#how they write seemingly random lyrics & then sometime in the future see the connections to something in their lives. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

glassbangtan · 5 years

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love lyrics {yoongi x reader}

Words: 11.8k

Summary: Min Yoongi is a Modern Arts student. You are kind of a Modern Arts student. Min Yoongi lives and breathes his music, would die for a good grade. You are hopping from course to course, still trying to figure out what you want. Two seemingly opposite people somehow form a connection in the mess of trying to complete a relatively difficult homework assignment that focuses on the topic of love - something Yoongi is completely oblivious to.

Genre: angst - fluff - high school au

Notes: masterlist - support my writing or ask me about commissions!

----

Min Yoongi is fairly certain this is the stupidest thing he's ever been told to do.

Ever.

He's a Modern Arts student – he's learning to produce music, for crying out loud. So, why is he being forced to sit down and write some stupid love poem for a person he doesn't even know?

The assignment came from his music teacher, Miss Seymour. Miss Seymour, a pleasant elderly lady who prides herself on the fact that she's married to the music, is someone Yoongi usually respects a great deal. In truth, she's taught him almost everything he knows, has paved the way for the future he wants to pursue once he leaves the hell hole that is Daegu High School.

However, this morning she'd walked into class, chipper as anything with her usual flask of coffee in her hands, and she'd told each and every student in that room to sit down and write about love.

Yoongi could have honestly slammed his head into the desk.

Yoongi isn't a hopeless romantic by any stretch of the imagination. He's read romance books (mostly because of Namjoon) and he's watched romance movies (mostly because of Jimin) but never before has he taken that side of media and applied it to his own hobby – writing music. Never before has he even wanted to, because the minute you start mixing complicated feelings into a piece of music, it can start deteriorating very, very fast. The song can quickly become something you don't even want to look at, let alone properly record and release to the world.

Nonetheless, Yoongi needs this grade. He needs to keep Miss Seymour's respect, and so he ducks his head down and starts scribbling on the piece of paper he's pulled from his backpack.

Nothing happens.

He's moving his pen. He's pretty sure there should be words on his page, but instead, all that appears is a tiny doodle of a hedgehog in the top left corner. Beside it, a smiley face. Soon, an entire little family of bizarre doodles have taken up the space of his lined page, and there is not a single word or flowery lyric intermingling amongst them.

Miss Seymour makes her usual rounds of the classroom. Yoongi tries to shield his page from view, folding his arms over the top of it, ducking his head into the tiny box he's made. However, Miss Seymour is actually a decent teacher, and she really does worry about the work of all of her students – Yoongi isn't getting away with this one.

She taps his shoulder. He doesn't move. Maybe if he pretends he's asleep, she'll realise just how exhausting it is to be a student, will take pity on him and leave.

“Yoongi.”

He squeezes his eyes closed. “Hm?”

“Can I see what you've got done so far?”

Yoongi knows he has no choice. Haltingly, he slides away from the desk and shows off his doodles. Part of him is quite proud of the little hedgehog – maybe Miss Seymour likes hedgehogs.

She tilts her head, grey eyes narrowed behind her wire-framed glasses. Yoongi sees her purse her lips, and he knows then and there that he's done for – he's nearly wasted an entire lesson, nearly an entire fifty minutes scribbling stupid doodles rather than doing this stupid assignment, and now he's going to fail, and-

“Not quite what I asked for, Mr Min,” she says.

Yoongi nods slowly. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“Are you struggling?”

“I just. . . don't know what to write.” He looks up. “You know I'm more of a hip hop writer.” And she does know, because she's praised Yoongi so many times on the different pieces he's shown to her. She knows this isn't the kind of thing that comes easy to him.

She hums, settling herself down on the only other seat at the desk – it's been empty since the start of the year, considering most people would rather sit with their friends and chat then get any actual work done. Yoongi made the sacrificial decision to sit by himself this year, leaving Hoseok and Namjoon to their gossip at the back of the classroom.

“I've taught a lot of boys just like you, Yoongi,” Miss Seymour says. “They have a specific idea in mind of what they want to do, and they think that's it. They think music falls into one of multiple categories, and they choose which one they like best and that's them sorted for the rest of their life – well, I don't want you to fall under the same assumptions, because it really isn't true.”

Yoongi frowns.

“As musicians, we have to learn to love all genres of music. We might not enjoy writing them, and some will be stronger than others, but the respect at least has to be there. You have to fall in love with the art, not the genre.”

Yoongi continues to frown. Maybe he's too young to understand what she's saying. Maybe she really is bat shit crazy.

“Today we're writing about love,” she points out, tapping his page as if that will prove anything. “So, I want you to think of someone you deeply, deeply love and I want you to write about them. I know how good you are with words, Yoongi – I think you can make something beautiful out of this.”

Yoongi looks down. He might be hiding a smile; he isn't really sure yet. Part of him is amused by Miss Seymour's outlook on life, but the other half of him can kind of see where she's coming from – yes, it's important that he forms some kind of respect for all genre's of music if he wants to work with a broad range of artists in the future, but god, does he really have to suffer through the additional task of thinking about his own emotions?

Miss Seymour leaves. Yoongi never responds to her, but she doesn't really need him to. She's made her point, and now she's gone, and Yoongi is left with his pen and his sheet of paper.

He really just has to think of someone he loves.

He loves his mother, yes. His father, yes. His brother, yes, and sometimes he'll even feel a flicker of fondness for his small group of friends, as rowdy as they are. He loves music – but he can't write about that, can he? That's even worse than writing about how much he loves his family. It's just. . . not what people want to hear, and it certainly isn't what he wants to write about.

There's so much emotion in the word love. There's so much it can be, so many forms it can take, so Yoongi doesn't fully understand why he's struggling to come up with something to write about. None of it has to be truthful – he can bullshit his way through an English essay, so why can't he do the same in music?

He sighs and slumps back in his chair. His hood is already pulled on over his head, but he exaggerates his need for privacy by popping an AirPod in his ear, covering it with the hood of his jacket. He leans his head back, inhales deeply and-

The door to the classroom swings open. All attention is sucked directly towards the source.

“Sorry! Sorry, ah!” You awkwardly laugh. “I hope I'm in the right room. Miss Seymour's class, right?”

Miss Seymour pauses, chalk still in her hand as she scribbles some random motivational quote on the blackboard. It's been a long time since Yoongi's seen a startled Miss Seymour; the sight is oddly refreshing.

“Uh...,” the elderly woman drawls. “Yes. I'm Miss Seymour.”

“Sorry for being late.” You're talking so fast. Yoongi wants you to slow down. “I only signed up for Modern Arts a few days ago, and today's my first actual class. I'm still trying to find where everything is.”

Miss Seymour nods, dazed. “You've got the right place. T-take a seat wherever you want, love.”

And Yoongi knows. He just knows, because it happens in every single movie, and every single book, and you look over at him as soon as the words have left Miss Seymour's mouth. He can hope, but it's useless. You immediately make a B-Line for the one free chair in the entire classroom – which just so happens to be right beside Min Yoongi.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, even though he isn't entirely sure why he's so put-out by this. He doesn't even know you, but he knows you're loud and you talk too fast and the way you stumble over to his desk makes him think that maybe you're a little bit clumsy, too.

Bits and pieces of your personality are showing to the surface, and Yoongi hasn't even said two words to you. Clearly you don't like to keep yourself subtle.

Yoongi shuffles to the side when you slam your bag on the table and start rummaging around for your books. You're smiling the entire time – Yoongi doesn't know why, isn't entirely sure if he wants to know why.

“Sorry,” you mutter. “I take up a lot of room sometimes.”

“You're fine,” Yoongi grumbles. He tucks his AirPod back in his ear and turns back to his work; he needs to get this done. You can't be a distraction.

You sit down beside him, chair screeching with the force of which you plonk down. Yoongi tries to curl up against the wall. You don't get the hint.

“Well, hello,” you say. “I'm Y/N.”

“Hello.”

You pause. Yoongi should probably say something, maybe tell you his name.

He bites the top of his pen.

“What's your name?”

You sound like a six year old in a park.

“Yoongi,” he replies.

“Min Yoongi.”

He glances at you. “How do you know?”

You smile sheepishly, glancing down at your hands. To the untrained eye, you might look a little embarrassed, but Yoongi is struggling to believe someone with a personality like yours is capable of felling embarrassed. “I heard a bit about you when I was signing up for my extra classes. Apparently you're really good at Modern Arts.”

“Yep.”

“Well, it's an honour to sit beside you, Min Yoongi.”

“Just Yoongi.”

“What?”

“You don't have to say my last name. It's just Yoongi.”

You grin. “Well, okay, Just Yoongi.”

“We're not doing that, either.”

Your grin fades. Yoongi almost feels bad.

He shuffles a little closer to the wall and goes back to chewing on his pen. There's only ten minutes of class left. He honestly doesn't see a point in trying to force his creativity at this point.

“I don't know what you're doing,” you say. “Miss Seymour didn't explain the work.”

“Did she not?”

You shake your head. “Nope. Are you working on anything interesting?” You lean forward. “Can I hear some of your work?”

“No.”

You flinch back. “Oh. Okay.” It's silent for a moment. “Can you explain what the work is?”

Yoongi glances at you. The word “No,” is playing on his tongue again, but even he can admit that's a little bit too mean. He sighs and sits forward, nudging the instructions page towards you. He taps it lightly and says, “That explains everything.”

You read over it, furrowing your brows. “You're writing about love.”

“Apparently so.”

“But that's so broad.” You push the sheet away. “There's so much you can do with that. Like, forbidden love, platonic love, familial love, material love. What about love when it comes to hobbies, or passions? How can she just tell us to write about love?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Dunno.”

“What have you got so far?” Before Yoongi can protest, you snatch the page hidden beneath his folded arms.

He winces; fuck. You've literally just told him that people claim he's some genius when it comes to Modern Arts. He's meant to impress you, but there's absolutely nothing impressive about what you're looking at.

“Aw! That's a nice little hedgehog.”

Yoongi blinks. He thinks of saying “Thank you,” but that seems kind of stupid. He snatches the page out of your hand and mumbles something along the lines of, “Please don't do that again.”

You giggle. “So I'm guessing you're just as stumped as I am. Tell me, Yoongi – is it because there's so much to write about, or because there's so little to write about?”

Yoongi raises a brow. He spares you a glance, just over his shoulder, just something small, but it's enough for him to see the tiny smile twitching on your lips. You lean back in your chair, sighing dreamily, and the two of you wait till the bell rings, because that's all you can do – a hopeless romantic and someone who doesn't even want to ponder over the idea of love.

----

“So the new girl was pretty weird today, don't you think?”

As soon as Yoongi hears the words coming from Namjoon, he wants to turn and walk away.

He doesn't, though, because god forbid he get caught eating alone in a high school cafeteria. It would take months to recover from the torment.

So, he sets his tray down next to Hoseok and tries to change the subject immediately. “Does anyone have good sociology notes I can steal?”

Namjoon perks up. “Ay, there you are! Just the man we were waiting on.”

Hoseok leans in, nudging Yoongi's arm. “So, how was the new girl today?”

“Uh. . . On her best behaviour.” He isn't sure how else to respond.

Hoseok frowns. “No, dude. I mean, like, was she cool? Was she annoying? She seemed really overbearing when she walked in this morning.”

Yoongi shrugs, messing with the top of the salt pot. “We didn't really talk that much.” It wasn't necessarily a lie, but the way he says it makes it seem like one. Maybe you two did talk quite a lot – maybe Yoongi's shyness has reached a point where he doesn't even know what counts as talking a lot.

“Did you get her name?” Jimin asks.

“Y/N.”

Taehyung slaps the table and holds his palm out to Jungkook. “See, I told you that was it! You owe me a fiver!”

Jungkook slaps his hand away. “Fuck off. I can't afford that.” He turns back to Yoongi. “You didn't talk to her at all?”

“This is Yoongi,” says Seokjin through a mouthful of steak bites. “It wouldn't even surprise me that much if they didn't talk.”

Yoongi shrugs. He doesn't know how to respond to that, either.

Namjoon sighs. “Shame. I kind of want to know a bit more about her.”

“Why?” asks Taehyung.

“Why not? She stumbles into our Modern Arts class, yelling about how sorry she is for being late. I've never even seen her walking round the Modern Arts block before – so what made her decide to transfer so suddenly?”

These are all very good questions. So good, in fact, that Yoongi even finds himself listening to the discussion.

“I guess so,” says Jimin. “Do you know what classes she took before?”

“Maths,” Jungkook says. He pauses when he realises that the whole table is staring at him in confusion. He shrugs. “What? I worked on the student council for three weeks – the files I had access to in there, man. Crazy.” He points his chopsticks at Seokjin. “You, sir, are in Mr Brown's bad books, by the way.”

Seokjin curses.

Namjoon waves a dismissive hand, dragging back the conversation. “Isn't that so weird, though? She's moved from maths to Modern Arts – who does that? What maths student do you know that all of a sudden decides their passion is in the Arts?”

Yoongi can understand Namjoon's confusion, but he's also known the younger man long enough to know that he has a habit of looking a little bit too deeply into things that don't really matter. Maybe Yoongi is just a bit of a debby-downer, or maybe he really does just have a bad habit of taking life as it comes, but he doesn't see a reason in stressing himself out over something as simple as another persons academic interests.

But in the same breath, it is confusing.

“I'm happy for her,” says Taehyung, popping a strawberry in his mouth. His lips are already bright red. Yoongi is used to this by now. “You know, I used to think I'd join my dad on the strawberry farm when I was younger. That used to be, like, my goal. And now look at me.” He spreads his arms out, encompassing the whole table. “I'm sat with you assholes, taking a photography course.”

“What a glow-up,” Jimin deadpans, to which Taehyung merely grins.

Yoongi looks down at his own meal. The only reason he avoids these conversations is because they often get him thinking, and that's dangerous territory. He thinks enough when he's in class. He thinks enough when his parents are yelling at him for not doing a business degree. He thinks enough without the added stress of thinking about someone he doesn't even know.

But Namjoon really takes no prisoners. He leaves Yoongi pondering over the strange individual who had sat beside him that morning, the conversation he'd had with you, the way you'd seemed genuinely flustered over the array of possibilities that the word 'Love' brought to the table.

Yoongi wouldn't be surprised if you didn't show up to class next week. You honestly didn't seem too passionate.

---

Okay, so maybe Yoongi was a little quick to judge.

He should have given you more credit, because here you are, and here he is, and the both of you are fifteen minutes early to the first class on a Monday morning.

Yoongi pauses in the doorway, his folder pressed to his chest in the same way all them pretentious, quirky girls always hold them in the movies. He feels a little bit ridiculous, but there was no room in his backpack, so he made do with what he had.

Your head is down. You don't see him yet. He gets the urge to run, just come back in fifteen minutes like a normal kid, but then he's frozen and he's staring at you, silently wondering why on earth you're still here when he's already put two and two together and deduced the fact that you were, by no means, meant to be a Modern Arts student.

