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ggukcangetit · 4 years

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Namjoon-ing in the Rain

Pairing: namjoon x reader

Synopsis: You hate the rain but your best friend, Namjoon, doesn’t feel the same.

Genre/AU: fluff| best friends!au

Word Count: 1.6k

Rating: PG-13 for language

Warnings: nothing really

A/N: i’ve never really written a member-centric fic for anyone other than jungkook. not sure how this worked out. just something that felt like being written. mainly because i hate the rain and i miss my friends. banner by @sushireads !!

There is something about the rain. It makes everything horribly squelchy and disgusting. Daily routine is hampered, and everyone and everything is thrown off kilter. Frankly, you hate the rain.

You do not own a car, instead having to rely on public transport for every single commute. Another reason why you cannot stand the rain. Squishing yourself into a crowded bus during rush hour, completely drenched and trying your utmost to avoid the wandering hands of well-meaning perverts, is not your idea of fun. And why are you drenched when the weather app has predicted a week’s worth of showers which should have prepared you to carry an umbrella along with you. Honestly, you have half a mind to sue every single umbrella manufacturer there is. What is the point of the umbrella if you are still soaked to the bone after holding it up in the rain for a maximum of 3 minutes?

Of course, you do not verbalize these grievances when the opportunity arises. Instead, you opt for a more succinct phrase.

“Fuck the rain.”

Your best friend doesn’t have much of a response to this, continuing to sip the americano in front of him.

“Namjoon, pay attention!” you yell, snapping your fingers in front of him to get his attention.

He looks up with a mildly amused expression. “I heard you.”

“It’s only polite to respond when someone says something.”

“Yes, but-” he shuts the book he had been reading- “when someone only ever says the one thing over and over again, responses are more likely to run out.”

“Rude.” You cross your arms across your chest, glaring out the window of the coffee shop situated opposite your place of work - the place you meet Namjoon every Friday when work gets over an hour early.

“Come on, Y/N,” Namjoon chuckles, tapping on the table to grab your attention. “You always complain about the rain, but you’ve never actually said why you hate it.”

“It’s an inconvenience,” you say simply.

“I beg to differ.”

“Why? Don’t tell me it’s some romantic bullshit like the rains make everything magical and wondrous. Or the ever popular notion that rains are cleansing - a new beginning!” You scoff and roll your eyes, fingers impatiently tucking wet strands of hair behind your ear.

“I’m sure that’s true to an extent. But that’s not what I’m talking about,” said Namjoon, tiredly rubbing his eyes. “I’ll try and explain it to you some other time. Right now, I’m too tired to think. Yoongi was up all night mixing tracks and I couldn’t fall asleep in the next room.”

“You should’ve gone home after work,” you say, feeling a little guilty.

“I should’ve,” he replies with a shrug, but doesn’t budge from his seat for another hour as you finish your latte and he makes a few notes in the book he was reading.

An entire month passes by, and you and Namjoon have missed your weekly Friday coffee meets twice. It’s nothing life-changing or particularly alarming that has caused this disruption. It’s just life. But on the fifth Friday, the weather is bright and sparkling, and Namjoon suggests sitting by the Han river instead of inside the coffee shop. Since you are breaking from your routine anyway, you decide to order an iced honey chai instead of your usual latte. Namjoon opts for two iced americanos instead of one.

You’ve only been to the river a handful of times. Each time, Namjoon has been there with you. In a way, you can’t imagine the river without him. Memory is funny in the way that it attaches permanence to the more fleeting parts of existence.

“Did you submit the report on time?” Namjoon asks, stretching his long limbs above his head.

“Just. Two minutes more and I would’ve missed the deadline.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less from a fellow deadline junkie.”

You grin before sipping the iced honey chai. It doesn’t taste that great. This is why you don’t experiment with new things. They tend not to work out for you. Or maybe it’s just that you’re unwilling to give change a chance. But that thought is not something you dwell on for longer than a moment.

“Honey chai not to your liking?” Namjoon chuckles at your disgruntled expression.

“This is the last time I’m experimenting with things. Dunno why I did it in the first place. It’s all thanks to your terrible influence. Changing up our usual meeting place pressured me into changing up my choice of beverage.”

“Whatever makes sense to you.”

“I’m just glad the weather is good today! Crisp skies and warm sunshine! I’ve really missed this!” You gaze up at the sky happily, noting a single grey cloud floating by.

The weather gods have never particularly liked you as is evidenced by the fact that a torrential downpour begins mere seconds after you utter that sentence.

“Fuck!” You stand up, gathering your belongings and calculating the driest path back to the coffee shop.

“Where are you going?” Namjoon asks, not having moved from his place on the bench.

“Inside. In case you haven’t noticed, Joon, it’s raining like the fucking apocalypse!”

“You’ll be drenched by the time you manage to get to any of the shops. It’s actually better to stay here. The benches here don’t really get wet unless there’s a strong accompanying wind.”

You groan dejectedly, dropping your bag on the bench and flopping down beside him. Namjoon always looks so peaceful during rains. It’s a complete contrast to the immense irritation this particular weather phenomenon has always ignited in you.

“Why do you like the rain so much?” you ask, turning away from his handsome profile.

“I don’t like it, per se.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“I have time.”

“I always look to people to learn about life. Each person in my life has taught me something different. But I also realised that this applies to rain as well. There are so many different kinds of rain, and just like the different people in my life, each type of rain has showed me something different about life. There’s the soft shower that barely touches you as it falls from the sky which is such a contrast to the relentlessness of the rainstorms that continue for hours on end. Then you have the sudden storms that burst through without any warning, upsetting the natural rhythm of things. The cold showers in early November that indicate the incoming winter. And lastly, the first rain that hits the ground after a brutal summer. That’s my favorite one because the smell of the wet earth coming to life always reminds me of that day in our first year of college.”

Namjoon wanted to cry. He was nineteen years old, studying art history and business at the most prestigious college in the country, on his way to becoming a research assistant for one of his favorite academics. Yet, today all he really wanted to do was cry. It was the last week of the semester, the weather had been particularly oppressive, the cafeteria had run out of food by the time he had managed to get out of a meeting with his professor, and to top it off, his bicycle chain had snapped just as he was preparing to cycle home.

It was at that moment that you walked over to him. You both had become friends about a year ago, and if he was perfectly honest, Namjoon wasn’t really sure how that happened. You were calm, even slightly formidable, in the way that you handled every part of your college life. Whereas, he was a bit of a bumbling mess, misplacing lecture notes, contact lenses, and plastic utensils. He often wondered what it was that was holding your friendship together.

“You missed food,” you said to him, matter-of-factly. “It sucked. But I snagged one of Seokjin’s homemade chicken wraps for you.”

Namjoon blinked a couple of times before taking the neatly wrapped packet from you.

“Well, go on,” you said impatiently. “Eat it. What’re you waiting for?”

“R-right.”

But just as he unwrapped the foil, a crack of thunder erupted followed by a burst of rainfall. Namjoon had resigned himself to the fact that things were not going to go his way that day. What he had not expected was to hear you yell the most interesting cuss words at the top of your voice.

