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stopeatingwhales · 3 years

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particles x damon albarn

the lyrics to this song are genuinely so beautiful, like i honestly cannot describe enough how much i adore this song my goodness

Pairing: present day damon x reader

Warnings: none :D

Word count: 1.881

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

It had been two months since I had last seen him. Two whole months since he had set foot in our home; two whole months since he said goodbye to leave for tour. The home that we shared had began to inhabit a sense of eeriness, some nights the walls began to feel as if they were closing in on me, trapping me from any interaction with the outside world, as if to hold me hostage by my own insanity, although other nights the space felt extremely large, almost too big for one person to be able to waste their nights alone in, encapsulating my mind in a constant conflict of obstructive thoughts, forcing me to overthink every tiny detail that was conveyed on the pale stained walls, the wooden floorboards, the arrangement of the furniture, resulting in many a time of me moving around heavy tables and chairs until the image of the room settled my mind’s anxiety. Allowing distance to get in the lines of mine and Damon’s relationship, it was simply uncanny that I was going to miss him; he was the carcass that kept me sane, the being that granted me peace in myself, ease on my mind to prevent such mania from enrapturing my brain, the person that engulfed me into a stupor of adoration and affection that one could never understand the authentic strength until felt - what some perceive as paramour, true love, something so overstimulating that once separated such thing desperation beguiles you to surround yourself with, only a mere sensation of emptiness is all that is felt inside, as if your limbs are damaged, your insides constantly in a state of sickness that you are convinced you’re in need of some form of professional assistance, but it is simply the alchemy, the poison of the apprehension that captivates you from the estrangement from your significant other. Though that wasn’t to say that wasn’t proud of Damon; I embraced fondness and admiration for everything that he did and was so dedicated in doing, his talent and immense knowledge for the art form that speaks to you demonstrated his ability to move millions of people, uniting as one in concerts, all touched from the same, simple string of melodies, proving his true gift and genius that is inside his brain.

I tried to pry my thoughts away from the excitement that had been seeping into my veins from the fact that he was returning home today, in an attempt to focus my mind on whatever had been showing on the television, but there was no use. To be cradled in his arms was all that I had longed, the thought clouding my brain almost every single night that I had thrown my body onto the linen sheets, trying to wrap my body around the duvet to replicate the specific warmth that had enveloped my body when in his arms, his body completely dominating mine, his hands running through my hair gently, apologising with a kiss on the top of my head when he accidentally pulled too roughly, my face buried in his chest as a blush would suddenly creep onto my cheeks, our embrace fulfilling me with a nest of blooming butterflies in my body, a poignant sensation of nervousness and reverence for the man that had me cooped up in his arms, the same feelings that would embody you whilst walking past your first crush during primary school, accidentally brushing your hands against one another’s, sending your mind into overdrive as if to think that the person was the love of your life. Such emotions never left, and I doubted that they ever would; supposing that is true love, he could make me feel like a little girl squealing over her teenage idol because of how perfect he was, just from being himself.

“I’m home, love,” I heard a voice call out in the hallway, accompanied by the soft slam of the front door, the tone of voice lacing a certain amount of raspiness, perhaps from a cigarette that had just been inhaled. My head instantly turned to the door of the living room, eyes settling upon the sight of Damon, who had a small grin curved on his lips, his gaze captured with joy and desire, perhaps from gratification towards the understanding that the tour had finally ended, as well as the fact that he was able to finally see me once again - my expression equally reciprocating his happiness. Instantly jumping from my seat on the couch, I rushed over to him as I threw my arms around him, resting my ear against his chest, listening to the soft pattern of his heartbeat. As usual, his arms wrapped around my figure, tightly embracing my body, the swarm of butterflies breaking out of their cocoons, my limbs growing weak from the recognisable thrill of affection that I had desired for far too long, and had sadly not received. Feeling his lips grazing against the top of my head made my mind go fuzzy, my cheeks flushing a heat that made me feel as if I was under the beating warmth of the sun during the summer months. This is what he does to me. “How’ve you been darling? I see you’ve rearranged the place, again.” he mumbled into my head of hair, my mind still relishing in the pleasure of being in his arms again.

“I’ve missed you,” I replied, reluctantly pulling my arms away from the embrace, in order to gawk at him. A gentle chuckle rumbled from his throat, though his features accentuated pity, understanding how I must’ve felt being away from him for so long. Lightly taking hold of one of his hands, I dragged his arm, guiding him to the sofa, where both of us sat next to each other. “You were gone for so long!”

“I know love, I’ve missed you so much,” he replied, squeezing my hand in reassurance. “At least I’m not gone for any longer though.” he added, his lips curving slightly as I nodded, a similar grin planted on my lips.

“How was the tour then?” I asked, pulling his arm to wrap it around my shoulders, my body already aching for more attachment to him. “The videos I’ve seen online made it look very good.”

“It was great, honestly. Loved every bit of it.” he replied, the grip on my shoulder tightening as he attempted to haul me closer to him. Humming in agreement, I placed my head on his shoulder, cradling the moment we shared together, the moment that I had imagined and adorned each and every night he was absent, cherishing every single time that he was able to be in my presence. I depended on him greatly, as did he, and though that may be a toxic strand which can only result in turmoil; our appreciation for one another held such poise that it would draw us closer together each and every time we had conjoined together after months of being separated. “I’ve actually got something to show you.” he added, shifting from our hug and slowly stepping to his feet, taking his hand in mine, his soft but coarse palms gripping onto mine ever so slightly, urging me to stand up too. “Come with me.”

Following him closely, we headed towards his studio. I had forgotten the last time that I had set foot in it; usually I would leave Damon to work on his craft alone, since having me prance around messing with all sorts of instruments and controls wasn’t going to provide much assistance. As well as that, sitting in the room, knowing that he was away and would be for many days on, would only make me yearn for his presence more, which is the last of what I would need when not being able to fall asleep. Though whenever he would call me into the room, he would always show me the most beautifully crafted symphony, in which he would perform it so effortlessly, as if it was simply created from the top of his head at that moment. Talent like his was so scarce; it would only prove to me that it’s something you are gifted with at birth, like an extremely high intelligence quotient - he always had ideas running through his mind, melodies that would be formed from a simple tap of the table in front of him. It was a wonder in the fact that he seemingly never got burned out with creating music, it was evidently his passion, and it touched me that he would constantly ask me for my opinion on his music, as it always resonated with him, always held such importance.

When we walked inside the studio, I followed him to the grand piano that was standing by the corner of the room. I kept my body upright, behind him, as he pulled out the black stool underneath, moving it back slightly in order for him to sit on it. “Over the tour, I had some free time, so I wrote this song, it’s called Particles,” he began, his voice quiet, as if it were intertwined with a certain anxiousness about what he was about to perform. “It’s still a work in progress, but I wanted to know what you thought of it.”

As I admired his fingers softly grazing the elegant, pale keys of the piano, the melody that in which played forth me instantaneously sufficed me in a trance, bewilderment encompassing my my mind as I listened to the sounds of the alluring chords echo throughout the room, bounce off the walls, the waves of noise crafting mountainous regions of goosebumps to prickle on the bare skin exposed from my forearms. Sculpted with such elegance and formality, my mouth fell agape as he played with such ease - in that significant moment, I was subdued to his music, hypnotised into his magnificence; I could do nothing, absolutely nothing, except admire the grace that fell from his lips once he started singing. As I allowed my gaze to drift onto his face, I gawked at his demeanour, his eyes almost screwed shut, his face almost frozen in place as his body rocked back and forth to the melody that was omitted from the piano. Every word, every string of lines carried a lugubrious essence to it, a tone laced with such beautification; obvious that there were deeper implications behind said lyrics. Each line that escaped his throat exemplified the nature of what earnest fervour, authentic devotion and expertise can embody. Such melody, paired with his voice embodied with pure ethereality, as if I was being greeted by a herd of the most quaint angels, welcoming my soul into the seven heavens. A beam crawled onto my lips, my heart thumping at a million miles per hour from the amount of love I carried in my body for the man in front of me.

Once the song ended, a moment was held in the atmosphere of mere silence, as if to take in all that was felt, all that had vibrated through the sound waves and blessed my ears. Shifting his body so he could connect eyes with me, a gentle, welcoming smile tugged on his lips. “That’s for you.”

#thank u anon <3333333 #damon albarn x reader #damon albarn #blur #blur band #90s #britpop #gorillaz #my imagines #my writing #fanfic #fluff #fan fiction

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kiisaes · 3 years

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apparently this must be said again, because assholes in fandom spaces are acting up again and need to be put in their place:

FAN CONTENT CREATORS DON'T OWE YOU SHIT.

you don't deserve the content you get. you aren't entitled to anything. just because someone draws or writes or whatevers for a fandom, doesn't mean you have the right to harass them if you don't personally like their shit.

this is common fucking knowledge and somehow it continues to elude peoples' brains because they've got such a privileged fucking mindset. fan artists, writers, editors, etc. are still people. unless you're explicitly paying them for their work, they don't owe you anything. their free work is what they want to create and you have absolutely zero authority over it. (and you know what? a fan creator can still deny your commission request for example, if you're being insufferable towards them. you are not immune to consequences.)

do you know how fucking hard it is to create content? that shit is difficult as hell. why do i know? because i'm a fan artist, and while there are plenty of amazing people who support me, there are also plenty of dickwads who believe that making art is as easy as breathing. fucking no it's not, you goddamn fucking idiot, and any artist would be well-aware of how genuinely frustrating creating content is.

art, writing, video editing, etc. etc. etc. even fucking cosplaying because people love to shit on that, are all extremely challenging hobbies. in fact, all creative pursuits are harder than they look. like every other hobby or talent or even just pastime, it requires hard work, dedication, and passion to get good. and guess what? a fan artist, author, editor, cosplayer, or whatever other fandom-related thing under the sun, spends just as much time, perhaps even more on that craft as any creative outside of fandom spaces.

but fan content creators are seen as expendable for some fucking reason. maybe it's because everyone is so used to seeing fan content, that they can suddenly afford to be picky. whatever it is, creators get so little respect over their own work nowadays and it's fucking infuriating.

want some fucking examples? i'll give you some fucking examples.

artists have their fan art stolen every fucking day and reposted or used under some reposter's user, like they fucking made it. oftentimes the original artist isn't asked for permission or even credited, which is the bare fucking minimum.

when artists fight back about 1., they can very possibly be attacked for standing up for themselves. repliers can say shit like "the art wasn't that good anyway" "stop throwing a fit" and "nobody cares" when the artist wants as little as to be respected of their wishes. (hey, did you know that removing content on your page that you stole doesn't hurt you in the slightest, but an artist having their art stolen hurts them infinitely more?)

fanfiction authors are always at risk of some "i deserve everything" reader going into the comments and typing some bullshit like "i hated this fic", "why won't you update the next chapter i've been waiting for x amount of time" and just overall being an asshole about something you absolutely 100% are not entitled to. fuck off, that author isn't writing specifically tailored to your interests, bitchass.

cosplayers are constantly flamed for "not looking like the character" and thus their cosplay is ugly or they're a ~cringe~ cosplayer. holy fucking shit have you tried cosplaying before? do you know how difficult and expensive cosplays can get, as well as how challenging it can be to get a good photo? cosplayers don't work so fucking hard on their craft just to get shat on by losers who don't know the first thing behind costuming, let's get that fucking straight.

video editing is hard and time consuming. i know that from firsthand experience. stop clowning on people because they want to see their favorite characters move in fun ways. get a goddamn hobby.

fan creators are usually taken less seriously on the internet because their work involves characters that already exist. "they don't make original characters, they're not creative enough!!!" entitled fucktards jeer without realizing that it's hard as balls to get the internet to care about a creator's characters or story.

and hey! even if a content creator spent like five minutes max on their fan content of the day, even if a content creator just started and so their work is far from the quality they desire, or hell even if they're really only just making fan content as a way to wind down and as nothing serious, that still doesn't give you the right to be a dick! fan content creators don't need to pass some goddamn threshold like that shit is objective for you to respect what they do.

you don't have to like everything a creator makes or does. that's fine because nobody is expected to like everything. maybe an artist draws something you really like but then another day draws something you don't. but the difference between being decent and being a bitch is ~keeping that opinion to yourself~

fan creators don't want to listen to your petty complaints. they don't sit at their screens all day just begging someone to be a jerk to work that they've created with their own heart and soul. if you don't like it, then don't engage with it. it's really that easy.

we're not obligated to please you. we make free content and post it online because we want to. you really dislike something that much? then fucking hell, make the shit yourself. then you'll know just how hard it is to churn out content you're satisfied with at a frequent pace.

and if you still don't get it, somehow, and you still think you're allowed to be an asshole on the internet, entitled to content online despite doing jackshit to deserve it, then do everyone a favor: leave the fucking fandom you're in and never come back.

#becki rambles about stuff #i'm genuinely so fucking tired #i spend hours and days on just one piece of work and i get fucked over by jackasses online who think they have the right to disrespect me #i didn't ask to be insulted and harassed over fan content #holy god learn some fucking manners #i don't like to be harsh but some of y'all have deadass never learned the concept of respect before in your lives #fandom discourse

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sparklingchan · 4 years

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Dancing with a Stranger || Lee Minho (Stray Kids)

Pairing : Reader (fem.) x Lee Know

Word count: 6k+

Warnings: Cuss words, mentions of alcohol, mentions of a break up, slight violence and blood (its nothing intense, I swear) ,suggestive towards the end, not proof read.

Genre: Angst , fluff, boyfriend AU , break up - make up AU.

Description : Lee Minho is the best boyfriend you could have ever asked for but when you end up doing the only thing he had begged you not to do, things start going downhill.

Author’s Note: I KNOW I SAID I’LL POST THIS ON MY BIRTHDAY but I am an impatient person and I really wanted everyone to read this asap :( This imagine is one of my personal favorites and like Boyfriend!Minho really hits different, won’t you agree? (Reposting because tumblr decided to be a bitch and not show up my fic in the tags? It’s 2 AM and I’m legit crying?? I was so excited about this) Yeh le @chogiwow !

Please do reblog, like and send in your views about this fic. I’m always happy to receive DMs and asks!

Enjoy!

It is really funny how a crowded, happening place like your college corridor turns into a cold ,eerie location of some prospective gruesome crimes by sun down. But then again , if you really think about it , maybe it’s not much of a ‘prospect’ at all.

Your knuckles start stinging first ,spreading then to your palm and the rest of your arm.

And the horrifying yet unavoidable realization finally dawns on you - you shouldn’t have punched your professor’s daughter.

“Y-you! You bitch! How dare you touch me?” She has this annoyingly loud voice that pierces through the tense air like a bullet. The prettiest girl on campus , the nicest of them all, the most desirable , but anyone who sees her right now, would be convinced she is neither of those things. Excluding you , of course , because you always knew how double faced and rude she was behind the mask of a pure princess.

“You should have kept your mouth shut then, Anya.” You say , hoping that the girl in front of you doesn’t notice the sudden fear in your voice that has replaced your authoritative tone from before.

But you can’t back off now.

Anya stumbles back with her mouth wide open , clutching her jaw as she curses under her breath , “My mother will hear about this ! I will get you expelled !”

“Oh yeah? Try me and the only thing your mother will hear about is what you and our lovely class president John do in the basement when she isn’t home.” You shoot back. You mentally want to slap yourself for that sharp tongue of yours that refuses to stop any time sooner. You had always wished that you’d gotten your father’s gentleness but sadly , you were the fateful heir of your mother’s roughness.

