in Chicago sucks* But we had somewhere important to be! (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و

We get to the Pop-Up Shop and the line was hundreds of people deep, from the shop door and around an entire city block.  The only consolation was the representation of all ages, ethnicities, sizes, and gender was admirable, and they all desired to buy these overpriced designs by Live Nation.  I just wanted the free slap bracelet =P

My friend and I were getting out of the Lyft (I’m sure our driver misses us T.T) and I tell her, maybe we can ask for bracelets and get the hell outta here.  She told me, she’ll watch me ask LOL!

I set off to find an employee in what was an embarrassingly long amount of circling in one spot, looking confused while mumbling to myself, “I don’t see any employees! Where’s the door?! Why are there no employees?! Will people think I’m cutting the line? How can people walk into a building with only one way in and one way out, without any employees outside?! Even a club has bouncers!” Literally, the door would swing open and a select few would walk in before the door slammed shut. Did the door even have a handle?? Meanwhile, my friend is waiting against something, looking comfortable.

Then I spot him, THE ONLY representative that appeared to be working outside, complete in a personal jacket and regular looking jeans.  The walkie-talkie and him opening the exit door set my sensors off.  LOL!

“Excuse me, how long is the wait?” I was on a whole. ‘Notha. Level. My introvertedness was nowhere to be seen.

“Three hours.” THREE M-FING HOURS?! Oh hell no, we ain’t got time for that!

“Oh no! My friend and I drove all the way from Cleveland to see the concert tonight.  It starts at 7.” Pure defeatism in my body language and disappointment all over my face.

Aaaaaaaand LIFTOFF! My strange hyperactive charm engaged the employee in a conversation about the wait time, how most ARMY are finagling it, how he got the job (he knows people?!), and eventually I tell him, “I just want a slap bracelet.”

His movements were “say no more” quick.  I barely finished my sentence before he opened the door and reemerged with ONE slap bracelet.  I thanked him profusely, then asked for another one for my friend.  “NOPE! Should’ve asked then.  They gave me a hard time with this one!”  Needless to say, I apologized profusely to my friend -_-; (Sorry!).

  DISSSSEEEQUILLLL MERCH! Ya’ll! I’ve been aching to add their glow-in-the-dark Speak Yourself Tour pin to my collection and it just so happened the merchant was going to be a Soldier Field.  I couldn’t miss this opportunity.  The anxiety set in when I learned I had to find Disequil by Twitter stalking.

I’ve wrote how my friend and I ran into Big Hit Staff before.  They ab-so-lutely DO NOT want anyone except them selling any merch on tour grounds.

Ooooooo, they want their money! They were looking to bust merch and fan sites like it’s their only mission.  There were also a few scares circulating online that cops were busting fan sites, giving them court orders and throwing their merch away O-O! So you can imagine Disequil wasn’t playing any games.

One moment, Disequil was on the outskirts of Soldier Field Campus, then they were someplace else.  Suddenly, they were traveling to a donut shop and announced they’d only be there briefly.  I legit @ them like DO NOT MOVE! I’M COMING! T_T! So, in the frigid, misty air, by bus, we finally caught up with the merchant.  I not only get the SY tour pin, but also prints of their MONO series pin collection!

By now, everyone should know RM is my bias and his album, MONO, had me deep in reflection after its release.  I collect so many pins to show my love of RM and his intellect that it’s ridiculous.  It’s no surprise that I needed to have the MONO prints too.  The details in the design and the embodiment of each song within the artwork of the pins are overwhelming.  Dissu even explains each design because they’re that incredible!  Not only did I buy the prints, but I also bought the pins when Dissu reopened their shop.

Last, but not least, we had to hook my friend up with tour merch!

At Love Yourself in Chicago, there was only one place to buy merch, in the desolate asphalt lot across from United Center at the giant white circus tent.  This time, there were DOZENS of merch sites: outdoor trailers and kiosks and storefronts inside Soldier Field.  By the time we got there around 6 pm, there were no ridiculous wait times and almost everything was in stock.  The downside was not all merch spots had the same inventory.  This meant, not all the same size tees were in stock at every location – which tees were exactly what my friend was on the hunt for.

We’d go to a trailer and they’d have the tee, but not in the wanted size; then, we’d go to another site and they wouldn’t have the tee.  In hopes the next site would have the tee, we’d walk up to the counter and find they had a completely different set of tees or completely different inventory! Eventually, my friend had enough, got what she could with the promise to search again after the concert, and we headed to security to be seated.