“FUCKING HELL! THIS WAS NOT ON THE FORECAST FOR TODAY! I DON’T HAVE A BLOODY UMBRELLA WITH ME! BASTARDS IN THE WEATHER DEPARTMENT CAN’T EVEN DO THEIR FUCKING JOBS PROPERLY! UGH!!!”

Though everything that could go wrong had gone wrong that day, he had never been able to forget the smell of the wet earth on that day. Because that was when he began seeing you as a real person and stopped questioning the mechanics of your friendship.

“I realised that day that you and I were different in many ways, but there would always be something that united us. We’re human and all humans feel despair and frustration at something or the other. The rain humanized you that day. And I’ll always be grateful to it because otherwise I would’ve never gotten to know my best friend.”

It continues pouring for a couple of hours more. But the two of you don’t move from the bench alongside the river. The iced honey chai lays neglected on the iron armrest, while the empty americano cups have long since been deposited into the nearby trash can.

There is something about the rain. It makes everything horribly squelchy and disgusting. Daily routine is hampered, and everyone and everything is thrown off kilter. But frankly, there are better things to hate than the rain.

#bts fic #btsbookclub #namjoon fic #namjoon x oc #c me write bangtan #namjoon #kim namjoon

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stevenuniversallyreviews · 5 years

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Episode 125: Doug Out

“It can't be all ‘Bam!’ ‘Pow!’ action all the time.”

(First things first: Lamar Abrams’s delightful promo art leans away from traditional cards with the title and storyboarders, and this is my favorite of the bunch. He really knocks the visual pun out of the park.)

Dr. Maheswaran is a titanic presence in her daughter’s life, and while she does have a canonical first name—Priyanka, according to Ian Jones-Quartey—it says a lot that the show itself only presents her as “Doctor” or “Mom.” She, not Doug, is the person Connie must reconcile with in Nightmare Hospital. She, not Doug, is the one that’s late picking Connie up in Storm in the Room. She, not Doug, takes the role of Yellow Diamond in Stevonnie’s psychic dream from Jungle Moon. And Doug, as should be clear now, has a first name that we actually hear on the show. Hell, it’s in the name of the episode.

Doug’s status as a background character allows his characterization to be more fluid than his wife’s. In Fusion Cuisine, which is a weird episode period in terms of Maheswaran behavior, he tells a joke to break the tension and disapproves of Steven and Connie hugging. In the far superior Winter Forecast, he’s frustrated with Greg in the bad timelines, appreciative of Greg’s cherry sweater in the good timeline, and we learn that he can’t drive in the snow (but thinks he can). Connie has told us that her parents are strict, which logically means he’s strict, but we see more impatience than strictness in his voiced appearances.

None of what we’ve witnessed lines up too well with the Doug we get in Doug Out: sure, we’ve seen his awkwardness, and I guess his tendency towards jokes at inopportune times means he can be funny, but he’s super silly in this episode. Normally such a huge shift in characterization would bug me, buuuut:

Doug is such a minor character that it’s not a huge deal that his personality adjusts to fit the story better, and

We’ve only seen Doug with Dr. Maheswaran nearby and I can totally buy that he acts differently when she’s not around.

It would’ve been nice for the canon if a little more of Doug’s behavior from Doug Out had been established earlier, but yeah this isn’t a dealbreaker for me. It’s already weird that Connie said in Bubble Buddies that her family moves around a lot because of his security job, considering they don’t move at all over the course of the show and her mother’s job certainly pays more than her father’s, so at least showing Doug at work lends some consistency to her claim.

Entering the episode by pulling a prank on Steven is a succinct way for the show to tell us this is a new Doug. We do get references to the Maheswarans being all about safety, namely his concern over Steven's hydration after eating salty fry bits, but he’s simultaneously silly with the kids and proud that his daughter is a “swashbuckling swashbuckler.” Plus his dopey smile is the same as his daughter’s dopey smile and it’s the most precious thing in the world.

There hasn’t been any indication that Connie is distant from her father, despite his lack of screentime; in fact, one of my favorite unspoken bits of characterization for the family is how she (and through her, Stevonnie) often wears his signature flight jacket. But it’s still great to see them get along so well, keeping up the light mood from the beginning of the episode and amplifying it through paternal playfulness.

While bringing kids along for a security mission after hours doesn’t sound like something an ultra-responsible parent would do, I choose to see it as a sign of Doug’s respect for his kid and her friend. He knows they’ve handled dangerous situations before, and it’s neat to see him acknowledge this by allowing them to ride along. Moreover, the whole point of the episode is that he doesn’t think his job is exciting, so it’s not like he thinks he’s throwing the kids into a violent situation. And considering he wants to see more action like his daughter does in missions or his wife does in the hospital, I’m glad that this jealousy never turns petty or mean-spirited: this wasn’t a given, as he’s been unfriendly in the past. Doug sort of rules in this episode, and it’s nice that veteran voice actor Crispin Freeman finally gets something to do with him.

The goofiness isn’t limited to Doug, as half of what makes him great is his playing along with Connie and Steven’s prepackaged goofiness. The kids are in top form in Doug Out, dressing as ridiculously-named parodies of Carmen Sandiego and Mario while they’re on the case (Connie’s assertion that Pizzapoppolis sounds more Greek than Italian is in contention with her bemoaning the laws of physics in the Gravitron for the best “Connie’s A Nerd” joke of the night). They’re down to mess around and ruin a teen’s night, and I’m here for it.

Still, I wouldn’t call this a full-on goofy episode, particularly when it evolves into a sequel of sorts to Gem Hunt. Aivi and Surasshu’s soundtrack evokes exaggerated noir as Doug talks shop, but shifts to a menacing drone as the trio encounters evidence of something sinister afoot at Funland. Steven and Connie stay in-character during the chase, but drop the act when discussing the possibility of a Gem Mutant or Homeworld Gem. Whatever they’re hunting is clearly hunting them, and perhaps the most impressive aspect of Doug Out is maintaining a tone of genuine looming danger that isn’t undermined by the episode’s numerous jokes.

The mystery, as in Gem Hunt, is complicated by a red herring. During Connie’s first big mission we’re led to believe that a Corrupted Gem might be healing itself, given the multiple distinct footprints, but we learn in the third act that it was Jasper all along. This time we get a wide array of dangerous possibilities, so the third act Onion reveal initially comes as a relief. But we’ve never seen him this scared before, and his distinct silhouette doesn’t match that of the shadowy figure on the roof.

Before we can think about the hints that Onion isn’t our perp, the focus shifts back to Doug as we conclude his character’s episode-long arc. He wants to be taken seriously, projecting a badass vibe that’s often undermined moments later by an intentional joke (like calling his daughter by her “Cucamonga” alias with a straight face) or by the emergence of his inner square (pretending to be undercover by removing his glasses then instantly relenting because he needs them to see). He’s not incompetent, correctly deducing that the culprit isn’t a regular teen and quieting the children to listen for clues, but he’s just a normal security guard in a family with a surgeon and a kid hero. You can’t blame the guy for developing a bit of an inferiority complex.