Before he can swivel round and flee, your head pops up from beneath the desk. How your eyes immediately train on Yoongi is a mystery, but what he knows for sure is that there is absolutely no chance of him making a swift get-away now.

“Oh! Yoongi!” You grab your bag from his chair, slipping it beneath the desk. Clearly you've already assumed Yoongi is going to sit beside you again.

He hates that you're right.

“Good morning,” you say when he slumps down next to you. “I didn't take you as the early type.”

“I'm not. Not really.”

“Well, I'm sure Mrs Seymour really appreciates your effort.”

Yoongi's eyebrow twitches. “It's Miss.”

You glance over at him. “What?”

“It's Miss Seymour,” he repeats, even though he isn't sure why he's doing this at all. “She's not married.”

You pause. For a second, Yoongi is positive he's somehow offended you – it wouldn't be the first time. He really does try and make decent conversation, but who even knows how to start a conversation these days? Who has the time to figure all of that out?

He starts pulling his hood over his head. Your hand snaps out and tugs it back down.

“Oh,” you say. “Thanks for telling me. That would have been embarrassing if I'd gotten her name wrong.”

“Yeah.”

“So, do you know what we're doing today?” You shuffle down in your seat, getting comfortable, as if Yoongi going through the lesson plan is equivalent to a camp-fire story.

“Probably just carrying on with what we were doing last lesson,” he replies. “Writing about love or whatever.”

“Oh, yes. I remember that.” You shake your head. “You know, I had all weekend to think about that stupid prompt, and I'm still none the wiser.”

“That sucks.”

“Did you come up with anything?”

“Nothing good. Nothing I can work with.”

You nod as if you understand. “That's just it, isn't it? Love has so many different pieces to it, so many different elements, but it really just comes down to our skill. Like, if we can't write about it, then we might as well not even waste our energy thinking about it.”

Yoongi nods. You aren't wrong. He wonders whether or not he should say that to you. Is that a decent response?

“You're not wrong.”

You grin. Yoongi gives himself one point.

“Have you always been a Modern Arts student?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

Yoongi pauses. “Yeah. Most of the time.” He gestures round the classroom. “This whole love thing isn't really my cup of tea, though.” Cup of tea? What does that even mean?

“I gathered that.” Your voice comes out as more of a giggle. Yoongi hates that he notices this, hates the warm feeling that immediately sprouts in the pit of his stomach – it's not very often someone giggles in his vicinity, especially when no one else is around. He's usually either got his AirPods in and his hood up, or he's saying some self-deprecating joke that just makes the other person uncomfortable.

He glances over at you. You don't look uncomfortable at all. In fact, you're slouched, as if being in Yoongi's presence is the most natural thing in the world.

He decides to slouch, too.

“I used to be a maths student,” you say. “It was difficult.”

“I can imagine.” He pauses. He has a right to ask a question, doesn't he? Asking questions is a human right, isn't it? “Why did you transfer?”

“It was just. . . . difficult,” you repeat, shrugging at your lack of a better term. “I mean, clearly I enjoyed it at some point, or else I wouldn't have chosen it in the first place, but it's a lot of work and it just wasn't. . . . I don't know, like, fulfilling enough. You know what I mean?”

Yoongi doesn't. He nods anyway.

“So I decided to give Modern Arts a try.”

“Is that not bad for your grades?” Yoongi spits out before his confidence wavers and he crawls back into his tiny hole of isolation. “Like, hopping from course to course? What happens if it turns out you don't even like Modern Arts?”

You shrug. Your pout says you don't entirely care. “Then I'll find something else.”

“Must be exhausting.”

“Not really. What is exhausting is dragging yourself out of bed every morning to go to a class you don't even like. I'd much rather be a little bit behind and happy than ahead and hating every minute of it.”

Again, Yoongi doesn't really understand. Maybe it's because he's been settled in his major his entire life – from the moment his fingers touched the keys of that piano, he's never wanted to leave it. He took Modern Arts for the same reason most other students take Modern Arts – because they want to study Modern Arts.

You, however, don't seem to care too much about structure, or the future at all, for that matter. You hop from course to course like it's no big deal, like the end of year exams aren't the things that are going to determine your overall worth as a human being.

At least, that's what Yoongi thinks. His grades mean an awful lot to him, but he's heard differing opinions.

“I'll figure myself out,” you say. Yoongi didn't realise he hadn't replied. “We all get there in the end.”

Yoongi hums. It's the only response he can think of, but you seem perfectly content with it.

The two of you sit like that until the first bell rings and the class gradually begins to fill up. Miss Seymour walks in wearing a slightly oversized body-suit with parrots on it, along with a pair of dangly earrings that look about three seconds away from snapping her earlobes off completely.

Yoongi gives her a small smile. He isn't sure why. He must be feeling nice this morning.

Hoseok and Namjoon walk past his table. Hoseok claps him on the back, offers a greeting before his brown eyes flick to you; you're busy scavenging in your bag again, and Yoongi watches as you pull a piece of gum out, frown and then quickly toss it back into your bag.

“Hello!” Hoseok almost-yells.

Your head snaps up and round, a grin immediately taking shape. Yoongi thinks it's been practised, because there's no way in hell someone can smile so well in such a short amount of time. Without warning, too.

“Hi!” you almost-yell right back.

You two give each other a high five, and Hoseok walks away.

Yoongi frowns, turning to you. “Do you and Hoseok know each other?”

“Hm?” You've gone back to studying the contents of your backpack.

“You and Hoseok. Have you met before?”

“Oh. No. I've never seen that guy in my life.” You look at him over your shoulder. Yoongi has the sudden urge to brush your hair away from your mouth. “Is he a friend of yours?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Behind him, Hoseok and Namjoon howl with laughter.

---

Yoongi is starting to get angry.

The blank page, the half-chewed pen, the fact that he's going to have to buy another Refill Pad because he's ripped almost all the pages out of his other one. Call him dramatic, but he's ninety percent sure absolutely nothing in his life is going to work in his favour ever again.

The library isn't even half full, which is weird, because it's exam season and it should be. Nonetheless, the quiet murmuring distracts him. He knows he's just looking for an excuse to get away from his music homework, which makes his anger even worse. Who can you trust if your own brain is going against you?

He squeezes his eyes closed, placing his head against the table. He doesn't want to make a scene, but if this final nerve gets plucked in the next ten seconds, he's fully prepared to flip his chair and scream at the top of his lungs.

So maybe it's a good thing that you seem to be having an even worse day than he is.

He hears you opening the library door. Everyone does. As per usual, your foot gets caught on the door frame and your casual walk turns into a stumble. The apologies fall from your lips, your folder crashes to the floor, and the entire library goes silent.

Yoongi looks up. You're on your knees, gathering up a pile of papers. Nobody is helping you.

“Sorry,” you mutter on repeat. It breaks Yoongi's heart a little bit.

He stands up and goes over to help you; it's not a heroic move. To be quite honest, he's only doing it because he wants to get out of that god damn seat, and the distraction of your misfortunes is a welcome one. He drops to the ground beside you and starts bundling up the pages, rapidly thinking up a conversation starter that might make you feel a little more comfortable.

Your eyes snap up. “Yoongi! Hey!”

Apparently you have the conversation starter covered.

He tries for a smile. It probably looks too forced. He quickly looks back down. “Hey.”

“God, I'm such an idiot,” you continue. “I probably just distracted you from some, like, really important homework, didn't I? You're probably so far behind now. You really didn't have to help me if you're busy – this is me just – you know – being me!” You laugh awkwardly. You flick your gaze around at the staring students before looking away. “Fuck.”

“You're fine,” Yoongi grumbles, keeping his head down. “They'll forget about this in about ten minutes.”

“I hope so. This is the fourth time I've fallen in the past week. Fourth!”

“Maybe you should remember that the door frame is-”

“It's elevated. Yes. I – uh – I understand that.” You pluck the pile of papers from Yoongi's arms. He sits back on his heels, watching you be awkward for the first time since he met you – it's weird. He isn't sure if he likes it or not. Then again, he wasn't sure if he liked your overly-bubbly personality, either, and he's beginning to think that maybe he's being a little selfish trying to grab for the best of both worlds.

You shuffle the papers a little bit, give Yoongi an awkward smile before the two of you finally realise you're still kneeled on the floor. You start to rise, stumbling only once. You manage to catch yourself this time.

“Thank you,” you say. “Uh. . . What are you doing here, then?”

You want to start conversation. Yoongi feels oddly flattered.

Instead of giving you a direct answer, Yoongi nods in the direction of his study area, beckoning for you to follow him. He offers you the empty chair beside him, and you sit down with your legs crossed. Yoongi makes an effort to stay as far to the left as possible, just in case he takes up your space. He doesn't want to take up your space.

You peak over at his blank sheet of paper and frown. Then, your eyes trail towards the array of information sheets, and realisation dawns on your expression.

“Oooooh. You're doing the music homework.”

“I'm trying to do the music homework,” Yoongi corrects. “It's a lot easier said than done.”

“You know, I'd nearly forgotten all about that.”

“Well, it's due in a few days. You should probably get started on it.”

“Probably.” You place your pages on the desk, setting up camp, per se. Yoongi finds that he doesn't even mind your plans to stay. “So have you got any idea what you're gonna write about?”

“Nope.”

“That's not a good start.”

Yoongi shrugs.

You hum, sitting back. You tap your chin thoughtfully, and Yoongi wants to tease you about it but he doesn't really think you two are close enough for that kind of thing yet, so he doesn't.

“Have you ever been in love, Yoongi?”

His head snaps up. “What?”

“You know.” You roll your hands. “Have you ever been in love with anyone? Like, romantically in love.” Yoongi stares at you. You sigh. “Okay then. We'll make it less heavy – have you ever thought you were romantically in love with someone?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

You tap the information sheet – specifically, the word LOVE written in big capital letters at the top.

He swallows. “Oh.”

You lean forward. “Judging by that reaction, I would say you have.”

“Well you're wrong, because I haven't.”

Your eyebrows fly up. “Never? Not even when you were in primary school? Did you never have one of them relationships where the guy – or girl – would give you a flower on the playground and then you'd think you were in love for, like, a week?”

Yoongi raises a brow. That's all the answer you need, apparently.

You guffaw, shaking your head. “Min Yoongi, you have missed out. I was going to suggest writing something about that, but your inexperience has once again trumped my plans.”

“Sorry.”

“Maybe you can write about discovering love, then.” You're talking almost to yourself, even though your suggestions are aimed at him. “Being your age and not knowing what romantic love feels like – you could write about it from the perspective of someone who doesn't really know what all the fuss is about.”

Yoongi nearly winces. “It's not that I don't know what all the fuss is about. I've just never . . . cared about it.”

“Ever read Romeo and Juliet?”

“Of course.”

“Did you think it was romantic?”

“More stupid than anything else.”

You blink. “Yeah. Yeah, you definitely don't know what all the fuss is about.” Yoongi opens his mouth to retort, but you leap up and cut him off. “But that's a good thing! It means you have something to write about!”

“That's going to be so depressing.”

“So? It's art. It's allowed to be depressing – as long as it means something.” You point at his blank page. “Or, in this case, as long as it completes your homework assignment.”

Yoongi looks down at the table. It's a start, he'll admit, but the idea hasn't piqued his interest. He knows when he's excited for a project, because he feels it in his bones and his blood, and his fingers itch to grab the pen and start writing – at this moment in time, he feels none of that.

Nonetheless, he humours you. “I'll think about it.”

“Please do,” you reply, before you grab his hand and start scribbling numbers on the back of it. “And please keep me updated on your progress, because I'm just as lost as you are.”

Yoongi tugs his hand back. “Is that your number?”

“Yep! Please text me. Just text. Phone calls make me uncomfortable.” You pause. “Although I might like phone calls with you. I don't know. It depends.”

Yoongi blushes, looking away as you stand up and say your goodbye's. He doesn't know where you're going, and he isn't sure if that's an appropriate question to ask, so he simply smiles and waves you off before slumping back in his seat.

As soon as you leave, his anger returns ten-fold. He didn't even realise it had disappeared as soon as you fell into the room.

----

Yoongi likes rivers. He always has, and he's quite certain he always will.

Ever since he was a little boy, rivers have been a source of inspiration for him. He thinks it might be the noise, the faint trickle that could be water, or the footsteps of someone coming up behind him. He can lose himself within that sound for hours on end, and those hours will still feel like nothing more than a few minutes.

His favourite river is the one just behind his uncle's house. It's big. Benches line the side of it, so he always has a place to sit. Ducks walk around in the grass, and they jump into the water and they make little noises that only add to the peaceful ambience.

Yoongi stuffs his hands in his pockets and walks along the riverbank, trailing his fingertips along the top of the weeds. His music homework burns a hole in his backpack, but he's trying hard to ignore that. For now, he just wants to settle in.

It's night time, but that doesn't bother him. He can work in all conditions – in fact, he wrote one of his favourite songs sitting under a canopy when it was pouring it down. He remembers that day well, how his uncle had basically screamed at him for risking his own health all for the sake of a sheet of paper. Yoongi had no regrets.

He finally settles down on an empty bench and takes the sheet of paper from his bag. He presses it against one of his sociology textbooks, but at this point, he doesn't even care about presentation; he just wants something on the page. He wants to get it finished, because in the next two days, he's going to have to hand it in and he'll be damned if he lets one stupid project jeopardize his final grade.

So, he sits down and he gets to work.

He hates it all. It's like pulling teeth, each and every one of his thoughts being forced through sludge in his brain. Nothing sounds right, and he can't get anything to rhyme, and honestly, nothing he's written is even coherent.

He bites his bottom lip. He has to keep his anger in check, of course, because he's in public and god forbid he show any amount of emotion outside the house. He really does just want to hurl the piece of paper into the river, though, and maybe yell some curse words, even though that's unnecessary and will do nothing for him in the end.

Instead, he moves the textbook from his lap and stays seated. He stares out at the river, silently cursing the water for not bringing the usual bout of inspiration when he needs it most. He can already hear Namjoon and Hoseok in the back of his mind, telling him this project doesn't even matter and it's just a simple homework assignment – neither of them care as much as he does, and maybe that's normal. Maybe Yoongi's the weird one, obsessing over his final grade as if it matters.

“Oh! Look who we have here!”

Yoongi's head snaps up. His lips part. He's going to say something, but the words get absorbed by the confusion over the fact that you're currently standing behind him.

“What?” It's all he can manage.

You grin, skipping to his side. You're wearing a thin jacket today, along with a plain white shirt and a pair of jeans that are marked with grass stains. Your shoes are the same, and there's tiny strands of grass in your hair that Yoongi has to fight to ignore.

“It's me!” you exclaim, as if Yoongi would forget. “I didn't know you came down here.”

“I – uh – my uncle. . . He lives. . .” Yoongi awkwardly gestures to the top of the hill, where his uncle's house is.