Anya doesn’t reply , instead , she throws herself at you , pushing you harshly against the lockers .And it is not long before her balled fists find a way to your nose , punching so hard that you literally feel the blood dripping down your face. You are so glad that all the students and staff have already gone home , you’d have hated for anyone to witness this.

“You will never lay your filthy hands on me again, y/l/n. ” she wraps her left hand around your throat while the other one pulls your hair with the strength of a bull. You scream in pain. Your body goes limp for a second - not from pain but from fear , but you realise it’s too late now. You should have thought about your fears before punching Anya.

Now all you can do is save yourself and escape.

The numbing pain from your scalp spreads through your head , going down your face and then attacking your throat. It gets harder to breathe.

“I’ll tell you what , Anya , you deserved it. You deserved all of it. ” you croak , “I told you to stop spreading filthy rumours about my cousin but you didn’t stop , I told you to stop bothering me but you didn’t listen. And now you’ve gone as far as spreading bullshit about my boyfriend who you’ve never even met ! I hate to break this to you but all of this is not going to make your trash personality any cooler. ”

Anya yelps with anger , increasing the grip on your throat and hair as you kick your legs helplessly, coughing .

“Shut up, y/l/n .” She growls , “ and as a matter of fact, Your boyfriend is just a mere dancer , how funny. An A-grade college student dating a poor street dancer. What happened , y/n, ran out of good guys for yourself?”

You want to yell at her and tell her that Minho is anything but a mere street dancer . He’s an amazingly talented artist who loves expressing himself through dancing , he’s a hardworking and honest person who is part of the country’s biggest dancing crew , and he’s your safe place , your home , your everything and god save anyone who dare hurt him.

But you bite your tongue this time.

“What now? Afraid ?” Anya raises her eyebrow, her lips curving into an ugly, sadistic smile.

You hate that smile.

You use one of your free hands to grab her hair while the other one slams hard against her jaw.

“Shit.” She mutters , falling back into the hallway.

But you’re not done yet.

You walk toward her with furious eyes and balled fists , and it isn’t long before she lands on the floor on her butt with a bloody nose and a black eye.

“Keep your mouth shut or you’ll end up on a hospital bed next time. In a coma. ” you spit out those words while she holds her tears back, face caked with humiliation.

Then you turn on your heels and walk out of the stupid college campus which would yet again be filled with more bullies by tomorrow morning, just like it has for centuries.

The dorm in which Minho lives almost always smells like freshly baked cookies ( courtesy: Lee Felix) and on rare occasions, it smells like burnt pancakes ( also courtesy: Lee Felix). Today , it smells like the former and you sigh in relief.

“Oh , my god ,y/n. What happened?” Changbin opens the door after you knock thrice , “Minho, dude, Come out , y/n is here!”

You shuffle into their big living room , head hanging low and eyes avoiding all sorts of confrontation , afraid of having to explain your stupid behavior.

“Y/n?” Minho sucks in a deep breath at your sorry sight , his eyes glazed with dread and fear as he walks toward you, ”Oh god, what happened?”

He swiftly takes out a handkerchief from his pockets , pressing it against your bleeding nose. His eyes are glossy with fear.

“I-it’s nothing. I fell down the stairs.” You lie. Can he please shut up and hug you already? You hate his questions so much , especially when you just can’t answer him.

“Y/n , that is not what a fall looks like. I’m not stupid. Whom did you beat up this time?” He asks , crossing his arms across his chest. And you really do almost blurt out the truth because it’s that easy for you to open up to him and because he knows you like no one else does. You’ve dated him long enough for him to know you like the back of his own hand. And that sometimes gets you in so much trouble. Lying to him is a near impossible task.

“Y/n, look at me!” He says , slightly annoyed now. He touches your chin gently, coaxing you to look at him but you’re too afraid to face him right now. Too guilty. So you shrug him off and walk into his shared room with Hyunjin, a homely feeling enveloping you almost instantly.

“Y/n, don’t you dare ignore me.”

Ugh. He can be so nosy at times.

“I came here for comfort , not for an interrogation. ” you pout , plopping down on the bed.

Minho scoffs , closing the door behind him. He wears a loose black t-shirt with a pair of shorts , and he smells like the expensive shampoo you had bought for him a few months ago ,which he initially refused to take but now loves it. He looks so good and smells so good and suddenly all you want to do is cuddle him and talk about his day, with his Winnie The Pooh blanket draped around your bodies.

“You aren’t getting any comfort till you tell me what happened.” He says . He stands with his back against the door , and stares at you as if you were a criminal. Maybe you were one ,but that doesn’t mean he’ll hate you or something ,right?

“Did you hit the professor’s daughter?” He asks when you don’t answer even after two whole minutes. Your stomach does a somersault, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You regret telling him about Anya a few weeks ago and you specifically saying that you’d one day ’ punch her brains out ’. You wish you’d shut up sometimes.

You play with your fingers, staring at your feet. You can’t look him in the eye anymore , not when you did the exact (and only) thing he had asked you not to do. You feel horribly guilty.

“Well in my defense, she was being a bitch ,okay? She was calling you a good for nothing dancer and ugly and underqualified and - ” you sigh , “ My point is, I couldn’t bear listening to all that, okay?” You admit , cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Minho doesn’t answer, very unusual of him by the way, and you snap your head to look at him.

The eyes that had once held concern and fear for your well being now are clouded with disappointment . He’s mad at you.

“She’s not wrong though. I am a good for nothing dancer, I go to a stupid cyber college. Nothing worth fighting over. Why the fuck did you put yourself in danger like that!” And he’s yelling now , his relaxed posture from before now replaced with a tensed one. You notice his clenched fists and teeth ,and you shudder with fear. He is furious. But at what? You don’t really know.

“Are you seriously justifying her actions? Minho, she can’t talk shit about you. I will not let her do that! ” You yell back ,getting up from the bed , “She doesn’t even know you!”

“Which is exactly why her opinions on my lifestyle do not matter ! And you don’t have to just go around acting like my bodyguard all the time!” He says.

Your heart drops, brows furrowed in confusion at his words that feel like a dagger is plunged into your heart.

You walk up to him, trying to take his hand in yours but he extracts it right back. “I’m sorry, okay? I wasn’t thinking. You know how crazy I get when I’m angry.”

“A ’ sorry ’ doesn’t suffice it. The damage is already done. And if tomorrow, you are thrown out of the university, who’s fault would it be? ” he presses his hand to his face, trying to calm himself down , “I can’t believe I am dating such an immature woman ,y /n. Grow the fuck up, will you?” He says , his anger filled eyes staring right into your soul . Your heart breaks into millions of small pieces , as your breath hitches in your throat. He had never said something so harsh to you in the many years that you’ve dated him and you really wish he hadn’t done it today either because you realise you’re not very good at handling hurtful words, especially from Minho. At all.

“Minho , I know you’re angry - ”

“Leave.” The world stops spinning for a second , your eyes widening with shock, “Go home. Don’t come back again.”

You want to cry but tears seemed to have given up on you too , his words striking you harder than any of Anya’s punches ever did. All your feelings seem to have converted into a much worse state of numbness when those words leave his mouth.

“Y-you are not breaking up with me, right?” Your usually loud voice comes out as a whisper.

“I am. Go, please. I don’t want to see you right now.” He opens the room door for you to exit, his eyes never meeting yours. His lower lip is caught between his teeth, a sign that he’s about to tear up yet you don’t know if he wants too be comforted by you right now, or ever. So picking up the remaining pieces of your damaged heart , you walk out of the room , stopping only to glance over at him one last time , in hopes that he’d change his mind. But no, his angry demeanor is still there , strong and tough and unbreakable.

And when you finally leave , Minho is grateful that Hyunjin wasn’t home - for he would have hated to cry in front of his roommate.

The bright neon sign with ’ Kim’s Restaurant ’ written on it shines in the distance , blurred only by the tears in your eyes and not by the tiny droplets of water slowly falling from the sky.

You feel a soft blanket of comfort draping over you when you walk toward the familiar building.

Your aunt and uncle have worked hard to build a proper business from a small shop that had once just sold fried chicken and cold drinks ; and it makes you so happy to see their new restaurant still packed with people this late in the evening.

“Oh , y/n. I was just about to call you. Did you not go to your dorm yet? ” your aunt asks from the reception desk , chewing her favorite gum and typing aggressively into the computer.

“I stayed back today. Project work.” You lie. Your aunt lifts up her head , her eyebrows knitted together and a suspicious scowl gracing her face , almost mimicking your mother. Your mom and your aunt are twin sisters , born just three minutes apart , and since then it has become your mom’s life mission to remind your aunt of the whooping three minute gap every chance she gets. It’s hilarious, really.

“Don’t make that face at me. You look exactly like mom.” You mutter , leaning against the wooden desk.

“I do look exactly like your mom , y/n. ” she replies with a chuckle, “Anyway, what’s going on? You look tired.”

Honestly, you’d love to talk about Minho and the impulsive breakup and the aching in your heart with your aunt because there’s no better person to seek advice from, but you don’t feel it right to burden her when she’s working plus a part of you doesn’t really trust your aunt to keep all the secrets to herself.

“No, I’m okay. Just mid college crisis.” you say.

Your aunt hums in response, probably not buying it but you’re happy she doesn’t push it anymore, “ Are you hungry? Want something to eat?”

A bag of fries with a bucket full of chicken wings sounds terribly tempting right now but you’ve lost all your appetite for the day the moment Minho closed the door behind you. Now all you feel is drained, tired, sad. Moreover, that is not what you were here for, “Nah, I’m good. Is Yugyeom home though?”

The door to your aunt’s house opens only after you ring the stupid bell at least three times , as you stand on the porch, judging the loud music that blasts from within the walls. “Wow , you look like shit.” Yugyeom always has some snarky comments up his sleeve but you are in no mood to be playing word games with him right now. You barge into the house , pushing past your cousin who you smells like donuts and Axe.

“Shut up.” You say, plopping down on his bed . You really want to cry right now but Yugyeom has never been big on consoling so you try to hold it in .

“What’s wrong? I’m not joking.” He sits beside you, putting down his gaming console on the table by the bed.

You play with your fingers , breathing in and out to calm your nerves. Yugyeom, out of all the people in the world , is the easiest to talk to but today , you find yourself on the edge , trying to be very careful with your choice of words. Maybe you were afraid of angering him as well.

“I..I kind of beat Anya up.” You confess ,swallowing the lump in your throat.

Yugyeom becomes still for a moment , staring at you with his mouth gaping and then his face breaks into the widest grin in the world.

“You really beat that bitch up? Like for real?” He asks , excitedly bro fisting the air like an athlete after winning an important match.

You nod , “And then I went to see Minho. He obviously didn’t react the way you did. He was very angry and then he broke up with me. ”

Yugyeom’s celebrations are short lived as you continue to tell him the details of what had happened earlier, his smile slowly dissolving into a frown.

“Y/n, first of all you really need to learn how to break news to other people. It’s always the bad one first and then the good one. Noob.” Yugyeom bumps his shoulder softly to yours. You would otherwise have argued with him and told him why the happy news should always be first and why the bad news should be last but you feel too exhausted to speak anymore. Your shoulders slump as you put your hands on either side of your head.

“How could he just break up with me like that? He had no logical reason to! He’s so selfish.” You mutter , tears gathering up in your eyes. You try to blink them away before your cousin notices them.

“I don’t think he did it for himself , y/n. You told him that you hit Anya because she was speaking trash about him. Of course he’d distance himself from you so you wouldn’t want to fight his fights for him.” Yugyeom says.

“I wasn’t fighting his fights! She trash talks about you and me and him and everyone else. It was the last straw for me. I didn’t do anything wrong. ” you explain , your heart hammering against your chest.

“I didn’t say what you did was wrong ,y/n. You have a right to be angry with her. But what we’re talking about is Minho. Think about this from his point of view,” Yugyeom replies, his hands on your shoulders , “You beat Anya up , got hurt and possibly put yourself in trouble with her mother all because of him. He feels guilty.” Yugyeom is speaking to you like he’s speaking in one of those debates that he does at college. You love seeing him speak, mostly because he is so manipulative yet subtle , smart yet observant and he can convince you so easily. He could easily pass as the best debater in your college - too bad you’d already taken that place.

“Or it could be because he doesn’t want more trouble in his account. Maybe he’s ashamed of me. ” you whisper, “ And I told you, I didn’t do it just for him. I did it for me and you too and all those people she bullies and makes fun of. Why is he the only one reacting like this? ”

Yugyeom sighs, “Yes , I appreciate your concern for my well being, y/n. But he might not be thinking the same way as I am. I was happy that you beat Anya up , but he was worried about you. He obviously doesn’t want you to get badly hurt.”

You rub the tears that flow down your face with the heel of your hand then place your head on Yugyeom ’s shoulder.

“He might have fallen out of love with me. Maybe he just needed an excuse to call it off.” You mutter.

“You know Minho’s better than that, y/n.”

He’s right . Minho really is better than that.

Break ups suck. In the truest sense. But what you now realize is that break ups don’t hurt that much immediately, but slowly , as the days go by and the memories start flashing in front of your eyes every waking moment , you feel like nothing more than a sack of meat and bones, drained of all emotions.

“For this unit of organic chemistry, I need all of you to memorise the reaction mechanisms over the weekend.” Your professor’s voice feels distant to you , as if there were a wall in between the two of you , even though he stands just a few steps away.

Your classmates start murmuring among themselves, fixing study dates that almost always are unsuccessful and gathering notes they hadn’t bothered to complete until now. But you remain seated in your chair , staring out the window, not bothering to talk to anyone.

It is a bright sunny afternoon and you see all the happy faces out on the field - couples, friends , classmates. You feel jealous. You clearly remember planning a weekend trip with Minho a few days ago and If you hadn’t decided to mess things up so bad, he’d have already been at your college gate by now , waiting in his father’s old car. You clearly remember how excited he was about the trip.

The dismissal bell rings not long after and as you walk out of the college gate, surrounded by thousands of students, you feel lonelier as ever. And your mind imagines his car below the tall banyan tree , his lean frame leaning against the door with a silly grin. You could almost see him there. Even though its just in your mind.

You miss him so much that it gets hard for you to even breathe properly.

“Okay , how long are we going to stay here? I have better things to do than stalk your girlfriend, Lee.” Changbin’s whiny voice breaks the silence in Minho’s car, much to his annoyance.

“Just a few more minutes. Till she reaches the dorm.” Minho replies , his hand limp on the steering wheel and his lips pressed in a tense line.

His eyes are focused on you , your slump shoulders and your unusually slow walk and the dark circles under your eyes. It is obvious that Minho wasn’t the only one having sleepless nights .

“Dude , why don’t you just talk to her? I’m sure she would listen.” Hyunjin says from the backseat , munching on peanuts, “ Plus I think she saw us.”

Minho watches as you turn around a corner and walk toward your dorm building , away from him. He almost wishes you’d seen him.

“It’s not that easy.” Minho mutters, turning the engine on.

At least he knows you’re okay, and safe. That’s enough reassurance for him to try and move on but he somehow always ends up driving to your college gates during dismissal, the brief view of your face still making the worst of his days better.

“It’s not that easy.” He repeats to reassure himself .

“Guess what.” Yugyeom chimes in early one morning, leaning against the locker door beside yours.

“What?” You ask , not sparing him a glance. Your hands busy themselves in flipping over the pages of your notebook ; last minute revisions before tests are more important than the actual studying.