So again, I really appreciate that his behavior doesn’t devolve into toxic overcompensation, because that’s the obvious route to go and it would’ve made this episode so much worse. He respects the kids and doesn’t pretend he needs to protect them, and he doesn’t let his desire for action let him get in over his head—in another similarity to Gem Hunt, he stresses the importance of calling for backup instead of stubbornly going it alone. When Connie talks about how much she loves and values him, we’re allowed to feel it, because she’s reiterating what we’ve seen rather than letting a petty control freak off the hook.

We’re coming off another terrific Dad Moment in Lion 4, but Greg being great is par for the course. Most Dad Episodes are understandably about him: other father/child relationships have their days in the limelight (Fryman and Peedee in Frybo, Kofi and the Pizza Twins in Beach Party, Bill and Buck in Shirt Club, and Yellowtail/Marty and Sour Cream in Drop Beat Dad), but Greg gets more focus episodes than all of those combined. So while I would’ve liked to see more of him in an arc that hinges on the phrase “my dad,” I love that we get one last new Dad Episode to kick off the end of Season 4, especially if it lets us see Connie again before her kidnapping.

Onion may be a red herring, but the whole ending with Doug and Connie’s sweet talk is another red herring, tricking us into thinking the episode is wrapping up and that despite the suspicious inconsistencies, Onion was just being Onion. Unlike Gem Hunt, our heroes don’t solve the mystery, and because they don’t, neither do we. We have more information than Steven that something sinister is afoot, with an alien threat that for some reason is going after Onion, but before our sleuths can learn more, we cut to black.

After the victories of taking the ocean back from Lapis and saving the world from the Cluster, Act III of Steven Universe is the first with a tragic midpoint, and the fallout of Steven’s sacrifice at the end of Season 4 ripples through the first third of Season 5. Episodes like Storm in the Room and Lion 4 bring plenty of angst as well, so Doug Out wisely gives us some comic relief before the sweet-and-somber flavor of The Good Lars and the tension that follows. That tension is still present here (we get a cliffhanger, after all), but I’ll take moments of pure happiness where I can. This isn’t a silly episode in the vein of The New Crystal Gems, but it’ll still be a while until we have this much fun in one episode again.

We’re the one, we’re the ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!

It’s time again to expand our Top List, from a Top Twenty to a Top Twenty-Five! Most are Act II classics that got pushed down by the sheer volume of great episodes, but Lion 4 makes the cut as well. We’ll keep it at 25 until Change Your Mind; normally I’d switch to 30 at Episode 150 to keep up the Top 20% trend, but it seems more fitting to expand when the original series concludes.

Doug Out sadly does not make the cut, but it’s still an episode I love. We’ve had plenty of cliffhanger episodes that feel incomplete, and while this one also leaves us wanting more, it still works as a full story and not just setup. And the story is great!

Top Twenty-Five

Steven and the Stevens

Hit the Diamond

Mirror Gem

Lion 3: Straight to Video

Alone Together

Last One Out of Beach City

The Return

Jailbreak

The Answer

Mindful Education

Sworn to the Sword

Rose’s Scabbard

Earthlings

Mr. Greg

Coach Steven

Giant Woman

Beach City Drift

Winter Forecast

Bismuth

Steven’s Dream

When It Rains

Catch and Release

Chille Tid

Lion 4: Alternate Ending

Keeping It Together

Love ‘em

Laser Light Cannon

Bubble Buddies

Tiger Millionaire

Lion 2: The Movie

Rose’s Room

An Indirect Kiss

Ocean Gem

Space Race

Garnet’s Universe

Warp Tour

The Test

Future Vision

On the Run

Maximum Capacity

Marble Madness

Political Power

Full Disclosure

Joy Ride

We Need to Talk

Cry for Help

Keystone Motel

Back to the Barn

Steven’s Birthday

It Could’ve Been Great

Message Received

Log Date 7 15 2

Same Old World

The New Lars

Monster Reunion

Alone at Sea

Crack the Whip

Beta

Back to the Moon

Kindergarten Kid

Buddy’s Book

Gem Harvest

Three Gems and a Baby

That Will Be All

The New Crystal Gems

Storm in the Room

Room for Ruby

Doug Out

Like ‘em

Gem Glow

Frybo

Arcade Mania

So Many Birthdays

Lars and the Cool Kids

Onion Trade

Steven the Sword Fighter

Beach Party

Monster Buddies

Keep Beach City Weird

Watermelon Steven

The Message

Open Book

Story for Steven

Shirt Club

Love Letters

Reformed

Rising Tides, Crashing Tides

Onion Friend

Historical Friction

Friend Ship

Nightmare Hospital

Too Far

Barn Mates

Steven Floats

Drop Beat Dad

Too Short to Ride

Restaurant Wars

Kiki’s Pizza Delivery Service

Greg the Babysitter

Gem Hunt

Steven vs. Amethyst

Bubbled

Adventures in Light Distortion

Gem Heist

The Zoo

Rocknaldo

Enh

Cheeseburger Backpack

Together Breakfast

Cat Fingers

Serious Steven

Steven’s Lion

Joking Victim

Secret Team

Say Uncle

Super Watermelon Island

Gem Drill

Know Your Fusion

Future Boy Zoltron

Tiger Philanthropist

No Thanks!

6. Horror Club 5. Fusion Cuisine 4. House Guest 3. Onion Gang 2. Sadie’s Song 1. Island Adventure

#doug out #steven universe #su #steven universally #review

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rougeskies-jm-blog · 6 years

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idthellyeah-blog · 4 years

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A totally timely and significant review of Rancid’s “...And Out Come The Wolves”

(I honestly don’t remember when I wrote this, maybe 2015. Definitely just got jacked up on something and decided that I needed to write a track by track review of an album I loved when I was a cool punk teen. It has just been sitting in my Google Drive patiently waiting to be posted.)

I remember the first time I ever heard/saw Rancid was when the video for “Salvation” off of their second album “Let’s Go” premiered on MTV. Such an 80’s/90’s kid thing to do, discovering a new band by seeing a music video on TV, ugh. I thought the leather clad mohawked bad boys were amazing and perfect and so cool...that I immediately tried to spike my hair using gelatin (tru punx only) and got a leather jacket (did not look that cool and was very sweaty). When “...And Out Come The Wolves” came out the next year (1995, I’m old AF) I was totally enamored and had found my #1 favorite album of all time (that lasted for like a year until music got better). I was supposed to go see Rancid at a big show in Omaha, I lived in a small town called Columbus that was roughly 90 minutes away from the big city...but the day of my mom didn’t let me go because I had bad math grades. I reacted the way any entitled white teen did, by laying in the garage and crying and playing their album. That show wound up being a huge to-do when fans tore up seats in the venue and threw cushions at the band leading to Rancid not playing Omaha for a long time. I missed out on some cool bad-ass punk rock shit, first world problems. Fast forward to today when I decided that I, Ian Douglas Terry, needed to write out a song-by-song review of this quintessential punk album. I’m a real music nut, and obviously very good at structured writing...so here we go! (Rock on)

1. Maxwell Murder - Oh boy, this one starts with like a subway train sound and then the beginning of a killer/complicated Matt Freeman bass line. That dude SHREDS the bass, and even has a wild solo in this song. That’s tight. Why did they stop letting him sing? He sounded like a fun Muppet on their first album and I loved his songs. Maybe he wanted to focus on just shredding the bass and using tons of pomade.

