#The Booster one is a reference to a song
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Super Mario RPG valentines? Send them to your friends! (Or don’t, if you want to stay friends 😂)
#super mario rpg#smrpg#valentines#bad valentines#The Boshi one is a reference to a meme#The Booster one is a reference to a song#The toad one is a reference to his bazooka#And that’s all really
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Could you do some windbreaker characters with a fem s/o that likes to wear lolita dresses :) you can choose the windbreaker characters I can’t decide they are all so hot ^ - ^
Yess hope you enjoy ✨
𝔚𝔦𝔫𝔡𝔟𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔯 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔵 𝔏𝔬𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔞 𝔣𝔢𝔪 𝔰/𝔬
✧.* JayJo
Once he saw you for the first time he’s bug-eyed and curious. Normally your style isn’t common so you stand out a lot. Some people around you compliment you and ask where you got your outfits. Others are annoying and mean and want to make fun of you and sometimes it’s very subtle. But Jay is very observant and can see the talking shit behind your back, and he’s not going to have any of it. Even if he doesn’t know you that well your style grabbed his attention, so little by little he’ll start talking to you. Being one of the people that compliment you but something was different with him, his smile was warmer and his body language exposed slight interest. Whatever you wear is his excuse to talk to you, for example if you’re holding an umbrella on a nice day he wants to talk about your outfit and then ends up asking more questions.
Conversations become about what type of music you guys like, what artists, recommendations, anything you recommend he will listen to it once he’s at home while he’s studying. But he can barely concentrate because you’re on his mind constantly. The music turns into eventually exchanging phone numbers to talk more, Jay is trying to stay friends for very long though because a month later he asked you out. Now that you guys are dating anything you wear he loves, even looking up the Lolita style online to search for dresses and accessories and send you pictures of them ‘Do you like this?’ ‘This reminds me of you.’ ‘I think you’d look good in this one’
He’s more protective of you because ain’t no way he’s gonna let anyone make fun of you now. Warnings and threats can turn into physical fights because people are so petty. He teaches them a lesson though, and he’s extra romantic with you afterwards. He admires your confidence and how you embrace yourself he doesn’t want that to end. A confidence booster, for sure. He’s your biggest fan, probably wants to take pictures of you a lot. Even if he doesn’t show it, trust me he’s obsessed with you and wants to be around you every second of every day
(That was long idk what happened just brain meats poured scenarios out of my head)
✧.* Vinny Hong
(This got a bit angsty)
Ok Vinny isn’t going to be as… responsive to how he likes your style, but he still thinks it’s really cool. If you’re dating him since he’s poor he’ll feel guilt for not being able to afford to buy you more outfits but at least he can afford flowers that match the color of what you’re wearing that day on a date. Whatever he can’t afford, he comes up with a plan to give whatever he has. He acts cold but he genuinely cares about you and wouldn’t want to lose you for the world. If you’re still dating him when he’s rich that’s when he’ll spoil you. He doesn’t expect anything back he just wants you to be happy.
You won’t be able to see Vinny as much due to crew business, but once he makes time for you he doesn’t want to leave you. These times are actually the hardest because if he’s going through it he will want to hold you. No need for words when you finally see each other he just wants to be in your arms again. And once he has to leave again he is even worse than before, your smiles just give him peace and comfort again and he needs that more than ever.
✧.* Dom Kang
Dom is simping… you’re a goddess to him that whenever he sees you he gets flustered and embarrasses himself a little. He’s not shy about showing how much he loves you, random kisses, hugs from behind, lots of compliments. He likes to brag and show you off (didn’t mean to reference the Doja Cat song lmao) But seriously he does… Especially when you’re rooting for him during the tournaments and he wins. He’s proud of himself and especially when you shower him with praises and hugs. Watch him melt and turn into a puddle.
✧.* Shelly Scott
One of the most romantic characters and your biggest supporter. If you don’t pull the strings she does and a lot of the times being the flirty one. You got her attention with your stand outish style like Jay. She genuinely wanted to be your friend at first, but she fell first and she fell hard. You fell hard too from how her charismatic personality and caring so much was pulling you in. It’ll take a little longer to confess to each other because you both assume you might not be into girls. But with little hints from Shelly, it started with subtle flirting comments like “If you were my girlfriend I’d spoil you.”
Finally she got the courage for just one date and see how it goes. Pretty much by the second date you’re official. She’s a bit clingy but that’s just her way of showing that she loves you. When she was training hard twitch her dad to help Humming Bird unfortunately she couldn’t reach out to you much but would send occasional texts like ‘😚’ or the cutesy love gifs
✧.* Wooin Yoo
Wooin might fun of you… Especially when he met you, but in his head he thinks he looks good and he can think it’s pretty hot that you don’t care what people think. And just like Dom, I feel like he enjoys when you watch him during his races. But compared to Dom, Wooin is kissing his own ass, “did you see how awesome I am, babe?” So you’d probably be mostly quiet until he’s done talking about himself or notices that you’re not saying anything to hype him up and comments on it
If someone made fun of you that’s when his limit comes because only he can make fun of you. He doesn’t care who it is even if his crew were to make fun of you. Though that wouldn’t really happen because 1. They know Wooin would be pissed 2. They actually don’t care how you dress. Surprisingly when you spend more time with The Sabbath Crew they aren’t as mean as you thought. Well, compared to your own boyfriend. But really when it comes to Wooin he is on high alert when you’re out with him making sure no one is looking at you the wrong way
✧.* Joker
Joker is the quiet type. But he’ll make up with it with physical touch and kisses. Just like Wooin he can’t stand it when people talk shit. Except Wooin doesn’t get into fights unless he’s provoked to, Joker on the other hand is violent. So he isn’t giving any warnings he’s giving a punch to a face. If you tell him that you don’t like when he gets into fights he will just not do it in front of you
On the cutesy side of things you met his brother and he thought you were cool. And his new puppy might finally have a babysitter while he’s in tournaments if you’re ok with it. If not he can just take the puppy with him like usual. Now he has someone to gush over animals with.
#sorry dom’s was so short I was struggling to think of anything besides he’s just a sweetheart#windbreaker x reader#windbreaker
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JAMIE TARTT | and i don't even like you that much. wait, i do. f*ck.
PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader
WORD COUNT: 5.8k
SUMMARY: jamie is actually a board game nerd and starts spending more time with one of the employees of a local shop.
WARNINGS: language
A/N: this idea came to me as someone asked me if i wanted to buy another volume of a board game we had HAHA if you can figure out what game i'm referring to in this story, hmu! alsooo i want to apologize for the length i swear i didn't mean for it to get that long, but still, i hope you all enjoy! title is from the song 'apple cider' by beabadoobee!
It was another slow morning in the store, given that most of your frequent customers were forced to be in school at this time. You ended up continuing one of the readings for your class during your shift. Despite a wave of drowsiness hitting you the moment you opened the book, it was still better having free time to be tired than the afternoon rush when 13-year-old boys came in to get another booster pack of Magic: The Gathering cards.
You were practically setting all these children up for a gambling addiction the way they'd spend 20 pounds trying to get one of those shiny ones in their deck. You never bothered to learn the names really, because that wasn't part of your job description. When it came to those kinds of things, those boys probably knew more than you did.
When it came to board games though, that was your area of expertise. It was partly one of the reasons you applied to work here while you were finishing up your Master's, — and also because of how generous the owner was with your salary, — so you always loved helping people out for their board game nights. You didn't have regulars that would come in often, but here and there, there would be a person you recognize from before asking about another game.
You don't know how much time had passed, but after deciding that your brain could no longer take reading the word cognitive multiple times in a sentence, you end up shutting the book and resting your head on the counter.
Soon after though, you hear the bell at the top of the door ring, causing you to jolt up. You only catch a glimpse of the guy walking towards you before he drops his head, his cap completely blocking his face, and a loose black hoodie covering his frame.
For a second, you get worried that the store was about to get robbed but the man finally stops in front of you and speaks, in a thick Mancunian accent. "Do you have any suggestions for board games? Like for family and stuff,"
You swear you've heard his voice before. Maybe from school? Or a former customer? You decide to shake it off before replying. "Well, this is a board game store, so there's quite a lot to pick from. Do you have any specific theme in mind? How many players?"
"There'll be 3 of us, but I'm not really picky with the game. Not any of those monopoly type shit though, cause I'm sick of never winning."
You chuckle at the revelation and that's what gets the man to look up at you. It definitely wasn't his appearance he was worried about. His chiseled jaw and striking blue eyes almost draw you in, not to mention his hairstyle looks eerily like the one David Beckham had in the 90s, who you had to admit was a crush of yours as a kid. He could even pass as a contestant on one of those dating reality shows.
And then it hits you where you've heard his voice before. This guy was on Lust Conquers All and was immediately voted off. You remember it well because your sister was so pissed at him for joining the show since the football season had just started. Jamie something, but the show never mentioned his last name. You try to hide your realization by turning to the shelf behind you.
"Alright uh, I’d recommend this one." You turn back around and slide it across the counter as Jamie (?) starts looking at the box from all angles.
"Looks cool," is all he says in reply and he looks back at you, presumably for you to explain the game. You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear before going on your usual introduction to the game.
"Basically in the game, there are 4 characters you can choose to be your 'heroes.' Your main objective is to get your opponent's health to 0 using the different cards in your set. All the characters have different decks and skills you can use throughout the game, and some of them even have side kicks." You look back up for a second to see his expression and you can tell that you're still holding his interest.
"So for example in the one I gave you, you can battle Sinbad, Medusa, King Arthur, and Alice, who's fucking amazing, by the way."
"Alice? From fucking Wonderland?" You laugh at his surprise before nodding to affirm it. "She's your favorite then?"
"How'd you know?" You ask sarcastically. "But yeah, she's just really versatile and it's just really fun to shrink and grow every turn just to piss off the other players. I'm practically unbeatable using her." You admit though you're not really sure why.
Most of the time when customers come in here for a game, they don't ask questions and just buy the first one you suggest. That’s probably why you answered Jamie's question so earnestly. Cause he's the first one to ever ask you what you liked about the game.
You quickly run through the rest of the rules and mechanics of the game with Jamie chiming in occasionally. You describe the other editions as well and Jamie is tempted to buy the other one — "How is anyone supposed to beat fucking Dracula?" — before he ultimately decides to take home the one you offered.
"If I end up losing using Alice, you owe me a refund." He states as you ring up the game. You playfully roll your eyes as you scan the barcode on the box.
"Oh yeah, since you're the first customer of the day, you get a 7% discount on your purchase," you quickly inform him when you glance at the post-it note on the register screen reminding you about it in bold letters.
Instead of the usual gratefulness or blip of happiness from hearing that news, Jamie instead asks, "Is that really a thing or are you doing it because you know who I am?"
You look at him to check if he's serious and given his blank look, you assume he is. You don't know how to respond to that, so instead you just slowly shake your head.
"Wait, do you not know who I am?" His question itself comes off as arrogant, but given the genuine surprise in your voice, you're not sure how to feel about the guy after he says it.
You decide to answer him honestly. "I do, but given that you walked in here in clothes that make you look like a stalker who's about to rob the place, I didn't think you'd want me to make a big fuss about it, Jamie."
His shoulders seem to relax at your statement and once he goes quiet, he finally pulls out his wallet. You quickly place the game in a paper bag and hand it over to him.
He whispers a quick thanks and turns to leave, before pausing. He turns back to you, "Look, it's not like I'm dressed this way because I'm embarrassed to be in a store like this—"
"I didn't think you were," you answer blankly with a hint of sarcasm. You decide to mess with the guy a little bit because hey, when's the next time a famous footballer comes into your store again? "Why, is there something I should be embarrassed about?"
Jamie quickly shakes his head. "No, fuck no! I think it's cool, really. You know, being surrounded by all these games and cards and knowing so much about them. Especially someone like you,"
You tilt your head in amusement. "What do you mean someone like me?" Jamie's embarrassment only seems to deepen at that.
"Fuck I didn't mean it like that. Honestly, when I came in here, I was expecting some teenage boy to be at the counter. Wait no— I mean, girls can like all this stuff too! I just didn't expect someone attr—," he stops himself and shakes his head. "Shit, wait,"
You watch Jamie scramble for words and you decide to just put an end to his misery. "Look, look, I was just joking around. I don't give that much of a shit about what you said." The football player visibly relaxes and you hold in a laugh at that reaction. "And you're basically right about the kind of people who work here. Most of my co-workers can't work these hours right now 'cause they're off studying for their A-Levels."