“I saw Anya this morning. She was running late , I think, and she bumped into a junior near the gate. I was sure all hell was about to break loose but she just apologized and left!” Yugyeom says , laughing.

You turn to look at him, a look of surprise plastered on your face. Anya actually did that? Instead of being her usual, defensive, violent self she actually chose to apologize? It’s hard to digest but you’re sure Yugyeom wouldn’t be making all that up. He’s not that creative.

“The sun must have risen from West today.” You reply with a chuckle.

The morning bell rings throughout the corridor, indicating the commencement of your classes. Throwing in your notebook ,you close your locker and heave a sigh. Its just a small quiz but you find yourself stressing over every single thing these days.

“Oh and by the way , it’s Jackson Wang’s birthday party tomorrow.” Yugyeom adds as the two of you start making your way towards the chemistry lab , coats hanging by your arms.

“And we’re going?” You question ,cocking your eyebrow.

Yugyeom is not really into parties , especially the over-the-top , spectacular , rich-kid parties that Jackson Wang often finds himself throwing, yet Yugyeom always goes because a) Jackson is his best friend and b) Who doesn’t like to feel like a rich man even if it’s just for one night?

“Yes. Both of us.” He says. You shrug your shoulders. You have always liked going to Jackson ’s parties and fawning over his huge mansion and the various cuisines placed in front of you that you can’t even name properly and watching other rich kids like himself play golf in the living room. It was pretty entertaining . Even with your post break up gloominess, you wouldn’t want to miss all of that.

“Okay.”

“And one more thing,” he starts ,“I saw Lee Minho outside our college gate yesterday. You might want to do something about that.”

No, unlike what was expected of you, you didn’t really do anything about it but Yugyeom’s words stick to you like a piece of gum throughout the whole day ,consuming every thought and pulling out all those thoughts that you’d stacked up and thrown away into the top most drawers of your mind. You were convinced that the day he broke up with you , he was done. He didn’t want to look back or reconsider. He wasn’t coming back to you. And you’ve been trying to move on as best as you could ,keeping your mind occupied and busy all the time. Yet you had to accept that in the wee hours of the night , staring at the ceiling ,you would often find yourself reminiscing him and whatever you two had. The gentle touches , the late night walks, shy smiles and endless talks ; you missed them.

But his presence outside the college changes the whole game, doesn’t it?

Later that day, you kind of regret agreeing to go to Jackson’s party because you soon realised that both Minho and Jackson went to the same dancing school at one point of time , and Minho probably (like a 99.9% probability because Jackson Wang never leaves anyone uninvited) was invited too.

You dread every second in Yugyeom’s stupid car that brings you one more step closer to seeing Lee Minho again. And although you would never dare say it out loud , a part of you was a little excited too.

“Dude , y/n , I have never felt so underdressed in my entire life.” Yugyeom breathes in as the car stops in front of the huge metal gates of Jackson’s mansion.

“Me neither.” You agree, your eyes glued to the people walking in and out of the doors, wearing tuxedos and dresses and sparkly jewelry. You feel horribly out of place all of a sudden, like a fish flying in the sky and a bird swimming deep under the water- you feel like you don’t belong here.

You look down at your black converse , tightly laced and washed for this very party and your loose ,dark green tshirt and ripped jeans .

“Why didn’t you tell me this was a fucking masquerade ball or soemthing?"you hiss at your cousin.

"Shut up, y/n , you’re not the only one feeling odd. ” Yugyeom shoots back

But all of that discomfort is gone the moment you see Jackson Wang sitting on the huge sofa in the living room , wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts and a white tank top , drunk and wasted and blabbering.

“Let’s go before he sees us.” Yugyeom says , pushing you through the crowds of people clad in silks and pure cotton , “Drunk Jackson is difficult to handle.”

“Oh , I beg to differ , All Jacksons are difficult to handle.”

The garden behind the mansion is filled with even more people than your brain was accustomed to seeing while the DJ stands at the top of a platform , headphones on and screaming into the mic every once in a while to hype up the crowd in front of him , but you realise it’s hardly needed. People are already way too hyped up in here.

“Y/n?” You hear a voice say and you immediately turn around to face Hwang Hyunjin standing under the wonderful night sky, looking as gorgeous as ever. But then again ,when does he not look pretty?

“Hey, Hyunjin. How have you been?” You ask with a smile. Your awkward hand movements do not go unnoticed by him but he thankfully doesn’t comment on it.

“I’ve been good. How have you been ?” He replies , inching closer to you. From the corner of your eye, you see Yugyeom slowing disappearing into the crowds, leaving you all alone to deal with your ex boyfriend’s best friend. You make a mental note to never lend your Netflix account to him again.

“I’m okay, too.” You say.

Hyunjin nods, his eyes staring at you curiously, “Tell me , y/n , how have you really been? I know what happened between you and Minho.”

You gulp , heat creeping up to your cheeks.

“I’m fine, really. Don’t worry about it.” You say, biting the inside of your cheeks nervously.

“If you say so.” he grins , putting an arm around you , “But I’ll be real honest with you , Minho - ”

The words are cut off when the DJ suddenly blasts a new song through the speakers , simultaneously yelling into the mic. The sweaty, wasted , hopeless crowd around you yell a few ’ Let’s GO! ’s and ’ Fuck It Up ’s in response.

“What were you saying?” You yell over the music , pinching Hyunjin’s t-shirt to get his attention. He glances at back you then points toward his left , “That.”

You turn your head in that direction , your heart skipping a beat the moment your eyes meet Minho’s nervous ones. You see him walk towards you in long strides ,his handsome features painted with anxiousness and worry and a foreign sense of guilt. You were angry at him ,yes ,but as he makes his way to you , his silky hair bouncing softly ,his pink lips slightly parted, his starry eyes locked on you ,he looks…Brilliant? Breathtaking? Gorgeous? Stunning? All of these?

He wears a blue tshirt with black pants and has a jacket tied around his waist. He looks beautiful- even though you are mad at him. He looks way too beautiful to not acknowledge it.

And just a few seconds before he reaches you , you break away from Hyunjin’s hold and run away into the crowd.

“Y/n, wait!” You hear the both of them yell at the same time. But only one of them follows behind you and you don’t even have to look back to know who it is.

Fear and anger creep into your body , slow but painful like poison. You remember the last few days and how horrible it had been for you , all because of Minho and his lack of understanding in a moment when it was needed the most. Over the past few weeks, your ex boyfriend had made no attempts to contact you whatsoever and if he thinks he could just pop out of nowhere and start talking to you again, then he’s gravely mistaken. You might still love him and want nothing more than to hold him close , but that doesn’t mean you aren’t angry anymore . You are not ready to face him. At all.

Your feet burn as you run further away from Minho, jogging up the stairs inside the mansion with your hand tightly gripping the cold metal railing.

“Y/n, please, just listen to me once.” He yells, still not giving up.

You scoff , “Why should I? You didn’t listen to me that day either!”

You find a door at the end of the staircase, your hands pushing it to reach the empty terrace that you’d heard Jackson bragging about during your English classes when everyone was too bored to listen to the professor. The terrace really was beautiful, with all kinds of flowers blooming and a fountain with lights , you would have almost been breath taken if not for the man closing up behind you.

“Y/n, damnit, ” Minho huffs, reaching his hand out toward you, panting, “Stop, okay? Just listen to me , please.”

Not like you have an option anyway. You sigh in defeat , walking toward the fountain, the carpet grass rustling under your feet. “What?” You demand, your voice bitter with anger.

Minho stands in front of you , his brown unkempt hair and firey eyes reminding you of the night you guys had kissed for the first time. He stands at an arm’s distance, giving you enough space to think things through. He would never want to force you to do something you wouldn’t want to. And even if everything turned out to be not in his favor tonight, he’d gladly accept it because he deserved it after treating you so badly.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers after a few seconds.

You roll your eyes, “For what? What did you do? As far as I know, THE Lee Minho never makes mistakes!”

He hangs his head low with shame ; he didn’t mean a single word he’d said that night. He was worried, yes, he was very worried about your bashful attitude but he was also very grateful to you for always having his back. It physically hurt him to see you bleeding and completely worn out that day.

“Well, I did make a mistake this time. I said some words that I didn’t mean at all and I’m afraid the girl I intended those words at hates me.” He says , pressing his lips in a line.

“Damn right , she does.” You can’t even look into his eyes anymore because you’re too afraid of laying your true feelings bare in front of him.

“I’m really, really sorry, baby. I know I’m an asshole and I hurt you. I have no excuses to offer but I just want you to know that a single second more away from you will drive me crazy. ”

You process his sentences slowly - letter by letter, inking those words permanently into your memories. “Why?” You ask. What a silly question ,y/n, do you really want to torment this man so much ?

Minho gulps, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the movement, “Because you’re quite literally my everything.”

Minho only dares to grin a little when you no longer throw virtual daggers from your eyes at him. “I hate you , you know?” You say.

“I know ,y/n. I don’t even blame you. I shouldn’t have said all that. I was just so, so mad. But that really wasn’t an excuse to be so rude to you or break up. I should have talked it out instead . I deserve the hate.” He admits.

The frown on your lips dissipates slowly ,making way for a sad, small smile.

“It was so hard, Minho. You don’t even know. I had never felt so lonely in my entire life.” You say.

“Believe me, y/n, I know.” He whispers as your hands find their way to his cheeks, rubbing them ever so gently.

You scan his face, absorbing in the fact that he was actually in front of you and this wasn’t one of your unrealistic imaginations.

Minho takes not more than a half step towards you and you automatically wrap your arms around his neck , like the millions of times you’d already done before. Everything about him is so familiar yet so new. Like layers and layers to discover and only one goddamn lifetime.

He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck , mumbling soft apologies against your skin, his arms tightening around your waist with every passing second.

“I missed you so much.” You admit, playing with his beautiful brown locks, taking in the smell of his (your) favorite body wash.

“I missed you too.” He replies , “So goddamn much. I almost wanted to cuddle Hwang Hyunjin at night.”

You laugh ,as he admires the way your noes scrunches up when you giggle and the way your eyes bend into crescent moons. In that moment, Minho realises how much he loves seeing you laugh ,especially when he’s the reason behind it. It fills him up with so much pride.

You hear the DJ change the song into a slow , romantic one as his voice booms through the speakers once again , “Ladies and gentlemen, grab the person next to you, with consent of course, and hold them close for this one because tonight is all about dancing with strangers!”

The crowd goes feral.

Minho raises an eyebrow at the DJ’s words , a sly smile playing on his lips , “Shall we?”

He pulls away from the embrace, gently bowing toward you and offering you his hand like some gentleman right out of a fairytale.

“He said dancing with a stranger, not girlfriend.” You deadpan but you take his hand anyway.

He chuckles, leaning closer to rest his forehead on yours, “Technically, we’re still broken up. That makes us strangers.”

You have to give in - not because of his weird reasoning but because of how terribly cute he looks when he smiles like that at you. He holds you close, swaying slowly to the music and grinning like there’s no tomorrow.

“What’s so funny, Lee Minho?” You ask , raising your eyebrow.

He shakes his head, still grinning, “I just realised how rare it is to find a woman who would quite literally declare war for you.”

“Now, you’re exaggerating a little bit with the war thing but yes, that’s the essence of it.” You reply with a proud smile.

He laughs, as you put your hand on his cheek once again and press your lips softly to his. You’d missed this so much - not just kissing him but also this feeling of intimacy you share with him everytime you’re in a closed space, sharing the same air. You missed his teasing, his stupidly sweet laughter, the warmth of his embrace. You missed Lee Minho - your safe place, your best friend, your world.

And even after everything, you both know for sure that you would fight the world for Minho if need be, and he’d do the exact same thing for you. Every single time.

87 notes · View notes

raccoonpatriotism · 5 years

Text

260 [Random, Useless Headcanons 📂] from @homeofthevan | Part 2 Explosive Boogaloo

1-100: Here

101: He’s always had an, uh, ‘excellent’ temperament with old women - starting from being forced to help out at Old Folks Homes to get him out of the Orphanage.

102: He yells to show he cares.

103: He also yells for the sake of it.

104: You have to constantly say his name if you want him to continue to be part of the conversation.

105: that’s why he so often repeatedly uses names, nicknames, a simple ‘son’ when speaking to people.

106: He assumes everyone’s just like him until proven otherwise.

107: Along with what I said earlier about him not being empathetic; he really isn’t able to visualize himself in someone elses shoes unless he’s been walked through, like, a specific a few times.

108: He respects Miss Pauling the most out of everyone he knows.

109: Smissmas and Thanksgiving are tied for his favorite holiday.

110: Jane really likes Halloween though, and isn’t a grump on Valentines day.

111: <- Jane’s password for anything he owns that requires a password. More 1s if necessary.

112: When he’s thirsty he’ll go to the nearest form of water for hydration - catch him just drinking out of the bathroom sink - leaning up as he wipes his mouth, chirping, “Hello, private.”

113: He guzzles coffee like it’s fuel, but he has a very strict, No Caffeine after lunch protocol.

114: Decaff is for WIMPS.

115: Jane plays the trombone.

116: Subsequently, in most music, he appreciates and hums along with the bass parts.

117: Modern AU-Jane may be a Call of Duty fanboy, but he respects Halo for being another accurate depiction of life on the battlefront.

118: Speaking of modern Jane, the Military didn’t accept him in the 80s either.

119: His love for the military lead him to believe for sure he’d be accepted he was the Perfect Patriot and his enlistment would be a surefire way to help fund his transition--

120: But of course, as strong as he had become he’d spent his youth very sick and with the possibility of the illness to return along with a terrible psyche eval and 80s typical transphobia that lane was firmly closed.

121: At least he had DOOM to fall back on. And he was physically strong enough to hold down jobs to at least pay for testosterone.

122: And then Call of Duty came out and he became an early era streamer. (Went viral as one of those guys who basically RPs being an actual soldier in the voice chat.)

123: BACK TO CANON JANE because those headcanons just.. plain, aren’t useless. canon jane doesn’t have to deal with transphobia. tch.

124: He’s not the best to have on your football team as menacing as he is. He’ll start tackling everybody. Running the wrong way. Trying to steal the ball from his teammates.

125: If you tell Jane something’s American after he criticizes it, watching him backtrack is really fun.

126: Jane doesn’t get sick often, which is good because he is insufferable. Either goes full isolation straight up outside somewhere. Or is whining to everyone and everyone how it’s not allowed that he can’t be burrowing somewhere outside.

127: His hands are always warm - if they’re cold he’s probably having an Episode of some sort.

128: Rock and Roll helps his tinnitus, though he’ll still refer to it as Hippy Garbage. Like most music.

129: Jane could probably tapdance if given proper shoes. Mmm no, he’d stomp through the floor. Horse level clomping.

130: He’ll be the hype-man for anyone on his team.

131: Despite not being a fan of mint flavoring, he loves himself a candy-cane.

132: His thumb isn’t double jointed - seeing someone showing off their double jointed-ness would have Jane proclaiming magic was necessary.

133: LT. BITES lightning round!! Lt. Bites sees jane as its “General”

134: It got the bite taken out of its ear fighting over sour cream - it won.

135: Jane doesn’t give any raccoons a higher rank than Bites.

136: Lt. Bites doesn’t crave human flesh or anything, but it likes the sensation of biting people!

137: Jane has tried to get his raccoon a job at RED.