2. The 11th Hour - This song is great. It is poppy and upbeat and about a woman having dreams and demanding answers. Hell yeah. I love good punk music that supports women and feminism and figuring out where the power lies (spoiler alert, it starts and ends with you). Remember how Brody from The Distillers left Tim Armstrong for the dude from Queens of the Stone Age? And then he got all fat and got a beard? I can completely relate to that, and have been there sans beard.

3. Roots Radicals - This song RULES. I had to look up what “Moonstompers” were and who “Desmond Dekker” was. I remember trying to relate to this like it could somehow compare to living in a town with 20,000 people and the nicest Wal-Mart in the tri-county area. Remember how there was that Spanish language cover of this on one of those “Give Em The Boot” comps that Hellcat put out? That was real tight.

4. Time Bomb - Hit single baby! This had a huge hand in getting punk kids into reggae/ska for sure. Killer organ solo, lots of rude boy shit going, I loved it so much. Tim Armstrong totally re-used lyrics from the song “Motorcycle Ride” from the previous album...which is hilarious. Like c’mon dawg...you should know your own lyrics. I learned how to do the solo from this and felt like a guitar god (it is a very easy solo, like almost too easy).

5. Olympia, WA - I love songs like this that are about cities that the band isn’t from...so you have to fire up your imagination (or just read the lyrics) and be like, “What went down in Olympia, Washington????”. Turns out it was mostly hanging out on different streets in New York and playing pinball with Puerto Ricans while wishing you were with a person who you were sleeping with in Washington. Hell yeah, just like Shakespeare.

6. Lock, Step & Gone - Songs about docks were HUGE in my youth. Dropkick Murphy’s had like eight songs about boys on them, and this Rancid song alludes to them. I loved all of the blue collar, working class ideology that had nothing to remotely do with my comfortable upper middle class (not sure if that’s accurate because my parents were teachers, and like is there even a middle class any more?) life. This song definitely sums itself up at then end when it says “There’s a whole lot of nothin”.

7. Junky Man - Another theme that I could definitely relate to in a town of 20,000 people with like ten people who did meth...Junkies! This song is pretty great because the dude from the Basketball Diaries does some sick poetry in it...that movie was nuts. I like that song that he later wrote/sang about all the people he knew who died. The only way poetry can be cool is if the person is an insane drug addict with cool/sad stories to tell. Otherwise it is just loud diary reading.

8. Listed MIA - At this point I wholeheartedly agree with this song, “I’m checking out”. I don’t know if I ever really liked this song or if this was just part of the “I accidentally left it playing after the first four songs that I liked were over”. Lars says the derogatory f-word for homosexuals in it, because people called him that word...that doesn’t seem cool man. I get that it rhymes with “maggots”, but maybe give white dudes in the Midwest less reasons to sing that word out loud.

9. Ruby Soho - This is one of the best songs ever, hands down. It is beautiful and you can barely understand what Tim Armstrong is saying but it is wonderful. I feel like deciphering his lyrics led me to be able to understand most speech impediments, so hell yeah. This song is about loving someone a lot but having to leave them because it isn’t working out. This song was the blueprint for every romantic relationship I’ve ever had in my entire life so it might be a gypsy curse.

10. Daly City Train - Oh hell yeah, fun Reggae drums! Through punk and ska I grew to appreciate Reggae, but through being bummed out about that culture’s deep seated homophobia and the fact that most of it is super repetitive and boring and for dad’s on vacation. I’m just glad that 311 taught me to love those smooth Caribbean sounds again (oh god am I joking or am I serious, I can’t tell any more please save me).

11. Journey to the End of the Easy Bay - I can still play this bass line and was very proud of myself the first time I half-way pulled it off. It doesn’t sound as smooth and nuanced as the way Matt Freeman plays it, but goddamn it I think that was the height of my skill as a musician. This song rules themes about needing to belong and finding a place with people who thought and felt the same as you...and then losing it as everyone grows out of it. This was most of my early 20’s. I grew up in a scene with similarly minded people, it eventually ended and I still have contact with some of those people but that point in my life will never be replicated. I finally belonged somewhere and was part of something bigger than me. Now I do comedy and it is bleak, entitled, and sad and mostly alcoholics talking about their dicks. Please take me back.

12. She’s Automatic - This is not a bad song but a very confusing way to describe a woman. I get that it means she is effortless in “the way that she moves” but maybe I’m not giving Lars any poetic license because he looks like a guy who punched books. This woman sounds great though, and I’m sure they dated for three months. Revisiting this and that era reminds me that I almost had sex with a girl at the first X-men movie...man, being punk ruled.

13. Old Friend - Back to the Raggae! This song is pretty great, but they really missed an opportunity of selling this to a heartburn medicine company. “Good morning heartache, you’re like an old friend come and see me again”...that would be perfect for a commercial of a guy eating a giant plate of lasagna and making a “Oh boy, I did it again!” face. The Transplants sold a song to that fruit shampoo, maybe this is something I can retroactively help negotiate.

14. Disorder and Disarray - I love when punk bands have songs about “business men” being evil and the industry being bad. Like when Against Me were part of an Anarchist collective and then on a major label putting out really bad music. Rancid was at least on Epitaph, which while arguably not “cool” it was at least run by a kind of punk dude who is responsible for the biggest/shittiest corporate garbage of a festival, The Warped Tour. This song has a part towards the end where they talk to each other like David Lee Roth would do in Van Halen songs, that rules.

15. The Wars End - I get that this is a song about little Sammy being a punk rocker but at this point I think they should have admitted this album was fine with 10-12 songs and maybe some of these were super repetitive and unnecessary. It's like you’re forcing it. I can’t imagine the dude who recorded it had a lot of fun and he probably fell asleep and was startled awake and had to pretend like he’d been paying attention the whole time.

16. You Don’t Care Nothin - This starts out with the exact chord progression from Journey To The End Of The East Bay….c’mon guys. You Don’t Care Nothin about being succinct and making your songs individual expressions of art! The themes even seem like something they’ve already gone over. I’m going to eat some soup, brb.

17. As Wicked - Is this a different song or a weird breakdown? Oh, it’s a different song. Well...this soup is pretty good. Chicken Noodle, but the chunky kind. It isn’t amazing but it is good. I should really cook more. Maybe I’ll order Chinese later.

18. Avenues & Alleyways - I don’t really have a problem with this song because it has the “Oi oi oi” chant that the bands I was in during High School would do and we had no idea why other than popular bands doing it. It is very catchy. It sounds like the other two songs were just building up to finally getting your attention back. Plus it has a breakdown with people clapping, that is always fun. This has to be the last song right? It is the perfect last song on an album!