"Yeah, well thank you for this," Jamie lifts the bag slightly and you give him a genuine smile.
"No problem. Hope you enjoy the game! And if you ever feel compelled to dress like a shitty robber again, you can come back and tell me what you think." Your sarcasm no longer throws Jamie off who instead, just playfully rolls his eyes and leaves the store.
You go back to your reading for your behavioral science class, putting your interaction with the football player in the back of your mind.
—
The next time you see Jamie is two weeks later, although this time, he comes in right before closing. Technically, you weren't the only one assigned for this shift, but you decided to let your co-worker go home early since he said he had an English exam the next day and still hadn't studied.
So, you were counting down the minutes to 8 pm when you hear someone come inside. Fucking hell. You force a smile, "Hi, welcome! We'll be closing in a few minutes, but please approach me if you need anything so you can have a speedier process."
"Are you really that desperate to get rid of me?" The person moves away from the shelves and turns out to be Jamie Tartt, you learn his last name is. He's wearing another grey hoodie but seems to have decided to ditch his hat. Good, because you weren't sure how much longer you could stare at the ICON written on it and not judge him. "I wanna know, did you think offering to help the customer would get them out of here quicker?"
"I had to try something," you defend yourself, shrugging. You notice Jamie carrying the bag you used to wrap the board game and slightly frown. "Didn't like the game?"
He follows your eyes and is quick to correct you. "I loved it, actually. First time playing a board game that Simon didn't win during the first round." You aren't sure who Simon is, but you laugh nonetheless. "And you're right, Alice is fucking unbeatable."
"I'm glad you liked it, and Alice," you start, but then glance at the time on your phone. "But, is that the only reason you came here?"
"Well no, I was wondering if you wanted to play. That's why I came so late, in case there would be too many people if I came at the usual time."
"Yeah, there was a fuck ton, actually, as you can tell from the fully stocked store." You say, pretending to look around the room. "But sure, if you want. I don't have anything going on tomorrow anyway," Now you're really glad that you didn't procrastinate that paper due tonight.
Jamie smiles as he starts to unbox the set and you grab one of the chairs behind the counter and push it to the other side for the footballer.
Never did you imagine you would spend a Saturday night with a hot football player playing one of your favorite board games, but here you were. In between one of the rounds, the topic of football is brought up and you admit that you don't know all that much about it despite your family being made up of fanatics.
"Everyone has their team they support. My dad loves Arsenal, my mum loves Chelsea, and my sister bounces between West Ham and Crystal Palace. Though, she fucking hates Rupert Mannion, so maybe this is the end of her West Ham support." You answer as you shuffle Jamie's deck.
"Shit, the season must be fun for you guys," Jamie remarks and you snort, though instantly regretting letting that sound out. The football player looks unfazed, so you decide not to apologize for it and answer his question instead.
"Yeah, I basically end up being their messenger till the finals, which ends up becoming World War 3 if their teams are competing," you hand him his deck back and start the round, but your conversation doesn't end there.
"What team would you support then, if you got into football?" He looks hopefully at you.
"Yours, probably." You confirm as you look through your first hand of cards. "I mean, I'm about to destroy one of their players at this game. It's the least I can do."
"We'll see about that," Jamie replies and you roll your eyes playfully, but you smile.
Working at the store meant you were surrounded by board game fans every day, but not even your regulars would come in here after your shift to play. You couldn't help but feel warm at how Jamie matched your enthusiasm about the game, something, you admit, you didn't expect from the player. You knew nothing would probably come from this harmless happy crush of yours, but if he decided to start coming in often to play, you wouldn't be opposed to it.
Your attention turns back to the game once Jamie picks his next move. He smirks at his decision until his expression suddenly shifts. "Wait, if you're not into football, how'd you know who I was the other day?"
You move your piece before looking directly into Jamie's eyes and respond, "I just really love trashy reality shows." Jamie playfully groans at the reminder and you burst into laughter before you continue the game.
True to form, whichever of the two of you uses Alice is the one to win that round. You finally decide on a tie-breaker with your favorite being banned from usage.
"Christ, if this is how you maneuver in a board game, I wonder how good you are at football." You tease, as you glance at his character being at only 4HP.
"I'm fucking amazing, actually. Ask your family, they'll tell you." Jamie moves a few spaces on the board, hoping to escape your Medusa, but instead, he falls into one of your traps.
You corner him and finally reduce his King Arthur's health. "And there you go, 3-2."
It takes Jamie a second to absorb everything before he slouches. "Fucking hell." You laugh before getting up from your chair and helping him keep all the pieces and cards.
"Better luck next time, Tartt."
Jamie, whose competitive side seems to be shining in this game, doesn't let it end there.
Almost every week, he would come into the store at night asking to play. He was definitely getting better, but after making a deal where the loser has to tell an embarrassing story after the round, you realize you know more about him than he probably does about you.
"God Jamie, how are you alive?" You ask as he shares a story from when he first started the league.
"How was I supposed to know doing multiple headers in one match could lead to a bloody concussion?" He retorts, only making your eyes widen even more.
"I'm pretty sure that's common knowledge to about 80% of the population," you say through your laughter.
It's almost 10 when you finish playing, so you grab your jacket and start heading to the door with Jamie. You lock the store up and notice that Jamie's still hanging around you.
It's dark outside, but it seems like his features were even more enhanced by the moonlight. The light hit his eyes just the right way that it made the blue more evident. You notice just then how his hair is neater today, mainly because of his sports headband. The front strands of his hair had fallen out it though, falling on his face in just the right way that it gave you butterflies. Did all footballers look this attractive?
You realize that you may have been starting a bit too long and as you tuck the keys in your jacket pocket, you decide to ask, "Need anything else?"
Jamie opens his mouth to say something, but instead, he just shakes his head. "Nothing actually, just good night," he waves and starts walking in the opposite direction, but you swear you hear him muttering something under his breath.
—
It had been a week since then and you had to start telling yourself to not be so excited when you hear the bell ring. Every time it did, you'd look expectantly at the door expecting to see Jamie again, asking for another or a new volume or even just game tips. Each time, you'd end up disappointed and would have to fake a smile to the customer approaching you.
This time you hear it ring, and you do your best to not look up. If it was Jamie, you knew that your boss George probably would be sounding an alarm. You only learned the Monday after that he was a major AFC Richmond fan when you mentioned that a football player had visited the store multiple times to play board games.
"Do you think we can get him to sign a picture and put it on the wall? Can you ask?" You quickly have to explain how those interactions were the only times you ever spoke to Jamie and had no actual way of contacting him.
As you close your laptop, — one more paragraph and that essay is done! — you look up to find two guys standing in front of you.
"Hi, do you have any board game recommendations?" the one on the right greeted, his accent quickly revealing him to be Welsh.
You don't have a chance to answer because the left one lightly elbows his friend before whispering (though loud enough for you to hear), "He already told us what to get, bruv."
You may not know who this 'he' is, but the guy pulls out his phone and shows you a picture of a board game, the same one you recommended to Jamie. Wishful thinking gets you to believe that they were friends of his and he liked it so much that he told them about it. And maybe about you, too.
You've never been so happy to be right.
You nod your head and as he kept his phone, you started pulling the same edition from the shelf behind you when you hear a screeching sound that almost made you drop the box.
"Oh my God, Colin Hughes, and Isaac McAdoo!" George exclaims and you wonder where you've heard those names before.
The owner joins you at the counter as you place the board game in front of you. Maybe you weren't pretending to be as peppy as you usually do, because George decides to ask, "How are you so calm? Do you know who these guys are? They're Colin Hughes and Isaac McAdoo!"
"I heard you the first time," you turn to the two guys once again, embarrassed on behalf of your boss.
"They're part of the starting team of AFC Richmond!" And that's when it clicks. On one of your all-nighters, you decided to take a break and search up Jamie Tartt just to see what you could find. You ended up at his club's website and saw the rest of the players as well. You didn't pay them much attention given that you were so focused on player number 9, but you saw enough pictures to recognize them, at least.
"So you guys do know Jamie," you think out loud and the two players turn to each other, before sharing looks of realization.
"Oh, you're the girl!" Colin exclaims and you can't help but feel butterflies in your stomach.
"Yeah, I guess so," you try and act as nonchalantly as possible, so neither of them picks up on anything. You turn back to the game and ask, "Is this the one you wanted?"
"Jamie said there were other versions?" Isaac asks and you nod your head to confirm it, which he smiles at. "We want the Sherlock one."
"Okay," you reach for that one on the shelf as George starts offering them discounts on the game.
When he almost offers to give it to them for free along with another set, you stop him by slamming the box on the counter. Why were you the one trying to keep his business alive? "Here it is, hope you enjoy it!"
You ring up their purchase, still trying to hold your boss back from scaring these footballers away before they can pay. You finally bag the whole thing and hand it to them. "Thank you!" you shout as they exit the store.
"Yeah, see you soon!" George says afterward and you look at him in confusion.
"What the fuck was that, George?" He only sighs, most likely the embarrassment only hitting him at that exact moment.
Once he goes back to doing inventory, you can't help but replay what Colin said. Oh, you're the girl! Why was such a simple phrase like that affecting you so much? For all you know, he might've mentioned you being a sore winner, which wouldn't be the first time you've been called that.
But you still hope he said good things about you and maybe even kept better things he thought to himself.
—
"Okay, time's up. Please pass your papers." You write one last word as you get up to give your exam to the proctor, sighing in relief that the semester is finally over.
You had asked for leave for the past few days and didn't have a shift until tomorrow, so you decide to treat yourself to some coffee and pasta for lunch at the campus cafe.
As you settle down at one of the tables, you get a phone call from George. He was more than happy to let you take the time off, so you wonder what emergency had to happen for him to contact you.
As soon as you pick up, George screams your name into the phone. You pull it away from your ear for a second, and respond, "What? What do you need?"
"Look, I'm sorry to disturb you on your day off, but you said that your test ended at 2:30, so I decided to hold off calling you till then. Anyway, someone came in a few days ago asking if we host board game nights."
"And we do," you answer for him as you chew your sandwich.
"Right, and then he said that he was from AFC Richmond." You flinch after imagining how your boss could've reacted at that revelation. "They wanted to hold it a few days ago," George pauses.
"Why didn't you say yes? You could've been game master."
"Yeah well, I wanted to, but they specifically asked for you to go." You put down your sandwich and straighten up. George continues, "I told them you were on leave, but they said they could wait till you were back at work. I said that your test was this morning and I would ask if you'd be willing to end your leave early."
"Okay, sure." You answer, a little faster than you intended. You couldn't believe that the team — and maybe even Jamie personally, — was willing to postpone their game night just so you would be the one to facilitate it.
The surprise was evident in George's voice. Normally, you would reject his idea the moment he mentioned board game nights, but something about this was different for you. "Oh okay, well, I'll send you the address. I'll be bringing the boards there since you don't have a car and I'll meet you there at 4 pm. It's a restaurant, so maybe you can get something to eat before 'cause shit can get crazy at those things and it's best to load up."
You don't know how a board game night could get crazy, but you decide not to comment on it. He sends you the details through text before you end the call and continues eating your sandwich. The place wasn't too far from campus, so you didn't have to rush to get there. But after 10 minutes, you consumed your sandwich and were out the door with your coffee in hand.
While walking, you decided to familiarize yourself more with the players trying to put names to face before you had to interact with all of them at once. You started to get the hang of it, — even looking at team photos and naming them one by one as a test — as you get to the venue at around half past 3.
You arrive at a restaurant called Ola's, and you remember seeing one of the Richmond players post about it. Your dad wanted to have dinner here once, but they were always fully booked so the four of you gave up trying to get a table there.
Because of that, you expected the place to be swamped with customers, but instead find an almost empty restaurant. You notice one guy standing in the middle of it and approach him.
"Hi," He turns around and you recognize him as Sam Obisanya, meaning he must be the owner. You introduce yourself quickly before asking, "Am I at the right place? I'm here to help host a board game tournament."
Sam's eyes widen as he seems to recognize you. "Oh yes, this is the place. Sorry, I didn't expect you to be so early. We already fixed up the tables, but I can also help in setting up the boards if you like."
"Ah no, it's alright. My boss is the one who’s bringing them. I came from my university, so I don't have any of them on me right now." You quickly explain and Sam nods as he leads you to one of the tables to relax, while he grabs some appetizers from the kitchen.
He makes his way back to the table, though he can't seem to stop looking at you. You subconsciously start fixing your hair, wondering if you should've gone to the bathroom before going in here.
He seems to pick up on this and is quick to reassure you, "Oh, I'm sorry for staring. It's just Jamie has mentioned you so many times, so it's nice to finally put a face to the name."