138: You can tell when Jane is having a really good day on the battlefield because you’ll round the corner and there’s Naked Soldier.

139: He’s waxing poetry about the beauty of the Male Form, take it in you soft quivering maggots.

140: I can’t get the image of Jane crowd surfing out of my head? That’s, like, his ideal dream for being recognized for his heroics. Medals and a mosh in his Honor.

141: Anytime he sees a Bald Eagle he entirely stops what he’s doing to place his left hand over his heart.

142: Jane loves The Art of War and is still awaiting Sun Tzu’s next book.

143: [ Alcohol ] Jane only sees ghosts when he’s starving, drunk, or suffering from a concussion. And it’s merely a way for such a boar minded guy to internalize what’s going on around him.

144: He can touch his toes keeping his knees straight.

145: Jane has minor ice-skating knowledge, as most growing up in the midwestern united states do. He’s not, good, though, he’s really intent on Taking Steps instead of gliding.

146: Put him in front of a piano and he’s holding out on finger and pressing down on one key at a time like an old man at a desktop keyboard.

147: Jane is ready to beat up your father.

148: Especially if your dad is shitty, unleash good ol’ Solly on him.

149: While he favors picking his nose with his pinkies, neither of his pinkie pads have any feeling.That makes them a little less dexterous when the time comes.

150: He’s always aching to be active, his brain will take things literally if it means he’ll be doing something.

151: Rum pineapple juice and malibu caribou -- Er. He doesn’t like pineapple flavoring. Isn’t a fan of mixed drinks in general?

152: He’s capable of staying out of the picture and not picking his nose, often times if things aren’t focused on him he’ll just sorta.. Stand out of the way playing with his hands - rifling through his pouches. Some times he’ll even, *gasp* pay attention.

153: He really likes to but in with his opinion is the thing.

154: He’s an American and his ideals must be heard.

155: Merasmus out here having doing the most for Soldier, in helping him reintegrate back into society. You think he’s bonkers now?? Psh. You should’a seen him fresh home from Poland.

156: He’s shown up to Civil War reanactments with a real gun.

157: Jane is incapable of yawning silently.

158: Stairs are overrated.

159: Catch Jane with a lukewarm mug of water pouring coffee grinds directly into it and saying “Damn, that’s a fine cup of Joe.”

160: Only. 100 left? Sweet Joseph Wetnurse of Jesus He’s got dirty blond hair leaning toward brunette.

161: Any righteous death deserves a warrior’s burial - That’s why you’ll find Jane, helmet over heart, giving a stirring eulogy about the Toilet from the Men’s Restroom that Got Unearthed and Shattered By... Nobody In Particular.

162: He will just join in large groups of people - like protests? He’ll just fall in line and preach his own stuff which sometimes doesn’t exactly align with the group at large.

163: i asked myself, would jane pick someone else’s nose? Yes.

164: His hugs are always really warm.

165: He would notice his wallet being pickpocketed - unless it was replaced by something the same weight. He’s like a temple from Indiana Jones.

166: Mentally? Jane’s fine with being alone, but. That leads to him living in a box or a room straight out of that “Damn, bitch, you live like this?” comic.

167: Despite deep cold being triggering to him (SEE HC, 67.), he loves snow-forts and hot chocolate because those are great American past-times.

168: next one is this post’s 69 brace yourselves! Jane’s never truly in silence, the constant whistling in his ears will see to that. That’s why sometimes, when it is quiet, you’ll catch Jane looking into space like he’s trying to see where the sound is coming from.

169: Important to note, he ain’t popping a boner any time he’s fighting nude. Or, really, fighting any time. Intent is really important for him. (If he gets all rubbed up on, though, Well,)

170: Jane is under the assumption that everything he comes up with is ingenious and people like Red Spy are holding society back by ignoring such wide plans.

171: He’s secretly soothed by everyone on his team’s voices.

172: First off, himself. He loves to hear himself talk. Mostly fueled by self-important intent, the tenor of his own voice also soothes his eardrums.

173: Pyro’s is muffled yet energetic - and never fails to get Jane pumped up.

174: Scout’s got that accent that is pure and simple, American. Soldier may not listen to half of what he says, but for background buzz and funny colloquialisms

175: And, Engie's accent garners a whole other sort of American respect out of the Soldier. As far as soothing goes? Engie’s is like butter.

176: Soldier hate’s Heavy’s accent on principle, but below his American Stubbornness is a love for the deep, thoughtful symbols Heavy provides. Plus, y’know, he appreciates a fellow loud guy.

177: Demo’s voice makes Solly a happy man. It used to make him furious, an all Scottish accents did, but more recently it makes him feel nostalgic.

178: Jane would swear up every mountain he can that there’s nothing positive to be found in Spy’s accent, but zoning out to such poised speech patterns and rounded vowels is a common occurrence.

179: When Sniper gets that gravelly tone going on, when he takes things really seriously? Jane like that.

180: Jane can’t find it in him to be really put off by anything Medic says during surgery, so his voice only causes a feeling of safety throughout the Soldier. He can’t get enough of hearing Enthusiasm in the Medic’s voice.

181: He doesn’t believe the Police can arrest him because they aren’t the official Government.

182: He looks at a baby and is like “What animal is this?”

183: Big hands.. talented at giving massages.

184: BEWARE HIM BREAKING YOUR SPINE - just specify ‘and don’t kill me’!

185: Jane doesn’t gossip so much as, be around people who are gossiping which makes him want to make up some Hot Goss. Also, he’ll act like every rumor someone else shares is spoken truth.

186: Jane picked up finger guns from Scout. He either uses it constantly or doesn’t use it for weeks at a time.

187: He lifts, broskis.

188: Jane will talk about trucks because the Average American Male is expected to. He knows nothing about cars.

189: He’s an impulsive liar, so caught up in in his web of ‘things he says to impress people’ that he believes everything he says. So are the woes of being an adult with ADHD.

190: He goes between being smell-blind and having the scent skills of a bloodhound. It’s probably a mental thing, because there’s no in between, but Jane doesn’t know anything.

191: i’ve been working on these for 5 days at this point... i hope they’re appreciated JANE prefers..soft food. jane Does Not lov the cronch.

192: Which is what makes cashews his favorite nut. they’re soft-ish. and they have just enough crunch to not gross him out.

193: He loves immediate gratification.

194: Beyond joining the Military? Jane’s never had a solid plan for his future. Lives too in the moment.

195: As long as he’s having fun, Jane’s a pretty content guy.

196: Any artistic skills he may have once had go into making Maps for war planning sessions.

197: He’ll fall victim to Sleep Paralysis occasionally and, once able to move, will spend the rest of the day curing ghosts and Merasmus’ magic.

198: He was SUPER into Howdie Doodie Time in his youth, and being put in front of any reruns will have him basically hypnotized into silence.

199: He’s proud of his ass.

200: Jane can keep marching pace for hours at a time. And if he’s not lugging around his rocket launcher he can keep marching for an entire day no pausing.

201: Jane isn’t shy about telling jokes, because he believes everyone has the same sense of humor as him.

202: He knows karate but refuses to use his knowledge because it is not an American Form. He will stick to brute strength and loud yelling thank you very much.

203: He’s the type to state every time he’s going to use the bathroom. Like, people can be having a serious conversation and hes like, “I am going to take a shit now!”

204: Jane’ll go a week without washing his hair, but he always brushes his teeth two times a day.

205: He gives a damn good kiss.

206: All Human Nudity is safe for work. As it was God’s Intention to make people strongest when not held back by fabric.

207: All he wants is recognition.... for his good deeds...

208: He’ll have staring contests with the Sun. He’s yet to win, but that damn star shouldn’t get too comfortable.

209: Much like his pinkies, his feet have been crushed, blown up, and bruised so many times that he doesn’t have much feeling in them either.

210: He’s never washed his bellybutton.

211: He prefers savory to sweet, but he prefers sweet to sour.

212: Half assing is not in Jane’s vocabulary.

213: His brain will get stuck on simple Math - like, he tries his best to figure it out, it’s just.... Numbers..... they are a construct. And so he’ll end up pondering what 5+7 is for, like, 5 minutes.

214: Jane is constantly torn between wanting to be a Figure of Authority and also being a man born in the trenches following orders.

215: Have I mentioned lately Jane fucks?

216: Jane’s room is sparsely decorated, but it’s only because he’s not materialistic and doesn’t generally receive gifts.

217: He’s more than willing to strip Right This Moment and fight something.

218: Jane’s not afraid to call other people losers.

219: He crops his own hair once a week. Same day he’ll do his wash.

220: Jane’s stubble grows in really fast, but he can’t deny the feeling of having a freshly shaved jaw is amazing.

221: If a teammate is struggling emotionally..... Jane walks away.

222: If they’re struggling again, /then/ Jane will give them some uncalled for American Advice. Like, meaningfully yelling “GET OVER IT, YOU SLOBBERING FOOL.”

223: He has a very, very high pain threshold.

224: He accidentally walks into walls all the time.

225: He can’t magically see through his helmet - he just knows everyone’s feet super well.

226: It’s good that Lt. Bites is a wild, self sufficient animal because Jane is terrible at pet care. And child care. And any sort of care.

227: On the very rare occasions Jane gets overwhelmed with depression he’s a shadow of his former self questioning the sanctity of American Ideals and wondering aloud if War really is the answer to his problems.

228: Next day he’ll be fine and forget he was ever upset.

229: He’s never gotten a real back massage before, if he were to get one he’d probably literally melt? Some women he’s slept with liked to say sensually ‘oh what a big tense man you are’ and, like, weakly rub his back. they didn’t get paid to fix this man’s back muscles LMAO

230: Any backwards period-typical beliefs about women went out the window upon meeting Miss Pauling.

231: His love for America is truly as pure as it gets.

232: Jane’s pretty xenophobic, but he can learn better, I’m sure. he’s gotten his ass kicked for being ignorantly racist and he grew to be a better person.

233: He takes really well to learning things through violence, the only issue is.. dealing with Soldier Being Violent.

234: There’s nothing a fist to the face won’t fix.

235: He’s not much of a napper, his brain being far too active to let him rest during daylight hours.

236: He’s constantly moving, even in sleep.

237: Hell, give him a few hours after being knocked unconscious and he’ll start wiggling something around.

238: He doesn’t stop to smell the flowers, because if they wanted to be smelled they’d approach him.

239: He believes in the good of all humans, it’s just buried down past his Fight Everyone radar.

240: He only likes musicals about fighting Hitler.

241: His biggest regret is not punching Hitler.

242: He does not fear death, he does not fear punishment. He lives for his ideals and if he’s taken down believing in himself? Then that’s okay.

243: Jane needs deodorant reminders.

244: He takes personally being betrayed as people betraying the country of America.

245: (oh shit i slacked off it’s been like two days since i wrote something, Who Is Soldier?) CEREAL THEN MILK, MAGGOTS

246: Jane doesn’t know the word migraine so he really can’t describe how he feels.

247: Look, he loves his friends, he loves his guns, but he’s stingy with the word.. Love because that’s what he feels for America and the country will always be number one.....

248: Jane’s not too partial to sarcasm outside of combat, but it’ll find it’s way into his speech. His tone is usually hammed up to signify he’s joking around or being cruel.

249: He’s like a cartoon character, he can only understand sarcasm if it’s Funny to at the moment.

250: Jane likes his hair being pet.

251: He likes his hands being played with as much as he likes playing with other people’s hands. (A lot.)

252: He loves dogs, but is more of a cat person. Dogs and him just echo energy and HYPE feelings back and forth at each other until they pass out and then Jane feels more emotionally exhausted than hanging out with people.

253: The weirdest parts of rom-coms make him cry.

254: He appreciates a good non-american explosion, but he has his preferences.

255: You show Jane genuine kindness and interest and he’s like, Yours. Jane vc: Are you the vice-president?

256: If he were to have a reptile for a sidekick instead of a raccoon, he would have a turtle.

257: He can be delicate when he needs to be, but cracking eggs is a different story.

258: While not too partial to sugary beverages - he has a figure to maintain, root beer and ginger ale are his go-tos.

259: He can appreciate a salad! Jane Doe will eat his greens!!!!

260: Soldier has no tattoos, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be open to getting any. Just never crossed his mind.

SWEET SPIRIT OF JOE BIDEN AM I FINISHED?

thank you,... for reading my garbled thoughts.. for respecting The Soldier... and for being a creative individual. But mostly the respecting Soldier thing.

#patriotic headcanons #patriotic answers #like hell im gonna proofread lets go baybeeeeeeee #//THANKS AGAIN #I LOVE SOLDIER TF2 #tf2 soldier

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citizen-of-the-fandom · 6 years

Text

Freedom

[A Miraculous Ladybug response fic I did for the Miraculous Big Bang, and for the amazing and talented @thecrazydragonlady who wrote the incredible 75k *insert applause* story (The Polar Bear’s Bride) based on the fairytale East of the Sun, West of the Moon. Read Dragon’s story first. This response has spoilers and it’s also a little vague on details.]

A one-shot focusing on Adrien’s thoughts and feelings as he runs against the various restrictions in his life. Free polar bear boy 2k17

Rules, laws, controlling authorities, societal niceties, physical barriers -- one way or another, Adrien has known the restrictions on his life since before he could even walk around them.

His first toys are finely made, as befits one of his station. He is not allowed the crude toys of any others, and it is only partly because his parents worry he may harm himself on the rough edges of normality. His first steps are closely watched in the controlled environment of his parent's rooms.

(to be fair, of course, every child is restricted in such a way. the world is not a very good place to learn to walk.)

His first act of rebellion, subconscious and instinctual, is ignoring his daily lessons to listen to the songs of the children. He isn't allowed to sing them himself -- why would a prince need to sing about the plague, his father sniffs -- but he learns the words anyway.

He sits on the sidelines while the other children of the palace run around him, laughing and playing. He wants to join them, more than anything.

But he can't.

As Adrien gets older, trained to be silent instead of crying when he is sad and frustrated and wants nothing more than to be held by his mother, he is frequently placed with other children in a stuffy room where they are expected to simply sit for hours, as though that is considered playing. He wants to chase and be chased the way he saw the children in the streets doing, but he dares not even ask.

Finally, his mother speaks on his behalf and his walls stretch to include the courtyard near the forest. He is closely watched and he cannot leave, but within these barriers he is content for a little while. He even plays with the other children -- who are also overjoyed to leave those stuffy rooms -- although it seems whenever their games are getting truly interesting, they are called away and he is left alone.

And besides that, whenever they do play, he feels as though the other children are hesitant around him. As though they follow rules made specifically about him. Whenever he comments on a toy they give it to him. When he races the other children he is always faster. When he manages to convince the other boys to let him wrestle, he always wins. It takes him a little while to discover that they are letting him win. They always defer to everything he wants. They act...

They act like the people surrounding his father and mother. Always ready to flatter but never sincere.

(Like they don't let themselves have an opinion.)

One day, after off-handedly mentioning the new ball he got for his birthday, the children immediately "agree" to play catch. He wants to roll his eyes but stops himself. It would be rude, and he doesn't think they mean anything by it anyway.

(always, always something stops him from being himself)

Adrien thinks, sometimes, that if the children had better aim it would be impossible for him to fail to catch the ball. Clearly, they try their absolute best to throw it directly to him every time, even though he sees some of them throwing it purposefully wide and laughing when the others have to run to catch it. Not so with him -- or at least they attempt not to tease him in such a manner. But they are children, of course, and not always perfect, and the frustration of not throwing the ball as they'd wanted wears off a little bit of their composure. They throw the ball a little harder than normal, and their laughs are more real when he catches it. He believes they're having fun, and he believes it even when the ball goes sailing right past his head and he turns and runs after it, laughing.