19. The Way I Feel - FUUUUUUUCK! What? Really should have ended the album on that last song, it had a good “anthem” vibe and at least wrapped this up into a somewhat sensible endeavor. This song could have been stuck in the middle somewhere, or maybe just not recorded with about seven others? The Way I Feel about this album is that there are some parts that hold up and are still fun to listen to, but the rest of it just seems like I’m being forced to read my own teenage diary and it is boring and sad. Nostalgia is a bummer, I can’t imagine having Rancid still be my favorite band. I’d probably still wear a chain wallet and spiky bracelet and be one of those obnoxious old drunk weirdos I see at shows that stick out like crazy sore thumbs. Bummer dude.

Oh wow, what a journey (to the end of the east bay, am I right?)...I’m glad I was finally able to get this review out so people could finally know what this album means to me and my generation of lazy weirdos. This took me six months to write and I should be congratulated for being a journalist with tons of integrity and great taste. True punks never die, they just eventually chill out and shop at Kohl’s.

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complexmagrparchive · 7 years

Photo

A RETROSPECTIVE’S BLISS

NAME › Ji Sungjoon D.O.B. › 07 05 1985 (32) OCCUPATION › Creative Director at Complex INSTA › @57jsj

content warning: mentions of death

PORTFOLIO

ACADEMIC

central saint martins, london (BA with hons)

INTERNSHIP

high cut –– general / editorial intern ( may – sep 2009; 24 y/o )

EMPLOYMENT HISTORY

vogue –– assistant to content manager ( oct 2009 – oct 2010 )

arena homme –– assistant to production manager ( jan 2011 – sep 2011 )

elle –– production manager ( oct 2011 - nov 2013 )

grazia –– fashion market director ( dec 2013 - dec 2015 )

complex –– creative director ( feb 2016 – present )

OTHER INVOLVEMENT

london fashion week, sep 2010 –– sep 2015

asian fashion week london, 2011 –– 2014

seoul fashion week 2016 & 2017

DETAILS

the change in scenery wasn’t unwelcomed, but it did take sungjoon a little longer than expected –– to settle in, to knock apart old habits. his mother spoke words of promises, of a fresh and better beginning, and this was what he would remember. his stepfather was a nice man albeit a tad withdrawn from personal relations.

he was (barely) remembered as the reticent kid through high school, always seated alone at the back of every class. they were his only friends, only companions that made tedious days tolerable.

graduation, military service and college –– distance was inevitable and contact was at the minimal, with everyone moving onto different trajectories, and him moving to another country.

art school wasn’t unexpected, considering his forte for sieving through the seemingly mundane and common for something that had potential to be the next trend-setter. grades and (what little of his then) portfolio worked in his favour to land him in a prestigious school in london.

the competitiveness within the curriculum unearthed him, yanking old habits by the roots and planting unfamiliarities. gone was the boy who’d always been meek and hesitant with speaking his mind, and in its place was someone unforgiving, ruthless, and with a tendency to burn through his short temper fuse.

the internship with vogue in his last year of college kickstarted his career with an offer upon graduation. and he’d soon come to realize that there was absolutely no space for contemplation, any moment of soft-heartedness could have him thrown under the bus instead.

moving onto grazia was by choice –– surviving in and adapting to new environments were never really much of a problem. moving back to korea, though, was by chance. sooyoung’s untimely death had shaken him to the core, so much so that what was meant to be a brief trip back for the funeral ended up as a prolonged stay.

wanting to pick up where she’d left off, accomplish what she’d planned to, he accepted an offer shortly after and began work as a production manager in one of south korea’s most prestigious fashion publication, COMPLEX. three years later he was promoted as the creative director and had been in the position since. life was what he’d begun to know it to be: tedious routines and grooves, working in tandem as gears in a cut-throat industry.

things appeared to be on track, right up till his ill-fated meeting with nara. for all thirty-two years of his life, he’d never met someone who’d grated his nerves in all the wrong ways possible. with his stepfather’s career switch from a businessman to running a campaign for the office, everyone remotely related to him was trapped under a microscope.

the marriage wasn’t so much romance than it was terms and conditions marked out in black and white, and all of a sudden words of congratulations had never appeared this dreary and meaningless.

( I. ) LESSON ONE: two beginnings.

the redacted: shabby walls, air heavy and congested, burnt out cigarette stubs hidden in every nook and cranny of the apartment –– responsible for the residual and suffocating scent of smoke, empty cans stacked in a corner with no order whatsoever, cold and clammy hands that brushed against his albeit rarely, deadweight like winter was trapped within, hushed whispers that were probably not meant to be heard (he couldn’t understand what they were talking about anyway), sullen eyes holding more than he could comprehend. the replacement: a fresh coat of paint, polished jade and wood embellishing shelves, their voices echoed within spaces (too much of it), unfamiliar hands with a different kind of warmth, tranquility like fresh spring — promising albeit a tad distant, sense of normalcy reconstructed and years of childhood redefined.

( II. ) LESSON TWO: blessing in disguise

––– in a year’s time, he’d forgotten how his father looked. in two years’ time, he’d forgotten the warmth of his father’s hand, how the rough creases used to rub his palms and cheeks as though in unspoken apologies. –––

his stepfather was very much a nice man, just a tad too withdrawn from anything too close to heart. having been sloughing through years of business management and socialising on a corporate basis, he had simply never gotten out of playing the ideal businessman role enough to indulge and engage in the ways of a father. joon liked him –– the man had his heart in the right places but had never lifted the barriers of his work enough for joon to be completely comfortable with him.

nonetheless, the simplicity of things sat well with sungjoon; he reckoned this could’ve ended up much worse.

( III. ) LESSON THREE: patterns

“c’mon, i promise i’ll stop asking if you come with us once, just once, please? they’re nice, i promise, hm?”

high school was characterised simply with the same routine of: books, exams, late nights, and repeat. he was (barely) remembered and spoken of, always the same reticent kid seated in the same corner of the library and always alone. they were (she was) his only companions that made tedious days tolerable, only friends that filled lonesome school years with something memorable.

sooyoung was amiable, warm, outspoken, humorous and everything he wasn’t. her inherent ability to effortlessly coax him into just about everything and anything was frustrating to say the least, yet most of the time he found the results to be tolerably satisfactory and at times, rewarding.

it was one too many late nights spent in empty classrooms and the art room, the occasional chanced glances that he could’ve sworn were not wholly just coincidental. she’d never asked, but he’d always walked her home afterwards, hands in his pockets and heart remaining in his own chest, beating, beating, waiting.

***

the tool in mind worked faster than the hand, always steps ahead with what he’d attempted to translate into actuality, in which encapsulated unvoiced words. coherency and sanity were found in the simplest of sketches and varying intensity of strokes, shifting his mind into an ideal state of tranquility, in between consciousness.

it was therapeutic: the seeking and creation of patterns, seeing things neatly arranged and categorised in a way that few others could echo with. in these lands that he’d created for himself ( and occasionally for an audience ) — projected from a fraction of reality, fantasised and malleable, he learnt to find comfort in solitude.