Your heart skips a beat at the mention of the football player. You grab some of the food he offered as you reply as calmly as you can, "Oh yeah, did he tell you how he is nowhere close to beating my number of wins?"
Sam lets out a short chuckle. "No, but I'm not surprised. He did say you're very good at it." You smile and decide to ask why they decided to do a board game night.
It takes a second before Sam replies, "Oh well, Coach always says to do team-building activities every once in a while, and seeing as Jamie has asked almost everyone on the team to play the game at least once, we thought it would be a good idea. I think Isaac and Colin got their own board too and they started bringing it to the clubhouse."
"Shit, I didn't realize that football players loved board games so much," you remarked as you hear the door to the restaurant open.
Both of you look up to see George, who is trying to carry 12 boxes of board game sets. You rush out of your seat to help him out and so does Sam. The sight of the player almost makes your boss drop all of them from his arms, but you quickly scoop four of them and Same takes another four.
"Sam Obisanya," George exhales, once some of the weight is literally lifted off him.
The player simply says, "Hello," and states that he'll start setting up the four boards on the tables near the back.
You snap your fingers to get George out of the trance and the two of your start setting up on the rest of your tables, dropping the character figurines at the bar table and putting the sign-up sheet next to it. Slowly, the restaurant starts filling up with players with George gradually losing his mind at the number of footballers from his favorite team.
You finally get him to leave, but only by promising to convince the team to take a picture with him when he came back to pick up the boards. You're pretty sure he's already making plans to put it on a canvas and hang it on his bed.
You settle yourself behind the bar table to be in charge of the players setting up, each time expecting it to be Jamie standing in front of you. You try and keep your focus on the task at hand every time you hear the boys greet someone new.
Isaac and Colin are the next to write their names and they give you a look that you can't quite decipher. Soon enough, Jamie finally gets here and you straighten up in your seat. He greets some of the players till his eyes land on you.
He approached the bench and once he looked up, he observed out loud. "You're here,”
"Aw, did you want to get rid of me that badly?" You mimic him before explaining that you finished your leave earlier, "just to see you, of course." — with some truth behind that statement. Jamie laughs — albeit, a little awkwardly, — and takes the clipboard. As he signs up, you decide to take the chance to tease him. "Heard you were talking about me to your teammates."
Jamie's eyes widen and he stops writing to shoot glares at the rest of AFC Richmond, not sure who told you. Jamie turns back to you and you laugh. "Don't worry, Tartt. I'm sure you just told them how I'm an absolute god at the game and you're glad I'm not playing tonight." The football player simply rolls his eyes as he joins his teammates.
Once the whole team is complete along with their kit-man Will, you decide to start the tournament. "Okay, hi everyone! Welcome to your board game night." The crowd cheers and you're startled by their enthusiasm. You quickly explain the rules of the night, — though they seem to already know most of it, — and the order of players. It's a draw lots method, so the players will be randomly given a character and an opponent.
Once everyone gets their characters and settles in, you start making rounds in case anyone had any questions. After a while, you start heading back to the bar when someone taps you on the shoulder. You find Jamie already done with his round.
"How'd you win that quickly?" You don't try to hide the surprise in your voice. "Even I take like 20 minutes minimum to win."
"Oh I didn't," Jamie clarifies, and you widen your eyes. "I just couldn't attack Dani. I mean, look at that face." You turn to their table and find Dani smiling at you — "This is fun!" — and waving using his Dracula figurine.
You laugh at his reasoning. "Alright then, guess you're done for the night." You walk back to the bar and Jamie stops on the opposite side of it.
"You hungry? Sam said there's prepped meals in the back and since none of the games are ending soon…" Jamie offers and you obliged, seeing as this might be the only time you might ever get to eat in this restaurant. He grabs two plates from there and settles down next to you. Surprisingly, he managed to grab one of your favorite dishes. You remember mentioning to him that you had tried it at another restaurant in the past and loved it, but you doubt he even remembers it and dubbed it a coincidence.
You decide to keep the topic off board games and instead let him talk about what he's doing since he last saw you. Turns out they had multiple back-to-back matches, so practice was tight and he didn't have time to visit you. He also said the next time he did, it was one of your teenage co-workers manning the counter.
"Oh, Chuck! Yeah, he's pretty shit at board games." You say blankly while you shove another spoonful of food into your mouth.
"I ended up just buying a card game and leaving." Jamie continues and you laugh.
"Sorry, you went all the way there for just that. I go to class on Wednesdays, so I don't have a shift then." The conversation then shifts to your degree and you explain that you plan on becoming a psychologist.
"There is another upside to getting that degree too," Jamie chimes in, and you tilt your head. "You can fuck with someone's head while playing."
"Okay, psychology isn't mind control." Though, you think about it for a second. "But it is pretty close. You’ll be my first victim.” You make your sound more ghostly in that last sentence and Jamie pretends to act terrified and faint.
There is a short silence between the two of you when you realize that most of the rounds are done. You start organizing the next round and once the games start, the other players start going around and rooting for their teammates.
It leaves the area near the bar much more isolated and Jamie lowers his voice. "About that card game I got, it's pretty fun, too."
"Yeah?" You ask as you bring your plate back to the kitchen.
"Yeah. I'd love to take you out and talk about it," you stop in your tracks before turning back to the footballer who adds, “If you want."
You turn around to see Jamie is much closer to you now. It's only then you realize how much taller he was than you, but despite that, you’re not intimidated, especially with him looking so expectantly at you.
It takes a second before your mouth turns into a smile. "I think I'd like that."
Jamie does this small bounce thing on his heels, before trying to tone it down. You only laugh and kiss him on the cheek before heading to the crowd of players. He follows suit and rests his arm on your shoulders.
Some of his teammates notice and start cheering. You look at them confused before deciding to ask Jamie, "Was this all an elaborate scheme to ask me out?"
He shakes his head, "No, 'course not. Was there a deal made after I lost a game to Jan? Possibly," The both of you laugh as you playfully push his head away. You start to accept that this unfairly attractive football player — whom you'll be going on a date soon — can be as much of a nerd as you.
If this is what George meant when he said game nights could get crazy, well, maybe you should’ve given them a chance earlier.
#jamie tartt#jamie tart x reader#ted lasso#jamie tartt fanfiction#jamie tartt imagine#jamie tartt fic#jamie tartt fluff#ted lasso fanfic#jamie tartt fanfic
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Splatband Analysis - ω-3
To finalize this little series (till the Side Order artbook comes out and gives us info on the new bands (please)), we end it with my favorite band, ω-3! These fishy foes are the ones providing the tunes in Salmon Run, and I’ll be real with you and say they’re one of the Splatbands that I think has a big chance of showing up in the games. The games gotta focus on the Salmonids at some point, and they’re the most well known individuals as of now, so the chances are pretty good for them to be used to expand salmonid lore.
But enough about that. Time to see just how tasty these guys are.
The Band
In Salmonid lore, musicians hold an important role in Salmon Run as morale boosters. Individuals that show off talent in performance will unite to form bands, with ω-3 here being the best among them. In fact the Omega symbol is actually a title itself that is only bestowed to said “fattiest” bands, meaning their skill is without question. I assume this title also comes with ownership of the big venue in Jammin’ Salmon Junction, since it’s decorated with their logo, what appears to be a stylized version of the ω symbol. (Since it’s stated to be a title given to the best bands, I’m assuming the same thing applies to the building.)
There isn’t anything said about their relationship with each other, at least not directly. Considering their personality quirks, it’s safe to say they butt heads a lot (one forgets to take in others feelings, one is disrespectful to everyone, and one never listens to anyone). But I think we can infer a bit out of the way they play music. Specifically, there’s a lot of Call and Response in the songs, where one member plays a tune, and then another plays it back. It happens a lot between the cellist and the timpanist, but the DJ occasionally plays a part in it too. Each member also gets a solo in a song, where their instrument gains more prominence over others. Deluge Dirge, Fishing Frenzy, Frothy Waters. I’m no music scientist, but considering their personalities, it feels like they’re constantly competing for attention, despite being able to work together otherwise. Like, one of them just randomly breaks into a solo before dialing back and rejoining the group.
The Valiant Green Flame Born in Jigokudani
The timpanist here is, uh, the timpanist.Odd fellow in his late 20’s with an eyepatch made out of a colander, no reason given, though the eye underneath does look dilated. He’s got a lot of passion for drumming, playing with all of his heart and soul, as well as being determined and always striving towards his goals. Doesn’t do well with picking up other people's feelings, but very good at inspiring other salmonids with his rhythms. Compared to the others, who are said to be intentionally rude, this one feels more well intentioned, as it just says they fail to pick up on other people's emotions. Like they aren’t deliberately rude to people, they just don’t notice.
Salmonid fact, the titles they’re referred to with are mainly earned by having done something in regards to their tribe. We can infer some things from these titles as a result. The Valiant Green Flame here is pretty clear, he did something of great bravery at some point, which tracks with him being determined and goal oriented. What that thing was, we don’t know. He’s called a Green Flame, so maybe that has something to do with it? Salmonids have green on them by default, so, that’s something? Eh, we’ll move on now.
The Faithful Servant of the True Salmon Emperor Hizunamasu
The DJ here is the youngest member of the band, young adult or teenager, with plenty of tongue piercings and a personality that reflects that. A contrarian who opposes anyone and everything, and shows no respect to their fellow members. A damn good DJ though, which is probably why they’re still on the band. Basically a rebel with zero respect for authority, and who just seems to dislike everything. Well, all but one thing, it seems.
Their title is “The Faithful Servant of the True Salmon Emperor Hizunamasu”. Now, someone stated to be disrespectful to everyone being a “faithful servant” is definitely contradictory. Who is this “True” Salmon Emperor? Why would they be loyal to them? The questions are mounting here. Maybe a future Salmonid themed story mode will explain? Who knows.
The Firstborn Child of Alkyne, the Hidden Blade of Yakiharas
The leader of the band, cellist, composer, and number one old man. 50 years old and counting, a surprising age for a species that doesn’t fear death. He’s very stubborn, with no respect for anyone or anything that isn’t the most radical of works. Incredibly high standards that, as it turns out, C-Side was able to meet. They made two covers of Clickbait, after all. I guess he’s a fan? Or at least C-Side has earned his respects.
Emotionally clumsy, he’s got a delicate site with a strong appreciation for atmosphere, but struggles to express himself outside of his music. Surprisingly awkward sounding for a salmonid, but he’s got finer tastes, for sure.
Onto his title, he’s “The Firstborn Child of Alkyne.” Alkyne is likely a tribe or settlement of sorts, probably the latter, and he was the first born there. And “Hidden Blade”. Now that’s something. I assume he’s got some fighting skill, since the blade part implies he basically acted as a secret weapon of sorts.
—
And that’s every band in Splatoon and Splatoon 2. ω-3 doesn’t have much content on them, but I love them all the same. God I hope they show up soon.
As I said, this is the end for the bands, but I am gonna do a “What I Missed” type thing later to compile any details I missed out on. Things like the Hotlantis wall of signatures, in which I’ve noticed some fun details. There’s one more thing too, but I’ll explain that in a separate post.
Also, if you guys have your own observations, share ‘em with me in the tags or a reblog, or send me an ask. I’d appreciate it.
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he likes the girl in the band hobie x f!reader PART 1!
☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★
my first fic everyone..sorry if it disappoints lmao
TW: i literally cannot do hobies accent for the life of me I APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE
also i started losing sanity throughout writing this because it was like 3 when i started and 5 when i finished!!1! (if i dont finish an 'assignment' all together without breaks i end up procrastinating until it never gets finished) teehee anyways here you go!!
word count: 1542
it was the night of your concert, you and your bandmates were practicing on stage before the doors to the arena open. you were the bass guitarist and were very skillful. skillful enough to the point where people have cried at some of your performances.
a few minutes later, people started filling the arena. everywhere you looked you seen thousands of heads. close to where you were standing, in the very front section, you seen an absolute gorgeous tree-like figure standing there, cheering with the rest of the crowd. your cheeks turned a rosy pink color, before you snapped back to reality (eminem reference??!!?) just in time to prepare yourself to get in position.
after everyone had gotten in, the keyboard started playing, which led the singer to start vocalizing. this meant it was almost your turn. you had to start playing your bass in front of thousands of people. the intensity and anticipation rose as it was almost your queue to start moving your fingers along the guitar in your arms and really get the concert going.
after a few seconds, you started jamming to the music and plucking your guitar. everyone was screaming and cheering to the point where you could hardly hear your increasingly fast heart beat. you continued to play as you eyed the guy you had noticed before the area filled up to its maximum capacity. you were making eye contact with each other and you grinned as he watched you, he looked quite mesmerized as he sung along with the rest of the fans.
after a few seconds of maintaining eye contact with the boy (and an internal confidence booster), you winked at him as you got a little more funky with your guitar playing, showing off a few free spirited moves before the end of the song. even thought you couldn't tell, he was definitely blushing. "did the guitarist just wink at me?" he thought, as he paused his singing before starting again. "nah, there's too many people for y/n to even notice my appearance." (ironic considering the situation) he settled with this and cleared his mind before turning his attention back to the concert.