He can hear the children calling out apologies, and then stammering excuses when their parents ask about said apologies. They will probably be gone when he gets back. His head droops even as he continues running after the ball. It has rolled under a bush near the wall, a little out of sight.

He stops short at the sight of a girl holding the ball. She has hair like his but she seems very out of place, though he could not say why. He can see the same loneliness he feels reflected in her eyes, along with the defiant spark of someone who struggles against her own restrictions.

Of course Adrien befriends her.

Adrien is heartbroken when his new friend betrays him. She binds him, steals him, takes him far away from the only home he’s ever known. For a few moments during the awful trip, he thought it was exciting, a new adventure he could never have dreamed of having. But it quickly sets in that the girl — the troll — has no intention of letting him return home. She speaks of how he is hers, how he will always be hers, how he will never leave her.

He’d give anything for the solid walls of the palace that he could never go past.

For one glittering moment, he hopes the troll’s father will set him free, but it is not to be.

His life is one prison after another, each worse than the one before.

His skin feels wrong. It’s heavy, and hot, and he hates it. He can’t speak, he can hardly run because he has four legs.

And sure, the troll king places him out of the reach of the troll princess, but that is little comfort. He is doomed to wander, imprisoned in his own body.

Then again…

At least he is free (?) to wander.

He takes to roaming the countryside, quickly learning to stay near the rivers and lakes, because he is prone to overheating whenever he strays from the ice palace. It would likely be quite enjoyable to wander wherever he wants, able to explore the great outdoors…

If he could wander wherever he wants. He is stuck in the skin of a strange animal which any hunter would give their best hound to acquire. He has to stay away from people—

(he always has to stay away from people!)

—and as he is in the form of something that lives in the frozen wasteland of the north, he must stay within reach of the ice palace.

And, too, he begins to stay closer to the palace because…

He can’t remember anything else.

He can’t remember where his home is — he must have had one, surely — or where his parents are — he must have had them, of course — and he has no idea which way to go to even start to find them.

And in time, in ever circling, always present time, he begins to forget that he had wanted to.

Roaming is the only thing that feels right, and even it is wrong, but he is at a loss as to what else his limited memories will allow him to enjoy.

It is during this roaming that he stumbles across the girl with eyes the color of the sky.

Beneath the fuzziness in his mind keeping him slow—

(keeping him bound)

—he is proud to have saved her. That, he did alone. He did without anyone telling him to do so. Without direction.

He keeps the feeling of that moment strong, even if sometimes he forgets exactly why he had been so calm and peaceful that day. He only knows he was, that somewhere there were eyes the color of the sky that had made him feel safe and secured, strong enough to break through…

It’s fuzzy again.

His life has become a long drawn out collection of can’t, and he knows that there are enchantments he can’t break. Knows that there are rules.

(of course there are rules)

(when has he ever been free of rules)

He follows them because he must, until the day he meets her again. Her eyes hold a spark he has never—

Never felt—

No, that’s not right.

He had felt that way once, a few times, when he strayed beyond some boundary. The memory is fuzzy, but he thinks…

He hopes…

Oh, he hopes.

He won’t just drag the girl with him, of course, but he knows it is important — vital — that she comes with him. He offers her a choice; that’s important, he knows it.

She accepts.

He bundles her off to his home, where he feels less like the heat is smothering him and the clear frost sharpens his mind. A little. His mind is always fuzzy these days. The girl…

The girl is brave.

Strong.

She explores everything with a vibrant curiosity, and he feels encouraged to do the same when he watches her. He feels that though he can’t break the enchantment, she can.

How could he do anything other than love her?

Another string in the enchantment woven around him: he can throw off the polar bear skin at night. It feels strange to wander on two feet, but. Well. He never wanders far.

Funny thing: the strength of the polar bear had itself been a barrier. He could hardly be expected to gently caress his lady’s cheek with a claw made for ripping. He could not wrap his arms around her when his arms were actually feet.

But like this? He can… he can be with her, close enough to touch, to hold her.

And this, too, has its own rules and restrictions. Only at night, and he must never speak, and she must never—

Never—

Can’t—

Green eyes flash in the night.

He has human hands, and he will hold his lady for as long as he can, and nothing can stop him.

#mbb2k17 #my fanfiction #never done a big bang thingie like this #and boy am i terrible at procrastinating #anyway #here it is #ta da

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cityofnumbersix · 7 years

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Electric Moment Chapter 4

READ ON AO3

MOTHER POST

Eijirou's face visibly brightened at Midnight's word's of approval. He hadn't been very sure how this would go down. Midnight had a very strong personality. She liked to be in control, to handle everything with ease and without complaint from those involved. However, Bakugou didnt seem to be the sort of person who enjoyed following others orders, which might have been a problem. The fact that Midnight had chosen to look past this fault, meant that Bakugou had something she deemed far more important than his control issues.

Then, the later half of her sentence seemingly hit the entirety of the room at the same time.

"Two weeks?!" Denki gasped out, gripping his stick's between his fingers, eyes bulking as he turned himself toward's Midnight, "But we haven't practiced for over a month?"

"Bakugou hasn't played with us at all..." Hanta added softly, staring at the woman with the same dumbfounded expression as the rest.

"Well then he's just going to have to learn fast isn't he?" She hummed, reaching to pick up the coat she had discarded on top a mic-stand upon her entry, "You've already lost time. Dropping a guitarist hadn't exactly been in the schedule. If you don't want to lose your audience, we can't waste anymore time."

Kyoka clenched her fists tightly, staring down at her whitening knuckles. Midnight was right. In this day and age it was difficult to keep people's interest for an extended amount of time without a tremendous effort. Sure they had debuted top of the charts, and they had a pretty strong following, but who knew how many people they had lost during their brief absence. They had to come back as soon as possible.

Standing to her feet, Kyoka turned to direct Midnight with an unwavering look of determination, her eyes glowing brightly with a sense of obligation.

"We'll be ready in two weeks." She stated simply, her eyes glancing back at Bakugou, who up until now stood upon the platform in uncharacteristic silence, cradling his guitar. The moment he was addressed by Kyoka, he turned his eyes toward her, scoffing.

"Obviously." He grunted out confidently, snapping his head to look away from the group.

Midnight watched him from the corner of her eye, an impish smile pulling at the corner of cherry red lips. She generally had a fairly accurate radar that applied exclusively to good talent, and troublesome musicians. When Electric Moment had introduced their now ex-guitarist, she'd been less than impressed with his ora. In the end, she should have followed her instincts, in which she hardly ever didn't. It had been a lapse of judgement. She'd had too much pride in the fact she'd discovered a group with such a raw sound that she knew would make it big, that she'd entrusted them with the handling of a loose-unit boy who clearly couldn't be tamed.

But this time, things felt different. Although Bakugou's attitude was one of the openly worst she'd had to deal with, there was something about him that felt, safe. He clearly enjoyed music. She could tell from the way he played, the way his sound was a mash of many things she'd heard before, but also fell into a realm all it's own, much like Electric Moment themselves. She would leave him be for now, with the reassurance in the back of her mind that she wouldn't allow history to repeat itself. One wrong move, and he was gone.

"Well then I can trust I'll be hearing from you all in just over a week for a stage rehearsal." She explained, reaching for the doorknob, not bothering to look back at the group of young adults, "Don't disappoint me again."

With that, Midnight was gone, and the tension that had been constricting each member's breathing, released. Denki let out a dramatic sigh, turning towards Kyoka, the bands unnamed leader, almost as soon as he'd mangaged to catch his breathe.

"Two weeks is a pretty shitty amount of time." He whined, letting himself slide back against the wall of the studio, pressing his fingers through a mess of blood and black locks, "Even if we didn't have classes and work..."

"Then we better not waste any of our practice sessions." Kyoka simply stated, walking toward's Denki, leaning in to press her forehead into his, a reassuring gesture that they'd been performing since the age of five.

Denki let a slow breath escape his lips, squeezing his eyes shut as he leant himself against his friend's touch. His lungs filled completely with the sweet scent of daisies and oak, an aroma that was so purely Kyoka that it instantly allowed his mind to settle. It never took much to make Denki stressed. His anxiety had been an issue for him since his teen years, and even the smallest thing was capable to pushing him into a frenzy of fear and doubt. Kyoka was the only one who had ever been able to handle it, calming him enough that he could think straight, washing away the cloud of worry that often threatened to fog his mind.

Denki chuckled lowly under his breath, reaching to flick his index finger against Kyoka's temple, forcing her back and out of his space, "Yeah well you better worry more about yourself. Voice is getting a little rusty."

Kyoka pulled herself back, her eyes wide with shock. A broad smile from Denki began to blind her vision, causing her to growl out, lunging forward to begin punching at his arms with a gentle force, "You little shit! Not like you can talk! When's the last time you ever won at Karaoke, huh?"

Denki cackled, moving to dodge Kyoka's attempts to hit him, pulling his arms up in defence. He reached to wrap his larger hands around her wrists, the metal studs that spiked out from the leather bracelets that adorned her wrists, digging into his palms as he pushed at her, holding his body back from her assaults.

"Yo, dickheads!" Bakugou's voice boomed towards them, drawing them both out from their banter, the pair huffing softly from the excursion of energy that accompanied their tussle, "Can we knock the heterosexuality down a notch? You're gonna give me fucking nightmares."

Kyoka instantly pulled her hand toward her chest in a overdramatic display of shock, "How dare you Bakugou. I know we've only just met, but to accuse me of being...being a..." She called back, falling backwards to lay herself between Denki's legs, head falling back upon his shoulder, "A heterosexual?"

It was Eijirou who cracked first, coughing out a loud laugh, reaching to hold his own abdomen, squeezing his eye shut as he began to choke on air. The rest of them -bar Bakugou, swiftly followed, the room erupting in a sea of laughter.

"I'm gay as shit Bakugou, so you don't have to worry about me" Kyoka muttered between laughs, pushing herself to her feet, "But it's nice to know you feel comfortable enough to come out to us." She teased, watching Kirishima with subtle glances between him and the blond before her.

Bakugou's cheeks began to grow pink, his eyebrows drawing together. Kyoka had surely hit a mark with that one, but Bakugou was going to have to grow use to this level of playful teasing if he was planning to stay with them, which Kyoka was willing to do anything in order to achieve. Katsuki Bakugou was everything that Electric Moment had always needed. He was going to change the way this bands future panned out, but that didn't mean he was immune to some jabbing every so often. Watching this kid blow up was just going to be far too entertaining.

"Who fucking said I was coming out to you! Don't just assume things to midget bitch!" Bakugou cried, his cheeks burning almost as brightly as the fire in his eyes. Hot like the venom dripping from his words.

"Hm, don't worry buddy. The only straight person in this room is Hanta, and he's not gonna judge." Kyoka continued, her voice seeping with amusement as she watched Eijirou practically internally combust in the corner of the room, bombaraded with the new-found knowledge that Katsuki Bakugou, was in fact a huge queer like himself.

Bakugou's face only appeared to grow warmer. The sun struck image of a certain bright-haired snapchat mutual coming to mind in company of the small punk girl's sudden declaration.

"Regardless." Kyoka spoke again, moving to walk towards the platform, climbing up to stand at Bakugou's side, chin tilting ever so slightly to look him in the eyes, "Normally I would suggest you jump right in and we practice as a group, but my personal opinion is that you should spend some time working individually with the strings. You're a good player, but bands need to work together and I want to feel confident that you can work with our sound as much as we can learn to work with yours."

Bakugou said nothing as he watched Kyoka, eyes brimmed with curiosity. Maybe this was the first time he'd encountered someone who wasn't instantly afraid of him, someone who's who didn't have to warm to his boisterous exterior with time and patience, or maybe he was just far more stupid that Kyoka had originally thought. But he seemed to be listening at least, so that counted for something.

"I don't know if you bothered to pay attention last time, but my name is Kyoka Jirou, I'm the vocalist. I play guitar, but not in the band so thats not really important." She stated, before stepping back, beginning to motion a flat palm out in a polite gesture as she moved it from person to person, "Blondie is Denki Kaminari on drums. The one with the long hair is Hanta Sero, who was specifically briefed to message you about Midnight prior to you arriving today, which was suppose to eliminate the posibility of what occurred actually happening, but clearly he had better things to do."

Hanta flinched, flashing Kyoka an apologetic grin, listening as she moved on, "He's also guitar. I'm sure there's no need to introduce your pretty snapchat buddy Eijirou Kirishima over there, but he's bass, just so you know. You seem like a family name kind of guy, so we'll go with that for now. It's up to the guys on their own what happens from there."

Bakugou eyed each of them individually, lingering on Eijirou slightly longer than the other's, causing the red-head's abdomen to erupt in a series of somersaults, though the gaze really was only fleeting.

"As I said, I want you to take turns working with Hanta and Eiji on their own. It's the best way to get you integrated while the rest of us work on the music. We can play our old shit for this performance, but if we don't have any new material coming out Midnight is gonna be on our case. Got it?" Kyoka concluded, tilting her head to the side in question.

"Teach Shitty Hair and Soysauce Face to be less shitty. Learn your crap." Bakugou spoke roughly, leaning in ever so slightly to brush his nose against Kyoka's in a minute form of intimidation, "Crystal, boss."

"Good." Kyoka replied, smirking back at him, "Welcome to Electric Moment Bakugou, sure I can trust you not to majorly fuck it up."

Eijirou would be lying if he said he wasn't the least bit disappointed that it was Hanta that Bakugou had chosen to work with first. The idea that he could be sitting in the corner with a sex god, close enough to feel the vibrations from his guitar strings, was too much to allow him to concentrate on forming cords, or lyrics, or even words. His melancholic attitude must have been obvious, because rather than working themselves, Denki was spending his time pressing his finger against Eijirou's side, digging the digits against his rib cage.

"Aw, c'mon Eiji, I'm sure he's just too nervous to work with you straight up. Y'know, you would be by yourself, pressing close together, teaching each other how to flick each other's strings..." the blond teased, resulting in a firm smack against his chest, briefly winding him.

"Oh shut up Denki." Eijirou grumbled, with no real bite behind his words.

"Leave him alone Denki." Kyoka defended, her eyes not bothering to look up from where she was working on lyrics for a new song, "It's not his fault he has a guitarist fetish and a taste for nasty boys."

"I have neither of those things!" Eijirou cried, his face turning down in a pout.

"Jesus Shitty Hair can you shut you're trap?! Some of us are trying to practice!" Katsuki's voice shot across the studio, the direct attention causing Eijirou's bowel to fill with excited mirth, regardless of the scolding he'd received.

"Is he always like that?" Katsuki grumbled, eyes darting quickly from Kirishima across the room, who instead of heeding the other boy's warning, proceeded to turn and flash Katsuki a wide-toothed grin upon the mention of his own name.

Sero hummed, his fingers wandering along the edge of his guitar, eyes not once glancing up in Katsuki's direction. Katsuki assumed he was nervous, but it was annoying as all hell in a sense. It's hard to work with someone when they won't even bother to spare you a single glance.

"Eijirou has always been like that." Sero explained, a slight laugh escaping with his words, "Kyo and Denki like to wind him up though. When Mina isn't around to stop them he can get pretty rowdy about it. He's loud in general, and talkative."