Why didn’t we check the giant white circus tent you might ask? The mecca for all merch? Because they were ON THE GRASS! It was swamp muddy.  Like, devour your ballet flats muddy.  The worst part is the lonely UNO Experience tent was waaaaaaay across the sloppy wet field with no one paying it any attention. T_T

  Security was QUICK! I was shivering with cold and excitement knowing I wouldn’t have long before I’d be seated. I double-checked my clear, stadium approved bag: no liquids ✔, ARMY bomb ✔, Umbrella ✔ – when the security personnel caught my eye, “They won’t let you bring in an umbrella.” Ya’ll, when it was our turn, they wanted me to discard a premium umbrella, gifted to me by my manager, that folds outwards to trap any wetness from the rain AND has a flashlight on the handle.  The guard offers directions to the locker area.  Thanks!

We trek to find the lockers that were supposed to be on a simple pathway around the corner.  It was around the building and through a tunnel, on the side of a road.  These were portable gym lockers for $10! After gawking at the price, I made sure to put as much as I could in there LOL!

There was a bit of a panic on my end because there were at least 20 people working the registers and locking up peoples’ things, but it appeared the line wasn’t moving quick enough to catch the show on time.  Luckily, we got a locker, raced back to Soldier Field, practically flew through the security line and made it to our seats in time with 30 minutes to spare.  We didn’t miss a thing!

If you’ve never been to a k-pop concert, there’s a pregame after doors open for seating.  Music videos play and fans turn on their lightsticks for a sing-a-long.  It’s no different at Speak Yourself.  ARMY were singing to various music videos with their ARMY Bombs on.  I could feel the energy in the air from everyone’s anticipation.  The girl next to me was so excited about her first BTS concert that she immediately started talking to me about it.

  Finally, without prompting, the first VCR came on, and then…Dionysus.

Note:  Pairing the ARMY Bomb was a bih! I must’ve paired it with the Big Hit app at least five times with horrible cell phone reception until I realized I just had to move the switch from Bluetooth to on after paring LOL!

I did not watch a single recording of Dionysus before the concert.  At first, in all honesty, I was burnt out.  BTS releases so much media that I just needed a break, but this was the perfect opportunity for a surprise while being engulfed in so much sensation.  From that point on, I purposefully refrained from watching Dionysus so I could be murdered in the Soldier Field stands…and the impact did not disappoint!

The background lit up across huge LCD panels, giant silver tigers inflated across the stage, pillars began to appear, fire burst forth and BTS materialized from beneath the stage.  It was hardcore! Each member had a look of royalty and disregard. BTS, the song itself, the stage production, the choreo and surplus of dancers…was murrrddeeer.

The rest of the experience was personal.  I tried to live in the moment as much as possible; although I did get some footage, the rest of the experience turned into amazing memories.  Of course, I do have other highlights I want to share!

1.  THEY’S RICH! Somebody on their team said eff this budget! We straight flexin’! There were lasers, pyrotechnics, lights, beautiful LCD backgrounds, special effects for video feeds to the monitors, twice the amount of back-up dancers than at Love Yourself, inflatables and intricate light oceans (one that formed a galaxy!) throughout the concert. I’ve never seen nor heard of a concert like this.

Plus, every stage got a glow-up:  a conveyor belt on Suga’s stage, Jin’s intergalactic piano, Jay’s sleeker dance platform, RM’s Disney Magic wand, JK flying around the stadium, Jimin popping the bubble he appeared in, and V’s massive, sexy bed.  The medley portion was even standardized so every tour stop could see Baepsae hip thrusts.

I was blown away by how Big Hit could take the same setlist, add a few songs from Persona and still outdo themselves.  And at the very end, with ARMY singing to Mikrokosmos, the BTS logo ascended towards the stars as a year’s worth of fireworks erupted behind it.  It was the most picturesque ending to a concert and incredibly heartfelt.

  2.  The light ocean was phenomenal. We were in space y’all! Soooooooo many colors and each light ocean matched the set.  I frequently took time to look around the stadium and we’d be surrounded by rhythms of pulsing, colorful lights.  Sometimes, clusters of lights would form circles or gradients.  We were floating in a galaxy during Epiphany.  It was beautiful and really whisked me away to somewhere magical.

  3.  Jimin was genuinely concerned for our health. He told us to stay warm and to not catch a cold.  There were plenty of ARMY that had to look cute without a thin jacket, and Jimin gestured to one fan by rubbing his arms like aren’t you cold?! If memory serves correctly, he even posted for ARMY to take a bath when they got home (or was that Day 2?).