[timeskip: after the concert] IM SORRY IF THIS IS A LITTLE WEIRD JUST A REMINDER THAT ITS MY FIRST ONE BARE WITH ME
your band walked off stage into the back rooms (BACKROOMS REFERENCE???!!!!) and grabbed a few waters before you walked into the main lobby near the entrance to meet a few of your fans. (i'm sorry i dont really know how that works lmao) you and your bandmates moseyed on down to the main lobby where a couple of tables were set up. the trio stood by a table as the crowd flooded in and formed a line amongst (amongus reference??? i apologize it's 3 in the morning) the rest of the people who had decided to leave instead of waiting in the now huge line. with each fan, each member signed their name and if wanted, took a photograph with them. as it got down to the last person in line, you blushed a little and zoned out into the eyes of the beauty standing in front of you (the much noticed beauty of course). you felt yourself get nudged in the rib cage
"give the man his autograph, y/n, what're you doing?" the voice was coming from literally right next to you. it was your bandmate, ryan.
"oh, uh, yeah, sorry about that, got zoned out there." you tried to cover up what had just happened by signing your name on the newly purchased poster and handing it down to the other members.
"no worries, love." the boy said, directed towards you, "my names 'obie, 'obie brown. im a 'uge fan of your band, been listenin' for years now. it's my favorite for sure." he grinned and looked directly into your eyes, much like how you guys had locked eyes before during the concert.
the lead singer handed the poster back to hobie. "okay hobie, here ya go, it's your lucky day, you get all three signatures of the members from your favorite band." said ryan, the one who had nudged you before. "sorry about y/n, don't know what's going on with her today." he nudged you again, you were still looking at hobie, admiring the outfit he was wearing.
you finally zoned back in and your bandmates, including hobie were staring at you.
"you okay there, love?" hobie inquired, raising an eyebrow
"yeah, yeah sorry about that..again..uh...you know what, i've gotta go get another water, wait here and we'll get a picture with you."
he nodded and smiled as he watched you walk away to go grab another water bottle
as you walked backstage to get another bottle, you sat down for a moment. you thought to yourself "oh my god what am i doing?? am i so obvious that the man himself was taking notice of my behavior?? you put a hand on your forehead and took a deep breath out. you composed yourself and finally walked back with your water.
"woo, she's finally back, here she comes!" shouted one of your bandmates
hobie looked at you, focusing on your lips as he grinned while you were walking back to the area where you were originally standing. "you're ready to take the picture now, yeah?" he raised an eyebrow at you and held his phone up to take a selfie with the members.
"yeah, of course, go ahead and shoot." you said, grinning back and posing for the camera.
[SORRY I DIDNT KNOW WHAT ELSE TO PUT TIMESKIP TIME!! timeskip: one day later at a park]
you and a few of your closest friends, including ryan, a member from your band, decided to have a fun little picnic at a nearby park. you were laughing and joking around with the group when you seen him. hobie was also with a friend, you seen him in the corner of your eye.
"hey, guys, i'll be back in a few minutes, i'm gonna go over here and chat a little, kay?" you looked at the group and nodded your head towards hobie.
"yeah, go talk to your boyfriend, y/n" ryan teased
"oh, stop. he's not my boyfriend, he just stuck out a little from the rest of our fans, i wanna go talk with him for a bit, and don't say another word about it" you threatened joked, as you walked away from your friends and started making your way towards hobie.
as you got close enough to where he could hear you, you shouted and waved, "hey, hobie! it's me, y/n!"
he turned around and had a surprised look on his face "y/n? a member from a famous band came to see me? i'm not complainin'. what brings you over 'ere?" he looked at you and waited for a response (like he doesn't know the entire population is attracted to him in some way)
"just wanted to stop by, you stood out to me yesterday and i think we have a good chance at becoming friends!" you looked at him and smiled, not having any intention of creeping him out in some kind of weird stalker way, even though the entire situation was a little odd.
he blushed a little as you were always his crush favorite in the band. "alright, let's get to know each other a bit more then, yeah?" he started asking a few questions and a bit later he had asked one that really made you stop and overthink for a minute, "so, y/n, are you single at the moment?" he was looking right at you. was he crushing? was he genuinely just wanting to 'know more about you'? or was he just messing around?
after a minute, you responded, "uh, no, i'm currently single. i've been trying to find the right person before i start dating anyone." you so badly wanted to tell him that you genuinely had at least a little bit of feelings for him. but what if he didn't accept and made a fool out of you? what if you don't like him as much as you think you do? you had zoned out for a minute as you were questioning everything before he tapped on your shoulder.
hobies pov at that time:
he was extremely flushed when you came over, but he was doing a great job at hiding it. way to go, hobie, you didn't stutter this time! (lmao just you wait)
he had just asked you what had seemed like a normal question, although you and him were both sorta overthinking it a bit. was he too direct? was it an odd thing to ask all of a sudden? had it made you uncomfortable? these are the questions he was currently asking himself.
you had finally responded to him to which he said, "ah.." you didn't catch that, though.
he looked at the grass for a moment before noticing that you were zoned out as well. he scooted closer to you and tapped on your shoulder. it felt like it was just the two of you, looking into each others eyes.
(love how everyone else including the friend hobie was with is just being ignored 😍)
back to your pov:
you looked up and met your eyes with hobies, you two looked at each other for a good while before..
before he had leaned in to..to kiss you?!?
before anything could happen you quickly stood up, swerving hobie. "uh..sorry..i've uh...i've got to go.." you stood there for a minute, feeling bad about your actions.
hobie looked away, you couldn't tell if he was disappointed or understanding of what had just happened
you stood there for awhile longer, allowing the awkwardness to settle in. you were about to apologize, but quickly shut your mouth and decided it would just be best if you had left, so you walked-almost speedrunning-away from hobie and his friend. you walked past your own friends, and walked back to your apartment, which was only a couple of blocks away from the park.
you unlocked your door and sat on your sofa. thinking of everything that happened. wondering if you did the wrong thing. questioning your actions. did i really just do that? we don't even know each other that well...but i do like him...but what if he hates me now? does he? what am i saying..we just met! but he's so...amazing..he probably hates me. what is wrong with me??
a couple of hours had went by and you were in a constant loop of laughing at the tv show that was currently playing and stressing about what had happened at the park
suddenly, you hear a knock at your door.
CLIFFHANGER!!! (i bet nobody could guess who's at the door 🤭)
ANYWAYS, ILL START WORKING ON PART TWO TOMORROW BECAUSE IF I DONT SLEEP NOW, I WILL QUITE LITERALLY COMBUST!!1
goodbye and thanks for reading!
-whimsy ☆
#fanfic#across the spiderverse#spider man#hobie x reader#hobie brown#atsv hobie#atsv#hobie spiderverse#spider punk#fan fiction#first fic#writer#i suck at tags#let me know what you think#trending
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As part of a far-flung community of fellow pop-culture feminists that has bloomed over the years, I've seen pop culture and media transform feminism, for better and for worse and feminism, in turn, change pop culture and media. But as I started to write this book, something weird happened: feminism got cool.
A current of excitement that had previously been humming just under the surface of mainstream culture suddenly amped up. In August 2014, Beyoncé commanded the stage at the close of MTV's Video Music Awards, the word "FEMINIST" glowing in neon lights behind her as her song "Flawless" sampled the words of Nigerian author Chimimanda Ngozi Adichie. (“We teach girls to shrink themselves, to make themselves smaller. We say to girls, ‘You can have ambition, but not too much.’”) The sample concludes with Adichie paraphrasing the dictionary definition of "feminist": "The person who believes in the social, political, and economic equality of the sexes." Though the song was already well known, and though Beyoncé's particular brand of business-minded feminism was threaded through lyrics dating back to her Destiny's Child days, the visual display served as her official flag in the ground. Bathed in spotlights, the biggest pop star in the world rocked the once-maligned label like a curve-hugging Met Gala dress, literally spelling it out for an audience of more than eight million.
Beyonce staking her claim to feminism was the start of a media domino effect. Shortly after, Emma Watson, beloved for years as Harry Potter's Hermione, gave a speech on the importance of gender equality to the United Nations noting, among other things, that "[i]t is time that we all perceive gender on a spectrum, instead of [as] two sets of opposing ideals." The pop singer Taylor Swift, who several years earlier had disavowed feminism, quickly changed tack with a media announcement that, in fact, she'd been feminist all along. At Paris Fashion Week, Chanel's runway-show finale took the form of a feminist rally, with models draped in the label's signature tweeds raising signs that read "History is Her Story" and "Women's Rights Are More Than Alright." Brands like Verizon, Always, and Pantene began centering feminist themes in their ads for wireless plans, maxi pads, and shine-boosting shampoos. And my Google alert for "women and feminism," which used to turn up lonely articles with headlines like "Feminism: Outmoded and Unpopular," began teeming with woman-power boosterism: "Beyonce's Hip New Club: Feminism," "Emma Watson Gives Feminism New Life," "Why Male Feminists Are Hot." Seemingly overnight, almost every female celebrity—and a fair number of male ones—who walked a red carpet was asked whether they were feminists. References to Lena Dunham and Leaning In were suddenly cropping up in everything from gossip columns to in-flight magazines. The increasing presence of transgender women in mainstream pop culture—Laverne Cox, Janet Mock, the Amazon series Transparent—offered new opportunities to talk about gender as a limiting social construct. Cosmopolitan, the bible of man-pleasing sex tips, began embracing more explicitly political writers and subjects, though it will still teach you "40 Ways to Blow His Mind." Feminism, so long dismissed as the realm of the angry, the cynical, the man-hating, and the off-puttingly hairy, was officially a thing. It was hot. And, perhaps most important, it was sellable.
-Andi Zeisler, We Were Feminists Once
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When Roxy Music was recording “Street Life” for the 1973 album Stranded, they hung a mic out the window of AIR Studios above Oxford Street, but they didn’t like the results and they ended up mixing in the sounds of a Moroccan market instead. As “Street Life” begins, we hear traffic amid four haunting chords and a shimmering hi-hat rhythm, and then Bryan Ferry belts out that he wishes everyone would leave him alone. He goes out for a walk. “Each verse seems to have its own character,” he later said, “like blocks on a street.” A fan since my youth of early Roxy Music, I still hear that song’s ethereal city vibe when I, too, wish everyone would leave me alone and, like Bryan, hit the streets.
If I go left, heading into what I think of as downtown Echo Park, I glimpse the green folds of the Angeles Crest as I pass Craftsman and Victorian houses and courtyard bungalows. I turn onto Sunset Boulevard, passing barber shops, burger stands, bookstores, and botanicas. I can get my knives sharpened and my shoes repaired, shop for groceries, eat eighty different kinds of food. The streets are full of people of all kinds, even as Echo Park comes twentieth in a walkability ranking of L.A. neighborhoods, according to some website. MacArthur Park, which is more population-dense than parts of Manhattan, ranks higher, as does Hollywood. But here I have the option of avoiding commerce by going three blocks north to the park, where I can walk miles of shaded trails. Or stroll my little residential enclave, where people are sitting on their stoops, a guy is working on his ’68 Camaro, trees are heavy with citrus, softball-size dragon fruits shine redly through a fence. I can walk to Echo Park Lake, due west, entirely through an alleyway, where among overgrown fig trees and sidewalk pulverized to dirt you might think you were in some Mississippi backwater Barry Hannah was describing, but you’re parallel and just behind Sunset. At the lakefront are picnickers, food carts, fishermen creating what my son refers to as “pressure on the lake.” One day I watch a guy and girl furtively produce a pristine white duck from a knapsack and release it. They’ve clearly just bought the thing at a live-poultry shop and are trying to rewild it among the mallards and grebes, but the mission seems also to be a form of courtship.