Katsuki merely made a soft noise in response, to prove that he was listening. His eyes were instead focused upon Kirishima, who was back to working loudly with the other pair, his arms flailing wildly as he spoke, voice booming over the rest. His eyes were crinkled up happily as he spoke, and Katsuki had to divert his own in order to be able to fully process the emotions that it stewed inside him. He chose to focus back on his playing, strumming the strings lazily as he spoke.

"Not many bands these days have two guitarists..." He suddenly wondered aloud, "Why didn't you just step up to take lead? 'Tis not like you really like you dickhead's needed someone else."

Sero reached up to scratch at their back of his scalp, eyes darting towards the roof in an act of escape, "Huh...well, I guess I've never really been one for the spotlight. Midnight likes me...I think...well at least she likes what I add to the music...but I'm not the strong lead guitarist she was looking for in a band like this..."

Katsuki only snorted, rolling his eyes in regards to their boy's explanation, "Sounds like you think too fucking much."

"What? You don't think when you play?" Sero quarried, the question only working to make Katsuki feeling slightly irritated.

"Fuck thinking." He growled, beginning to move his fingers along his guitar with more force, "Don't need to think when you've got the music."

Sero allowed his eyes to linger as Katsuki began to play, something that the blond ignored quite easily. His eyes narrowly listened as Sero began to play along, his finger's moving from memory, where Katsuki's moved from his eyes on the music sheets at his feet. Fuck thinking. These fucker's did too much of that.

Practices continued like that for the rest of the week. They were sectioned sporadically amongst each of their individual class and work schedules, something that appeared easier for the original members, who in which had Midnight speak to their lecturers about working their assignments and attendance records around what she apparently wanted. This was clearly something what Bakugou was against, instead choosing to growl at the group about his need to study and work, which was something they all took into account when it came to the boy missing practices, and the fact that he would call on both Hanta and Eijirou at odd times to meet him at the studio to practice. This applied more to Hanta than Eijirou, who instead got most of his solo practice time with Bakugou, reduced to their group sessions, something that disappointed him greatly.

So it was a surprise when he heard his phone buzz with the familiar sound of a Snapchat notification as he sat lazily upon the floor of his, Denki and Kyoka's shared living space, finger's pressing loosely against the buttons of a PlayStation controller as he worked his way through another boss battle in Persona, something he now did with ease after weeks of playing the game nonstop during his free time.

Eijirou looked down at his phone, eyebrows raising in question. He wasn't going to lie, his Snapchat interactions with Bakugou had improved significantly since his reply on the first day of practice a few days ago, but they were nothing more than simple replies to certain snaps that he would post. A question about why he spent so much time goofing off in class instead of listening, a picture of the boy's guitar at practice telling him to focus when Kirishima Sanpped a picture of him from across the room. However, they were always replies. Not once had Bakugou initiated any kind of conversation with Kirishima by himself, unless it was scolding the boy in person.

So this, was new. Eijirou knew for a fact that he hadn't sent Katsuki anything this morning. He'd woken up around eleven, not bothering to change out of his pyjamas as he made himself a lazy breakfast of nato and left over rice, before settling down with his game after realising that neither Kyoka nor Denki were currently home. So why was he currently looking down at said angry boy's Snapchat handle, sitting unopened upon a notification sent only a minute or so prior?

Eijirou inhaled a steady breath as she reached to take the device between his fingers. His nerves buzzing as the wrapped his brain for a particular situation in which he may have made his blond, maybe crush, upset. His mind came up with nothing, which calmed him just enough to be able to open the snap without feeling as if his heart was going to explode from his chest.

BakuBAE

It was a picture of Bakugou's hand wrapped around the base of a disposable Starbuck's cup, something that occurred quite regularly in the blond boy's snaps. A favourite, Eijirou had concluded.

"Oi shithead, what are you doing right now?"

Scratch that, Eijirou's heart was about to escape through his mouth and possibility land to the floor before him, baring itself in all it's glory to his one true god. He didn't know which god that was exactly, but it was which ever one had blessed upon him this honour. Maybe it was Bakugou himself, which left Eijirou's gutt twisting at the concept of baring himself to Bakugou in such a way. He was a true embarrassment.

Eijirou quickly flipped his camera around to take a look at himself. His hair was a disorderly mess and he still had a segment of rice stuck to his jaw from his breakfast, which he quickly moved to wipe away. He wasn't exactly Snapchat ready, but Eijirou was never one to shy away from the front-face camera shot, just because he had a bit of bedhead and some eye bags, even if it was to a cute boy who was currently enquiring about his current status of behaviour.

Eijirou quickly snapped a picture his himself, hand pressed over his mouth, hair falling slightly over his facial features. He'd set the filter to a rather flattering one, which made his crimson eyes pop in a way that Eijirou enjoyed.

"Being lazy bro, u? (^O^)"

He hit send.

It was unusual for Eijirou is usually be cutesy. If anything, he tried to uphold himself as someone who was pretty damn manly to say the least. Mina was always praising him on his ability to make anything from a muscle-tee to a flowing crop-top look both masculine and gorgeous as hell, but there had always been something about boys.

Since Eijirou was younger, the moment he caught hold of any form of attraction towards someone of the same sex, his personality would to a full 180. He would go from the boisterous bicep-head who spent his time punching people in the arm as a friendly greeting, to sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, jutting his hip out slightly in a flirtatious manner that seemed almost completely out of character. From outside it may have even looked ridiculous, but to his friend's it was a behaviour that they had all become accustomed to recognising. Even his mother's had began to notice as he grew older.

It wasn't long before he received another notification, which had Eijirou pushing himself to his feet to pace in a nervous manner.

(Snapchat) BakuBAE is typing...

A few seconds later.

(Snapchat) New Snap from BakuBAE

Eijirou quickly unlocked his phone, waiting the brief seconds it took for the snapchat message to loud, before slipping his finger's across the screen in order to read it.

BakuBAE: Get dressed. I don't have a class until five.

Eijirou then proceeded to choke on the musky air of his apartment, causing him to almost drop his phone in the process. He made his way towards the balcony door, sliding it open as quickly as possible to allow for a cool draft to rush into the space, filling his lungs with a generous amount of fresh oxygen.

Red Riot: U wanna meet up?

BakuBAE: Obviously, you fucking idiot. I want to practice.

Red Riot: Like, as a group?

BakuBAE: Are you fucking dense? Everyone else is busy. BakuBAE: What's your address Shitty Hair?

At that moment, Eijirou physically felt his soul leave his body. His back slipped against the railing of the small balcony that he and his friend's shared with their neighbour, a stout, elderly woman by the name of Ms. Yamagata, who religiously supplied the trio with an appropriate food-stuff during every and all holiday's. Right now, he prayed that the woman wasn't home in order to witness his ultimate demise, and he begged that either one of his friend's made their way out to discover his body before he be able to, save her fragile heart the shock.

After an appropriate amount of time to recover, he send Bakugou his address anyway, before rushing off to find something presentable enough to wear. Their place wasn't the tidiest, and laundry day wasn't until Monday, which left his opinions minimal and slightly pathetic.

He chose to squeeze himself into a pair of jeans that he often let sit in the bottom of his cupboard out of the pure fact that they were far too difficult to slip in and out of in the off chance that he might get some action. He was a hopefully boy, but he knew that he needn't be in this particular situation. The stars would really need to align in order for him to get anywhere near Katsuki Bakugou's dick at this point in time.

When the sturdy sound of a knock rang through the walls of the apartment, Eijirou made sure to check himself out one last time in the bathroom mirror, just to make sure his hair was sitting in the perfect position, before making his way to open it.

When the door slipped open, it presented him with an eyeline of Bakugou, blond bangs pulled back in a plastic headband, guitar dropped over his near-bare shoulder, the dips of his shirt once again low enough to show off the edges of his abdominal muscles and teasing the waistband of his underwear that sat high on his hips, above the low fall of his slightly-baggy jeans.

"That fucking elevator is wrecked as hell. You're all gonna die in that thing one day." Bakugou huffed out, his eyes dragging over Eijirou's form as he stared back at Bakugou in awe.

"Y-Yeah...that things scary as hell man...we use the stairs..."

Katsuki hummed in response, moving to push past Eijirou into the apartment, letting his shoes slip off his feet in the entryway with ease.

"Coulda warned me dipshit." He replied, sock glad feet slipping upon the unpolished hardwood floors, Eijirou's eyes following his movements with soft eyes. Yeah, maybe it had been a bit too long since he'd gotten himself laid.

"The elevator is terrible...make sure you take the stairs." Eijirou teased snapping himself out of his own mind as he followed Bakugou into the apartment, moving to lead him past the kitchen into the living space, which was now bright with midday sun as it beamed in from the open curtains of the glass door of the balcony.

"Your house smells like fucking dope." Bakugou stated, his tone oddly questioning as he moved to press himself onto the floor in front to the side of the ever-cluttered table that stood in the centre of the room.

"Denki says it helps him concentrate." Eijirou muttered, answering the unspoken get question with ease as he sat himself across from Bakugou, reaching for the base that he'd neatly placed within arms reach, with full intention to use it instead of just spending the whole time ogling the fact that Katsuki Bakugou was within five feet of his bedroom door, "Plus it's fun."

Eijirou eyed Bakugou as the other male visibly processed the information. Mina had always described Bakugou as the sort of person that played the straight-edged student, regardless of his aggression and obscene vocabulary. He's not surprised that Bakugou knows the smell, being as young as he was and spending his days in the same sort of places that Eijirou often spent his own time, but it didn't shock him in the slightly either, that Bakugou appeared to be the sort of person who wouldn't have ever participated himself.

"Ever dabbled before?" The words left Eijirou's mouth before he could stop them, and he was well prepared to get screamed at and have Bakugou storm out, accusing Eijirou of attempting to solicit drugs upon his well-behaved self, but he didn't. If anything, Bakugou seemed slightly intrigued by the question, if only in his eyes and not his words.

"Do I look like some sort of drop-kick stoner to you?" Bakugou hissed, glaring at Eijirou accusingly.

"Do I?" Eijirou immediately knocked back, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. Bakugou snorted.

"Are you stupid?"

"Maybe, but not from drugs, if that's any sort of consolation." Eijirou's words were casual, playfully, like he normally was with others. Like how he never was around Bakugou, not once this whole week, "Wanna try?"

Eijirou watched Bakugou closely from across the table, his features, that were always far more honest that the boys words. He watched as his mind wound over Eijirou's words, the possibilities, the results, something that's required most of Bakugou's attention, but still allowed him to stare back at Eijirou as he reached across the table to pull a tattered shoebox from it's surface, amongst an array of advertisements and empty coffee cans.

"M'here to practice..." He muttered quietly, moving awkwardly in his place as he watched Eijirou's movements.

"We can do both y'know. Look, this is how we usually work when we aren't in the studio. It's just weed, nothing crazy." Eijirou explained, pulling a bag of the substance from the box, along with a grinder, a device that had Bakugou creasing his eyebrows he he stared down at it, "You don't have to. I wont force you or anything."

"Like you could force he to do fucking anything fuckmunch. I'm not some fucking stupid sheep." Bakugou replied, but didn't decline.

Eijirou took this as Bakugou's subtle way of agreeing, so he chose to move forward and place a few sections of bud into the grinder, working carefully, his eyes moving from Bakugou to the object in front of him. He could feel Bakugou's gaze, which was something he hadn't yet grown accustomed to. Being looked at, observed when he wasn't in an immediate conversation with someone. Sure, people looked, but not in the way Bakugou did. No ones eyes felt the way Bakugou's did upon Eijirou's skin. It was thrilling in a way, even if to Bakugou it meant nothing.

Getting Bakugou high was something close to watching a unruly horse be tamed by it's rider. He was hesitant at first, aggressive about the fact that he was "perfectly fucking capable" of doing everything himself. He wasn't though, which only made Eijirou's day all the more better when he was allowed to crawl his way to Bakugou's side, his mind already slightly foggy with high as he held the opening up to Bakugou's lips, flicking the lighter and talking Bakugou through his inhale, which became easier the more times he was able to do it.

It didn't take long for Bakugou to become unfathomably placid, his face relaxing out of it's usual tight-nite nature, and his words becoming softer, quieter, even if they still contained only slightly less profanity than normal. Eijirou enjoyed this Bakugou, if only a little more than he liked the way Bakugou acted normally. It was refreshing, and the mixture of this and Eijirou's own cloudy mind made things feel ever so much more comfortable than it was typically between the two.

"You hold it weird..." Bakugou mumbled, playing a soft turn on his guitar, the instrument cradled on his knee, back flush against the edge of the couch as he stared at Eijirou.

"Hm?" Eijirou questioned, looking up from his base, vision jumping slightly slower than the motion of his eyes.

"Your bass." Bakugou explained, "You hold it weird. Had anyone ever told you that before?"

In fact, many people had told him that before. It was something, that in the beginning, he was constantly getting reprimanded for doing. Midnight was constantly on his case, assigning him tutors and other musicians from bands she also worked with, but they were never able to correct it. It didn't feel right to hold it any other way. It wasn't comfortable.

"Yeah..." Eijirou drew out, letting his fingers slips along the smooth surface of his instrument's face, the feeling heightened to the point that it felt far better than it would at any other time, "But I like it this way..."

Bakugou grunted out a sound of disapproval, placing his guitar delicately to the side, before gently crawling across the tiny space between him and Eijirou's persons. This had Eijirou's attention more than anything, his eyes glancing down at the slide of Katsuki's knees against the hardwood surface, his fingers gripping it as he pushed himself so that his face was positioned directly in front of Eijirou's. He swallowed down what he thought might be bile, but was probably just an embarrassing sound that wished to escape from his lungs.

Bakugou didn't stop, instead flipping his legs around themselves, settling himself behind Eijirou's back. The red head turned to gaze over his shoulder, his nose bumping against Bakugou's jaw, causing the taller male to grunt angrily, but he didn't speak. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Eijirou's waist, placing his hands upon his, repositioning the bass guitar.

"If you don't hold it probably, you'll strain your shoulders. Then you wont be able to play, fucking moron..." his voice was hushed, far different to the way he normally spoke. It sent as shiver running from Eijirou's tailbone, up to his neck. He turned his head further to make eye contact with Bakugou.

"Feels...alright...I guess..." Eijirou whispered, running his finger's along their strings of the base, Bakugou's hand's following, engulfing Eijirou's finger's with his own.

"Adjusting..." Bakugou mumbled, swallowing audibly, "It's hard to adjust yourself from bad habits, but if you don't, you're fucked in the long run. You do fitness bullshit right? You should know that."

Eijirou swore this time it really was vomit, but he once again refused to let it up, growing silent just long enough to push everything back down into his body, including the unrelenting beating of his heart.

"How did you..." he queried gently, pressing his back against Bakugou just timidly enough that he hoped the other wouldn't notice his instinctual need to gain a closer touch, to be encases in the other's warmth.

"Snapchat." He mumbled simply, turning his head as Eijirou's nose once again came into contact with his own face, "What time is it?"

Eijirou huffed out a breath in response to the change of subject, turning his head back in order to reach for his phone, which cradled itself half upon the table to his left. He checked it's display. Just after three PM. They'd been practicing a while, but he still wished hard that if he stared down at his phone for long enough, time would cease completely, and this moment would never have to end.

Bakugou must have been watching it too, because suddenly he felt the weight from his back lift as the blond stood to his feet, making his way across the space against to pull his guitar from the floor.