( IV. ) LESSON FOUR: wolves without teeth

what had begun as an interest throughout his high school days had grown to become a steering force, directing him onto this trajectory that he’d adamantly embarked on despite his stepfather’s initial wishes of a business major.

college was far from home and cold, and he was alone once again.

***

trust didn’t come easy in an industry that gave little to no room for mistakes and hesitation. the ebb and flow of things rinsed out the outdated and slow, and he had to learn fast. a sticky situation with a fellow intern was resolved with the immediate termination of the other’s contract. sungjoon had justified it as such: it was the right thing to do when one’s idea was on the verge of being plagiarised, the only thing to do. perhaps he could understand where the other was coming from, but as the field expanded, it had in place this bottleneck filter that retained only the minority, the cream of the crop, and the only direction sungjoon knew was up.

––– savagery was inevitable; it was fangs kept hidden from plain sight until the right moment, always a game of waiting for the right timing, and finding the perfect opportunity to strike. –––

( V. ) LESSON FIVE: the hardest part about you leaving is that i lost all the words i had to say

in place of the usual messages, this particular one was succinct.

date: xx/xx/xx venue: xxx, seoul attire: formal suit

it hadn’t wholly sunken into his head yet, not even when he boarded the flight back to seoul. he’d been expecting to hear from her, from them, but not like that.

silence reigned in a way that it’d tuned out the mourning and the tears. words of condolences were ready on the tongue, but were never spoken –– he couldn’t. a neat little frame with a photo that was likely to be taken recently, he mused at how time had been kind of her as though she was still seventeen. for the longest time he stayed in front of it, wordlessly, knees sore and chest heavy; as though he was still seventeen, still the same boy who’d always been waiting, waiting, waiting for her to lift the silence for the both of them ( and his heart along with it ).

***

resigning from grazia for an extended stay in korea, the following months were spent in absolute agony, dwelling on the uncertainties and the could-have-beens. though if there was something he could do fairly well, it’d be to translate negativity into motivation –– wanting to pick up where she’d left off, accomplish what she’d planned to but couldn’t.

spring, 2012: he moved back to korea and officially commenced employment with complex.

( VI. ) LESSON SIX: another chapter, a different beginning

a seemingly unrelated career switch by his stepfather, had an unpredicted implication of sort on sungjoon. having a member of the family run a campaign for the office meant that everyone remotely related would be trapped under a microscope. the media and opposition were more than prepared to magnify any bit of flaws that could possibly taint the campaigns and effectively swayed the voters’ minds to their favour.

an almost hook-up, booze-fused words with the heavy, bitter taste of regret on his tongue. granted, she was one of the most stunning women he’d ever met and she tasted of cherries and rum with a tinge of honey; granted, alcohol and a lightened mood had lowered his inhibitions enough for words to run loose, unguarded, unfiltered; granted, he could’ve apologised but he refused to compromise his own standards. in his defence, he’d thought that’d be the last of it ( of her, of them ).

they were but a product to be exchanged, manipulated; chess pieces placed rather strategically such that there was meant to have two winners. it wasn’t romance as overly depicted by the media –– it was terms and conditions in black and white and a deal meant to benefit both parties.

and all of a sudden, words of congratulations had never appeared this dreary and meaningless.

#cx:accepted #ji changwook #ji chang wook

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neureaux · 5 years

Text

i once had this long discussion with this man that found some issue with my conversational disposition, at the time i was explaining that i don’t think questions come with an obligation. just because someone asks you something, doesn’t make them entitled to the answer and it seemed to infuriate him! now that i’m older, i think i understand it a little bit better so i conform to it a bit more these days. i get that it’s kind of like a social construct/practise in etiquette, someone asks you a question or requests light information from you and the given thing to do is to answer it regardless of what it is, but in adulthood i will only conform to this to go so far as politeness. i still subscribe to the idea that nobody is entitled to any answer in particular simply because they ask, people can not make others responsible for their wanton curiosities and i prefer that people that will be around me for long enough will become used to asking what they want to, but knowing that their curiosity is theirs and not a surefire pathway into the lives or information owned by others. it isn’t to be difficult, but rather to erase the feeling of intrusion from conversation unnecessarily. for example: a regular daily life custom, is when someone asks you if you have tattoos(stick with me for a sec), usually they’ll ask how many, and if they’re feeling even mildly comfortable they’ll ask to see. it’s a light, generally sequential and regular, ‘normal’ social custom. have you ever seen a person’s face when you say no? it’s almost as if you’ve slapped them, sprouted a third eye on your face or more realistically said something that’s almost offensive and i think it’s interesting, because i don’t see when in time, people felt so entitled to look at and evaluate others’ body parts or intangible belongings just because they ask, as if having art on your skin means that you got it to be looked at by strangers or more importantly, when they collectively decided that simply asking the question should grant them the access, maybe just because they said, “please” (which they likely didn’t.)

i just think it’s interesting, and that guy had said to me, that i should be nicer, or more socially accommodating i can’t quite remember but i thought about the gist of that conversation for a long time. in the end, i tweaked the convention to suit myself and the people i interacted with, sometimes i answer a ‘how are you’ with a pleasantry when i don’t feel like it to be polite, which i believe is reasonably necessary as an adult, but i actually began to crack down on more invasive questions and curiosities from everyone - very politely. side-stepping ‘what was your first language?’ with a gentle smile and a shoulder squeeze, and ‘tell me about you’ or ‘how was your x event’ with a slow nod and a smile before answering with a light quip and moving on until i want to answer them, ‘what is you health condition/history’ questions from people i don’t know with a straight forwards ‘i’ll let you know once we know each other better’ and a smile, gently reinforcing the boundaries that make me comfortable, then ruturning the choice back to me as to when to let them down more naturally. i don’t that think conversation itself should be a minefield of intrusion or discomfort, and i don’t subscribe to the idea of entitlement to information. i think it’s important to learn not to expect answers, but always ask questions even just to let it be known that you’re interested in the answer. i just don’t like the feeling of the demand, i once discussed it briefly with another woman, and i told her that i really admired her use of ‘thank you for your interest/concern’. it’s succinct, i think. the aim isn’t to be impolite at all and it’s important to try to be polite always/whenever possible - but at the same time, information about people’s lives and bodies is their own even in the context of social cues, and regardless of what that man thought, i wasn’t being ‘difficult’ or ‘unpersonable’ by deciding when i shared information about myself or subscribed to being known by someone else. so, i guess for anyone that might need this, you really don’t have to answer anything that you don’t want to at that time. not at parties or work functions, not when you first meet someone or even once you know them, you answer what you are in the mood to, whenever feels comfortable for you. conversations shouldn’t drain you and people aren’t entitled to just take whatever they reach for, regardless of how much they may think that they are. just so long as you’re communicating appropriately with your actual loved ones, nobody gets to tell you what they get to know, regardless of how trivial they have decided that the question may be.

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mystery-moose · 7 years

Text

FIC: Angus McDonald and the Flight of the Flying V (20/24)

[AO3 link]

They’ve come a long way, but even ten years after the world was saved, they’re still not quite where they should be. A whim, a missing painting, and a handful of near-death experiences help a flip wizard and his apprentice bridge the gap.

