#Not ever after high related but the same audience

[pixeltwix]

👁‍🗨Ciphertology & The Dixons👁‍🗨

Sooooo…Emma May’s family was involved in a cult, right? Let me elaborate. As a fellow creative I have been known on many occasions to forget details big and small about my own world, but names? No, names are never something I tend to duplicate unless for a very specific thematic or world building reason. So color me stoked when I was curiously learning about Bill’s cult arc in the 1950’s and found one of his first followers was a young girl with the surname, you guessed it, Dixon!!

Considering Alex Hirsch is very purposeful with things and little hints, while also leaving the audience to figure things out for themselves while he sits back and laughs, I can’t help but feel the surname Dixon is a bit TOO coincidental in this instance. From what we see, Ciphertology and the followers were a mash of a bunch of real life cult references while doing the usual Hirsch thing of filtering Bill into a concept perfectly well.

All in all it’s a very interesting thing, but what I found more interesting were the people involved. Sure you have the puppet leader, Silas Birchtree and a bunch of other out there names, but amongst sits a simple ‘Madeline Dixon’….. Alex Hirsch I’m going to screAM :D

From what we learn, after the cult is forcibly disbanded by the US government and every trace of the town is wiped off of maps and history books, the people are spread throughout the country and given opportunities to start life over again. Not everyone followed that however and some continued to follow the Bill Cipher cult. And honestly I can’t help finding myself bouncing back to the very concept that is-

What if Emma May Dixon grew up in a recovering cult family? What if her family still believed in the cults teachings like some and practiced it in secret at home? And if that is true how am I meant to feel towards the idea that her future husband, Fiddleford McGucket, would become a cult leader himself all because of the very thing that was the foundation of her own cultish upbringing?

Honestly if that’s what Alex was shooting for, I’m calling him a genius cause that’s such a fascinating idea to work with. The concept that Bill has personally affected and rooted himself so deeply into the show and it’s characters that even those we don’t get to see still have dealt with him to some degree.

It just all feels too perfect too. The surname Dixon implies enough, thanks to Alex’s upfront and to the point naming, that Emma May too is a southerner like her husband. Or at the very least she’s in that farmy side of the country. And where did Ciphertology come from? Orchard Lake, Kansas. Madeline Dixon very well could be Emma May’s aunt or older sister considering the cult began in 1952. And assuming Em’s the same age as Fiddleford and the Stan twins then we can assume vaaaaageuly that she’d be born in 1955. Meaning she’d be either growing up in that recovering environment or indoctrinated into it.

We can assume well enough then that she didn’t follow the cults teachings considering she seems well adjusted with her family, living in Palo Alto, but it also kinda reaffirms why she’d be so quick to throw divorce on the table once she sees Fiddleford’s memory wiped condition. That on top of we can only assume his behavior was alarming and erratic and a far cry from the personality of her husband that she was used to (especially when you consider bRO made a homicidal pterodactyl robot because he was so distraught and upset towards the idea of being divorced..like yeah man..that might solidify her decision my guy..)

But if she ever saw the symbol of Bill’s eye or anything in relation to him anywhere in Gravity Falls?? Especially the Society of the Blind eye symbol spray painted all over? After either learning to fear Bill or worship him in her upbringing depending on what their family did after the cult was disbanded? I wouldn’t blame her for high tailing it out of there and worrying for her and her sons life- (Fiddleford..Emma May..I am your biggest fans, but y’all have me bonkers sometimes) But also consider how most ex cult members naturally want to give the very opposite traumatic life that they lived to their child? If Emma May were to see semblances of what she relates to Ciphertology in Gravity Falls, I don’t have a hard time believing she was getting tF out of there for the sake of Tate’s well being & future

In short- hi, I now believe Emma May’s family was in a cult and the very idea of that will ruminate with me for awhile :D But also double hi?? Madeline DIxon looks vaguely similar to how I envisioned and draw my Emma May design? Coincidence, I think nOT :P

[demigirlravenqueen]

so I was watching darling dollz’s video on weird monsters high hate from back in the day, first off highly recommend watching it, very funny, very reminiscent of the time.

but there’s this one comment in the video that absolutely cracks me up “I can’t help but think of the homosexual culture in the background of all this” just because… well he’s not wrong. If you were obsessed with monster high as a kid you’re queer now! Hu I guess we were brainwashed, the more you know.

[noneorother]

Hi, I’ve only read one meta by you yet, but you seem to be just the right person to ask this: did you notice how many people in the scenes outside the bookshop are wearing orange, in series 2?

Any idea what that’s all about? Is it just esthetics, an echo of the bookshop‘s columns, or does it have a filmographical significance? Everytime I watch the show there seem to be more orange clothes, once you start seeing that, it’s crazy how many there are!

Hey thanks for the ask! I mean, you have until 2026 to read more of my drivel so; pace yourself! Orange clothing is definitely an *interesting* choice for extras in film. You almost never see it in background actors clothing because... it draws the eye! The fact that they included so much orange, yellow, and loud patterning in the extras in season 2 is a real decision to throw film tradition and S1 cannon out the window.

I would like to submit my own theory that the choice was made as a deliberate nod to time travel. But first, a little background.