"I have to head home and get my shit ready for class." He explained, not intending to look back at Eijirou as he moved towards the entryway hall, "How much longer is this shit gonna last?"

Eijirou tried his best to contain his disappointment, which he couldn't tell in the slightest if he was successful due to the every shifting focus of his brain, "Probably only another hour. You okay to get to the station?"

"Yeah." Bakugou grunted, pulling a lace tight on his shoe, before pushing himself straight, "See ya later shitty hair."

"Later bro..."

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sandytree1 · 5 years

Text

Markedsføring for arkitekter

Hvordan kan arkitekter markedsføre seg selv på best mulig måte?

DUMP

Why spend so much energy on design? For most of the population, experiencing architecture is unavoidable and its impact is lasting. Why not make it delightful?

Instagram is the king of social media. Used to market their work, promote new ideas, even pull in commissions. Find and foster new talent.

Goal: increasing public interest in architecture.

But of course, the ease and availability of such tools has a flipside: anything less than top quality will no longer cut it. There is no excuse for painfully blurry site construction photos, even less for those hastily composed, dimly lit, "studio desk" photos. Where is the creative spirit? Beyond just simply sharing your work, architects have a respected reputation for creating beautiful things, which should be carried throughout their work, regardless of media (built, drawn, digital, or otherwise.)

Behind the scenes look at their studio, but ultimately have a conversation about design with its community.

Most rely on word of mouth referral

How to win more challenging, bigger and more impressive projects?

Many architects complain that marketing doesn’t work yada yada. But in most cases, it’s simply because they’re doing it wrong. Advertising IS NOT marketing. It’s just a form of marketing, but it is not the same as it. Like a German Shepherd is a dog, but not all dogs are German Shepherds.

“Effective marketing is the process of making your prospects aware of the value your design firm provides and persuading them to take the next step in your process.”

“When most architects market their firms (including the misguided marketing agencies or departments), the only offer they make is the ‘hire me' offer (the BIG commitment).“

Examples of the hire me offer. Aka most traditional archi firm marketing fails because it’s targeting a very narrow segment of the market: the clients who are ready to move ahead and hire an architecture firm right now! You need to enter the conversation BEFORE the client thinks about hiring. You want the advantage of ol’ fashioned “know, like, trust”. Otherwise you’re not much more than a commodity.

Now imagine you had a way to communicate with this 91% of your market and build a relationship with them over time, convincing them of the value of hiring your firm, instead of trying to knock the ball out of the park with one swing?

And this brings us to our next point – a strategy for finding and connecting with potential clients before they start searching for an architecture firm.

Richard Petrie explained to his audience that selling professional services is like bringing a large ship to shore – you need a much smaller commitment before going for the big one!

Instead of marketing her services directly, as other firms might do, Richard had this New Zealand architect develop educational material targeted to people in the ‘information gathering' phase of the Client Demand Pyramid. Your educational and valuable information becomes the Monkey's Fist to bring in the ship. Using the Monkey's Fist marketing strategy gives your marketing material much broader appeal, and in return, much better results.By targeting people in the information gathering stage, you give your potential clients the opportunity to develop liking and trust with you … before they ever meet you.

Create your monkey fist: develop your educational content. 7 mistakes people make when renovating. Set up a booth at a local trade show. 8 step optometry office design guide. Went to a convention with it in hand. Corporate clients who are looking for webcast or broadcast studios. Webcast Studio Environments: Cost Guide and Project Budget Considerations. Wrote several articles for an industry blog.

Marketing channels: convention, industry blog, trade show, networking at events, in person meetings, online marketing, etc.

https://www.businessofarchitecture.com/marketing-for-architects/

4 Ps of marketing = . Tell your clients who you are and what you can do for them.

A quick browse of some architectural firms’ websites will show you how not to put this P into practice. Many firms try to become multitasking marvels. They’ll list every architectural discipline under the sun in an effort to attract some clients. However, this tactic creates the impression that the firm may not offer quality. Think of the old cliché of “a jack of all trades is a master of none”. It applies very well in this situation.

Portfolio website - showcase your wares

Start speaking in public

https://academy.archistar.ai/10-marketing-strategies-for-architecture-firms

Social media marketing for architects typically involves sharing photos and videos of projects, but what’s the story behind these projects? Why did you choose one design over another? Which materials were used to create your vision? Write a narrative around each project and turn your photos into compelling case studies.

Treat each project as if it were a mini documentary. Record the entire process, from the sketching phase to the last day of construction. Snap photos along the way, and take notes so you can write a case story from a more personal perspective. Once everything is organized, you can present it as a blog post.

Alternately, you can also repurpose these case studies for an online portfolio, or submit them as a news story for the local press.

It’s not uncommon for architects to work on projects all over the world, but many of your potential clients are likely local. This means that if your strategy doesn’t include local marketing strategies and keywords, it's time to start. Creating pages that are targeted to local clients can have a huge impact on whether or not they decide to contact you.

SEO, or search engine optimization, is one way you can increase the likelihood of your website showing up in searches for relevant keywords. Local SEO refers specifically to improving your visibility for local keywords — for example, “architectural firm in Philadelphia.”

Include references to nearest big city

Your fellow architects are already familiar with the basics, so your content can sometimes be more technical. They already know how to make sketches, but they might not be familiar with the latest CAD software program or the latest architectural trends. You could write a blog post or tutorial about a topic like this, then share it within your community to gain more exposure.

Telling other architects something new builds your reputation and make you stand out even more among potential clients.

Create an infographic

Host an architecture contest

Announce creative additions via email

https://www.webfx.com/industries/professional-services/architecture/creative-marketing-ideas-for-architecture.html

Goals:

Do you want to increase traffic to your site? Build the reputation and authority of your brand? Generate more useful leads?

Ask your existing customer base:

What they use your product for How they first came across your company What their opinion of your company is, and how they feel you’re perceived online already What convinced them to make an initial purchase. You should also ask:

What content they regularly consume and enjoy online Which competitor brands they appreciate What they feel they’d like to see more of that’s not currently available.

Learn about your ideal customers

Don’t make assumptions about who’s buying your producst, or what they’re looking for. Go to the source and find out as much as you can about your customer base. WHat are their needs? Create your personas.

Quantitative and qualitative research

Buying persona

Story

Storytelling is the most effective form of learning as our brains are hardwired to remember narratives. When audiences take in your content, they’ll look through it to find patterns from which they can build a story.

A story should reflect your company’s practices, structure, and products. It should also speak to a subject that resonates with your key audience.

If your brand is aimed at a young audience, you’ll want your story to reflect themes of rebellion, freedom, and trying something fun, fresh, and different. If you’re reaching out to a more business audience, you want your story to reflect your dedication to professionalism, hard work, and delivering a quality service.

Channels

Which forms of content will work best for your story and will resonate with your audience What places online your audience look for new content, and where you can publish your content to grab their attention.

Find ways to use one piece of content to point to other pieces in different formats Look at methods to reuse content, such as turning text articles into videos or white papers.

Process

Timescales for producing each piece of content All tasks and responsibilities that are involved in producing work The amount of research and asset development Relative workloads for your content creation team.

This can include setting an editorial calendar to determine how frequently you’ll be producing content, and what deadlines you’ll need to set to keep your content creation plan on-track.

Each team member should know exactly what their role is and what tasks they’re required to complete. Where possible, organize everyone’s schedules and workloads so that there’s no downtime as one team member is waiting for another one to finish the work they’ve been assigned.

Conversation

Talking regularly with your customers encourages them to build a relationship with your brand, leading to more sales Listening to what your audience is saying will help you to plan your content to better meet their needs Dealing quickly with concerns or customer service issues will help to build your company’s reputation as a brand that cares about their customers.

Which social media platforms are best for widespread distribution of your content Which platforms are best for interacting with customers, and listening to their opinions and thoughts.

Measurement

I spoke about the importance of setting goals when making a plan – if you’re not keeping a close eye on your progression towards these goals, you won’t know how well your content is performing.

Looking at numbers like site traffic and social media engagement will help you to know what content is doing well and what’s less useful This can help you to make decisions about future content creation.

brick by brick

https://louder.online/content-campaign-architecture/

Post ideas

Formats: timelapses, models, portraits, team photos, construction drawings, renderings, diagrams, construction site photo, vignette sketch, stopmotion,

Vision visualization vs Reality construction shots side-by-side. There’s liability and privacy concerns. But it would be cool to be able to peel back the curtain on the overlap between design and execution. It’s a messy and rich subject.

Timelapse of office presentations

Team talks where you let a coworker have a presentation about something they’re passionate about.

Present on a favorite chapter from a book thats related to architecture

Visualization renderings of projects

What software do you render with?

Pictures of a function like a disappearing pool, and explaining the idea and project execution. Thank people involved in making it real.

Motiongraphics or Powerpoint style video summarizing everything you’ve done and achieved this year. And what you can learn for the next year. LaneyLainc

Video presentation explaining how a building works and the idea behind it. LaneyLainc

“family” photos of the team, portraits LaneyLainc

Glimpse into construction document process. Blueprints no longer static life-less dumb drawings, instead designs come to life using the world of virtual modeling. LaneyLainc

Fun thoughts etc about the design projects as you’re working on it LaneyLainc

Client stories and how we tackled their ideas and desires LaneyLainc

Hiring posters LaneyLainc

Design process glimpse LaneyLainc

Promote your own TV and news appearances with clips and sneakpeaks

Short video snippets for Instagram stories with overlaid annotation commenting and explaining what is being done Anthony Laney

Share collages and visualizations ZeanMacFarlane

Social media campaign to drum up more interest and community engagement in the process of choosing a proposal. Beluah International purpose behind the campaign remained the same: create curated content meant to excite the public and increase interest in the project.

Holiday cheers and greetings post

Your office or workspace

What you’re currently working on

Inspiring quote

Introduce a team member

Life hack or quick tip

Piece from your portfolio

Shout out one of your clients

Promote one of your upcoming events

Team photo

Behind the scenes

fun fact about you

Business book you’re currently reading

Something you cant live without

Promote a local event

Encourage people to sign up for your email list

Show an alternative workspace

Throwback of an old web design office space

How you came up with your business name

A testimonial

Promote your most recent blog post

Celebrate a holiday

Share recent news in your field

Team selfie

Your favorite business tool or resource

Encourage following on other social networks

Where you are located

Inspiring story

Promote a freebie

Thank your followers

Answer a FAQ

Ask advice or opinion

Share how you stay organised

Share a business lesson learnt

Recommend a fellow small business

Tutorials: show how to do something that will help them

Challenges: give people tasks to achieve something specific for their biz

Suveys: ask questions about their biz or yours

Repost popular content with new images

Webinar trainings

Announcements: let them know about upcoming events or specials

Promote your services: give them bundled packages to enjoy

Printable freebie: create a checklist or cheat sheet they can download

Ask readers questions related to their biz/blog - their opinions

Case studies: share own personal stories or client success stories

Short videos with quick tips

Behind the scenes: images of your work space and new projects

Weekly roundup: share a list of your favorite industry posts each week

Holiday specials: celebrate holidays with special themed graphics and posts.

Encouragement: give positive words of encouragement for followers.

Share how you plan your week

Share your favorite app

Share what you learnt this week

Something that recently inspired you

Share your favorite life hack

Introduce yourself

Reveal a personal passion

Customer Service

Be transparent approach to design and fees. Make invoice legible. Clearly explain where we are on the budget. Where we are in current billing. What we’ve invoiced to date. Where we are in the context of the fee. Meticulous note-taking.

OR follow up immediately with email summarizing decisions and outlines the key next steps. Keep all communication clear, concise, frequent.

Keep in touch with current clients. If we don’t have a meeting, I email at least once a week to say: here’s what we’re doing, here’s what we’re working toward before we meet with you.

Keep in touch with former clients. We try to keep people abreast of what’s going on. If I’m in the neighbourhood, I drop by and ask how things are going.

People skills: During the interview process, I’m evaluating: How comfortable will I be having this person represent my company?

https://www.architectmagazine.com/practice/best-practices/dont-forget-architecture-is-a-service-industry_o

Work on your welcome

Speak in plain English. No jargon allowed.

To really put your “plain English skills” to the test, invite a good friend over and ask if you can explain one of your latest projects. Ask your friend to list any term or phrase you use, which was unclear to him. You may be surprised by the result. (The grandma test)

Don’t talk as if they were stupid though. Arrogance and customer service don’t match.

Before a client meeting, prepare at least 3 questions you want to ask your clients to get them talking. This way you also make them feel comfortable about asking their own questions.

Generally favour listening over talking. Whenever you’re with clients, spend ⅔ of your time with wide open ears and only ⅓ talking. More on that particular strategy here.

Don’t just explain your ideas. Engage your clients.

Did you have a favorite teacher at school? Or someone that really inspired you to learn a skill as a kid? I invite you to think of this person now. Why do you remember him or her so well? Usually, really good teachers have OUT-OF-THIS-WORLD people skills. They don’t just know their topic really well, they know how to open a new world to people.

Sometimes the client just might not find the topic interesting and be bored and stop listening.

Find ways of engaging your clients.

Make it relatable. Instead of pros and cons. Share a couple of personal anecdotes.

Make it fun. Crack some jokes to get through the boring stuff. Really funny construction fails out there.

Deliver more than a building. Deliver trust.

Talk your clients through the recommendations you give.

Give them a rough overview of alternative approaches that might save them time, money or both.

Ask them what they think and really listen to their answers.

Explain the consequences of their choices INCLUDING negative ones.

Be upfront about which problems you can solve for them – and what you cannot solve. Don’t try to photoshop your way out of a situation.

Make your vision as specific as possible.

Reach out on the regular.

Remind clients of why they’ve hired you and how your work is helping them.

Let them know of any issues and how you plan to deal with them (more on that topic later).

Give them a sense that you’re on top of things and they can trust you.

Touch base to find out if there’s anything bothering your clients so you can take steps to fix that.

So really make a point of staying in touch with clients regularly even if they don’t have a problem or contact you. You don’t need to spend more than 10 minutes talking to them but it’ll be time well invested.

Call your clients 1 year after they moved into their new house or office asking how they are.

Spend a couple of minutes recalling the names of their kids or what business they were in before you call and show a real interest in how they’re doing by asking specifics such as “How is Sarah enjoying her new room?.

If you feel comfortable with it, say that they can call you any time. It a generous offer that is sure to impress.

Send them a handwritten letter or small gift on a special occasion (for example 1 year after they moved in to their new offices). This is truly outstanding as almost no one sends letters anymore.

Turn problems into opportunities.

Always be open to listen when clients bring up problems. Apologise if you were to blame, stay calm and constructive and really listen to the client (even if you’re not to blame).

Make it clear that you’re going to act and how. It’s not realistic that you’ll be able to fix all clients’ problems at all times but you can show that you care by taking it serious.

Follow up once you’ve taken action. And be clear on next steps to further establish trust.

By listening to them and trying to understand the reasons behind their frustration. We also stay polite and really look into whether we can do something or not for that customer (even if it is a temporary workaround).

Go above and beyond.

http://blog.archisnapper.com/why-outstanding-customer-service-is-the-best-marketing-strategy-for-architects-and-contractors/

Qualitative and quantitative research

https://medium.com/digital-experience-design/an-overview-to-qualitative-and-quantitative-research-methods-in-design-de034a92f45c

0 notes

tweetermixtapeclub · 7 years

Audio

“My “Best of 2016” Mix

Hey guys! ThingsFallAfart here (aka Kathleen).