Taako does his best. Angus takes some risks. Introductions are made, bonds are tested, and lessons are learned — better late than never.

“—bastard!”

Angus stumbled forward, felt his stomach shift, and nearly threw up between his shoes. It was dark where he was, but his eyes adjusted quickly, and as he took deep breaths with his hands on his knees, the scene quickly became familiar.

He was in his bedroom closet.

“Stupid, stupid, asshole son of a—” Angus turned and grabbed the doorknob, expecting it to turn.

It didn’t.

He tried it again. It wouldn’t move. He tried both hands, turned it as hard as he could. Then he reared back and drove his shoulder into the door. It didn’t budge.

“Damn it!” he cursed, pulling out his wand and pointing it at the handle. “Taako, I swear I'll—”

Nothing happened.

Angus’ blood went cold. He flicked his wrist again, tried to cast Knock. Again, nothing.

“No.” He shook his head. “No no no—”

He looked down at the floor, got to his knees and felt along the edge. Sure enough, there they were; crude runes carefully carved all along the perimeter of the closet. Angus felt them beneath his fingers, remembered the shapes and forms: magic, entropy, and shield, over and over again.

Angus slammed his fists into the floor. “No!” he shouted.

He scrambled to his feet, backed up as far as he could and started kicking the door. Aim next to the handle, wood is weakest there, all you need to do is break it—

“No!” he shouted with every kick. “No! No! No!”

Nothing.

Hinges, find the hinges, if you can take off the hinges—

They were on the other side.

“Fuck!” Angus shouted, driving his shoulder into the door again. “Come on!”

Useless. He couldn’t get the force he needed without a running start. Angus put his back against the wall and raised his foot, pressed against the door and pushed as hard as he could. Then he raised his other leg and pressed with both, back hard against the wooden wall.

“Come on!” he hissed out through clenched teeth. “Come on…!”

Angus felt something twinge in his knees and dropped to the floor, landing on his tailbone with a yelp.

Get up, get up, you’ve got to keep at it, you’ve got to get out—

He felt tears stinging his eyes, and he took off his glasses and pressed his hands to his eyes.

Stop crying, get up, get out, you’ve got to stop him—

“I can’t,” he whispered. “I can’t.”

He’ll die if you don’t.

Angus wiped his eyes beneath his glasses. He slammed his fist against his thigh, and shouted into the dark, “Why?!”

Because he loves you.

Angus dropped his glasses to the floor and cried the way he hadn’t cried in years, wracking sobs until he couldn’t breathe. He dropped his hands from his face and leaned back against the wall.

You can’t give up. He can’t have thought of everything, it’s Taako.

He shut his eyes and clenched his jaw.

Door’s magically locked. I can’t cast magic. What else is there?

He focused on his breathing, concentrating on slowing each breath. Gradually, his head cleared.

You’re not a wizard. You’re a detective. Act like it.

Angus checked his pockets. He had little to work with. His set of lockpicks wouldn’t do him any good against a magical lock. His crossbow wasn’t strong enough to punch through more than an inch of oak. The blackjack he kept strapped to his back wouldn’t be able to break through, and he didn’t have a blade or anything to light a fire if he was that desperate. He was surprised to find his Farspeech stone was gone — no, of course it was, Taako would have lifted it when they’d hugged and Angus had been too emotional to notice. His notebook was gone too; that had been stolen the day before, when Gavin had knocked him out in that warehouse. Not that it mattered. Who could get to him in time who also had a piece of his—

Silvia.

Angus threw himself towards the wooden chest in the corner, praying Taako hadn’t thought to lock that too. He hadn’t. Angus nearly shouted with joy as he pulled out the large hardbacked tome that he’d enchanted as the archive for his notes.

He had to find the right page: the one corresponding to the piece he’d torn out and given to Silvia. If he wrote on that page, she should see it. Feel it, even, if she still carried the scrap of enchanted parchment on her. If he could find it in the mess of notes he’d taken… he’d had this archive going for years now, but it was sorted by date. If he kept flipping towards the back—

There. There it was. A thin faded strip in the middle, showing the tear in the page. The top half would be Silvia’s. Angus pulled out his pen and wrote the simplest, most succinct message he could.

Need your help

Come to apartment ASAP

Matter of life and death

—Angus

Angus pulled away, regarded the message, and realized he had no idea if she’d get it in time. He leaned down to write another note.

Mark this page when you read this

Now all Angus could do was stare at his note, pray to anyone who might be listening, and wait.

He didn’t have to wait long.

on my way

As soon as he saw Silvia’s messy scrawl write itself onto the page, Angus felt a pressure give way in his chest, only to be replaced by a buzz of anxiety. He stood and gathered his things, then pressed his ear to the door, straining to hear.

There was a loud banging at his front door.

“Silvia!” he shouted.

“Angus?!”

“I’m trapped!” he shouted. “The spare key’s above the—”

There was a loud bang, and the sound of a door slamming open. Angus huffed a small sigh.

“Where are you?” Silvia shouted.

“In here!” he yelled back. “The bedroom closet!”

“What?”

“There’s an antimage circle in here! I can’t cast Knock!”

There was a gentle pulse of red light along the door’s edge. Angus tried the knob, and it turned. He opened the door to find Silvia standing there, wand out, looking worried.

“Angus, what's—”

He rushed forward and hugged her. She froze, startled, and he pulled away, hands on her shoulders.

“Taako’s gone.”

“Sorry?”

“He’s gone,” Angus repeated, faster. “We left together to try and stop him, but he ported me back here. We need to hurry!”

“Angus.” Silvia raised her hands and gripped his biceps. “Slow. Down. What’s happening?”

Angus took a deep breath. “I know who did it.”

“Did what?”

“Took the painting. Killed Mr. Wendell. Tried to kill Lady Blisk.”

“Tried to—?” Silvia’s eyes widened. “The assassination attempt? It’s all anyone’s been working all day. How’d you get involved?”

He opened his mouth to explain further, then shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Just listen. It was Gavin, okay? He’s the one responsible. He’s well on his way to stealing an entire vault of powerful magical artifacts, and we have to stop him.”

“I am barely following you,” Silvia said, stepping away, “but I don’t need to. Let’s go.”

As they left Angus’ apartment and rushed out into the courtyard, he turned to Silvia.

“You can’t come with.”

Silvia glared at him in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“You have to get the militia,” he said. “Gavin isn’t a joke, he can cast at least seventh-level Evocation, probably eighth, and gods only know what power those artifacts will give him.”

“Angus, if you think I’m letting you run off alone—”

“Does anyone in the militia know port magic?”

Silvia stopped short, stumbled over her words. “The — my captain knows port magic, but—”

“I gave my evidence to the Lord-Commander’s steward. She’ll have it. That should give your captain everything he needs for the destination.”

“Where are you going?”

Angus flicked his wrist out and summoned the only thing he could think of that would get him to the door fast enough.

“‘Sup, homie,” Garyl said as he materialized into existence. “This is a little weird, you know that, right?”

“I’m in a hurry,” Angus said, climbing astride his Phantom Steed. “I don’t have the time to be original.”