You nod, not even following the direction of his gesture. Yoongi wonders why he bothers. “I've just never seen you around before. I come here almost every weekend.” You swing your leg over the back of the bench and perch on top of it. Yoongi shuffles over, silently offering you the place beside him, but you're quite content sitting right there.

You nudge his backpack with your shoe. “The music homework?”

“Yup.”

“You know, I finished mine the other day. After our little chat in the library.”

Yoongi looks up, shielding his eyes from the sun. “Really? How long did it take?”

“About ten minutes.”

He frowns. “Lucky you.”

“Hey, that's not to say it's any good.” You nudge him with your foot. “I'll admit I rushed it. I bet yours is gonna be ten times better than mine.”

Yoongi scoffs. “I actually have to have something to hand in to be better than you.”

You fall silent, and Yoongi wonders if he said something wrong again. He doesn't even care at this point, though, because the sheet beside him is still blank, and he has absolutely no idea what to do about it.

Love. Such a stupid, dumb concept. Did Miss Seymour even take into consideration that maybe some people don't believe in love? She may find this to be a bit of a surprise, but not every teenager in the world is a hopeless romantic – some of them just want to curl up and watch Netflix. Some of them are perfectly content being on their own. Some of them don't even want to think about love and it's complexities, because life is difficult enough without it.

God, he's being such an idiot. He knows this. It's a homework assignment – so what if he doesn't get the expected grade? So what if Miss Seymour looks at it and laughs? So what if his emotional capabilities are sitting at zero?

It doesn't matter. Nothing fucking matters.

“Yoongi?”

He doesn't look up.

You reach forward and place your hand over his own, and it's only then does he realise he's been gripping the strap of his backpack a little too tightly. The blood has drained from his knuckles, rushing to his fingertips until his fingers look like candles.

He quickly releases and pulls his hand into his chest. “Sorry.”

“You don't need to apologise.” You tilt your head. He can feel you staring at him, but he doesn't meet your gaze. “Are you okay? This isn't bothering you too much, is it?”

He closes his eyes. “I just . . . really don't want to fail.”

He isn't sure why he's telling you this, why you would even care, why he even cares. But the words are out, and suddenly you're sliding from the back of the bench to sit beside him, and then your head is on his shoulder and your humming something Yoongi isn't familiar with, but he wants to be familiar with it because it sounds so beautiful coming out of your mouth.

“You're a very tense man, Yoongi.”

He snorts. “Oh?”

“Mm. That was one of the first things I noticed about you when we met.”

“How tense I am?”

“Yeah. That, and the fact that you don't seem to care about it at all.”

“About what?”

“How tense you are.” You squeeze his upper arm, as if all the tension you're describing is in that single muscle. “You've just kind of accepted that that's how you are. Haven't you?”

“I've never been any other way.”

“That's sad.” You sit up. “Why don't we go in the river?”

Yoongi's head snaps up, eyes suddenly frantic. “What?”

But you're grinning, and Yoongi knows you well enough to know that isn't a good thing. You rise from the bench, and you're already tugging your shirt off before he has a chance to tell you to stop. There is no shame to your movements, no worry whatsoever.

Yoongi wants to know what that's like.

“Come on!” you exclaim. “The waters cold!”

“Exactly!” Yoongi stumbles up, reaches for your hand but suddenly it's at the button of your jeans and Yoongi flinches away. “Y/N, stop. The dark won't stop us getting caught.”

“So what if we get caught? I'll keep my bra on.”

And then you're tugging your jeans off and leaping into the river.

Your scream echoes through the trees. A tiny splash of water lands on Yoongi's arm and he grits his teeth – you were telling the truth. The water is ice cold.

“You're gonna get hypothermia in there!” he calls out.

“Don't be silly! Just get in! It warms up eventually!”

Yoongi closes his eyes; you're going to drive him mad.

Apparently, you're also going to persuade him to jump in an ice cold river.

He's peeling off his shirt before his sensible brain can kick in. And then it's his trousers, and then his socks and then he's lowering himself into the river, using the river bank as a grip.

You wade over to him. His eyes widen, and he tries to bat you away, but you're laughing as you tug his hand and pull him into the water. He grits his teeth, trying to bite back the scream threatening to rise to the surface.

It's replaced by a laugh, instead.

He's more surprised than anyone. You stare at him for a second as he tosses his head back and wipes his hand over his face, trailing the ice cold water drops down his skin. He can feel your eyes burning holes into the side of his head, but he doesn't even care, because this is the most daring thing he's ever done and he feels so free. He feels like an actual teenager.

It's weird.

Finally, he drops his hand. His fists splat against the surface, splashing you. You squeal, snapping from your trance long enough to splash him back.

“We're not having a water fight,” he says, walking backwards. “That's just cheesy.”

“Awk, come on,” you scoff, splashing him again. “Why can't we just let ourselves be cheesy once in a while? It's freeing.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, but splashes you anyway. It's the start of a fight, a battle where Yoongi ends up dunked under the water three times, and you end up curled around the trunk of a tree on the river bank, kicking your foot at Yoongi any time he tries to grab for you. The two of you are laughing so hard, no pauses, no care in the world, and Yoongi is sure he's going to wake his uncle up and get a scolding for this, but he doesn't even care.

God, it feels good to just not give a fuck.

Finally, though, the night closes. Not even the moon can illuminate the grass, and the two of you finally decide it's time to pack up and head home.

Yoongi falls on his back on the river bank. You follow close behind him, and it's not even a big deal that you're only in a bra and underwear and he's only in a pair of soaked black boxers. You stare up at the stars, his hand on his stomach, your hand trailing through your tangled hair, and everything seems so right.

Yoongi didn't realise just how tense he was until he was calm again.

“My mum's going to kill me, you know,” you say.

Yoongi snatches at a dragonfly. “Oh.”

“But I had fun, so it doesn't matter.”

“Yeah.”

You spare him a glance. “You don't talk much, do you?”

“Not really.” Yoongi looks over at you. “But I had fun today. More fun than I've had in . . . in a very, very long time.”

You grin, and suddenly Yoongi isn't even worried about what could be lurking in the darkness. “I'm happy to hear that.”

You look back up at the stars, even though you have a curfew that you're clearly breaching, even though you're both soaked and will probably get some sort of cold from sitting out in the grass all night. Yoongi joins you, biting his lower lip to hide the smile wanting to force it's way to the surface.

Suddenly, he knows exactly what he wants to write about.

----

Yoongi really shouldn't be this nervous. This is his best friend. Namjoon, who has read his work on countless occasions, who has given him nothing but complete honesty from the very beginning.

And yet somehow, this feels different.

The two of them are sat in Yoongi's room this evening, an uncommon affair considering Yoongi has indulged himself fully in his studies these past few months; despite his mother finally letting him bring friends over whenever he wants, Yoongi keeps the front door locked and his curtains drawn, just to keep distractions at an all time low.

Today he makes an exception.

Namjoon sits on the spinning chair. Yoongi is cross-legged on his bed, eyeing the taller man because that's all he can think to do, besides tossing himself out the window. He doesn't even know where the nerves have come from, but they only double in size when he looks up to see Namjoon raising an eyebrow at the sheet of paper that has been giving Yoongi grief for days.

Yoongi leans forward. “So....”

“Bro...”

Yoongi flinches back. “Is it bad?”

“It's a bit. . .” Namjoon tilts his head as he searches for the correct word. Finally, he gives up and looks at Yoongi with a raised brow. “You really feel like this?”

Yoongi snatches the paper back. “It doesn't mean anything.”

“And you think I'm stupid. Great. Great. That's fantastic.”

“What are you on about?”

Namjoon gestures towards the page. “Yoongi, you were obviously writing about Y/N. I've barely even spoken to the girl and I can see that.”

Yoongi has the sudden urge to laugh.

But he doesn't laugh. He should be laughing. He wants to laugh, because maybe a laugh will make his denial a little more believable.

Instead he just stares. He feels his fingers curling round the page a little tighter. He really isn't doing a very good job of being subtle.

His voice is a little too high when he says, “You're crazy.” He coughs, standing up and marching to the other side of the room, just because he needs to move before Namjoon's eyes burn a hole in his face. He focuses his attention on the mirror nailed to the back of his wardrobe door and starts fixing his already styled hair. “I don't even know Y/N that well, anyway. How would I even be able to write an entire song about her?”

“You know her well enough,” says Namjoon. “You two are always talking in class.”

“We don't talk.”

“Are you forgetting that I literally sit right behind you?”

Yoongi hollows out his cheeks, dragging a strand of hair down his nose; it's getting long. He wonders if you like it long, or if you'll perhaps prefer him with a shorter style. “There's nothing in there that indicates it's about Y/N. It's just some bullshit I made up to get something on paper.”

Namjoon hums. Yoongi closes his eyes – that's the noise Namjoon does when he's about to prove somebody wrong, and Yoongi doesn't really want to be left embarrassed in his own god damn home.

“What about the line where you talk about how cute it is when this random person stumbles?”

Yoongi fluffs up his hair some more.

“Or the line where you go on about how you admire their personality, even though it's literally the complete opposite of your own?”

Yoongi pulls on his lower lip, inspects his teeth.

“Oh! How about the line where you describe this person making you feel alive for the first time in years?” Namjoon hums. “You didn't tell me you two went out together.”

Something snaps. Yoongi spins round and jumps onto the bed, snatching the page off the desk on his way past. He shoves it towards Namjoon.

“Fuck, is it really that obvious? What line gave it away?” He groans, trailing his hands through his hair. “I can't read this out in front of everyone if she's gonna know it's about her, Namjoon.”

Namjoon takes the sheet and gently places it on the bedside table. “It was a good song.”

“I don't care-”

“What are you so worried about anyway? It's obvious she likes you back.”

Yoongi blinks. “Fuck off.”

Namjoon's eyes widen. “I'm serious!”

But he isn't. He can't be serious. Kim Namjoon, the most serious, honest man Yoongi has ever met, is lying right to his face.

“Right,” Yoongi exclaims, “so I'll just have to write something different then.”

Namjoon grabs his wrist. “Don't you dare.”

“I'm not handing that in. There's no way.”

“But it's good! You'll get the highest grade in the fucking class with that, bro!”

Yoongi scoffs. “Yeah, I'll pass on a good grade if it means sparing my dignity.”

Namjoon gasps, flinching away as if Yoongi's skin has burned him. “I never thought I'd hear you say something like that. This is gonna go down in history.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, and then he's making his way towards the bedside table, and then he's picking up the sheet of paper.

Namjoon cries out, tries to grab his wrist but Yoongi is quicker, and Yoongi is determined, and Yoongi is embarrassed that he ever let himself get so wrapped up in his own emotions that he actually wrote something like that.

He spent two hours trying to put his feelings into words. In two seconds, the candle flame has demolished everything.

----

Yoongi has never been so tired in his entire life.

Now, Yoongi has lived a very productive life. A fairly long life, too, considering he's very nearly reaching his nineteenth year. Throughout that long existence, he has been properly energized perhaps a total number of four times. He's used to exhaustion.

But today's exhaustion is really just taking the piss.

He is genuinely willing to fall asleep on the desk, which is dangerous both because of the risk of getting caught, and the fact that two of his best friends sit directly behind him and will not hesitate to write inappropriate things on his forehead, or the back of his neck, or whatever lick of skin they can find peeking out of Yoongi's black hoodie.

So he stays upright, even though it costs him a great deal of energy that his coffee is not currently refilling.

He takes another sip and hopes for the best.

“Gooooooood morning!”

Yoongi ignores the immediate flutter in his stomach.

“Morning.”

You place your bag on the table and start laying your books out. “How are you this morning?”

“Good.”

“You don't sound good.” You slap a hand to Yoongi's forehead. A bit of his coffee sloshes over the side of his cup. “You haven't got a temperature.” You lean down and meet his eyes. “Just tired?”

“Exhausted,” Yoongi grunts, nudging you away.

You giggle, finally taking a seat. “Well, at least you don't have to worry about your music homework any more – that's one less thing to stress about.”

“I wasn't stressing.”

“You've been stressed out for the past two weeks.”

Yoongi shrugs.

You roll your eyes, leaning your head on your hand. You're staring right at him. Yoongi wants to look away, but his eyes find yours and they struggle to leave, which is becoming an embarrassingly common occurrence recently.

“What?” he asks.

You nod towards his bag. “Can I read it?”

“Read what?”

“Your homework!”

“Uh, no.”

“Why not?”

“Because you might copy it.”

You stare at him. Yoongi hides his smile behind the rim of his cup.

You slap his arm. “I'm serious. I want to see what you finally came up with.” Yoongi rolls his eyes, but it's with a fondness he can't really disguise at this point – to be honest, he doesn't see a point in trying to hide it any more. You've cracked his shell. Those walls he's been building since first year are crumbling down, and no amount of denial is going to hide it.

So, he reaches into his open bag and pulls out the sheet of paper that is the reasoning behind his deterioration this morning; the words scribbled on that page kept him up until three am, and even now he's not pleased with how they turned out.

He just needed something. After scrapping his original idea, he was put right back to square one – he needed an idea, he needed inspiration, he needed to find a muse, but that muse never came. Any time he thought of the word love, the only image that popped into his head was you in that river a few nights ago, the water glistening against flesh he shouldn't have seen because you two were just friends, only friends, and friends aren't meant to see those body parts.

You take the page from him and start reading. Yoongi notices the way you absently chew on the sleeve of your hoodie as your eyes trace the page. He might have thought that was gross on anyone else, but he smiles when he sees you doing it.

Fuck. He's whipped.

He's watching you read, and he's waiting for your reaction, but he regrets this immediately when your face slowly starts to fall. Your eyes go first, moving from side to side a little faster, as if you can't wait to reach the end of the page. Then your grip tightens. Then your sleeve drops from your mouth and you're holding it with two hands.

Then, you inhale and hand it back to him.

He slowly takes it back, not once taking his eyes off you. You've gone from saying good morning and teasing him, to suddenly not even wanting to look in his direction. You instead keep your eyes on the desk, where your thumbs are fighting one another beneath the sleeves of your hoodie.

Yoongi risks leaning forward. “Did you like it?”

You nod. It's a little too quick to be believable. “I can see why everyone thinks you're amazing at Modern Arts.” You laugh, but it's forced. “Miss Seymour's gonna love it, Yoongi. Good job.”

He tries to smile. He tries to believe you. He tries to ignore your sudden silence, which is so strange to him because usually he's the one wanting you to be quiet. He's the one who deduces his responses to nothing more than one word answers or grunts, or even a nod of the head if he's feeling particularly tired that day.

But now you've gone quiet and Yoongi doesn't really like that.

He leans back in his seat. He can't really say anything, can he? What can he say, besides asking you what was wrong with his homework. Did you not like it? Sure, it's the worst thing he's ever written, but it means something completely different when a person he wants to impress thinks the same.

Miss Seymour walks in shortly after that, and the lesson begins.

She gathers up the homework, picking a few people at random to come up to the front and read theirs out. Yoongi gets slightly annoyed when his name isn't called – usually he hates being called to read, but for the love of god, if he'd have known he was just going to hand in some lyrics without needing to spit them out to the whole class, he might have kept his original draft.