On these walks, minutes from home, I am certain that Los Angeles, which I moved to from New York twenty years ago, is the most beautiful city in the world (and yes, I have seen the world). But that’s only if I go west or north or south. If I head east, toward downtown, 1.5 miles away, my booster talk ebbs. It’s freeway overpasses, empty lots, and fortress-like buildings, a dead zone.
I should be able to walk to the opera house, Walt Disney Concert Hall, the Broad, the Bradbury Building, or City Hall, to the grand old theaters on Main Street, the jewelry district, Union Station. To Philippe the Original on Alameda, a hundred-year-old deli where undertakers from the nearby mortuaries park their hearses and stop in for a sandwich. To the new Frank Gehry building on Grand, across from my son’s music school. (Late in life, Gehry now seems to believe in design that prioritizes not postmodern showiness but plazas and shade and places for the passerby to sit.) But to get to the pedestrian-friendly world downtown involves several blocks of monolithic residential architecture along freeways, all by the same developer, inward-facing buildings with dark and empty storefronts, bunker parking, and sky bridges. The tenants of these places don’t have to ever step foot on the street. I’ve heard they are mostly USC students, but you don’t see them. The only people I might encounter are unhoused individuals, and those in this particular area often appear to be in severe mental crisis, as they linger beyond buildings that are as obdurate and closed as medieval armories.
Dubbed the Renaissance Collection, these buildings form a plaque that separates the people of Echo Park from downtown L.A. They were built by Geoffrey Palmer, a little man who resembles a ventriloquist’s dummy and is gifted at making enemies. Palmer buys up forlorn and odd plots alongside freeways, where he builds his “Italianate” developments, as Italian as leatherette is leather, but less charming. In 1973, the artist Gordon Matta-Clark purchased random little slices of land around New York City for a conceptual art project he titled Fake Estates. Perhaps the unsavory parcels that Palmer acquires would remain similarly conceptual were it not for the very real fake estates he builds on them. This is his own defense—that he’s building where no one else dares—but he seems to take almost libidinal satisfaction in perching rows of apartment balconies over the 110–101 freeway interchange. The off-white stucco exteriors of his buildings are coated with soot within days of completion. In 2003, he illegally bulldozed the last Victorian of Bunker Hill while building the Orsini, a few blocks from my house. Palmer is vehemently opposed to affordable housing and has spent tens of millions on lawsuits and ballot measures to ensure that he won’t have to build any. He recently settled a class-action suit over systematically keeping tenants’ security deposits. One of Trump’s biggest donors, he has bragged that his company hasn’t paid federal taxes in thirty years. In the fall of 2014, a fire was deliberately started in Palmer’s half-built and wood-framed Da Vinci, a block down from the Orsini. Flames shot higher than many buildings downtown, stretched a city block, melted freeway signs, and cracked one hundred and sixty windows in the iconic John Ferraro Building, headquarters of Water and Power. The consensus among architects, residents, and journalists was that almost anyone could have started the fire, given how many people hate Palmer. City commissioners joked, in a planning meeting, that they sure hoped everyone present had an alibi. The city sued Palmer for the reckless conditions that allowed the blaze to grow so large. The person who started it was caught and sentenced to prison. He supposedly did it for Michael Brown, to protest the police killings of unarmed black men. No one was hurt. The Da Vinci was promptly rebuilt.
“Why is Everything So Ugly?” wondered a recent editorial in n+1. The editors structured their thoughts on the subject around a Situationist-style dérive they take through New York City. They begin by pondering a new condominium tower limply called the Josh, which has been erected in place of a recently demolished hundred-year-old building. The Josh, they tell us, is made of plastic, concrete, and “an obscure wood-like substance”—materials that have been chosen not for quality and beauty but on the basis of global supply-chain availability, a cookie-cutter design review process, and a cost-saving preference for semi-skilled labor. The Josh is already looking shabby at five months old. When it rains, its façade gets “conspicuously . . . wet.” Their dérive continues past more than one Bank of America, alongside a vape shop, and into a theater, where a shitty franchise based on a TV show of a comic book is playing. After the movie, there’s a run-in with blindingly bright LED lights, resulting in a visit to urgent care.
Google reveals that the building the editors are calling the Josh is actually the Greenpoint—located, as you might guess, in Greenpoint, Brooklyn—but the Josh does more work to illustrate certain ideas than the real name might. I think I know eighteen Joshes. No offense to any of them; I too have a common name and would wager the Josh could have been called the Rachel in the blink of an eye. Still, the Josh has a certain sound when isolated as a branding mechanism, with its soft landing into sshh, whether put to service selling wine or machines for living. I chuckled about the Josh. It, or he, made me think of that guy Tom from MySpace, everyone’s first friend. I imagined Tom living at the Josh, enjoying an industrial salad at a particle-board table. But names are merely symptoms. They are not the cause of “the violence of the new ugliness” that the n+1 editors ponder. Branding arises from standardization. If the things that are made are more or less the same, difference itself must be manufactured.
The Situationists first began undertaking their dérives—which means to drift, to walk without a fixed plan—in response to a rail strike. Guy Debord and others tumbled drunkenly through the night, walking or hitchhiking, and found that the new routes they forged promised a change of orientation, a new outlook. In Debord’s autobiographical Panegyric, at a point in his life when he had lost hope in the city and headed for the hills, he regrets that a “flood of destruction, pollution, and falsification had conquered the whole surface of the planet, as well as pouring down nearly to its very depths.” (Had Debord, too, noticed how wet the Josh was looking?) Five years later he shot himself in the heart. It wasn’t just that everything was ugly and the revolution stalled, if not foreclosed. Alcohol had done him in.
I decided, on a recent afternoon, to conduct my own dérive, straight into the morass between my street and downtown. I left the house, took a right, another right, and then a left over the 101 freeway. If this overpass could talk, I thought. It might tell of the many women and the many nights of flinty bargains with men in cars. By daylight, it was empty. I turned left onto Temple Street, passing a hotel that abuts the 101, and a sun-blasted bus stop where my kid was let off in grade school, and from which he began conducting his own dérives. This block of Temple has a bakery, a liquor store, and until recently, D’Bongo Party Supplies, then falls into a post-human stretch: there is a tow yard, a recycling center, a cul de sac against the freeway where there was a tent encampment until it burned, and a huge and empty bus yard. That’s all on one side of the street. On the other is the massive retaining wall of a high school baseball diamond. The reason there is open land here, greenery, even if it’s chemically treated monograss beyond chain-link, is that this was an oil field, and it isn’t safe to put up buildings. (What look like lampposts around the field are actually vents that allow methane gases to escape.)
Beyond the baseball/methane field, I pass our own version of the Josh, but it’s called the Charlie. The Charlie is new. There used to be an auto repair and car wash here that was run by a family. Now there is a narrow eight-story building in “space gray” with a gaggle of red real estate balloons bobbing on the wind. I have driven past at night. The units are dark, while the Charlie’s eight-story “parking podium” glows meanly, prison-bright.
From the Charlie I cross the street toward a new Palmer monstrosity on a ten-acre site that used to be a Bank of America data center. Construction is not yet finished. The invasive palms that have been chosen as Palmer’s signature “lush Mediterranean landscaping” have just been trucked in and still have their fronds gathered into ponytails. Even with their fronds let down, they will provide no shade. There’s a giant piss-elegant fountain but it’s dry. now renting 2 months free + free parking, a big sign says. The name of this new addition to Palmer’s suite of Italianate freeway rentals is the Ferrante. Maybe the name came from his wife, a Parisian who seems a little more cultured than he is. Perhaps she’s a fan of Elena Ferrante’s books. I have no proof. I’m guessing.
We’ve been told for years now that Elena Ferrante is a fiction, a made-up name, like Tom, or the Josh. But someone is of course writing those books. Whoever they are, they’re talented, but the insistence on anonymity is starting to seem a little showy, even a bit tacky, if not as tacky as the Ferrante and its 1,150 units. I pass its blank row of street-level commercial spaces. Palmer won’t even try to rent them out. And apparently there’s no fine for leaving them empty. As an architect explained to me, he doesn’t build that income into his plans. Why should a developer care if there is street life? I turn left and walk under a highway overpass and approach the rangy back edge of our neighborhood CVS. What does CVS stand for? No one seems to know. Everything you might want to buy there is now locked up, and you have to press what feels like a panic button to get access to the shelves.
I cross through the parking lot, past a weird machine with a tower on it, flashing a blue light. This is some kind of automated security apparatus, but I’m not sure how it works. A barefoot boy asks me for a light. I don’t have one, I tell him.
Remember how outraged everyone was to discover that the author JT LeRoy, supposedly an ethereal rent boy/lot lizard, was actually a middle-aged woman? They acted like this was the ultimate con, something ugly and counterfeit masquerading as something genuine and tragic and hot. Meanwhile, Elena Ferrante is purporting to be a middle-aged woman. What if she’s a teen boy turning tricks in parking lots? I think, as I turn out of the lot and go right on Sunset.
I walk toward Palmer’s Orsini, which lines both sides of the street, all of its commercial space dark and empty and locked. There is no one here except one man in rags setting bits of trash on fire on the sidewalk. Is it Palmer’s fault that people are setting things on fire? It’s more complicated than that. But with no street activity, people act out. Or, their actions are starker, and less muted by a variety of people and vibrancies that a healthy street should reflect. At the end of this very long, sterile block is one other person, a young woman. Her arms are covered with injection scars. She seems not to notice me. She’s in a kind of Sisyphean struggle, attempting to push an e-scooter that is not activated, its wheels on lock.
The next day I drive back down this street, heading to pick up my son from music school. I spot the woman who tried to push the scooter. She’s still here, as if this bleak zone were her proving ground. Her shirt is off now, and she is throwing her half-clothed body against the brick exterior of the Orsini. But the building is constructed not to feel her, the street not to see her, and I barely see her myself, because my light is green.
While parts of the designed world might be ugly at any speed, it is only the slowness of traveling on foot that causes true discomfiture, by forcing a walker to behold, worry over, brood upon, those to whom this ugliness shouts loudest.
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Okay, I have been (justifiably) salty lately so for a slight mood booster, I listed to that song Breathe Right Now by Moonwater from the end of 4x06 which is heartbreaking and lovely and I highly recommend
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BUT in doing so, I found another song by the same artist that has a direct Malex AND Buddie reference in the chorus and is really sweet and soft and I highly recommend as well if you’re looking for some less angsty feelings. It’s called Tethered and just tell me this isn’t perfect for Malex/Buddie!
when I can’t find the stars/you show me home’s not so far away/our hearts are tethered together
when I’m fallin’ apart/and I’m lost in a tidal wave/our hearts are tethered together
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Also, in listing to a playlist for this artist another song came up and I was like “this sounds familiar! I think I heard it on a show before but I don’t remember which one” only to check and see that it was fucking RNM 4x04 and was the ending song I was looking for but couldn’t find anything right away and then forgot about 🤦🏻♀️ So if anyone wanted to know what that song was, it was Game of Survival. Anyway, enjoy some music on your Friday night!
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22. Mother Takes the Wheel with Mary Elizabeth Ellis
Plot summary:
A group of mothers whose children drag race (not the fun kind, the car kind) plan meals and snacks for their children's events and talk about small handfuls of casserole. Three racers for the Glenview Ghosters (a high school drag racing team), JJ, TJ, and Bonk, talk about the importance of family and community. Meanwhile, their enemies The River Racing Bandits eat money and swim in money and make fun of them for having healthy relationships with their mothers and for not being monstrously wealthy. Their ringleader, Reginald, makes many references to Fiddler on the Roof but clarifies that he's not Jewish, that's just a stereotype. It's also revealed that in the past their drag racing team has had some violent tendencies and is open to hitting their opponents with socks full of coins. Also they toilet papered Mike Pence's house. Henry runs off from the meeting and gets half lost in the woods. He meets a fairy and vents about how he cares about his mom. The fairy doesn't understand the concept of having a mother and asks him to be her mom. He accepts but keeps it a dark secret. The refs for the race get casserole on their hands and sing about hamburger helper. Henry wishes for rocker boots and crash lands on the Glenview side of town where he's found by TJ and JJ. Henry leaves to find his daughter the fairy and names her Thundershadow. He uses his second wish to give the Ghosters a fair shot at winning against the River Racing Bandits. Bonk reveals that his full name is Thelonius Bonk and TJ reveals that his full name is TJ Maxx. JJ's full name is JJ Abrahms and he insists that he'll be a famous movie director. It's revealed that Reginald is pretty abusive towards his parents who are obedient out of fear. Both teams prepare for their race but Bonk sprains his arm by high fiving. Henry bravely steps in and says that he changed school districts so he can set a good example for Thundershadow. TJ and JJ and explain the rules of drag racing to Henry which include 1) you don't have to be in drag but if you do 2) you can't do american flag drag. Reginald sings If I Were a Rich Man from Fiddler on the Roof very threatenly at Ghosters. Reginald spills oil onto the track and TJ's car spins off the road and he dies but it turns out he was a ghost the whole time so it's fine. Reginald is furious and sets another trap which kills JJ but it's fine, he was also a ghost. Roger, Reginald's friend is killed by Reginald to make his car go faster. Reginald uses his 7 rocket boosters but hes quickly overpowered by Henry and the power of motherhood and having a good relationship with your mother. TJ and JJ move onto the afterlife and Thundershadow grants Henry's last wish and helps Bonk move on too. Bonk is adopted by his new moms TJ and JJ.