“Angus!”

He looked down at Silvia. Her face was a mix of all kinds of emotions; confusion, anger, and worry chief among them.

“This sucks,” she said flatly. “You know that, right?”

Angus nodded, gathering up two glowing reins in his hands. “I’m sorry. But I won’t risk Gavin getting away with this.”

“And I just get to watch you ride off alone. After Taako just did the same to you.”

“I can’t lose him!”

Angus shouted without meaning to. Silvia clenched her jaw. Angus looked away, down the street.

“I won’t. Not without a fight.”

Garyl shuffled nervously, pawing at the ground. Silvia stepped back, onto the sidewalk.

“I’ll bring backup.”

Angus took a breath, exhaled. He thought about saying goodbye, but he found he didn’t want to.

“Bring healers,” he said instead, tightening his grip on the reins. “Bring everyone you can.”

He kicked Garyl’s sides. The spectral binicorn reared up and his hind legs and pawed the air.

“Hell yeah!” Garyl shouted in his baritone. Then he took off at a full-tilt gallop down the street.

There was an intersection ahead. Straight would take them into the front window of an old art studio. They didn’t slow down.

“We need to go a whole lot faster!” Angus shouted.

Garyl barked out a laugh. “You got it, boss!”

Silver wings with shimmering feathers erupted from Garyl’s sides, extending to their full length. Angus pulled back on the reins, and Garyl rose, hooves clip-clopping against the side of the building as they sprinted up the side, past the roof and into the sky. Down below, Angus saw a magical flare fly up from in front of his apartment building; blue with red sparks.

Backup requested.

Angus spurred Garyl, and they turned north, towards the coast, towards the Door, towards Taako and Gavin and the end of this case.

He only hoped he wasn’t too late.

#the adventure zone #thezonecast #taako #angus mcdonald #fanfiction #post campaign #mystery #adventure

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madlegs · 7 years

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LIFE WITHOUT MY BRAND: the power of emotional engagement

I’ll admit it, without my band I felt lost, I couldn’t sleep, I didn’t want to exercise. What’s the point if I couldn’t record it and there were no trophies or encouraging messages at the end. In just a few short months, my band had become part of my identity and my incentive to continue pushing along towards my goals. When it suddenly broke, I was devastated.

By now you’re probably wondering if I am talking about my music band or something entirely different. Those who know me will rejoice that my singing voice remains indoors or just to embarrass my children on special occasions. It’s my Microsoft Band that had me feeling lost.

For the avoidance of doubt or suspicion of any collusion (not that Microsoft needs it), my brother-in-law works for Microsoft, but I purchased my Band for myself at the full retail price (that’s how much I wanted it). I treasure it.

EMOTIONAL ENGAGEMENT

My experience with the Microsoft Band hits the core of branding. The moment my Band tapped into my emotions, it had me. The Band is all about ME, like a private conversation with my inner competitive self, heightening the experience, giving me the exhilaration in meeting a goal and motivating me to push harder. This emotion is intoxicating and often irrational, which is why my first reaction to my Band breaking was feeling abandoned and worried that I did something wrong, instead of feeling upset at Microsoft for selling a faulty product. Consider my reaction again: I was upset at myself, not the product. My emotional reaction is what every brand on the planet wants to tap into, but few know how.

Brands that don’t understand the emotional connection their customers have with their product, service or idea aren’t worth calling brands. The old days of pushing products by leading with a few key benefits and someone attractive smiling and pointing are long dead (not that they ever really worked). Today is entirely about the story. Nail the story (consistently) and make every aspect of it sing (consistently) and you have a shot.

With each and every client, our aim is to create an emotional connection. How we do it takes some art. There is a lot of talk about digital disruption, millennials, storytelling and more, but substance is missing in the place of jargon and watery predictions. Tactics have changed in response to changing ways consumers make buying decisions, largely influenced by social media, but strategy remains the same. Go back to basics, remember why you started, embrace the 4 P’s (yes, product, price, placement and promotion are still relevant), then talk directly to your target audience and listen.

Does your brand evoke emotions? Are they the ones you want? Can you use these emotions to your advantage? If you can't answer this questions, think about exiting the business or hire an expert.

Below are some common emotions that drive behaviour:

FEAR: Fear of failure and fear of the unknown are the most common, but what about fear of being left behind, missing a trend, not being cool. Fear of someone discovering you’re not perfect or you’re vulnerable.

COMPETITION: Not only do you want to win, but you also want recognition that you won and then you want to share it with the world. It’s about validation as much as winning. The other side is what you do just for yourself. It’s the voice that tells you to run a little faster, a little longer and then rewards you with praise, but this is private, it’s personal, it can only be tainted by you.

DISTRACTION: Feeling bored, tired, angry, cold, lazy or anything more nagging? Retail therapy gives you a boost, distracts you from what’s going on around you. Thank you Amazon Prime for encouraging this behaviour, turning want into need and increasing impatience. Who knew a simple mouse click could deliver a rush. It used to be lipstick for me.

GUILT: Did you forget your mum’s birthday, hurt someone’s feelings, take someone for granted or miss an opportunity? How we behave out of guilt is irrational, but highly predictable. Charities are experts in this field. How could you not want to feed a hungry child? You’d be a horrible human being to let children suffer, especially with your £8/day coffee addition.

HAPPINESS: For something everyone wants, there’s no universal description. Happiness is watching your favourite programme on telly, a perfectly ripe avocado, getting to work five minutes early, watching your child in the school play, finishing a good book, the first smell of spring, the sound of the ocean. Brands that help us reach happiness, and better yet, hold onto it a little longer, win favour. However, happiness is fleeting and people have short memories, so don’t rest your entire sales strategy on happiness. Focus instead on specific events and specific targets.

TRUST: This is the holy grail of emotions. If you hit it, then protect it with every penny of revenue your company has (even your own house). Don’t take this emotion for granted, don’t ignore it, don’t abuse it. Trust leads to loyalty, to word-of-mouth, to a fan club and even to forgiveness when you get something wrong.

I read this article when it was published in January 2016, but it stuck in my brain. His idea isn’t revolutionary—in fact it’s what we’ve been preaching about for years—but he made the argument succinct.

This select few know that the true value of their brand lies below the surface. It’s not just about clever ads or billboards, although advertising is certainly a component of their brand. It’s not just about packaging, the website and social media, although these are certainly important in their own right. Instead, a great brand is a set of consistent, positive associations and perceptions that have been created through the sum total of their interactions with that company, product, or service.

Simply put, customer experience is at the core of every brand. Research shows time and again that people will reward companies whose products and services meet or exceed their expectations. The reward comes back in the form of brand preference and customer loyalty that translates into revenue. Yet many companies do not seem to recognize how fundamental it is for all customer interactions to be seamlessly and effortlessly aligned toward a mutually desired set of experiences.

http://www.brandingstrategyinsider.com/2016/01/a-brands-true-value-lies-below-the-surface.html#.VxeQhzArKUk

Learn more about the power of emotional engagement in branding.

Why storytelling is an art.

#brand building #emotional engagement #storytelling

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