Oh well. Too late now.

However, amongst those people reading, Miss Seymour chooses you.

You grab your page and stride up to the front with a confidence Yoongi isn't sure he will ever see you without. From the very first day he laid eyes on you, you've had that aura – that atmosphere that just says I don't really give a fuck what you say. Yoongi craves it, but he likes it much better on you.

You stand at the front. People start reading. Yoongi keeps his eyes on you.

And then it's your turn.

You don't inhale, don't awkwardly laugh, don't even look at the crowd as you start reading from the page, and despite the confidence that is so present in the way you stand, Yoongi can't help but take notice of the grip you have on the sheet of paper, the way your voice trembles just that little bit at the beginning.

The beginning, where you describe stumbling into class.

The beginning, where you describe sitting beside this mystery person.

The middle, where you talk about useless conversations consisting of one word answers, grunts, the occasional nod of the head.

The middle, where you say you thought it was all for nothing until one night under the stars. There was a river, and so few clothes, and laughter that you'd never heard before because it was coming from this special individual and you'd realised with a start that you hadn't heard them really laugh before.

And then the end, where you talk about how weird it is that you've fallen for someone like that.

Like that.

You don't specify. You don't really need to.

Yoongi feels like he's going to be ill. His stomach twists, and his fingers grip the edge of the table, and if he pays really, really close attention he can hear Hoseok and Namjoon squealing in the row behind him. But also, if he listens close, he can hear his heartbeat thundering in his chest as he remembers the way the page shrivelled up in his hand last night, the words he'd written about you no longer meaning anything because they no longer exist.

After you've finished your reading, you ask Miss Seymour if you can be excused. It's in such a quiet voice. Yoongi has to lean forward to hear it, but Miss Seymour nods and tells you how fantastic you've done before you smile and leave the room.

Namjoon taps Yoongi on the shoulder. “Bet you feel like a dick now, huh?” Yoongi closes his eyes, his heart erratic.

----

He finds you in the garden after class.

He has another class he has to get to, but he doesn't care. He walks right past the door of the sociology room and straight into the garden, where he can see your bright yellow hoodie hidden amongst the bushes.

He knows this is stupid. He should leave you alone. He's messed up enough for one day, and the fact that he's willing to risk fucking it up even more makes him want to punch himself in the face – but the idea of leaving you like this makes him want to punch himself even more.

Yoongi sits down beside you. The old wooden bench creaks beneath his weight, and he has the sudden urge to get up and just stand, but that would look awkward, so he doesn't.

He stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks up at the sky.

“Looks like it might start raining soon.”

You look up at the greying clouds. Your shoulder brushes against his when you lean back, and neither of you move. It's pleasant, almost, but there's a tension between you that no amount of physical contact will be able to conquer. Yoongi just has to suck it up and realise – sooner rather than later – that words and apologies are the only thing that can make this right again.

“I think you got the highest grade in the class, you know,” Yoongi continues. “Miss Seymour really liked your lyrics.”

“Good. That's. . . . really good, yeah.”

Yoongi glances at you. “What inspired you to write that?” God, why is he even asking? It was so obvious. You meant for him to catch on, meant for him to understand what you were trying to say, and yet he sits beside you now and acts oblivious.

You close your eyes. “Nothing.”

“Really?”

“I just wrote about love. Like I was told to do.”

“Yeah.” Yoongi turns his body towards you. “But you were going on at me about needing some inspiration. So, what inspired you?”

“Again, nothing.”

“You're lying.”

“You've gotten awfully chatty in the last fifteen minutes, haven't you?”

Yoongi bites his lip. “You know, the lyrics I showed you in class weren't the first ones I wrote. I had. . . I had another draft that was a lot better than that one.”

“So why didn't you hand it in?”

“Because I thought it would be too obvious.” He gestures between you. “If I'd have known we were doing this, I would have kept it the way it was.”

You stiffen. Yoongi can see the confusion in your face. You open your mouth to say something, to perhaps ask a question, but you close it and instead choose to just look over at him.

Yoongi shrugs as if you'd spoken. “It was a lot more honest. It was. . . a bit more meaningful than what I handed in.”

“Can I read it?”

“No.” He closes his eyes. “No, you can't. I burnt it.”

You pause. “Oh.”

“It was about you.”

“Oh.”

“Was. . . Was yours about me?” He sounds like a five year old. He sounds like a bloody five year old!

You look down at your hands, bundled up in the material of your sleeves, fingers just peeking out over the top. “Yes,” you mumble.

Yoongi's heart skips a beat, even though it really shouldn't, because he knew. He'd sat in class and listened to your retelling of that night under the stars; he wasn't an idiot. He'd written about the exact same thing, for crying out loud.

Nonetheless, his heart thunders because you've just confirmed it. There is no doubt any more. There is no but what if...

Yoongi nods. “Oh.”

You giggle. The noise startles him, and he glances over to see you awkwardly shielding your mouth from view. Yoongi raises a brow, and before he can think better of it, he's reaching forward and plucking your hand back to your side.

It lays in between you both. Yoongi places his hand on the top of it, twists your fingers together. You both just stare at the point of contact, and Yoongi doesn't know if you want anything more, or if this is finally making you realise that Yoongi really isn't the guy for you.

Because he isn't.

“This is so fucked up, you know,” he whispers.

You tilt your head. “What?”

“You shouldn't like me.”

“Why not?”

“Because I'm . . . like this.” He gestures to himself. “And you're like that. Us being together . . . . Life doesn't work that way for people like us.”

You go quiet. Yoongi doesn't look at you.

Not until you lay your head on his shoulder.

His breath leaves him in a single moment. His fingers tighten round your own. As if the blood from his brain has been completely drained, he lets his head drop on top of yours, and it is there, sitting with you in the garden, that he takes a deep breath, and he starts to realise that maybe not everything is so bad.

Maybe there's a bit more to life than what the future holds.

Maybe Yoongi should spend a little bit more time focusing on who he is now, rather than wasting away with the idea of being something bigger.

----

“So, I don't actually like Modern Arts all that much.”

Yoongi scoffs. It's too early for words right now.

You're laying on his chest this morning, playing mindlessly with the buttons on his cookie pyjama top. He rubs your shoulder with one hand, the other plays with your hair.

“You don't sound surprised,” you continue, but you don't sound surprised that he doesn't sound surprised.

“I'm not,” he replies. “You're not exactly a very stationary individual, love.”

“But I tried this time.” You look up, resting your chin on his sternum. “I quite liked sitting beside you. That was honestly the only reason I was dragging myself out of bed every morning.”

Yoongi presses a kiss to your nose. “I appreciate the company.”

You grunt and go back to playing with his shirt buttons. Yoongi goes back to messing with your hair.

“So what made you come to this painful decision?” he asks.

“I just. . . tried it, and I didn't like it.” You shrug. “Miss Seymour will understand, right? I think she only likes me because I'm going out with her star pupil.”

“I thought you were going out with me.”

“Ha ha.” You look up at him again. “When did you start getting so sarcastic?”

Yoongi simply grins. You poke his gums, just like you always do. He pretends to bite your finger, just like he always does.

You both laugh, and it's the most beautiful noise Yoongi has ever heard in his life. He's created music that has left grown adults in tears. He's listened to orchestras play live. He's listened to the tunes of a piano his entire life, and yet none of that can beat the sound of your laughter ringing in his ear at seven am on a Monday morning.

He should probably be getting ready for school. He really can't be bothered, though.

“What course are you gonna try out next?” Yoongi asks once the laughter has settled.

“Might give English a go. Fall in love with whoever I sit with in that class. Move on. Repeat.”

Yoongi pinches your hips. “Don't even joke.”

You kiss his chin. “Sorry. I had to.”

“Did you, though?”

Your kisses trail up to his lips, and Yoongi hums at the contact. You pull away, grin and say, “Yes,” before you sit up and start getting ready for the day.

Yoongi sighs, watching you pull your spare pair of jeans on – you always leave a set of clothes in Yoongi's wardrobe, just in case you accidentally end up staying the night. This is happening more and more often recently, but neither of you are addressing the issue, because neither of you mind.

“I'll go to one more Modern Arts class today,” you say, struggling to keep upright with only one foot on the ground. “Then I'll talk to Miss Seymour about transferring.”

“Sounds good,” says Yoongi. “Do you want me to stay with you after class?”

You raise a brow. “Do you not want to go to lunch with your friends? It'll only take a few minutes, Yoongi.”

“Exactly. But then you won't be in my class any more. I need to spend as much time with you as possible.”

“I live down the street.”

Yoongi raises a hand. “No arguments.”

You roll your eyes. The sun glares down on your skin. It makes your hair look a little shinier. It makes your smile look a little brighter. It makes Yoongi want to grab you and pull you back under the covers with him.

But he doesn't. He rolls out of bed and joins you in the task of getting dressed. The two of you talk about school and your days plans, and then you decide you're going to come back to his place afterwards, and Yoongi has to stop himself from giggling because you don't even have to ask any more – you just decide you're coming over, and that's it.

He loves it. He loves you.

He thinks back to a few months prior when he was sitting in his room, fretting over a piece of paper that seemed to be the bane of his existence at the time. He remembers wondering what Miss Seymour even saw in the topic of love – back then, it was so stupid to him. It was unfair. He's young, and he's still learning how to control his feelings, and he's still learning how to understand them – and even now, months into this relationship, he still struggles to understand it sometimes.

But now, as he gets dressed beside you, he wonders what took him so long to get those lyrics out. Right now, his feelings seem so obvious. Right now, he can't quite pinpoint why he ever thought love was a bad thing.

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flowersinmytimemachine · 5 years

Text

The German song that mentions Mclennon

Okay so as I've already said, there is a song in German that names John, Paul and also Yoko Ono. They are only mentioned in the chorus but concerning the topic of the song I think it is worth talking about.

The song is called "Kogong" by Mark Forster. (Sollten das hier deutschsprachige Leute lesen, bitte tötet mich nicht :D)

Here is the official music video:

youtube

1. About the singer

Mark Forster is a 35-year-old German Singer-Songwriter. He had his first major hit in 2014 and ever since has been able to become one of Germanys most famous pop singers. He is known for his catchy and easy-going tunes. Most of the songs talk about love, self-confidence or just having a good time.

Just like many people, I know a bunch of his songs without really being a fan. They just play his hits on the radio ALL THE TIME. Despite his fame, some people say that his songs literally sound more or less the same. (If you want to get a better idea of his usual sound, some of my favourites are: "Flash mich", "Au revoir", EFF- "Stimme")

Why am I telling you all of this? Well, "Kogong" is quite the opposite of that. Maybe you could hear that this song sounds rather melancholic and slow. And guess what? That piano that you can hear in the background? Yep, that's Pauls piano. Mark Forster literally flew to London just to record this song at Abbey Road Studios. He says:

"We recorded 'Kogong' at Abbey Road Studios, in Studio 2, where the Beatles made all their records. And the piano that you can hear in 'Kogong' is the same piano that Paul Mccartney played 'Let It Be' on. That was quite special for me and my band and I think you can hear that the old Beatles spirit somewhat comes through in it."

Kogong came out in 2017. It was released on the only album by Forster that has an overall more serious sound. So what exactly is "Kogong" about?

2. The lyrics

Here are two pictures, one with the German lyrics and one with a translation by me.

When you read the lyrics, you will probably see that it is kinda hard to understand, especially after only one listen. Quite a few phrases don't seem to make a lot of sense. Well German audiences were not so happy either with this piece. Some said that the melody is good even though nobody was used to this kind of song by Forster. But the comments online seem to share the same opinion on the text: Forster probably only wanted to show that he is also able to write more intellectual sounding songs. Many just view it as avantgardist crap. Then again the video has 20 Mio views on YouTube and is currently his 6th most listened to song on Spotify so 🤔

But now about the interesting stuff. How could ANYONE who knows at least the slightest bit about Mclennon not stumble across this line:

"I am fucking Yoko Ono. My heart is Paul and John."

My heart is Paul and John? Yes Mark, I couldn't have said it any better myself. So ever since this song came out, I was curious what all these confusing lyrics could mean. Where is the connection between this one line and the rest of the song? What did Mark Forster say about it?

3. Interpretation

Here is a statement by Forster:

"Kogong is the sound of the heart when it's listening. The song is about small and big things that my heart told me but that I kind of couldn't really hear. I really hope that I'll be able to pay more attention to it in the future, so maybe this song is my new start."

So the subject of the song is not really able to listen to its heart. Furthermore, the lyrics hint on multiple topics and problems that the person has to face:

Being not happy at all, maybe even depressed ("you're not fine, you're only half-way fine"), this could also suggest that the subject has to keep up a facade while suffering inside

Problems in a relationship, marriage or even having an affair ("what you still want from her", "you hug eachother for far too long")

Self-image, Self-acceptance ("Wherever you are, you will always be yourself", "you need your peace")

The above mentioned quote says that this is a personal song. Another time he said that he realised that he wanted to become a singer while walking on the Road to Santiago (hence the line about hiking).

In another interview he stated that he tries to write in the same way as he thinks minus the rhymes. Overall short phrases which came to his mind.

So in concern of listening to ones heart: The lyrics suggest that the subject is not only unable to listen to its heart but rather actively ignores it due to outer circumstances. ("I don't want to hear a thing and am beating my chest like King Kong.").

Seems like there is a constant dispute between the heart and the subject. Which finally leads us to the line:

"I am fucking Yoko Ono, my heart is Paul and John."

How could a seemingly average pop singer connect a song about inner conflicts, love and self-image to John, Paul and Yoko Ono??

Well Forster said that he literally grew up with the Beatles and that they influenced him deeply. But to connect specific names to this topic, he couldn't only have been enjoying their songs. He has to know about their history and especially about their break-up. I've read a few opinions that "John" is only in there because it rhymes with "Kogong". So if he came up with that name and him being a Beatles fan, maybe the association to John Lennon isn't that far off. But why "fucking Yoko Ono"? Mark says:

"Yoko Ono is often accused of breaking up* the Beatles. And sometimes that's how I feel about my heart: Yoko Ono brings me and my heart apart." (*literally bringing apart)

?Eh?

Tbh that's hella confusing. I think he was kinda joking tho since he also states that the "fucking" is in there because of that British town. Which obviously makes no sense. Since Forster is serious about the rest of the song, its almost like he doesn't really want to talk about the true meaning of that line.

I mean the "John" could have suited only as a filler word at first. But I just don't think that other songwriters would automatically then connect that to Yoko Ono and especially Paul. Furthermore John and Paul form an unity here in the symbol of the heart. Despite the songs topic that's just such an romantic association.

Of course the average listener could easily say that this is all random nonsense. But for me who is genuinely interested in the Beatles/ Mclennon, this line doesn't seem out of context.