Best quotes:
• "I'd like a name like Mary! Or even Chuck Berry!"
Best songs:
• Ride or Die (Try Not to Die)
• Everything Feels Better with Money
• A Little Oven Mitt (Is Gonna Help You Cook)
• I Like it When You Call Me Papa!
Thoughts Overall:
This started with Zach singing about how you don't want your mom to find you dead in the road which is so uncharacteristically dark I kind of love it. Zach also makes multiple references to fiddler on the roof and it's fantastic. Also I Like It When You Call Me Papa is one of the most interesting songs I've ever heard and It's amazing that Jess improvised the background vocals she sang. I love how mom is a genderless term in this episode. This is such a bizarre episode I love it
#deedle deedle deedle dum#off book ep 22 mother takes the wheel with mary elizabeth ellis#mary elizabeth ellis#off book podcast#off book#jess mckenna#jessica mckenna#zach and jess#zach reino#zachary reino
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Guitarist MARTY FRIEDMAN Official TH-U Amp Simulator Pack Released
Marty's Signature AmpsMF HEAVEN CLEAN
MF DEVIL CRUNCH
MF DEVIL LEAD
MARTY FRIEDMAN TORNADO GOLDEN ERA AMP
MARTY SIGNATURE EFFECTSMF ETERNITY
MF BOOSTER
SPACE MACHINE
9 MORE MODELS
TH-U Marty Friedman Pack is an all-in-one Amp Sim plug-in developed with the metal legend Marty Friedman. The pack includes all the models needed to recreate the most famous Marty tones, from his metal golden era through his most modern projects. His signature models and his presets are included in the pack:
- MF Heaven Clean signature amp + cabinet
- MF Devil Crunch signature amp + cabinet
- MF Devil Lead signature amp + cabinet
- MF Tornado signature amp
- MF Booster signature overdrive pedal
- MF Eternity signature processor
- Space Machine spatial processor
- An entire bank of patches recreating his most legendary tones
- … in addition to 1 Cab and 8 effects including compressor, delay and modulation pedals and racks (see the full list below) from the TH-U Premium collection.
(TH-U Premium owners can get this pack at a reduced price.)
TH-U Marty Friedman is both a TH-U expansion pack and a Standalone plugin, meaning that it can expand the model list of an existing TH-U installation, or it can also be purchased as self-contained pack which includes all the TH-U editing features, including the Rig Player, the Tuner and the Looper, with no need to have a pre-existing TH-U license.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gy2zt2dK6-s
Marty's Signature Amps
MF HEAVEN CLEAN
This is a super clean, tight and slightly compressed tone that is a real trademark of Marty Friedman’s clean sound on many of his most popular songs.
MF DEVIL CRUNCH
Powerful tone, with clear note and articulations! Devil Crunch amp delivers enough gain to create a big sounds, with the ability to play a clean part just rolling down the volume control on the guitar.
MF DEVIL LEAD
This is Marty's choice for his soulful and intense solo parts, where he needs enough gain, sustain and dynamics to let him deliver any nuance he wants to express during his lead parts. INCLUDES A BUILT-IN NOISE SUPPRESSOR
MARTY FRIEDMAN TORNADO GOLDEN ERA AMP
Marty Friedman needed an amp model to let him immediately recreate his old rigs during the Megadeth golden era. Back then he was using different rigs compared to his most recent equipment, so the MF Tornado is the perfect component to dive in the Marty old days material. INCLUDES A BUILT-IN NOISE SUPPRESSOR
MARTY SIGNATURE EFFECTS
MF ETERNITY
Marty Friedman’s clean tones on songs like Tibet or Valley of Eternity have been created using a specific Quadraverb preset, connected straight into the mixing desk. This component features all the effects found on that patch, letting Marty easily dial in the perfect sound to play those songs.
MF BOOSTER
This is a prefect energy injection when using a crunchy tone on a rhythm part to get the right punch for a heavier riff or lead moment. It gives the right input signal boost to turn any crunch tone into a high gain amp style one.
SPACE MACHINE
Creates wide stereo tones: the Width knob enhances the stereo space of your tone. The Space knob creates a 'doubler' effect for wide and huge tones.
9 MORE MODELS
TH-U Marty Friedman contains also a complete collection of effects, amps and cabs that extend the tone capabilities of the plug-in, including:
2 Compressors, 2 Delay/Reverb effects, 1 Modulation pedal a Graphic Eq pedal, a Noise Reductor, a Delay pedal, a Reverb pedal, an Acoustic Simulator,and 1 additional Cabinet.
The regular price of TH-U Marty Friedman is €99, and it is currently being sold at a launch discount price of €59. For more information, please refer to the Overloud homepage.
Read the full article
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When Roxy Music was recording “Street Life” for the 1973 album Stranded, they hung a mic out the window of AIR Studios above Oxford Street, but they didn’t like the results and they ended up mixing in the sounds of a Moroccan market instead. As “Street Life” begins, we hear traffic amid four haunting chords and a shimmering hi-hat rhythm, and then Bryan Ferry belts out that he wishes everyone would leave him alone. He goes out for a walk. “Each verse seems to have its own character,” he later said, “like blocks on a street.” A fan since my youth of early Roxy Music, I still hear that song’s ethereal city vibe when I, too, wish everyone would leave me alone and, like Bryan, hit the streets.
If I go left, heading into what I think of as downtown Echo Park, I glimpse the green folds of the Angeles Crest as I pass Craftsman and Victorian houses and courtyard bungalows. I turn onto Sunset Boulevard, passing barber shops, burger stands, bookstores, and botanicas. I can get my knives sharpened and my shoes repaired, shop for groceries, eat eighty different kinds of food. The streets are full of people of all kinds, even as Echo Park comes twentieth in a walkability ranking of L.A. neighborhoods, according to some website. MacArthur Park, which is more population-dense than parts of Manhattan, ranks higher, as does Hollywood. But here I have the option of avoiding commerce by going three blocks north to the park, where I can walk miles of shaded trails. Or stroll my little residential enclave, where people are sitting on their stoops, a guy is working on his ’68 Camaro, trees are heavy with citrus, softball-size dragon fruits shine redly through a fence. I can walk to Echo Park Lake, due west, entirely through an alleyway, where among overgrown fig trees and sidewalk pulverized to dirt you might think you were in some Mississippi backwater Barry Hannah was describing, but you’re parallel and just behind Sunset. At the lakefront are picnickers, food carts, fishermen creating what my son refers to as “pressure on the lake.” One day I watch a guy and girl furtively produce a pristine white duck from a knapsack and release it. They’ve clearly just bought the thing at a live-poultry shop and are trying to rewild it among the mallards and grebes, but the mission seems also to be a form of courtship.
On these walks, minutes from home, I am certain that Los Angeles, which I moved to from New York twenty years ago, is the most beautiful city in the world (and yes, I have seen the world). But that’s only if I go west or north or south. If I head east, toward downtown, 1.5 miles away, my booster talk ebbs. It’s freeway overpasses, empty lots, and fortress-like buildings, a dead zone.
I should be able to walk to the opera house, Walt Disney Concert Hall, the Broad, the Bradbury Building, or City Hall, to the grand old theaters on Main Street, the jewelry district, Union Station. To Philippe the Original on Alameda, a hundred-year-old deli where undertakers from the nearby mortuaries park their hearses and stop in for a sandwich. To the new Frank Gehry building on Grand, across from my son’s music school. (Late in life, Gehry now seems to believe in design that prioritizes not postmodern showiness but plazas and shade and places for the passerby to sit.) But to get to the pedestrian-friendly world downtown involves several blocks of monolithic residential architecture along freeways, all by the same developer, inward-facing buildings with dark and empty storefronts, bunker parking, and sky bridges. The tenants of these places don’t have to ever step foot on the street. I’ve heard they are mostly USC students, but you don’t see them. The only people I might encounter are unhoused individuals, and those in this particular area often appear to be in severe mental crisis, as they linger beyond buildings that are as obdurate and closed as medieval armories.
Dubbed the Renaissance Collection, these buildings form a plaque that separates the people of Echo Park from downtown L.A. They were built by Geoffrey Palmer, a little man who resembles a ventriloquist’s dummy and is gifted at making enemies. Palmer buys up forlorn and odd plots alongside freeways, where he builds his “Italianate” developments, as Italian as leatherette is leather, but less charming. In 1973, the artist Gordon Matta-Clark purchased random little slices of land around New York City for a conceptual art project he titled Fake Estates. Perhaps the unsavory parcels that Palmer acquires would remain similarly conceptual were it not for the very real fake estates he builds on them. This is his own defense—that he’s building where no one else dares—but he seems to take almost libidinal satisfaction in perching rows of apartment balconies over the 110–101 freeway interchange. The off-white stucco exteriors of his buildings are coated with soot within days of completion. In 2003, he illegally bulldozed the last Victorian of Bunker Hill while building the Orsini, a few blocks from my house. Palmer is vehemently opposed to affordable housing and has spent tens of millions on lawsuits and ballot measures to ensure that he won’t have to build any. He recently settled a class-action suit over systematically keeping tenants’ security deposits. One of Trump’s biggest donors, he has bragged that his company hasn’t paid federal taxes in thirty years. In the fall of 2014, a fire was deliberately started in Palmer’s half-built and wood-framed Da Vinci, a block down from the Orsini. Flames shot higher than many buildings downtown, stretched a city block, melted freeway signs, and cracked one hundred and sixty windows in the iconic John Ferraro Building, headquarters of Water and Power. The consensus among architects, residents, and journalists was that almost anyone could have started the fire, given how many people hate Palmer. City commissioners joked, in a planning meeting, that they sure hoped everyone present had an alibi. The city sued Palmer for the reckless conditions that allowed the blaze to grow so large. The person who started it was caught and sentenced to prison. He supposedly did it for Michael Brown, to protest the police killings of unarmed black men. No one was hurt. The Da Vinci was promptly rebuilt.
“Why is Everything So Ugly?” wondered a recent editorial in n+1. The editors structured their thoughts on the subject around a Situationist-style dérive they take through New York City. They begin by pondering a new condominium tower limply called the Josh, which has been erected in place of a recently demolished hundred-year-old building. The Josh, they tell us, is made of plastic, concrete, and “an obscure wood-like substance”—materials that have been chosen not for quality and beauty but on the basis of global supply-chain availability, a cookie-cutter design review process, and a cost-saving preference for semi-skilled labor. The Josh is already looking shabby at five months old. When it rains, its façade gets “conspicuously . . . wet.” Their dérive continues past more than one Bank of America, alongside a vape shop, and into a theater, where a shitty franchise based on a TV show of a comic book is playing. After the movie, there’s a run-in with blindingly bright LED lights, resulting in a visit to urgent care.
Google reveals that the building the editors are calling the Josh is actually the Greenpoint—located, as you might guess, in Greenpoint, Brooklyn—but the Josh does more work to illustrate certain ideas than the real name might. I think I know eighteen Joshes. No offense to any of them; I too have a common name and would wager the Josh could have been called the Rachel in the blink of an eye. Still, the Josh has a certain sound when isolated as a branding mechanism, with its soft landing into sshh, whether put to service selling wine or machines for living. I chuckled about the Josh. It, or he, made me think of that guy Tom from MySpace, everyone’s first friend. I imagined Tom living at the Josh, enjoying an industrial salad at a particle-board table. But names are merely symptoms. They are not the cause of “the violence of the new ugliness” that the n+1 editors ponder. Branding arises from standardization. If the things that are made are more or less the same, difference itself must be manufactured.