I haven’t put as much emphasis on the horrible weather as I should have, but it was hella cold!  So much so that BTS looked overwhelmed.  My hands and feet were numb FOR HOURS, during and after the concert! I really couldn’t fumble anymore for my phone when RM asked us to turn on our “technology,” for the third time that night.  By the time my friend and I got back to the hotel, my feet were so cold, not even laying in a warm bed, with the heat cranked up, could warm them up.

3.  JK said “It’s been a while,” like he’s been living in The States for years without ARMY knowing. His English improved greatly and I was so proud.

4.  V’s massive sexy bed could fit eight people, but instead, only he teased us from it. And the special effects! Singularity is about how someone could live opposite their true feelings, under an acceptable guise.  The monitor would focus on V, then split his image into two colors and have one move to the left and the right.  It made him look as if his person was being pulled in different directions, perhaps his true feelings and his guise, with his physical body, the one that has to live with this internal conflict at the center. It was overpowering and very slick.

5.  BTS and Big Hit fully invested in ARMY. The show was tied up so nicely that it really felt like ARMY was loved and appreciated.  It’s a double whammy when BTS goes live on VLive or posts to Twitter afterward.  This is why post-concert depression (PCD) is real.  It’s also why ARMY buy tickets for both concert dates at multiple tour stops.  The interaction and affection are second to none.  No other artists do it better.

6.  People love to interrupt me during Tear. This isn’t a highlight, but I think I’m cursed to have someone tap me on the shoulder, or walk in front of me to get to their seats during one of my most favorite sets, during my favorite part where Jay just goes in and owns the thang like the rest of the rap line ain’t there. Will I ever see it all the way through? LOL!

I could talk about the usual things like Flying Jungkook, singing along to Epiphany, all the shenanigans during the Anpanman obstacle course, or chanting J-Hope during Just Dance, but those things have already completed the social media circuit.  These highlights are my best experiences and impressions during the show.  There are definitely takeaways that I learned that may be helpful in the future:

 1.  Don’t trust weather forecasts! They can change. Just pack in case of crummy weather, especially transitioning seasons.

2.  If Big Hit keeps accommodating shorter merch lines, there may no longer be obscene waits unless ARMY wills it so.

3.  So what if you don’t get floor seats? Sitting in the stands is still excellent! My friend and I were able to snag seats on the third level, center stage.  It was perfect.  We could see the stage and monitors head-on.  Any antics from the boys were clearly visible.  Most people will tell you that sitting on the floor level is overrated.  You can see everything clearly from the upper levels without people hogging your view!

4.  Staying close to the concert decreases commuter time when leaving the show. I didn’t mention it before, but it took us 2-3 hours to get back to the hotel because 60,000 fans were all leaving at the same time (and because of the Stadium’s poor direction of pedestrian traffic and Lyft drivers being a-holes ( ͒˃⌂˂ ͒)).  On the other hand, we had a cheaper stay at a nice hotel, with a full breakfast included, by staying further from the city center.

5.  Immerse yourself into the concert! You catch more visually and can feel more of the experience. Granted, you won’t have videos and pictures, but as I fumbled with my phone, I lamented not capturing a moment on time and missed out on the full sensation of being present.  To up the ante, bring an ARMY Bomb since the show is an interactive experience.

6.  Lastly, don’t crash and dash! Due to a tight-TIGHT schedule, my friend and I couldn’t catch up with our ARMY friends. Don’t do this! The stress was horrid. Please take your time.  There’s more to see, plenty of people to connect with and lots of good food downtown.  Stay a bit and relax.

All in all, Speak Yourself in Chicago was bomb, from the insane opening to the ethereal ARMY send-off at the end.  This laser light space show in an ARMY Bomb galaxy was completely and utterly magical.  All ARMY should have a chance to experience it and if BTS continues their reign as artists and Big Hit keeps a bottomless budget, the next tour will be the most spectacular yet!

~PHOTO AND VIDEO BOMB!~

              Experience: #SpeakYourselfInChicago LAWD! This took forever to write! I legit had… *counts*…three drafts that I scrapped.  What's crazy is I had so much to type even though this was one night only; All I, and my bank account, had to give. 

#BTS #BTS ARMY #BTS World Tour #Chicago #Concert #Experiences #fun #KPOP #Post Concert Depression #Speak Yourself Tour #SYxChicago #Travel