So if we take the lyrics of Kogong seriously, Mark Forster connects difficult romantic relationships and listening to your heart with John and Paul. Btw I know that Yoko didn't break up the Beatles, but Mark Forster is only talking about the infamous accusation of such. And even if he's only referring to the rumored breakup, wouldn't it be Beatles VS Yoko or Beatles VS John and Yoko? No, Mark Forster has to put John and Paul on one side and due to the metaphor with the heart, they together are portrayed as something pure, something romantic.

4. Conclusion

Well I can't really break the song down to every little phrase and its possible meaning. I think this post is already long enough 😅

Nevertheless "Kogong" by Mark Forster talks about conflicts with the inner-self concering love or becoming the person that you really are. All of this is quite explicitely connected to John and Paul (and Yoko) in the peak line of the chorus. (Just the way Forster sings this part is so...honest and amazing..). In my opinion, Mark Forster implies a really close (possible even romantic) connection between Paul and John while being put up against Yoko.

Shipping Mclennon or viewing their relationship as very close/romantic is often connected with horny teenagers on social media who make up crazy theories to satisfy their own desires. But here we have a man in his 30s who seemingly hints on similar ideas concerning their relationship in one of his most famous songs. And I know that this is not the first time that pop culture mentions their connection in that way but its actually the first very serious approach that I know of.

And maybe I am really reading too much into all of this. ( I mean I'm a Mclennon shipper after all lol) But in the end we still have a man who flew all the way to London just to sing-scream "I am fucking Yoko Ono, my heart is Paul and John" at Abbey Road Studios and I think that's pretty cool.

If you finished this mess till the end, thank you so much and let me know your opinion on it! ☺️🙌

(Sorry for any writing mistakes and I also have the sources of the quotes at hand, but obviously they are in German)

#mclennon #john lennon #paul mccartney

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ajuimaginary · 6 years

Text

Soulmate Mingyu

Part of the Seventeen Soulmate Series

Your pen tapped out an absent minded pattern on the paper in front of you, note-taking long forgotten. You were sitting in the middle of your classroom in high school, ignoring your teacher in favour of your own drifting imaginings.

It wasn’t your fault you were distracted, At least not this time. You were watching artwork sketch itself across your arms.

Your soulmate connection was causing the marks, of course: that familiar link every person shared with a destined future true love. Your skins became canvases tied together by fate, and when one was marked in any way, the other would share an identical imprint.

Right now, your soulmate was drawing neat patterns of flowers, a basic blue ballpoint pen sketching them line by line so they pooled over his bare skin, and in turn, appeared on your own hands, coming from no where.

You wanted to express for affection for the artwork, so you followed a pattern that had become familiar to the two of you, and you drew the outline of a little heart just under his drawings.

You waited, and like always, you had a quick response. A second, slightly larger heart was etched alongside it from your soulmate’s end. Perfectly, artistically, formed. It was his reply. An assurance that he felt the same way.

You felt a flutter in your real heart. You hoped you would never stop being this moved by even the smallest of moment between you. When the bell rang to end the lesson, you barely noticed.

No one would blame you though. There was nothing quite so exciting as signs of a link with a soulmate. Especially when you hadn’t met one another yet, and your joined skins were your only communication.

Although, you and your soulmate knew a few things about each other already.

In most nations, when babies were born, it was common for parents to seek the basic soulmate info their child might want when they were older. A pen with ink safe for newborn skin was owned by most hospitals. It was used to write soulmate? across the baby’s forehead. If the soulmate was already born, their parents would see the mark appear, and they would send a reply saying yes, then possibly exchange more info. If the soulmate was not born yet, it was a matter of waiting until the word soulmate? appeared, sent from the other end.

Because of this tradition, in your early years, your parents and your soulmates’ parents had already been in contact. You knew he was Korean. You knew his name was Kim Mingyu. You knew he was a boy. You knew his birthday.

Those were the only details that hospitals and parents traditionally bothered to exchange. They left the rest to the kids. You knew in some cultures the parents would be taking the info they got to consult astrologists or religious leaders for more insight. But that was the extent of it.

In the largely globalized world of the modern age, it was taboo in most countries for parents to interfere by continuing communications across their infants’ skin. It was considered more organic to let the children establish ties as they grew up. They could decide for themselves if they wanted to know more before meeting one another. You and your soulmate had long ago come to an agreement that you wanted to do most of your discovering in person, whenever the universe turned its destined pages and bound your paths together.

You were happy knowing one another’s names, and had spent all your lives working to know each other’s languages too. You could tell he’d become quite good with yours because of the ease he wrote down the occasional thing he wanted to remember- like a song title or a movie. And you knew he’d seen your abilities with Korean as well.

The other things you’d discovered about him intrigued you beyond belief. He seemed crazily talented. Almost unfairly talented.

His talents came through in bits and pieces throughout your childhood, when he was bored during what must have been the Korean school day. It was pretty common in your world for people to draw on their own skin. Who didn’t like the idea of a little extra communication with their soulmate? So you would watch doodles paint patterns on your arms, and see how good Mingyu was at art - from little geometric designs to quirky cartoon figures, some of which you recognised, and some which (after a little Googling) introduced you to comic books he must have enjoyed.

There were also the recipes. They were less common, and he only seemed to make those notes if he had no other means to record his food ideas. They made your heart flutter more than anything else, because your soulmate could apparently cook, and cook well at that.

He would scrawl notes to himself on the bare skin of his forearm: ideas about ingredients, or spice combos. One time, when you were only about twelve years old, he wrote out a whole recipe in a quick scrawl, like he was trying to get it noted down quickly to try at home later. Interest raised, you also decided to try it as well. Only problem was, his handwriting was hard to read from his rush to get it all written. After squinting at it for a while, you circled a couple of things on your own arm, and wrote little question marks beside it, hoping he would see, and clarify for you.

Sure enough, the recipe began to rewrite itself out on your other arm. It was in someone elses hand-writing this time, because using his non-dominant right hand would have been even messier. You wondered who was writing it, thinking fondly of your soulmate asking for their help.

Thanks, you wrote under it, adding a little heart.

He drew a returning heart, and, most likely, returned to cooking.

Ever since then, that had been your routine. A small heart when you wanted to express affection, and an answering heart from the other person.

You started to thank each other when you accidentally provided a good recommendation for a song, or a movie, and as time passed, you started to deliberately write things you wanted to share.

When you stumbled across a cartoon with a character you’d seen him doodle before, you always let him know what you thought. When his friends all watched a movie he knew you’d seen before, he would tell you if he’d enjoyed it.

It was such a simple way to be connected, but it warmed your heart each time.

When your soulmate reached his late teenage years, he must have started getting into performing, because occasionally some truly dramatic stage make up looks would appear on your face that you were pretty sure he couldn’t be for day to day events. Sometimes, they were embarrassing - appearing at times you did not want to have that intense of a smoky eye. Sometimes, they were really perfectly timed - you were delighted at the seemingly professional level of quality you were given for free through your soulmate.

As well as the make up, the occasional scrawls your soulmate added to the back of his hand sometimes looked like song lyrics. Usually just a few short bars, in messier than normal handwriting that indicated to you he must have had to jot them down quickly. It added to your theory that he was interested in performing.

You wondered if he was passionate enough about performing to put song covers online or something. Perhaps you might have even glimpsed his face before around Youtube. The thought made you grin, but you would have no way of knowing for sure until you met him.

One of the nicest surprises came to you one day when you were listening to music on Spotify- a decent mix of English songs and K-pop (which you’d been listening to for a long time since you knew the language anyway.) You were playing random playlists you found, seeking new music, and then suddenly one of the songs played some rap bars you definitely recognized. You checked the song title - 기대 - and the group name - Seventeen. And you added it instantly to your library.

You were sure your soulmate must have sung the song before, and as always when you discovered a little connection like that, the moment of recognition was thrilling.

You picked up a pen, and then wrote along your arm.

Hi Mingyu, I just listened to 기대 by Seventeen!

There was a pause much longer than usual before you got any response. You went about your day with the letters on your arm, wondering when he would write something back. Usually his replies were quick. But it was when you were getting ready for bed that he finally wrote back.

Sorry it took me so long to reply.

You frowned in confusion, but more letters began to appear.

Did you like the song? Did you watch a performance? Do you know anything about Seventeen? Did you look them up?

It was an odd series of questions.

I didn’t watch anything, you responded, and I haven’t looked them up. Should I have?

You waited, feeling very anxious suddenly, like you had done something wrong. Mingyu seemed sharper and more upset than usual. You watched his questions wash off your arm as he removed them to make room to write more, and you quickly went to your bathroom sink to wash your side of the conversation away as well.

On the blank slate, Mingyu wrote:

No! Don’t look them up! Promise me you won’t.

How strange...

You stared at the request for a long time.

Okay. You wrote. I promise.

You waited for more explanation, but he wrote nothing else for a long time. You picked up your pen again, hesitated, and added:

I liked the song though. Can I still listen to it?

Mingyu drew two adorable hearts first, and wrote: Of course you can. I don’t want to order you around, I’m sorry, it’s just important to me that you don’t look up that group. Feel free to listen to the song though.

Another pause.

What did you like about it?

You laughed a little.

It’s really nice! There’s kind of a soothing but cool style to it. Even the way it starts off it amazing. I think the voices have a kind of story telling vibe to them.

You waited for his response.

I like that too. He wrote. And then he put a few more hearts, and said goodnight. You both washed off your arms and you went to bed.

You had no idea what was going on, but you wanted to respect his wishes and his boundaries, so you didn’t press the issue. You simply let it go. But you listened to 기대 almost every day for a while after, and you especially loved the lines that you remembered Mingyu had written on his arm.

One year after the 기대 incident, your world changes for ever.

You knock on your best friend’s front door, smiling at the pink balloons tied on the letter box and around the doorway. Her little sister yanks the door open, a huge grin on her face.

“Welcome, Y/N!” she yells happily. “It’s my birthday!”

“I know, sweetie,” you smile back at her, handing her the gift in your hands, and watching her squeal with excitement, shaking it violently in her hands. “I can’t believe you’re six years old already! I’m here to help set up the party.”

She guides you through to the back garden, chattering happily about how all her class is coming to join the fun. You respond with the expected enthusiasm, and gasp in amazement when you walk out onto the decorated back lawn. Your best friend waves you over as soon as she sees you.

“Thanks again for offering to help with the party!” she says. “Can you run the face painting? You only need to do really basic looks. We even have some examples the kids can pick from, so you won’t have to think of any complicated designs yourself.”

You look at the sheet of card she’s holding, with a tiger, butterfly wings, a pirate, and other classic kids’ designs she must have printed off from the internet, and you agree you can do the job.

There’s a bit of time to kill before the actual event begins, so you decide to practice some face painting on yourself. It will get you used to this set of paints and it will probably get the kids more excited when they arrive to see an example of the work on the person painting them.

You pick the tiger, and start by covering your face with orange, then adding stripes where you can see them on the guide, a pink nose, and long black whiskers, turning your face from side to side in the tiny mirror so you can see what you’re doing. When the look is complete, you’re actually pretty pleased with yourself.

“Looking good, Y/N!” your friend yells out from across the lawn.

“I’ll paint you next?” you offer.

She comes over, pulls out the second chair at the face painting station, and sits down in front of you.

“Can you give me the butterfly?” she requests.

But as you lift your hand to begin painting her face, you let out a gasp, and freeze, staring at the frantic letters forming across your skin.

Y/N please don’t keep that on! please wash your face now!

It’s about a hundred times messier than Mingyu’s usual handwriting. He must be freaking out.

“What’s going on?” your friend asks.

In answer, you flip your hand over. Her eyes scan the letters, and her brows raise.

“Well, go on then! He’s still writing more ‘please’s! Go wash your face!” she says, all but pushing you out of your seat.

Still confused by Mingyu’s urgency, you turn and race toward the house, stopping at the first sink you see, in the kitchen, and slamming on the tap so fast you spray water down your front.

You dab haphazardly at your face, the water running orange and black and swirling away down the sink.

Your skin feels pink from scrubbing when you stop. You stare at the back of your hand again. It’s blank now. He must have washed off his pleading. A single phrase forms, still a little rushed, but you can almost feels his thankfulness in each letter.

Thank you so much. I’ll explain later.

And that’s all.

Mingyu doesn’t try to communicate again until the party ends. You’re helping to clean up, chucking paper cups empty of coca cola into a rubbish bag. Your best friend’s little sister, the birthday girl, is napping on a couch inside, totally tired after the day’s events.

As you reach down to pick up the next cup, you see new writing appear on your arm. You sit down right there on the grass, watching it appear.

So I know you listen to KPop, which means you’ll probably hear about this soon enough. So I’ll tell you first... something happened today. And it made me decide I want to meet you. Is that okay?

You stare at the words in confusion. But all the times you’ve talked, Mingyu has been a little long winded when explaining things, so you’re sure you’ll understand eventually.

You find a pen, and write back... That’s okay.

Good. Says Mingyu. Did you know KCon LA was this week?

Yeah

Well I’m at KCon LA right now. And this thing happened. And I know I need to see you now. Send me your address, please. I have enough to pay for all my transport, no matter how far away you are. I’m taking a break from work anyway. I have to find you. Please?

You’re shaking by the time you finish reading his excited words. Something really dramatic must have happened for him to change his mind like this... to want to meet you right away no matter what.

You could never refuse him. You write out your home address in careful letters on your arm.

Thank you. Mingyu writes. And while I’m on my way... you can look my name up online. And then

He pauses for a minute or so.

watch the video from this link www.youtube.com/watch?v=7PrXNl05CWM. He takes his time getting every number of the link right, and then continues. It’s embarrassing, but when you watch it, you’ll understand. I’ll see you as soon as possible.

Okay, Mingyu. I’ll see you soon. You write back.

You’re almost afraid to do everything he’s asked. It seems so dramatic. But before panic can take over, you see one more tiny shape form. A single inky heart.

And you smile.

You explain to your friend, head home, open your laptop, and type Kim Mingyu into Google. The first result is a KPop profile; facts and Profile for MinGyu, member of thirteen member Korean boygroup Seventeen.

One hand over your mouth in shock, you click through and quickly skip past the picture (you’re not ready for that) to read what the profile says, trying to make the information sink in. You read facts you already knew about your soulmate - name: Kim Mingyu, born: 06 April 1997, hometown: Anyang, South Korea - along with brand new information - position: lead rapper, height: 187cm - and you try to piece it all together with your reality.

Your mind flashes back to that day when you listened to your first Seventeen song and he asked you not to look up anything more about that group. When you were so charmed by the rapping. The smooth storytelling style to the flow of those lyrics...

And you scroll back up to the photo. You let out a little gasp. He’s beautiful.

It takes a moment for that to feel real as well. But something about the photo they’ve chosen for the profile helps you. He’s impossibly handsome, of course, but he somehow manages to fit in with the picture of Mingyu you had in your mind, because he has a dorky pose, pointing a finger at the screen. It makes him feel more real. More human. More yours...