The Situationists first began undertaking their dérives—which means to drift, to walk without a fixed plan—in response to a rail strike. Guy Debord and others tumbled drunkenly through the night, walking or hitchhiking, and found that the new routes they forged promised a change of orientation, a new outlook. In Debord’s autobiographical Panegyric, at a point in his life when he had lost hope in the city and headed for the hills, he regrets that a “flood of destruction, pollution, and falsification had conquered the whole surface of the planet, as well as pouring down nearly to its very depths.” (Had Debord, too, noticed how wet the Josh was looking?) Five years later he shot himself in the heart. It wasn’t just that everything was ugly and the revolution stalled, if not foreclosed. Alcohol had done him in.
I decided, on a recent afternoon, to conduct my own dérive, straight into the morass between my street and downtown. I left the house, took a right, another right, and then a left over the 101 freeway. If this overpass could talk, I thought. It might tell of the many women and the many nights of flinty bargains with men in cars. By daylight, it was empty. I turned left onto Temple Street, passing a hotel that abuts the 101, and a sun-blasted bus stop where my kid was let off in grade school, and from which he began conducting his own dérives. This block of Temple has a bakery, a liquor store, and until recently, D’Bongo Party Supplies, then falls into a post-human stretch: there is a tow yard, a recycling center, a cul de sac against the freeway where there was a tent encampment until it burned, and a huge and empty bus yard. That’s all on one side of the street. On the other is the massive retaining wall of a high school baseball diamond. The reason there is open land here, greenery, even if it’s chemically treated monograss beyond chain-link, is that this was an oil field, and it isn’t safe to put up buildings. (What look like lampposts around the field are actually vents that allow methane gases to escape.)
Beyond the baseball/methane field, I pass our own version of the Josh, but it’s called the Charlie. The Charlie is new. There used to be an auto repair and car wash here that was run by a family. Now there is a narrow eight-story building in “space gray” with a gaggle of red real estate balloons bobbing on the wind. I have driven past at night. The units are dark, while the Charlie’s eight-story “parking podium” glows meanly, prison-bright.
From the Charlie I cross the street toward a new Palmer monstrosity on a ten-acre site that used to be a Bank of America data center. Construction is not yet finished. The invasive palms that have been chosen as Palmer’s signature “lush Mediterranean landscaping” have just been trucked in and still have their fronds gathered into ponytails. Even with their fronds let down, they will provide no shade. There’s a giant piss-elegant fountain but it’s dry. now renting 2 months free + free parking, a big sign says. The name of this new addition to Palmer’s suite of Italianate freeway rentals is the Ferrante. Maybe the name came from his wife, a Parisian who seems a little more cultured than he is. Perhaps she’s a fan of Elena Ferrante’s books. I have no proof. I’m guessing.
We’ve been told for years now that Elena Ferrante is a fiction, a made-up name, like Tom, or the Josh. But someone is of course writing those books. Whoever they are, they’re talented, but the insistence on anonymity is starting to seem a little showy, even a bit tacky, if not as tacky as the Ferrante and its 1,150 units. I pass its blank row of street-level commercial spaces. Palmer won’t even try to rent them out. And apparently there’s no fine for leaving them empty. As an architect explained to me, he doesn’t build that income into his plans. Why should a developer care if there is street life? I turn left and walk under a highway overpass and approach the rangy back edge of our neighborhood CVS. What does CVS stand for? No one seems to know. Everything you might want to buy there is now locked up, and you have to press what feels like a panic button to get access to the shelves.
I cross through the parking lot, past a weird machine with a tower on it, flashing a blue light. This is some kind of automated security apparatus, but I’m not sure how it works. A barefoot boy asks me for a light. I don’t have one, I tell him.
Remember how outraged everyone was to discover that the author JT LeRoy, supposedly an ethereal rent boy/lot lizard, was actually a middle-aged woman? They acted like this was the ultimate con, something ugly and counterfeit masquerading as something genuine and tragic and hot. Meanwhile, Elena Ferrante is purporting to be a middle-aged woman. What if she’s a teen boy turning tricks in parking lots? I think, as I turn out of the lot and go right on Sunset.
I walk toward Palmer’s Orsini, which lines both sides of the street, all of its commercial space dark and empty and locked. There is no one here except one man in rags setting bits of trash on fire on the sidewalk. Is it Palmer’s fault that people are setting things on fire? It’s more complicated than that. But with no street activity, people act out. Or, their actions are starker, and less muted by a variety of people and vibrancies that a healthy street should reflect. At the end of this very long, sterile block is one other person, a young woman. Her arms are covered with injection scars. She seems not to notice me. She’s in a kind of Sisyphean struggle, attempting to push an e-scooter that is not activated, its wheels on lock.
The next day I drive back down this street, heading to pick up my son from music school. I spot the woman who tried to push the scooter. She’s still here, as if this bleak zone were her proving ground. Her shirt is off now, and she is throwing her half-clothed body against the brick exterior of the Orsini. But the building is constructed not to feel her, the street not to see her, and I barely see her myself, because my light is green.
While parts of the designed world might be ugly at any speed, it is only the slowness of traveling on foot that causes true discomfiture, by forcing a walker to behold, worry over, brood upon, those to whom this ugliness shouts loudest.
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Today is not really a good day for me, bad news came to me from the office and since tomorrow until the end of this week seems I will have a lot of meeting series. While searching some twit, I found a movie and that's why I ask you to watch a movie, and you turned me down with your 'mager'. That's fine actually. It's just, I really need mood booster. But maybe not now. But again, this thing is fine by me.
Unfortunately, every time you turned me down with your 'mager' reason, I don't know why I always accidentally found something. I hate accidentally being a detective. This is what I called "Informasi mendatangi gue". I just checked your playlist, tried to find some songs I don't know that I might like it (well, I did it to anyone just to find a reference) and again I found something. I found a song from Gito Rollies in your playlist. Does this mean something?
Feels like I found a bigger picture about something.
1. B 165 IX : big six? your anniversary is on 6 right?
2. The songs inside playlist B165IX remind you of her?
3. Song House of Cards: the song about a man that loves a married woman
4. Halodoc
5. in 6 December 2022, you posted this
6. Gong!!
If it doesn't mean anything, you won't be bothered about that.
As Aney mentioned, no one can 100% move on from their ex. Not sure what kind of problems they faced made them broke up, not sure how much hate you had for your ex, I believe you can't 100% forget them. I know and it's totally understandable.
But the thing is I was wondering, from 100% of your heart, how many percentages she still stays in your heart. Can I really come in?
If all these things are not a coincidence and all of my assumptions are right, it's still acceptable to me. No one can really control their feelings, but we can control ourselves to not doing something stupid. and I do believe you won't do something stupid.
Also, I live in full of coincidences and unpredictable things. If all these things are only coincidences, it's also acceptable. But, who am I to ask, even I have no right to get the real answer from you.
I should apologize all over again to you, for my head, my anxiety, also insecurity. Thanks to my hope to be with you that's so big and all uncertainty that makes me like this.
Dear Happy,
in my life I feel abandoned many times, by friends, or by a man. Somehow meeting you I see hope. Never had I ever in my life that I feel so loved by a warm man like you. I've never been so happy for this long, and this time I've never been so afraid to lose someone like this.
Whatever feeling you had right now, all I want to say is I can feel loved by you so far, if you let me in to your heart, and give me a chance, that would be enough.
If you still have a feeling for Tika, I will never blame you, I will never judge you. But if you let me in to your heart, and give me a chance, I can't promise that I can make you 100% forget about her, but hopefully, there are some space remaining for me to slowly treat your scar and fill your day with a new story in your life.
and if all of these assumptions were wrong, all I can do is apologize. I'm really sorry, all I can do is assume and guess.
The good thing is I tell no one about what I think and write it down instead. Well, I tell Aney and she's on your side anyway. And no one knows about this tumblr anyway. hehe (well, I might be crazy because writing all of these things really feels like I'm communicating with you heheh)
Dear Happy, Please don't go! Please don't ever leave me!
Whatever happens, please please please don't change, not even a bit!
Whatever happens, please be a person that always takes care of me like yesterday, and any other previous day, like you used to.
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Motivational Quotes
Everyone needs motivation from time to time, and these inspirational sayings will give you the boost you need to achieve. Continue reading and let them motivate you.
We must understand that as business owners, managers, leaders, and bosses, everything we believe actually counts. If we want to achieve success, we need to have optimistic, upbeat, and energizing thoughts.
Continue reading to discover the pearls of wisdom that will inspire you to start a business, live a successful life, accomplish your goals, and face your fears.
Getting counsel from a professional is a terrific option when you're lacking motivation. But sometimes we don't have experts available. These 19 quotes from some of the greatest thinkers in history will inspire you to learn English if that describes your situation and you're looking for some motivation.
You've discovered our collection of the most positive, uplifting, and inspirational work quotes.
Work quotes are proverbs that you can use to encourage, motivate, and inspire your coworkers to success. "Happiness lies in the joy of achievement," for instance. Alternatively, "mountains always look high until you get to the summit!" These expressions, which are also referred to as "inspirational quotes for work," "work sayings," and "work mottos," are frequently included in "work quote of the day" programs.
These proverbs can contain quotes about hard work and are comparable to motivational songs for the workplace. They are effective at raising spirits and enhancing workplace culture quickly.
The hardship is genuine, particularly for new graduates and students.
I am aware of this since I was a college student once, and it was not particularly enjoyable. You must balance working, interning, studying, attending class, and trying to maintain a social life.
After graduating, you are still unemployed and in poverty. It might be bad. But if you persevere through the misery, eventually you'll go from the struggling stage to the prosperous stage. I am aware of this since I overcame that obstacle. Furthermore, if I can accomplish it, so can you.
Motivational quotes were one thing that helped me get through tough times. I believe they can also assist you.
Which Positive Quotes are the Best?
Looking for a way to cheer up someone? Anyone can be motivated by encouraging quotations or words. Whether it's your greatest friend for life or a stranger you pass on the street, taking a time to share an uplifting word can have a significant impact on both people's wellbeing. Check out these great inspirational quotations of the day to cheer someone up.
Daily Inspirational Quotes
Giving and receiving compliments and encouraging words has uplifting benefits on both parties in addition to being a mood booster. Giving a compliment can improve your self-confidence, social skills, and creativity as the recipient as well.
We can't help everyone, but everyone can help someone. -- Ronald Reagan
Everything you've ever wanted is on the other side of fear. —George Addair
We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light. —Plato
“You cannot swim for new horizons until you have courage to lose sight of the shore.” -William Faulkner, writer
“Clients do not come first. Employees come first. If you take care of your employees, they will take care of the clients.” -Richard Branson, businessman
“No one on his deathbed ever said, ‘I wish I had spent more time at the office.” -Paul Tsongas, politician
“You will never find time for anything. If you want time, you must make it.” -Charles Buxton, writer and politician
“If you get tired, learn to rest, not to quit.” -Banksy, artist
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Guitar Practice Success Tips
Whether you feel you are a comprehensive novice or a good pro at playing the guitar, the easy fact remains any guitar is a means which you can not stop learning. The training starts the day that you take that glorious guitar in your arms until the day that you favor to stop for suitable. If you feel that include truly mastered electric guitar and there is definitely not you can be trained anymore, simply visit the internet and you will find guitar websites and forums created by several of the best guitarists across the country. And when you look at the educational info and training on these, might understand exactly things i mean when I have faith that that there is new you can learn each and each and every day. Guitar courses online are definitely becoming increasingly popular and with great reason as well.
All you decide to do is adhere to the tune and set out to decode the site. This assumes that you either have knowledge of standard music notation or use guitar tablature software that will show you what you're doing either by demonstrating keyboard notes or something else that offers clear a reference point.
Unlike a piano and drums, however bring along your Guitar Pro when out there. Even the hho booster is long and bulky, you can put it into carrying case and then placed into the boot of this car anyone have certain.
Usually, a 3-and-a-half minute rock song can be recorded comprehend. hide my ip pc crack may have an intro, 2 verses, 3 choruses, pre-choruses, bridge, and an outro. hide my ip keygen (all version) download used in it typically be: drums, bass, 2 rhythm guitars, 1 lead guitar, keyboards, and vocals. But it all might be the complexity of the parts, the playing ability of the musicians, and the way that long the parts are.
Guitar instruction books are affordable but they can be hard realize and it will take forever study to play your organ. Going to hide my ip download with crack for your lessons could be fun but this can be expensive and time consuming setting up lesson times and commuting back and forth to your music retail outlet.
Luckily I did so keep playing the guitar and handled semi fast blues playing and an agreeable wide vibrato similar to Vai the actual movie "Crossroads". I could always play fast on one string using ideas largely borrowed from Kirk Hammet of Metallica. Still, anything fast that involved string skipping scared the crap out of me especially around people who would say "Wow that's really fast" while inside I would be embarrassed because I knew which i had only barely had the opportunity to be or sometimes I will make mistakes and hope that no one noticed. Preferably I felt like a fraud!