For my first mixtape post, I’m cheating a little and sharing with you something I made back in February: my favorite songs of 2016. The notable exception here is anything from Lemonade, since that’s not available on Spotify. That might be a blessing, though, because I don’t think I could pick one song off that album anyway!

I also want to note that these are NOT in order of how much I like them, but rather I tried to make them flow into each other well.

1. “Identikit” by Radiohead. There’s a lot of baggage that comes along with being a Radiohead fan. I hate talking about them, because people tend to either think that they’re the new Beatles or that they’re overrated, both of which are boring opinions to me. I’m much more interested in how music makes me feel, physically, than in what Pitchfork thinks. And so, what I actually want to say: the layered voices in this song are so beautiful. And I love the echo-y effects. And I love how full and rich it sounds. I want to turn this up so loud and let it resonate in me. Do you know the feeling when a concert starts and you can feel the soundwaves in your chest? That’s the closest thing I have to religion, and this song does it for me.

2. “Jesus Alone” by Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds. I don’t know if this is common knowledge for this particular audience, but Nick Cave’s teenaged son fell off a cliff and died in 2015 when they were recording this album. It’s such an unimaginable tragedy, and a lot of fans thought he would just be done with everything after that. But then they released this album, and it’s so haunting and tragic and grief-stricken, and it affected me almost as much as Blackstar did (which was a lot). I’m extremely attached to Nick Cave, and the droning guitars incite an almost meditative state in me.

3. “Father’s Child” by Michael Kiwanuka. This guy deserves to be huge. When the backup vocals and strings fill in the background of this song, my chest fills up. I love the dancey-soul beat and the way that he sings and the guitar work and the piano and the strings and the gospel-y backup singers. Talking about music is so hard! I’m trying to be more specific than “it sounds good”, but that’s, like, what music is, man.

4. “Sue (Or in a Season of Crime)” by David Bowie. Were you affected by Bowie’s death? I was. I saw the news as soon as I woke up that day and collapsed into a sobbing heap. I’m one of the millions (billions?) of people who consider David Bowie to be one of the key elements of my identity. He changed the world. I couldn’t listen to this album for the first couple days he was gone, and then I listened to it every spare second for months, crying every time. Then I stopped crying, and I still kept listening. This album would’ve been one of the best albums I’ve heard even without the tragic circumstances. But it’s still inextricably bound to his death, and it will always make me sad, and I’m glad that we have this to remember him by. Why did I pick this track? I don’t know. They’re all perfect. This one got stuck in my head a lot. I love the driving beat and the minor key and the intensity behind “I kissed your face / I touched your face / Sue, goodbye”. Let’s move on to something less depressing!

5. “On the Level” by Leonard Cohen. Oh my god, come on. I’m sorry. 2016 sucked, you guys. So, here’s my Leonard Cohen journey: I have almost exclusively listened to his releases as an elderly man. I’m not very familiar with his actual hits. I’m very attached to the style he settled on as an old man, where he gravels his poetry with women singing gospel-type vocals behind him. His younger performances have those aspects, but he really leans into it the older he gets. If you like this track, I highly recommend his Live in London album from 2009. I like this particular song a lot. When I listen to it, I feel like he’s conspiratorially confessing to me at the beginning, and, when it takes off with the backing vocals, he’s practically joyful about his triumph over temptation. Leonard Cohen was an enormously important figure to me. His philosophy and spirituality and poetry have been my compass for many years.

6. “666 ʇ” by Bon Iver. Okay! Bon Iver! My husband hates him! He hates his high-pitched voice and the droning instrumentation! My husband is WRONG. I have loved every single Bon Iver release. This album is so weird and unexpected. Bon Iver has always had such a cool and unique sound, and with this album it got even cooler. The thing that binds together my musical taste is creativity, or, to be more specific, I like artists that get bored easily. I like artists who need to constantly change their sound. That willingness to experiment is, to me, a prime indication of talent. And also, related, I also get bored easily, so when I hear an album that surprises me, I fall in love. And I fell in love with 22, A Million.

7. “Sweet As Sweet Comes” by Robbie Fulks. Americana is a genre that I have trouble talking about. I love the country sound, with the focus on vocals and guitar and straightforward songwriting. I love the sound of Robbie Fulks’ voice. I want to see him live in a very small venue. This song makes me calm and happy.

8. “About to Find Out” by Margo Price. Okay, as much as Bowie and Cohen are part of my identity, classic country women like Loretta, Dolly, and Tammy are also integral to my life. I grew up on a farm in an extremely conservative county, and so, wouldn’t you know it, I’ve always been totally enamored by charming women using catchy songs and humor and incredible singing talent to lead a feminist revolt from inside the rural conservative culture. I genuinely believe that “The Pill” by Loretta Lynn is one of the most influential feminist works in American history. So I was thrilled to hear this album by Margo Price, who brings the same humor and talent and attitude to her music in what is clearly a direct homage to these incredible women (especially “Fist City”, which is one of the greatest songs of all time).

9. “Sun Don’t Shine” by Drive-By Truckers. I just saw these guys in concert, which I’ve been dying to do since Decoration Day in 2003, and they did not disappoint. This band splits the songwriting and lead vocals between Patterson Hood and Mike Cooley, and I love them both, but Patterson (who sings this song) is my personal favorite. He has such an evocative voice, and his songwriting tends to speak to me in a personal way. These lyrics are more obscure than a lot of their songs, and this song is a simple expression of an emotion. If you listen to the entire album, which I highly recommend, this song serves as an intermission for an album full of angry protest songs about Tr*mp, gun violence, and police brutality. Every song on this album is incredible, but I chose this one because it... feels good to me.

10. “Call to Arms” by Sturgill Simpson. Oh man. Sturgill. I said earlier how much I like classic country, right? Metamodern Sounds is one of my very favorite albums, and the reason is a combo of incredible songs and the fact that he sounds like the son of Waylon and Merle. And THIS album? He took those incredible songs and that classic country sound and added in HORNS and DANCE BEATS and it is SO FUN! When he released his cover of “In Bloom” (which you should go listen to), I didn’t think it could get better. I listened to it over and over and over. And then this album came out, and oh my god, I went nuts. This song is so frantic and is like the epitome of what I want in a rock n’ roll song.

11. “The Three of Me” by William Bell. This is a really wonderful classic soul-sounding song. I’m so glad that the music industry is back into this sound again. Soul has never really gone away, but in recent years there’s definitely been a resurgence, which allows old-timers like William Bell to put out new stuff. I love the horns, I love the lyrics, I love the beat.

12. “The Ballad of the Costa Concordia” by Car Seat Headrest. I’m sure you all know how great this album is. This song is mildly operatic and super long and super rewarding. I can’t believe they used the ridiculous cruise chip crash as a metaphor for life. I can’t believe it. It should be so dumb, but instead it’s so so good. I love that this song has acts, like The Decemberists wrote something important and modern (I love The Decemberists, but I also like making gentle fun of them). I love when the song gets confused and angry and loud in the second half before launching into a driving rock beat. There’s a lot to be written about this song, and I can’t do it justice. There’s so much. It’s overwhelmingly dense and rich and incredible.

13. “Never Be Mine” by Angel Olsen. Haha, jgleduc already used this song on his mix! I like everything he said about this song: “[it] reminds me of a contemporary take on the songs the Beatles started to do on their own but still heavily under the influence of girl group, the staccato guitar chords, guitar effects, and drum rolls especially.” I love the retro sound of this song, and the whole album is really really amazing.

14. “Once More to See You” by Mitski. Another sort of retro-sounding song, like if Phil Spector produced Lykke Li. Did you know that you wanted that combination? Well, here it is. It sounds like it belongs in the Twin Peaks reboot, which is a guaranteed way for me to love a song.

15. “Close to You” by Frank Ocean. Everyone loves Frank Ocean! I spent months exclusively listening to Channel Orange when it came out, and I was one of those people complaining about how long he was taking to release the follow-up. Thank goodness Blond is AMAZING. I had trouble choosing what song to pick, but this one always stuck out to me a lot. I like that he hides behind the synths, and I like that it doesn’t resolve. It’s just this little fragment of a song that feels like a shard of his personality.

16. “Gods” by Maxwell. Oh man, I love Maxwell. His voice is absolutely beautiful, and this song has a beat that really gets me. I’m really picky about R&B, and this whole album is perfect to me.

17. “Unfamiliar” by Common. Maybe I talk to the wrong people, but I don’t think this album got enough attention. Common has had a couple duds in his career, but I think this album is as good as his classics, like Be. Like the Drive-By Truckers track above, this song is a brief respite on an album of intense protest songs. Maybe I indulge too much in escapism? Whatever, this is a great song.

18. “Mad” by Solange. There were so many Important Albums released in 2016. I think Solange’s was the most surprising, though. She’s always been really good, but this album is a genuine masterpiece. It’s personal and intelligent and creative and insightful and fun and an integral part of the conversation. Also, thank you, Solange, for giving us a really great Lil Wayne verse. Those are hard to come by. (Side note: I’m seeing Solange in concert in two days and I’m so frickin’ hyped.)

19. “Solid Wall of Sound” by A Tribe Called Quest. Okay, A of all, Q-Tip is one of my all-time favorite producers. B of all, this song features Busta, who is one of my all-time favorite rappers. C of all, Elton John recorded a new verse for them, and it brings me unending happiness when hip-hop artists get dad rock guys to contribute to their songs. This album is required listening, and I honestly feel privileged that I get to experience it.

20. “Thieves! (Screamed the Ghost)” by Run the Jewels. Killer Mike & El-P are such important figures in the world right now. I don’t know your political beliefs, reader, but I think that these two consistently release work that is intelligent and striking and crucial.

(via https://open.spotify.com/user/thingsfallafart/playlist/2jDBx6YGpy0GQsFCHMfhHb)

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curatingpublicspace · 7 years

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http://olafureliasson.net/archive/artwork/WEK101290/the-movement-meter-for-lernacken

part 1

Our case study The Movement Meter in Lernacken outside Malmö is going to try to discuss the contemporary public space. A method of mapping will hopefully create questions, so we start we a loose discussion or reaction to what is written about these works by the artist and what questions a superficial observation can bring.

On the Swedish coast near Malmö, The movement meter for Lernacken greets drivers heading north across the Øresund Bridge from Denmark. The artwork consists of a cylindrical tower over twelve and a half metres in height and a smaller pavilion several hundred metres away.  The tower is formed from two sets of curving steel tubes, one thicker than the other, which form a latticework. At night, a spotlight shines through bands of colored glass mounted at the top. As cars approach, their perspective on the tower changes; the light appears to move through the different bands of glass, producing a spectral light show for each driver or passenger. Accessible only on foot or by bicycle, the lower-lying pavilion invites visitors to experience it at a slower pace. Six free-standing steel latticework walls curve outwards from an empty centre like the arms of a hurricane or spiral galaxy. Mirrors and panes of colored glass inset into the steel walls catch the rays of sun and cast variegated patches of light and shadow onto the surroundings.  The movement meter for Lernacken is the first of Eliasson’s works to combine color, reflection, artificial and natural light, geometry, movement, and landscape in one artwork.

These are the word of the official homepage of Olafur Eliasson, words explaining and arguing for the sculptural site specific artworks. The sculptural object were commission by Swedish tax money in relation to the 1% policy of the building of the Öresund bridge. A infrastructural build that was high criticized by the people living in the region, for over spending and environmental potential harms. As most public opinions time seems to quite opposing voices and silence remains the winner. Maybe is silence a policy around these artworks, as I have asked over 40 people about their knowledge about these public artworks. Many of these person are active artist and live by the work of their creativity. No one knew about these monumental structures. Invisible in space they seem to be.

So before we continue to understand the importance of this site specific artwork we have to understand or choose to position this case study, take a clear positions on what public space. In this case also being public spending.

Mapping space is a method of analysing or highlighting some central aspect for this case study. Space, the ether that surrounds us, subjects, objects and immaterial whispers only present because of their acknowledged existence, discourse. Habermas sees public space as a sphere where individuals become or better take part of the public in relation to the publication of meaning. Thus one could say that the public, is an ideal place of agency, ever changing debate of its existence by practice. As soon as there is dialog, published meaning and published reaction, immaterial, subjective or objective the public sphere appears as a new ether to the observer. One could relate this to the Hegelian dialectics of Thesis - Antithesis – Synthesis. A dialectical approach to the creation of meaning is not always democratic, but it opens up the possibility for such appearances within public space. Why this is important is because the public space is contested as an ideally democratic space, especially in relation to public spending. More radical theorist would contest that the public space is not democratic at all as it just reproduces the democratic deficits that we so clearly see in society or public space. i.e. mapping representations of of artistic presence/publishers within this public space normally falls on undemocratic demographics. Over-representation of the middleclass, middle-aged men is the thesis- the “others” are the antithesis, and as the power relation are not equally balanced the synthesis remains status quo, unchanged but democratised by the precedes of reaction. Reaction is “un-heard” if it’s the dominant discourse overpowers its respond. if heard, the ruling ideology adapts the symbolic language to its own philosophical content and recreates status quo, unchanged, as change is massive, not singular. And its back to business as usual. This formalism of structure will be a starting point to read the particular space that this artwork creates. By implementing strategy as such the dichotomies arise as interesting dialogical developments that might not even be present in the public space, that is under scrutiny in this case study.

Olafur Eliasson is undoubtedly one of the most important and highly commission artist in the contemporary global public space. No doubt a talented and professional artist, sadly a clear image copy of that subject with power that is so criticized, for its dominance, within the democratic opposition to status quo, dreaming of a more diverse public space for producers of art. One argument of choices to commission him this site would be his global fame. But apparently by my inquiries to individuals within and outside art, it was clearly that his fame couldn’t bring an audience from the city to this remote place, that can only be reached by bike or by foot. Luckily we see in the description text that the more visible artwork is for the car drivers. Coming from Copenhagen, how these people would interact or participate is by there share movement, “As cars approach, their perspective on the tower changes; the light appears to move through the different bands of glass, producing a spectral light show for each driver or passenger.” A valid argument that would imply that we would be in dialog and active in public space with everything around us just as long as our gaze is fixed during movement not by actively responding. This criteria is a problematic position in augmenting for a commissioning of this budget if you don’t have a position of great privileged at your hand. And in using a analytical scrutiny of publishing the issue stand clear that Lernacken is a problematic public space of art. I have visited the site and as the text clearly states there are some bicycle and at least 5-6 dog walkers at the two visits that I did. In observing if there was any greater reaction from the dog walkers it didn’t seems to engage in greater moments of artistic illumination by these esoterical structures or any other form of dialog. Another observation is that most of the people that observed in and around the area where using headphones and I imagine that most car driver would listen to some sort of radio or motor engine sound. Aspect of environment that clearly would change the perspective of the audience and certainly give it a unique experience to every single individual. As Olafur Eliasson clearly states in the Louisiana exhibition “Riverside insde the Museum”. “The audience determine the meaning of the exhibition and this meaning is individual and cultural. Just by walking thought the exhibition interaction and meaning is created.” An argument that every individual has exclusive and individual needs and thus a collective consciousness or solidarity be unrealistic and inexistent in any given moment unless it has cultural denotations. Putting them under the category lifted by Dave Beech as “passer by” and not an audience of any particular sort. Even dough their movement makes the artwork change, as any object would be different in every point of different distance or angle, throughout our entire lives. We see that the issue of audience in this case is very problematic and difficult to determine.

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