And then that comforting feeling fades in and out rapidly when you switch straight to Google images and spend about an hour scrolling through photos of your stunning, gorgeous, sexy soulmate. Your head is spinning by the end of it. In some photos, you can see that personality you’ve been getting to know. The sweetness, the slight foolish charm of him, the talents in art that seems to translate to his fashion sense as well, the shots of him cooking... but at the same time, he looks more beautiful than you dared let yourself imagine.

Your favourite thing is spotting bits of writing on his arms. Your writing. And a whole ton of little hearts.

Then you type out his Youtube link, that he spent so long writing out properly to make sure you would watch the right video. It’s only hours old. A performance MNet uploaded of Seventeen at KCon earlier that same day.

You watch as the boys, all thirteen of them, come out on stage and begin their song. But about halfway through, their expressions start to change when they glance at Mingyu, and when the camera comes in closer, you see your soulmate’s face has turned orange. Then the black stripes begin to form. The boys are faltering in their dance steps now, not sure if they should continue.

Mingyu looks annoyed, like he can’t understand why their performance is falling apart.

Then he catches sight of himself on the monitors. And his jaw drops. And he freezes.

You must have been just finishing off your face paint at that time, because the tiger is nearly completely there. The pink nose adds a hilarious softness to Mingyu’s horrified expression. The crowd is laughing, obviously quite charmed by the display, and amused by its poor timing so much that they don’t mind it messing up the planned show. But Mingyu seems upset by it... as do some of his friends, who must have worked so hard getting ready for this day.

On go the tiger whiskers, long and slightly curved, forming one by one around that lovely nose. None of the boys are moving now. The close up camera is fixed on Mingyu.

The member with the round cheeks steps forward suddenly, saying something funny about Soulmates into the microphone. It makes the rest of the members swirl into action. Some of them crowd around Mingyu, and two with concerned expressions usher him from the stage. The round cheeked one keeps speaking, clearly taking charge of the damage control.

“Thank you, Jeonghan and The8, please take care of Mingyu and return quickly!”

Two more of the boys seem to shake themselves from their surprise as the round-cheeked one beckons them forward, and they start speaking in fluent English to the crowd. They say they’ll move on to their unit performances now, and leave Hip Hop team for last so Mingyu can come back with his face paint gone... and that’s it.

That’s the end of the video.

You can see the recommended next clip is for Seventeen’s other performances, so you know they must have finished as they planned. And since you washed off the face paint fast, you know Mingyu must have returned in time for his performance. But you feel bad for him anyway. He must have been upset to have that happened in front of a whole audience...

You scroll the Youtube comments for a bit. People are amused, or feeling sorry for him, or intrigued by any sign of a soulmate, or surprised that MNet even uploaded the interrupted performance (though you’re sure they’re delighted by its entertainment factor... the clip already has a ridiculously high number of views.)

And after that, it all feels too much for you. The truth is too intense. You close your laptop and go to find your family, so you can tell them what’s happened and get ready for your visitor.

The thought makes you smile again. A little happy tremble goes through you. You get to meet your soulmate soon... You get to meet Mingyu.

He knocks timidly on the door when he arrives, and you fly to answer it, barely noticing each step as your feet swallow up all the space between you until all that remains is your front door.

You take a deep breath, hand on the handle, and fling it open.

“Mingyu,” you gasp.

There he stands, looking shy and awkward, face graced by a slightly giddy smile he can’t seem to keep down. You find that despite running to meet him, you’re now frozen where you stand. His warm honey eyes scan over you though, skating across the features on your face, shifting down your body, and he looks so happy you might just melt where you stand.

“Hi, Y/N,” he whispers. “Did you look it up?”

You nod. And then words begin to pour out of him, in the same rushed way he writes, a long-winded explanation that makes your heart squeeze with pure affection.

“I realised after that performance that we were being stupid to wait to meet each other- to hope that the world would throw us together some, even though we were bound to be desperately thinking about one another every second until it happened. Or at least, I thought about you...”

He steps forward, lifts his hands and cradles your face.

“I was always worried about making you a part of my life too soon. I though I had all the time in the world to meet you, and what if I did meet you too soon, and I just messed it all up right away? As if it were possible to ever spend too much time together...”

He laughs, and when you join in, his smile becomes blinding.

“After today I know this is what I want. I want to be with you. I want us to know every detail of each others lives. I want a public, open, happy relationship with you before the eyes of the entire world. I don’t want anyone to see that video and think it was embarrassing. I want it to be the story of how we came together. I want it to be the beginning. Is that what you want?”

He’s so gorgeous, and the two of you are destined, so it’s a surprise to see how nervous he looks. As if you would ever turn him down.

“This is want I want,” you assure him.

And, hands still warm on your face, he kisses you for the first time.

#mingyu #kim mingyu #seventeen scenarios #mingyu x reader #mingyu scenarios #mingyu imagines #drabble #soulmate au #admin lizzie

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gibsonmusicart · 5 years

Text

The Many Benefits of the Songwriting Process

By Del Boland

I think we've all heard that we should enjoy the journey. This may be applied to many things including life itself. However, this adage is particularly true in the process of songwriting.

Songwriting has been an enjoyable avocation for me. Of course, there are ultimate goals that I would like to achieve, but there is also the everyday enjoyment that comes from learning and creating something new. Besides, we all have a choice. We can rush through the songwriting process to make millions of dollars, or we can enjoy every step along the way with better probabilities for retaining what we learn. Taking the process one step at a time allows us to truly appreciate songwriting as an art and it teaches us the more important reasons for writing songs in the first place. That is, we can find fulfillment from songwriting even when the songs do not produce income. It is a wonderful form of expression, but there are many examples of great songs that never received the attention they deserved so there are no guarantees. It makes a lot of sense to me that we, as songwriters, should sit back and enjoy the process and build on the elements of songwriting. In the process of learning, you can build musical collateral for the future.

In my foray into songwriting, I developed a better understanding of the music business environment. I think it is very important to understand the roles of publishers, A&R professionals, labels, producers, agents, managers, song-pluggers, and recording engineers. In addition, I continue to learn about the various types of songwriting contracts as well as better understand the various organizations that support songwriters such as ASCAP, BMI, SESAC, and The Harry Fox Agency.

I believe success is part inspiration, preparation, perspiration, and opportunity, but it is also somewhat dependent on the order. We sometimes take our preparation for granted when it is in the context of growing up, but, as kids, we are in preparation for our respective careers from the day that we are born. In essence, a true opportunity cannot exist unless we are ready, willing, and able to take full advantage of it. For example, an executive interview with a Fortune 500 company would provide no particular value to a toddler. Additionally, some events can be characterized by our state of readiness at the time that it occurs. If I had met Paul Simon when I was 10 years old, for instance, it would most likely fall into the inspiration category. If I met Paul Simon today, I would like to think it might fall into the opportunity category.

This leads very nicely into the element of developing relationships. We should learn the importance of developing relationships along the way. You never know when you might be talking to someone that can help you get your big break, so it makes a lot of sense to treat everyone you meet with respect. It is difficult to see clearly through the haze of uncertainty during these times, but it pays to give consideration to every aspect of the music business and not develop harsh opinions too quickly. Unfortunately, there are a lot of negative opinions about recording labels today. While there is greed and excess found in all industries, the recording labels are taking a beating as some artists have found success outside the influence and control of the labels. It still makes sense to maintain all options and to consider any opportunities that might be presented without harboring ill feelings or preconceived notions. While the labels are certainly struggling, they still have strong relationships in the areas of mass media, marketing, and distribution.

Some folks believe that the new music paradigm is a road to success for ALL independents, and it is simply not true. This problem has not changed over the past 50 years. The problem is getting mass media exposure. The Internet is great, but it is vast and still somewhat random in nature. Stated differently, if everyone knew your name or the name of one of your songs, they would be able to find you. However, if everyone knew your name or the name of one of your songs, you would have already achieved your goal. It remains necessary for independent artists to be discovered and then promoted in a mass media setting. Word of mouth is certainly a viable alternative, but you must have a product that grabs the attention of a large audience which is not so different than the more traditional forms of media exposure when you think about it.

So far, I have concentrated on the surrounding elements, but it is also possible to experience more direct personal gains. For example, as a self taught musician, I find myself frequently searching for new techniques and opportunities for development. I was surprised to find songwriting as an opportunity for improving as a guitarist.

In short, I have learned a lot from the necessity for producing the very same sounds with my guitar that I can sometimes hear in my mind. It has proven beneficial beyond any other traditional forms of learning such as guitar lessons, articles, methods, video tapes, or techniques. For me it was a wonderful discovery to find this particular benefit as an extra bonus while continuing to learn about songwriting. Learning more about the guitar is only one example of my particular songwriting journey. Obviously, each learning opportunity will be different for each individual.

Songwriting has opened doors for me in other areas as well. Before I began my journey into songwriting, I found it very difficult to express myself lyrically and musically. It was like a barrier existed between me and the ability to write songs. The songs were very fuzzy to me and not particularly well defined during that time. I knew the songs were there, but I did not know how to tap into this creative yet seemingly elusive resource. After reading books and taking some courses, I managed to find some valuable resources and I am now in the process of "finding my voice". In the meantime, I am finding new doors to open and new areas to explore.

One of the benefits I discovered in this process of learning was building confidence in my ability to write songs. After writing a few songs, I found it easier to write even more songs. The more I write, the more I write. I am now taking a little more time to address specific elements, so I haven't been quite as prolific, but I know what I am able to accomplish.

Perhaps the greatest single benefit that I've discovered is the ability to express myself without fear. Yes, it does get me in trouble from time to time, but it is also important to know when NOT to express our innermost thoughts. For an aspiring songwriter, this ability to express oneself is a desirable trait. That is, a songwriter must be comfortable enough to express many thoughts and emotions that we as humans have learned to suppress. However, an additional word of caution may be necessary. Similar to our relationships with people, our songwriting success is dependent on our ability to provide a point of view with which many others may be able to relate. Alternatively, as a form of art, we may be at liberty to create points of view that are difficult to understand but we are also at risk of not finding an audience when we fail to appeal to the general public. Such songs exist, but many of these songs may be categorized as "lost art", as it is unlikely that a lot of people will hear songs that do not speak universally to their unique sets of circumstances. For the pure songwriter, it is almost impossible to get an "artsy" song published or recorded.

Of course, singer songwriters have the distinct advantage of playing their own songs, which allows them to jump over the barriers that exist for pure songwriters. That is, performing artists and producers, set apart from singer-songwriters, are very selective in the songs (written by others) they include as part of their CD or compilation. This brings up yet another possible benefit of the songwriting process. That is, folks who feel very strongly about their art might be less likely to adjust to the rather narrow market for songs. This creates the necessity to develop as a singer songwriter. It makes sense for the singer-songwriter to also find opportunities to perform in front of an audience. Of course, becoming a singer songwriter may satisfy one condition for this particular group, but it also makes it twice as unlikely to breakout. In particular, the artist must now write songs that connect with a significant portion of the listening public and have a sound, as an artist, that is appealing as well. Playing in front of an audience provides feedback that can be very useful for "developing a voice" for this group of songwriters.

I have learned the importance of communicating thoughts very efficiently. Songwriting generally gives us about 3.5 minutes to convey a thought or an idea. This is the reason why you don't hear songs that explain how to build the space shuttle. It is not possible to convey thoughts that are too complex in a limited amount of time, so decisions must be made. This process involves organizing my thoughts and making the best use of the time available, which requires me to select my words carefully.

I have learned how to work together with others in a creative environment. Collaborating can be very rewarding for songwriters as it provides an opportunity to learn from others. It also provides the opportunity to lend a particular strength to a collaborative effort that may have a greater chance for success. For example, a great lyricist can sometimes find a great composer. Perhaps the lyricist and composer may also find someone with a great voice to help capture the attention of an A&R professional. With the availability of inexpensive recording equipment and the ease with which files are transferred, this can now be done long distance via the Internet.

Finally, like the adage "a journey of a thousand miles begins with one step", it is important to begin the process. I'm not an expert on psychology and building momentum, but it seems likely to me that the moment we commit ourselves to accomplish a goal, then the burden of the initial decision making process is usually set behind us. It also seems reasonable that our own acceptance of a desired goal is key to success. Taking the first step requires that we accept the task or project in which we have selected. This act alone can provide sufficient motivation to begin the process because we have convinced ourselves of the potential value for starting such a journey.

Source: EzineArticles .com

#songwritingblog #musiccareerblog #musiccareertips #musiccareeradvance #songwritingtips #songwritingadvice #musicindustryarticle #musicbusinessarticle

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meadow-dusk · 6 years

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LONG LONG LONG

a music survey from livejournal days…

- TO TAKE THIS SURVEY, SIMPLY PUT YOUR MUSIC PLAYER ON SHUFFLE AND ANSWER THE QUESTIONS WITH THE TITLE OF THE SONG THAT COMES ON - [it’s better if you don’t cheat and don’t skip any songs.]