The crucial thing is, broaden your knowledge and get the impression of your guitar chords or rrrflexion. Through which you'll be location to duplicate the song all on your own. And last of all, never lose want! As the most popular quotes known to man, may be said, "Nothing great around the globe has a lot accomplished without passion. Do not ever forget he to yourself, learning rock guitar-rocks!
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Get Better Brain Function With These Tips
Memory is something that is precious and sensitive, and if you want to know ways to improve your memory then you've come to the right place. Brain Reference to take steps on improving your memory is to learn as much as you can about how to improve memories, and this article serves as a good resource to do just that.
If you have noticed that your memory isn't what it used to be, maybe you aren't getting enough sleep. You need to be sleeping seven to eight hours each night in order to improve your memory. During your sleep cycle, your brain processes all new information to create these memories for you so you have them to recall later.
The phrase "use it or lose it" definitely applies to your memory. Make time to engage in activities that require you to recall information, such as crossword puzzles, learning a new skill or reading. Teaching someone else is also a good way to make active use of your memory and prevent it from becoming rusty.
A great way for you to improve your overall memory is to make sure that you're always focusing your attentions on whatever you're studying at the time. The goal here is knowledge retention. A failure to focus fully on the subject at hand means the information may not be retained properly.
If you need to commit a set of facts to memory, try studying that information in many different environments. The reason for this is to dissociate the information with a specific location, and make it a more basic part of you. By moving around, however, you can easily store items in long-term memory by disassociating them from locations.
One method you can use to help you commit things to memory is to use mnemonic devices. A mnemonic device is a simple technique to aid recall of information you are trying to remember. You might develop a rhyme, a joke or a joke to help you remember a piece of information. An example of a common mnemonic is "1492 Columbus sailed the ocean blue". You can utilize this same type of rhyming scheme to help you remember a specific date or term.
To help improve your memory and overall brain function, try to eat a healthy diet. Studies have shown that eating certain foods can help improve a person's memory. Spinach and many fruits, including blueberries, help memory function. Omega-3 fatty acids is also beneficial when trying to improve memory.
If you are in need of remembering something, you should attempt to associate it with something funny, such as a funny song, phrase, or mental image. Utilizing humorous elements in order to enliven the information will help you remember it down the road.
When trying to remember something, having patience with yourself will help you greatly! The harder you try to think of something, the more stressed you become, and of course, the more stressed you become the more difficult it is to remember anything! Take a deep breath, relax, and try to clear your mind and before you know it what ever you were trying so hard to recall will pop right up in your mind!
Exercise your body - exercise your brain. By exercising regularly, you increase the amount of oxygen that gets to your brain, and reduce the risk of illnesses that can contribute to memory loss, such as heart disease and diabetes. Exercise can also increase the effects of certain chemicals that help the brain to function at its best.
Take some ginseng if you want to try and improve your memory. Ginseng has been shown to boost your memory and provide greater clarity of thought. It's also great for your body's overall health. Another proven natural memory booster is green tea, which aids in treating memory loss.
Putting information into categories will help you to remember it later! Everything has a category and compartmentalizing things in your memory by category can give you much greater recall. For example, chicken and hot dogs on your grocery list go into the category of meat and milk and water into beverages and so on.
With all that you've learned in this article you should start feeling more confident on ways to improve your memory. You want to try to the best of your ability and try out all of the tips from this article as well as learn new tips and try those out as well, if you do this, success should follow.
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Last Single Saturday Night
Pairing: Chris Evans x Female Reader, no Y/N.
Rating: Mature, for alcohol consumption.
Chapters: 1/5?
Words: 1.6k
Warnings: Some swearing, references to hospitals/illness (reader is a surgeon), alcohol consumption.
Author’s Notes: I’ve had this idea/daydream stuck in my head for about two months, and am finally getting around to writing it out! This will be a relatively short ficlet, I’m anticipating anywhere from 3-5 chapters. Mostly fluff, some future smut, no angst.
Summary: Working as a pediatric surgeon in Boston, you’re certainly no stranger to the MCU - every kid on your unit had at least one Avenger pasted to their wall, with Captain America being a prominent figure. And yet, you certainly never expected to stumble into the real life Captain America on a casual Saturday night, who would turn out to be just as charming and enigmatic as the character he portrayed.
Inspiration from the song, Last Single Saturday Night, by Cole Swindell.
“I was out, taking shots, throwing down at the spot. Three sheets, just me and the guys - every single Saturday night. I was killing time, crushing cans, trying not to catch a tan, cause I was under them neon lights - every single Saturday night. Everybody knew they could find me there, but right out of the blue, right out of nowhere — sittin’ on the corner baby I saw, pretty red lips working on a White Claw, shakin’ to a little ‘Shook Me All Night Long,’ and I thought man, what a beautiful sight.”
***
It was your first Saturday night off in god only knows how long, and you fully intended to take advantage of both the time off and the Red Sox box seats that your hospital had offered up as a sort of ‘morale booster’ for their exhausted, overworked healthcare team. Working in pediatrics, you had skated through the heaviest parts of the pandemic, getting by moderately unscathed aside from occasionally being pulled in to assist with complex cases or when the ICU was understaffed — which was often — but the majority of your patients were small humans dealing with unfair and unfortunate lots in life, not COVID-19. Pediatric surgery was a rewarding field to work within, but it drained you just as any job would — if not more.
So when hospital administration offered you box seats to the Red Sox game, you eagerly jumped on the opportunity to experience life outside of the hospital walls. There was a Saturday night home game, and you had made plans to go with some of your fellow surgeons and favorite nurses; the collective group had needed the reprieve and the opportunity to decompress.
The Red Sox were leading, 7 to 6, and you were leading your fellow surgeons and nurses in drinks; as the music played within the box space, you felt your hips begin to sway, almost of their own accord; truthfully, you couldn’t remember the last time that you had led loose and let yourself enjoy the moment. You ambled towards the bar, a casual sway to your step, and leaned onto the sticky bar top, calling out your order over the commentary of the game.
***
Chris was seated in his usual spot, box seat with a perfect view of the game unfolding below; there were certain privileges that came along with being a Hollywood star, and he had no shame in using that privilege to get himself seats at all of the Red Sox home games that he was in town for.
But there was something different about this night’s company; he spent most home games drinking with his brother and his buddies in a relatively unoccupied box, but there was an unexpected crowd of people occupying the usually-subdued space; and one woman in particular caught his eye.
Maybe it was the cute jersey and the kick of her cap, maybe it was the way that her thighs curved in her tight shorts, maybe it was the streak of her red lipstick smeared across the beer glass held in her small grasp. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he felt an indescribable draw to her, needing desperately to be closer to her, to buy her a drink, to know her name and know if the red of her lipstick was her favorite color.
He was pulled out of his unexpected reverie by his brother playfully slugging him in the arm. “Might wan’ta wipe the drool away there, brother,” Scott laughed. “Go talk to her.”
Chris stalled for a moment, his brain still trying to orient itself after being brought back to earth by his brother’s antagonistic comment. “Nah, looks like she’s having a good time with her friends, wouldn’t wan’ta interrupt.”
Scott rolled his eyes, taking a long pull from his beer. “Well then at least go talk to her and get rejected, so you can watch the rest of this game in peace.”
Chris scoffed in mock offense, a large hand coming to rest upon his chest. “I’ll take that as a challenge.”
Scott rolled his eyes in amusement. “That was the whole point, dude. Glad you’ve caught up to me.”
Chris’s cheeks tinged pink with frustration and embarrassment for having been so easily caught. “Whatever you say, but you’re buying the next round.” Chris stood up from his seat, ignoring the shit-eating grin on his brother’s face. Smoothing out his shirt, he started walking towards the enigmatic and intriguing woman who was laughing and dancing and cheering like a spirit unrestrained.
***
“Is that Chris Evans?”
“No way, he’s supposed to be filming —“
“No, I’m pretty sure it’s him, look how jacked he is, that’s totally Captain fucking America —“
Your friends had been distracted by the strange man walking towards them; and as you spun on your heel to investigate for yourself, you found yourself nose-to-chest with what was most definitely Captain America.
You stared upwards into brilliant blue-green eyes, and couldn’t help the involuntary smile that crept onto your face as he grinned back at you.
A large hand was extended to you, the other securely holding his glass of beer. “Chris —“ He began, trying to introduce himself.
“Chris Evans,” you auto-filled, interjecting yourself and interrupting him. “I mean — yeah, shit, I’m so sorry —“
He laughed with his whole chest, his smile wide and warm. “Nah, you’re all good — and you’re right, my name is Chris Evans.”
“I’m a big fan,” you blurted out, your inhibitions dulled by the several beers that you had consumed. Something shifted in his face at your comment, but you barely registered it before it was gone. “I mean —“ you sputtered, trying to explain, “I work in pediatrics, my kids are big Captain America fans, I promise it’s not anything weird.”
His demeanor shifted once again, as though he was switching from Celebrity Chris Evans back into Boston Boy Chris Evans — and you sighed slightly as you saw him relax. “You work with kids?” He asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.
You smiled, starting to feel slightly more at ease now that he knew you weren’t some crazy super fan. You took what was hopefully a casual sip of your beer before responding. “Yeah, pediatric surgery. Have to stay up to date on all the MCU stuff, to keep up with those kids. They love you,” you laughed, smiling comfortably at the incredibly attractive man who had somehow focused solely on you, despite the group of friends you were with. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw that they had all pulled back, watching your interaction with Chris with the same kind of suspense and enthusiasm that your grandma watched her soaps.
“Well, how about we get a picture of the incredible doctor with the real life Captain America? I’m sure they’d love it.” Chris asked, eyes glinting playfully in the incandescent bar light. “Scott! C’mere, bro!”
You watched as Chris’s brother stood up from the table across the bar, a knowing look in his eyes and a laugh etched into his smile. “What’s up, Chris?”
Chris’s muscled arm wrapped around your waist tightly, his hand pressing into your waist, as his other hand busied itself with retrieving his phone. Waving the phone at his brother, he asked him to take a picture of the two of you. “C’mon, just a few pictures — for the kids.”
Scott relented with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “Sure, for the kids.”
As Scott held up the phone, Chris’s grip against you tightened, pulling your frame securely against his; you could feel every inch of muscle and strength, and you fought to bite back the excitement and attraction that threatened to burst forward from you like a supernova.
The flash of the camera was quick — one, two, three — and then you were still pressed against Chris’s side, vision spotty from the blinding light of the camera. “Not sure how you keep from going blind, with cameras flashing like that,” you joked, leaning further into his warm and strong frame. “If you ever need a referral to ophthalmology, let me know.”
Chris laughed, his grip on you shifting; he still kept you close, but you were able to look up into those sea-blue eyes again and observe the amusement that was etched into his whole face. “I’ll keep that in mind — maybe I should get your number, just in case?”
“Smooth,” you grinned, trying to suppress the sheer excitement and exhilaration that was radiating throughout your whole body. “I mean, how else am I going to get those pictures to show my kids? You’ll have to send them to me.”
You watched as the corner of his lip twitched, a knowing and playful smile taking up residence there. He handed you the phone, still warm from his grasp, and you felt the heat rush to your cheeks as you entered your contact information into his phone. As you saved the information, you briefly saw all of his other contacts displayed on the screen — and tried to keep your emotions from playing out on your face as you saw the names RDJ, Bradley Cooper, Lady Gaga, Scarlett Johannson, and Kevin Feige show up. Not trusting yourself to avoid the temptation of digging further into the celebrity Rolodex, you handed the phone back to Chris.
“Be sure to send me those pictures,” you laughed.
“Of course, of course,” Chris responded. He was still standing close to you, largely ignoring the crowd of coworkers who were still watching the two of you. “Better yet, I’ll make you a deal. If the Red Sox win tonight, I get to take you out on a date.”
You could hardly believe what you had just heard, much less process it; but you heard the familiar sound of a wooden bat cracking, and watched in wonder and excitement at the Red Sox scored a picture-perfect home run. You had a good feeling about this. A good, excited, enthralling, intoxicating, thrilling feeling about this.
“I’ll take you up on that bet, Evans. And if they lose, you have to come visit my hospital in costume.” You grinned, poking your finger into his impossibly broad and sculpted chest.
“You’ve got a deal, sweetheart.”
#Chris Evans#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans fic#chris evans imagine#chris evans x reader#chris evans x y/n#chris evans x you#chris evans reader insert#chris evans rpf
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