What is your name?: Moby Dick • Led Zep

How is your life going?: Get on the Right Thing • Paul McCartney

What is your nickname?: The Day the World Gets ‘Round • George Harrison

What is your theme song?: Little Games • The Yardbirds

What is your best friend’s theme song?: Wait • The Beatles

How is your life going to turn out?: Communication Breakdown • Led Zeppelin

Will you get married?: Four Sticks • Led Zeppelin

Will you have kids?: For What It’s Worth • Haley Reinhart

What will your job be?: Rattled • Traveling Wilburys

Did you/will you finish school?: Good Times, Bad Times • Led Zeppelin

Who is your best friend?: Behind that Locked Door • George Harrison

Who is or will be your significant other?: Think Pink! • Beyond Pink

Who do you like?: We’re All in This Together • High School Musical Cast

How will you die?: Stairway to Heaven • Led Zeppelin (YAAAAAS)

How do you feel right now?: Sentimental Journey • Ringo Starr

What is your favorite song?: Matilda Mother • Pink Floyd

How could you describe your parents?: Pilate and Christ • Jesus Christ Superstar (you can’t make this stuff up yall)

Your best friend[s]?: Postcards from Paradise • Ringo Starr

Your teachers?: She’s Not There • The Zombies

Your significant other [or crush…]?: Riding on a Bus • The Beatles (an interview)

Yourself?: Brian Bathtubes • The Beatles (taking requests)

What is your best feature?: The Riddle • Five for Fighting

What will you be/should you be, profession-wise?: Desire • U2

How could you describe this survey?: I Told You So • Randy Travis

What makes you angry?: Moanin’ • Chris Farlowe ft. Jimmy Page and a random sitarist (this song is so interesting)

What makes you sad?: Everything I Know • Mandy Gonzalez

What makes you happy?: One • Bee Gees

What makes you dance?: I Still • Backstreet Boys

What is your favorite color?: Sundown • Gordon Lightfoot

How would you describe yourself?: Heart Attack • One Direction

Who is your worst enemy?: Little Soldier Boy • The Yardbirds

Who do you hate?: No Me Diga • In the Heights

Who do you love?: I Started a Joke • Bee Gees

Who do you lust after?: What Do You Want? • The Yardbirds Finish the Sentence I wish: Rainy Day Women #12 and 35 • Bob Dylan I want to: We’re on the Road Again • Ringo Starr I want to kill:. Money • The Beatles I want to eat: Spring Musical Medley • HSM3 yall with Kryan duet to open My head: Sometimes I’ll Be There • Naked Brothers Band (accurate) I am: Movin On • Rascal Flatts My best feature is: The Sad Bells of Rhymney • Fifth Avenue My eyes are: Safest Place to Hide • Backstreet Boys My hair is: Who Can See It • George Harrison My face is: Baby Come on Home • Led Zeppelin You should: Not This Time • 3Lw

Random Words of advice: And Here We Are Again • The Beatles How do others see me?: Rhythm of Love • Plain White T’s How do I see myself?: Knowing Me, Knowing You • ABBA *** For this first section, put down the first ten songs that play, and then rate them on a scale of 1 - 5 (5 being the best) in the next column. 1. I Have a Dream • Abba 2/5 2. Sounds of Silence • Simon and Garfunkel 5/5 3. In The Flesh • Pink Floyd 4/5 4. Ya-Ya • John Lennon (ft. Julian on drums) 4/5 5. Magic Bus • The Who Live at the Isle of Wright 4/5 6. Stomp • Steps 2/5 7. KICK DA DUST UP • Luke Bryan 4/5 8. Your Mother Should Know • The Beatles 5/5 9. Photograph • Ringo (2017) 3/5 he sounds great but it isn’t exciting also who’s the chick I didnt sign up for this 10. Piggies • The Beatles 5/5 good one George Now for a little fortune telling… 1. Who am I?: Tug of War • Paul McCartney 2. Why am I here?: Bet On It • Zac Efron (skittles and steak) 3. What’s my theme song?: American Beauty/American Psycho • Fall Out Boy 4. How’s tomorrow gonna be?: Behind Blue Eyes • The Who 5. What does ______ really think of me?: Let’s Go to Vegas • Faith Hill 6. What’s this school year going to be about?: Man on Fire • Andy Gibb 7. Is something bad going to happen in the near future?: Little Bitty • Alan Jackson 8. What’s the government going to do next?: Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band/The End • Paul McCartney Live at Citi Field 9. What’s my best friend doing right now?: Inutil • Carlos Gomez 10. What does my iPod/MP3 think about me?: American Girl • Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers Last section! These next questions are all about music 1. I absolutely LOVE this song!: The Look of Love • ABC Comments: This was in Start the Commotion and there was a clip art of eyes as the O’s in look 2. I have no clue why this song is still on my music player: Steppin’ Out • John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers Comments: It’s saved because I occasionally really try to get into Clapton 3. This song has AMAZING lyrics: Love Will Find a Way • Pablo Cruise Comments: I remembered his initials but not his name

4. The band that does this song is one of my favorites: Most Peculiar Man • Simon and Garfunkel Comments: I would not say favorites but I give them their due 5. My dad loves this song: Songs About Rain • Gary Allan Comments: he bought the CD and took it on road trips so probs 6. My mom can’t stand this song: The Hook (All My Love) • Led Zeppelin Comments: she probably can stand it more than me 7. I have a sibling who enjoys listening to songs by this band: When You See a Chance • Steve Winwood Comments: fair to say that cause once she asked me what the name of Valerie was 8. One of my best friends hates the band that does this song: Like Nobody’s Around • Big Time Rush Comments: NO FRIEND OF MINE! 9. I got this song off a mix CD: Got My Mind Set On You • George Harrison Comments: I learned how to do the mashed potato to this song 10. This song is on a movie soundtrack: The Freedom Song • Jason Mraz Comments: could definitely be but don’t hold this one down

11. Share a memory involving this song in comments: Friday On My Mind • The Easybeats Comments: running to it - how was there this much good music at one time 12. I’ve played this song on repeat before: You’re My Number One • S Club 7 Comments: Try this ALBUM back when we used to play S Club and have choreography 13. This song is on the band’s Greatest Hit’s CD: Ramblin’ Man • Allman Brothers Band Comments: if it isn’t they screwed up 14. I love dancing to this song!: If You Wanna Do a Dance • The Spinners Comments: seems like that was the idea 15. This song gets me every time I hear it: Bathroom Sound (Out on the Tiles early take) • Led Zeppelin Comments: I prefer the final version with vocals and silly quips but this version does just as well for Bonzo Appreciation Time 16. This song is great to listen to when you’re angry: Farmer Refuted (Instrumental) • Hamilton Comments: OH MY GOD tear this dude apart 17. I love the music video for this song: I’m Just a Singer (In a Rock and Roll Band) • Moody Blues Comments: if there is one it’s probably psychedelic so I’d dig it I bet 18. I’ve seen the band that performs this song live: The Boxer • Simon and Garfunkel Comments: I have not. This song is beautiful. 19. Is this song better to listen to at night, in the morning, or in the afternoon?: Let’s Get Rocked • Def Leppard Comments: morning, running. 20. I haven’t listened to this song in so long!: That’s the Way (Live Paris 1971) • Led Zeppelin Comments: not true it came on on the way to the gym barely a few weeks ago *** What were the first words to Abe Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address?: What ya gonna do when it’s cold outside? (Keep It Hid • Robert Plant) What did Martin Luther King have a dream about, anyways?: You’ve got a cute way of talking, you got the better of me! (You Make Me Feel Like Dancin’ • Leo Sayer) Tomorrow’s newspapers will all have the major headline of: Out in the Rain Looking for Sunshine (Permanent Stain • Backstreet Boys) If someone offered you some free drugs, how would you respond?: Lord almighty, feel my temperature risin’...(Burning Love • Elvis) What kind of higher power do you believe in?: You need coolin, baby I’ ain’t foolin (Whole Lotta Love • Led Zeppelin) What do people really notice about you?: There’s a girl I know who makes me feel so good (Valleri • The Monkees) What do you notice first in the preferred sex of your choice?: Hey fellas, have ya heard the news you know that Annie’s back in town (Heartbreaker • Led Zeppelin) What do you look for in reading books?: They say that Richard Cory owns one half of this whole town, with political connections to spread his wealth around (Richard Cory • Wings) What’s a must-have quality in a friend for you?: Meeting people along my way, seemingly I’ve known one day (Happenings Ten Years Time Ago • The Yardbirds) What scares the shit out of you?: Gat Kirwani • George Harrison (this has no words it’s just a sitar jam) How do you laugh?: Anna, you come and ask me, girl, to set you free girl? (Anna (Go To Him) • The Beatles) Why do you do these surveys?: When the night returns just like a friend, when the evening comes to set me free (If You Know What I Mean • Neil Diamond) Do you have anything you’d like to confess?: I can see you in the window waiting for my call (Untouchable • Big Time Rush) How do you feel about the person you cannot stand the most?: If ever you’ve got rain in your heart, someone has hurt you and torn you apart, am I unwise to open up your eyes to love me (Run To Me • Bee Gees) The best date ever, in your book, would consist of…: Dear Theodosia, what to say to you?(Dear Theodosia • Leslie Odom Jr. & Lin-Manuel Miranda) If you sent a random Hallmark card to a friend, you would write to them: Are we growing up or just going down? It's just a matter of time until we're all found out. (Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year • Fallout Boy) If you had the chance to speak to (a) God, what would you say?: Every time I see her, she don’t even look my way (Just My Style • Gary Lewis and the Playboys) Finish the sentence: “When the going gets tough…”: My friend came to me with sadness in his eyes and told me that he wanted help before his country dies (Bangla Desh • George Harrison) How do you deal with your stress?: I can almost remember their funny faces (Jet • Paul McCartney) What is your biggest burden in life?: Somebody’s knocking at the door, somebody’s ringing the bell (Let Em In • Wings) What’s the coolest thing about your best friend?: Hands, put your empty hands in mine (Stand By You • Rachel Platten) Why do you love the one you do?: Sweet, wonderful you. You make me happy with the things you do (You Make Loving Fun • Fleetwood Mac) If a friend broke their arm and got a cast, what would you write on it?: Gonna build myself a castle high up in the clouds (Dance the Night Away • Cream) You see a stick and wet cement. What do you write?: It feels so right now hold me tight (Hold Me Tight • The Beatles) A guy just stole your (purse, car, etc)! What do you yell at him?: Welcome to the camp, I guess you all know why you’re here (We’re Not Gonna Take It • The Who) You pass a crack addict on the corner one day. Solemnly he tells you: Well now we’re respected in society, we don’t worry bout the things that we used to be, we’re talkin heroin with the president (Respectable • The Rolling Stones) What will your baby’s first words be?: He knows about you in every way, he's memorized every part of your face (Does He Know • One Direction) You are at your wit’s end, and decide to write a suicide note. It begins: The pound is sinking, the peso’s falling, the lira’s reeling and feeling quite appalling (The Pound is Sinking • Paul McCartney) Why can’t there be peace in the world?: Let’s talk about one, bay-bay, ya gotta hear me out (Get Another Boyfriend • Backstreet Boys)

How do you think people see you?: I walked in the band just started, the singer couldn't carry a tune in a bucket (Ten Rounds with Jose Cuervo • Tracy Byrd) Inside, though, what kind of person are you really?: well the rain was a-fallin’ and the ground turned to mud, I was watchin’ all the people running from the flood (Deliver Your Children • Wings) If you wanted to comfort a friend, you’d say: Anytime, any day you can hear the people say that love is blind, well I don’t know but I say love is kind (Listen to What the Man Said • Wings) When you want to cheer someone up, you say: *I just make series of nonsense sounds* (Pow R. Toc H. • Pink Floyd) You’re unbelievably depressed because your friend just told you…: people say we’ve got it made, don’t they know we’re so afraid? (Isolation • John Lennon)

When you are incredibly bored, you start thinking about…?: I drive all alone, at night, I drive all alone, don’t know what I’m headed for. (Dead End Friends • Them Crooked Vultures) You’re a classy person, so instead of cursing when you’re mad, you yell…?: I met a gin-soaked, bar-room queen in Memphis (Honky Tonk Women • The Rolling Stones) you’re writing a love letter, but what are you going to begin it with?: The theater’s so obsessed with drama so depressed, it’s hard to sell a ticket on broadway! (Keep It Gay • The Producers) If you were to write a letter to the President of the USA, it would say…?: It’s a boy, Mrs. Walker, it’s a boy (It’s a Boy • The Who) What would someone have to tell you to make you really angry?: No no no no, don’t phunk with mah haaahrt (Don’t Phunk with My Heart • Black-Eyed Peas) …To make you really depressed?: Cars and girls are easy to come by in this day and age, laughing joking drinking smoking til I spend my wage (Over Under Sideways Down • The Yardbirds) ...To make you sexually aroused?: Catch a star if you can, wish for something special (Are You Ready for Love • The Spinners) Your first thoughts waking up were…: Life is just a bowl of All-Bran, you wake up every morning and it’s there (Happydaystoytown • The Small Faces) Your last words before falling asleep will be…: the sun is shining in the sky, there ain’t a cloud in sight (Mr. Blue Sky • Electric Light Orchestra)

#music survey #wow that only took me half a month #kari

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g-castel · 7 years

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My Top 10 Albums of 2016

I've been wanting to post this since January 1st lol, but I never got around to it haha. I need to be better about blogging. Well, I figured that since we are halfway through 2017 it would be good to share, once again, my top 10 albums of the year (last year). I've been doing this annually for a while now and it's been fun for me. Take a read if you'd like!

Top 10 + Honorable Mentions

Honorable Mentions

-Signs of Light (Head and the Heart)

-24K Magic (Bruno Mars)

-A Seat at the Table (Solange Knowles)

-WALLS (Kings of Leon)

-The Hamilton Mixtape (Various Artists)

-The Life of Pablo (Kanye West)

-Coming Home (Leon Bridges)

-Views (Drake)

-This is Acting (Sia)

-There’s A Lot Going On (Vic Mensa)

-22, A Million (Bon Iver)

-Telluric (Matt Corby)

-Wild World (Bastille)

-Bobby Tarantino (Logic)

-Oh My My (OneRepublic)

-Stranger Things, Vol. 1 (Kyle Dixon and Michael Stein)

Passion, Pain, and Demon Slayin’ (Kid Cudi)

A Moonshaped Pool (Radiohead)

Farewell, Starlite (Francis and the Lights)

Starboy (The Weeknd)

Sunlit Youth (The Local Natives)

indicates nearly making my list haha

Top 10

10. Home of the Strange

Young the Giant

The third studio album for Young the Giant, Home of the Strange, to me has pushed the band to become one that I will continue to listen to for the rest of my life. They are able to create a good range of styles. I think HOTS is able to listened to in so many different settings.

This California band has focused on the phenomenon of the diversity in ethnicity that the band possesses. The lead singer being, Indian-American, and other members being from across the globe plays a part in the album’s theme and dynamic.

I was super happy with songs like “Something to Believe In” (which sounds so perfect for a live performance) and “Titus Was Born”. If you are about to take a listen to Young the Giant for your first times, start from their first pieces of art and move towards their latest piece of art and you will see a fitting a beautiful revolution.

Also, go ahead and head to their Youtube channel where they post the “In the Open” videos that are stripped versions of their music and it’s record so raw and simple. Those videos have inspired me to do video work for music as well!

9. The Colour in Anything

James Blake

The music in James Blake’s album, just like before, is the some of the most unique current music. I have not found other songs out there that sound anything like his other than Bon Iver and Radiohead’s music this year.

So, so, so weird. if you’re gonna go listen this, because I said I like it, please be warned, it doesn’t mean you will, like you might hate it actually, and that’s okay. We tend to adhere to sounds that’s familiar and that coincides with our minds. This album, if you haven’t been a listener of James Blake’s previous works, will not do that for you. There are some odd sounds, weird time signatures changes, and he sings once again with beast vocoder vocals! Sometimes there are some horror silences behind nasally high frequency vocals.

It sounds like I am somewhat shoving you away from listening to this. However, do not get me wrong, I love The Colour in Anything!

Favorite Songs:

Meet You In the Maze

Points.

The random interruptions of repeated lyrics into silence are interesting and I think they reflect perhaps the character of Blake or the anybody out there who shares the stories and feelings written in his lyrics. They’re brash and the noises are loud. & I DIG it.

8. Georgica Pond

Johnnyswim

Johnnyswim. The (Latin) American folk soul pop-duo have returned this year with a banger of an album. I think personally that this is the best work that they have done. This couple are two incredibly talented musicians and they’re chemistry in and out of the booth is something like the dynamic of a Shaq and Kobe.

“The longer you’re out on the road, it gets nicer to have [Abner Ramirez] there. Because he’s the closest thing to home I have,” Johnnyswim’s Amanda Sudano says. “Home is where he is.”

I watched the videos that they shared on Youtube giving commentary on a couple of the songs that were a part of the album. They talked about the process in the studio and the inspirations behind songs like “Drunks” and “Touching Heaven”. One thing I picked up from what they attempt to maintain is the loyalty to the authenticity of the craft.

This was an album that I listened continuously for maybe three straight weeks. I went through phases were song after song became my new favorite. That happens a lot of times when the record is good from start to finish.

I want to be friends with them, simple as that.

#goals

7. THREE

Phantogram

I was introduced to them years ago by my brother, who I could honestly give credit to for a lot of the music I listen to now. This album, THREE, yes, in all caps, was music that I had no clue they had in them.

I definitely used a few tracks on this album for workouts. This is the album that this year I felt comfortable bumpin with both my more conserved buddies and also with some of my hood friends. After Phantogram released some music with as Big Grams in the past, you can surely feel the influence of Big Boi, a former member of the hip hop legendary group, OutKast. The 808s on songs like “You’re Mine” and “Cruel World” are so fulfilling.

One song from this album you’ve probably heard if you haven’t heard of any of the songs on the list is the song “You Don’t Get Me High Anymore” They collaborated with other people to produce such a fire beat. The lyrics are weird and polarizing but that’s what’s great about it

On release day, I went through the entire record as I usually do with music and immediately sent Phantogram a fan girl tweet. I just had to tell them that they nailed this one and it is probably their best work yet.

6. Birds in the Trap Sing McKnight

Travis Scott

S’il vous plais. Those in favor of auto-tune, or at least okay with listening to it and not being baffled by the off-the-(traditional hip-hop)-wall that it is, take your time to listen to a few tracks of this album by the G.O.O.D. Music prodigy, Travis Scott.

I just know in 2017, this man Travis is going to blow UP! I do not know in what way, whether it’s with his music, or with his involvement with big name fashion clothing lines, he will find his way into having you know his name. It’s just the loud and abrasive nature that he possesses.

Birds in the Trap Sing McKnight to me was like a real intro to the world, though it isn’t his first album. When Ye signed him, he was doing a bunch of writing and waiting his turn to get on the map. Kanye finally did what he does best and gave him more pushes and connections. I’ve never seen someone with so much energy. Hip hop gone be alright.

Usually, I listen to albums from front to back, but I know that’s not how everyone does it. So, if you do not have much time and want to take a peek of the record, check out these three, “goosebumps, through the late night, and way back”.

5. The Human Condition

Jon Bellion

Mr. Jon Bellion, out of New York, is the next Chad Hugo, No I.D., and Timberland, all put together, who also sings and raps on the music he produces. Riding that “come up wave”, he will be a name that pretty soon will have a bigger font size on next summer’s festival lineups, guaranteed.

This early 20s MC, is just a pure talent to say the least, and outside his talent, is seemingly a phenomenal character. He has worked so hard to make it to where he is in his music career, but has managed to stay as humble as he was when he was making beats in his college dorm room. The Human Condition was crafted and along with Bellion is the band, A Beautiful Mind, who were all buddies who have all committed to sticking together if one of them made it big in the industry which is such a noble thing to see. They have a natural chemistry.

Bellion says a lot of the people who inspired his sounds were the Neptunes, Kanye, and derivation.

So I can’t write this without giving one person credit for introducing me to him. My roommate Jeff did everything he could that season to make sure the whole world new about Jon Bellion. He played songs from previous EPs to prepare for the album release over and over. While he showered, I could here the songs including the pre-release singles. We ended up seeing Bellion live…twice actually.

I’m excited for his future, collaborations, and ideas he execute to change the way people see music. He’s got that much potential in my opinion. The dude is straight out of New York. If you haven’t heard the album yet, let me just tell you it is very evident. Jon Bellion is a multitalented artist. He’s got his hands on everything, being well-versed with the keys, vocals, and he’s got some bars too. He’ll break it down with the MPC pad too like his idol Kanye. Even on stage during his tour, homie would bring the pad to center stage and loop up the layers of his songs and the sing over the top of it brilliantly.

Bellion’s, like many of us, is also a closet nerd and loves cartoons and animation. One of his big dreams, which he might as well soon see come into fruition is to work with Pixar on scoring a film. I hope this happens! He’s a dreamer, he’s got a newfound faith, and has got a colossal muse. This artist is someone who is just peeking his head out of his egg and we have no idea what he will do once he starts flying.

4. 4 Your Eyez Only

J. Cole

This album is the cure.

Mr. Jermaine Cole. He is such an people’s person. I liked the fact that after he finished touring for 2014 Forest Hills Drive, he said “I’m out.” He had a withdrawal from the public eye. Just wanting to have a normal human experience here in America, he laid low, didn’t really share much on social media and rode his bike around the city. It gave him a fresh mind to intake life and be creative, especially in a tough all-around year like 2016. Seeing artists do that is a breath of fresh air to me. Fame is just something he doesn’t care about.

In the album, there’s a few times Cole rhymes from different perspectives apart from himself. What we have here is a real lyricist, and wordsmith. He chops up words perfectly to make them fit meter after meter. I honestly think he’s getting better and apart from Kendrick, no one out there is stopping him from being the most influential lyricist in urban culture. His mass appeal comes naturally, though he does not care about it or give into it.

Ed Sheeran said in an interview recently on the Breakfast Club that in the likes of the hip hop genre, right now he is really liking this J.Cole album. Reason why I say this is cause, Ed, too took a page from this book and, took a year off from music and celebrity living and just vacationed and traveled.

You can feel it in these songs. The calmness in the beats. There is something retro about the drums, the flows are mellow, and the vibes make me want to go for a soothing walk with headphones, or take a subway into a city like NY. I don’t know if any of that makes sense, but once you listen to a song like “Ville Mentality”, you’ll know.

3. We Got it From Here…Thank You 4 your service

A Tribe Called Quest

They’re Back! Mr. Abstract, Phife the Five Footer, Ali! The return of the historic and legendary hip hop group, the pioneers for all current rappers today, the one, the only, TRIBE CALLED QUEST.

Here is Phife Dawg. The Five Foot Assassin is what he used to go by. He founded this group back with Q-Tip I believe when they were in high school. Hip Hop was already on the rise and established, but it had no real characters that were unique and funky. Them comes along these gentlemen along with other members of the Native Tongues who brought a energy to the hip hop scene that was crazy and untouched. They weren’t talking about money and drinking. It was all conscious writing and fun creativity. This band is why I am a hip hop fan today.

Tribe to me is like the mantle of the earth if Hip Hop was looked at as the planet. And the core would be jazz. We hear it in all of their records, and after the band split in 1998 and after 18 years…it took the death of co-Founder Phife, for the men to get into a studio and make some powerful music for the people, for themselves, and for their lost brother, Phife.

I think it takes bravery to return. They’re a bunch of old men. They know there’s a new audience of hip hop lovers out there who don’t even know them. They know that a lot of people aren’t really gonna feel their music and rhythm. So, I commend their boldness in return and with their humility in asking a great conglomerate of artists from Jack White to Talib Kweli to help join them create their final album to send strong messages on things as simple as how it is to be a black man in America.

This band has left an impeccable legacy and imprint on hip hop music forever.

2. i like it when you sleep for you are so beautiful, yet so unaware

The 1975

You’re probably like.

Wait, what…huh?!?

And I’m sorry to put them so high, but I am not at the same time. I keep finding myself DRAWN to each and every track on this record. For a sophomore album, they definitely found the best way to expand but at the same time stay inside the realm that they created for the fans that is kind of the this imaginary “1975” world.

Kickstarting with a perfect “first single” in Love Me, to being the iliwysfyasbysu era was a pretty cool statement made because we just knew that they were bursting forth with a different brand. You’ll know what I mean if you go ahead and watch the music video. Musically, they’re was some experiments and that is always fun for me to hear. I wish I could know the terminology for what is being used to make that sort of grungy, wavy, synthy guitar sound to start and end the song, but it’s sexy and reminds me for some reason of Halloween?

Matty said that their London shows this year in the O2 were the biggest shows they did and since Vevo put on a sweet video production for it up on Youtube, I had to lay down and watch the hour-long concert. shows.

I found myself listening to the record over and over. Music doesn’t just make it into my top three just that. I really have got to like it. And I enjoy the music, simple as that. All visuals for the album certain vibe. They made a change to their brand and new look to their socials, beginning with a complete 180 of all their black and white monochrome look. It was hit with a hard flavor of flamboyant, loud, pink. That’s right, pink.

(Which, quick input, 2016 was the year of pink. Big year for pink)

Previously, on their first studio album, though they’ve been doing music for over a decade, the artwork of the album, singles, and live show light show were all bright whites and black contrasts.

Then at the end of May, we were introduced to the regeneration of the young (not-so-young) band, the 1975.

The lyrics, on almost every song, so vulnerable and loud, are what mostly impresses me about the record. Matty writes about a lot of things he deals and is trying to make sense of in morality, psychology, drugs, religion and love. Though the song titles are not as obviously direct with the messages like the first album, this album hit at so many questions that we as humans ask, or should ask.

Matty Healy’s intellect kills me. I would definitely put him in my top ten with musicians I would desire to have one or two tea time conversations with. I feel like there would be things we could teach each other. Just listening to what he has to say in interviews became quite a hobby of mine, especially the interviews where he was sober. He has interesting things to input about, love, politics, Jesus, and whatever makes the world go round. I found every lyric and every emotion put into the musically was very intentional.

They have definitely built an experience surrounding what is deemed, the 1975. It’s their own world. Everything about it. The social mediums. The twisted yet attractive persona of the lead. The sounds of the guitar that you hear in “She’s American”. It’s not much different than what you hear in “Settle Down” or even “Chocolate”. My point is, you know you’re entering the 1975, when you enter the 1975; it’s distinct.

There’s something special about that.

These are my lads.

my pics from the show*

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Processed with VSCO

1. Coloring Book

Chance the Rapper

Mixtape? Album? Whatever you call it, this body of work takes the crown for me of this year’s best musical work. Gospel and hip hop are the largest influences in my musical upbringing so, for others, this was just a good album. For me, however, this hit me in my heart strings, where my hair rises, and the bumps on my skin appear. The horns and the choir vocals are what told me that I was home.

The evolution of this young Chicago artist is major as I’ve been following Chancellor since 2013 to who he’s become today as a Grammy-nominated star. When he jump started his musical career with his 10 Day mixtape, he was just a shorty making beats in his city, snatching stages at the open mics. He released his first song on Soundcloud in 2011. The 2013 XXL freshmen article is where I realized this man was gonna blow up one day. He and his overalls, nose piercing, and whippersnapper attitude is what drew me. He was put on by Gambino, when he asked Chance to go on tour with him when Gambino had nothing but Royalty and was working on Because of the Internet.

Back then, lil Chano was a little more immature, a high school dreamer who opted out on college and grew on his experimentation of drugs. So many things has changed in a matter of three years lemme tell you.

He and his girl now have a DAUGHTER. Which he just recently is letting the world get to know through his social media platforms. “My daughter look just like Sia, yah can’t see her.” He and his friends who have been working on music producing and writing for other artist called “The Social Experiment” compiled an album for free called SURF, which ended up being a top three album for me last year if you read blog post last year. Finally, he’s cut down on the trippy drugs; he used to think that they would be his thing and something to be known for, but realized it was not something of value to him anymore. The growth mostly is shown in the music by far.

After the mixtape dropped and while Chano and his gang went of tour, they announced the Magnificent Coloring Day Festival, a festival in Chicago to end the tour. It was a day where he invited many of his musical friends, including Francis and the Lights, Alicia Keys, John Legend, Skrillex, Chicago’s own Common, Lil Uzi Vert, and his mentor Kanye West. He had the city of Chicago ‘doing front-flips’!

Undoubtedly, it can be said at least in hip hop, that the is his year. It’s definitely Chance the Rapper’s season in hip hop as much as it can be denied. Last year was Drake season, this year is Chance’s season, maybe next year is someone else’s. Chano had one of the HOTTEST VERSES ON arguably biggest song in hip hop in 2016, Ultralight Beam. He helped heavily on Hamilton mixtape. He has sold out stadiums, became the first independent artist to do Saturday Night Live, performed at ESPYS for the late Muhammad Ali, and got the Grammys to open up categories for non-selling, stream only artists. 2016, as you can see below, was his year.

I’ll get to the main reason why Chance is my guy later, for right now let’s quickly talk about the music. Diversity in his features is what I thought was cool with him at first. In ’13, he spit a verse on James Blake’s, “Life ‘Round Here” and I was like, shoot this new cat messes with people like James Blake AND Action Bronson?!? I need hop on this train before it’s too crowded. Chancellor, along with his brother and other Chicago rappers, has a way with the way he says his words. Poetically he makes them fit into patterns of time rhythms that sets a unique flow almost every time. But there’s also a slight Chicago twang to his voice, especially when he was younger.

One thing I respect is that, this man was blowing up while still being flat out broke in relation to how big of a name he was becoming. He was only making his cash off of merchandise and touring, and doing features I guess. I mean maybe not anymore, I’m sure he’s well off, but it was just cool to see that someone could continue independence and be like, nah it’s really not about the money, Imma give this here music for free.

The Social Experiment.

These guys right here are the Social Experiment. #SoX

They stuck it out with along with Chance, not as a surrounding band, but as a group with equal say into decisions. Head by Nico Segal on the left aka Donnie Trumpet, they made music for the people and were a collection of songwriters for man artists out there and did it for fun. They are now the band of friends that Chance plays, and probably will always play with on tour.

Aint that something! :’)

He’s Happier. It’s evident. If you listened the drug-influenced, young whippersnapper Chance the Rapper was during 10 Day, and his Acid Rap era, and dug deep into the reasonings for his anxiety and hurt in his young life, you’d see a difference in who we’re being blessed with today. He, growing up in Chicago, has seen lots of violence including the murder of one of his friends. Chance has rededicated his life to the Lord and has changed abundantly. It’s so obvious in his tone and poise nowadays. He’s still fun and buck, but man Chano is a transformed person.

So one of the real reasons I love this dude is his social involvement. Time and time again you’ll read that he has had a upbringing with educators and strong women in his life. His father worked in politics and was part of being running the campaign for Barak Obama to get into the presidential office. So, Chance learned a thing or too about how to meet peoples’ needs. He has donated and promoted giving warm, thick coats to the homeless during the winter through an organization in Detroit. These coats turn into a sleeping bag so it is designed especially for those who have no homes. He speaks up against violence like we all do, however, I love seeing someone with a platform like his, give a nonviolent voice of reason. In his community, the city of Chicago, Chance also hosts an open mic night every month called, Open Mike, which is near and dear to him because that’s how he began and how he realized he wanted to pursue music. He wants to give other young kids to opportunity to dream as well.

Anyways, that’s all.

I realized I’ve talked about him for a while now…I’ve tried to be very unpretentious over the year with Coloring Book…but personal blog so.

Anticipating Albums

Colony House

John Mayer

Lorde

Drake

Ed Sheeran

Lupe Fiasco

Paramore

Snubs (the eh’s)

Joanne (Gaga)

Lemonade (Beyonce)

ANTI (Riri)

Awaken, My Love (Bino)

JEFFREY (Thug)

matty and chancellor.

bye.

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