Compare two crowd scenes on Whickeber street from each season: It's kind of nuts that even at microscopic resolution we get such a HUGE difference.

That's not to say orange is missing. Here are the only two extras wearing orange in S1, and they happen to be in the same scene in episode 2, when Newt and Shadwell meet for the first time, discussing occult beings "hiding in plain sight". (witches in this case)

We also get some pretty obvious bright orange in main characters in S1: Madame Tracy and Beelzebub. We meet Tracy in orange as she immediately reveals to Newt multiple hidden identities, see her again wearing orange hair when she communes with spirits, and finally all decked out in orange when she is being possessed by an angel (a person hiding inside a person). Beelzebub wears an orange sash and medal as a high ranking Duke of Hell, so orange is maybe their house colour, or a prestigious colour for hell in general, but after season 2 we know Beelzebub doesn't always have the same face, and is hiding intentions of their own.

Orange doesn't have much biblical significance, mostly because the colour orange was mostly seen as "fire" or "bright" coloured until way after the bible was transcribed, and orange dye wasn't really a thing in the European world until significant trade with east Asia developed. Here's the only other bright orange thing to appear all season, (in a deleted scene): Crowley hiding in plain sight, posing as a maintenance worker.

I think we might be able to draw the conclusion from season 1 that orange is a colour associated with the "Hidden Occult/Power". Not necessarily only hell, but more as something otherworldly, that's hidden in plain sight. (Interestingly, we never ever see Anathema or Agnes Nutter in orange. So I wouldn't say it's related to witches at all.)

In season 2 however, orange is everywhere. More specifically on extras' clothing and the outside of Maggie's record shop.

Maggie seems to be the only main character to wear bright orange herself (E2).

But this is by far my favourite one: in the back of the crowd of demons getting a Shax pep talk in S2E5, there's a regular human extra wearing bright orange sitting amongst the army, completely unnoticed by both demons and audience, observing the plan.

This really set off alarm bells for me, because there's a very Terry Pratchett precedent for powerful and unnoticed orange-wearing characters in the discworld series : the time monks.

Terry's character Sweeper seen here on the original cover of Night Watch. The time monks' clothing and general philosophy is based on Thai buddhist monks, who (like in many buddhists sects) wear donated, saffron-dyed robes in orange and yellow/red to symbolize flames of purity, and to separate them from the world of gross matter, like a fallen leaf from a tree.

In the discworld novel Night Watch, the time monks are responsible for monitoring and cleaning up the timeline, pruning it like a bonzai tree. They are everywhere and yet unnoticed, inside the flow of time yet not of it. And they are the ones who guide the main character through the process of being stuck after falling back through his own timeline, into his own past.

(Excerpt from the book where Sweeper is explaning time travel to Vimes).

Extras circling in the background are called "background actors" because they exist to not be noticed. Put in extras wearing orange/yellow and bright red, and suddenly you can track them, and notice how they are part of the crowd, but stand apart from it. You can notice when they go missing from one cut to the next, or appear to circle or jump between frames. Many extras, including the demon army watcher, also seem to be circling, and monitoring the goings-on in the world of Good Omens. Based on the meaning of orange from S1, it would seem these mere background actors are more than they appear to be. Could they even be checking up on unwarranted time distortions or timeline ruptures happening around a certain Bookshop...?

[deafsignifcantother]

sanctum

♥ summary: after being flabbergasted at meeting a deaf person for the first time, and after husk gives him a little lesson, angel approaches with an apology. based off of if music be the food of love woot woot but i changed the reader to be a little less obvious it's the other protag so it's easier to consume for people who aren't interested in the series bc i love my audience :3 ♥ relationship: angel dust and x deaf woman reader (platonic) ♥ word count: 2.2k ♥ notes: for @glitched-out-dusk , reader talks with alastor a lot bc i actively hc alastor knows asl and i'll never change that in my stories

The first time Angel saw you, he didn't try to communicate. He just analyzed you, staring you up and down, wondering if you were faking your Deafness. You stared at him back with a small smile. The moment only lasted a few seconds since Charlie decided it was time to butt in and start a conversation with you. Angel kept glancing over, his arms crossed, watching your body movements and how your eyes flicker around. You stare at others' lips, which is a weird habit, and though you have a clueless look in your eyes, you never look away from others' faces.

You are the first visitor in months after Sir Pentious. Since he came, Charlie hoped another visitor would seek redemption, and her positive affirmations came true. Angel only has expectancy this day. It's not like any other person will come knocking on the door.

His brain sinks into dirty thoughts while he watches you: how loud would you moan if you were doing the nasty? What would please a deaf girl most?

Husk can practically hear the porn star's thoughts, but Angel Dust's forcing those thoughts into his head to repress what he really feels. His heart decides on feeling a tinge of forsaken loneliness, he's going to be forgotten again, isn't he? But you're the one most isolated with the language barrier. You might be the forgotten one, right? Does he, selfishly, want that?

It is all Angel can do to imagine what you must be feeling, understand the situation you've found yourself in; dealing with everybody and losing social interaction. He's become a part of that cause, hasn't he?

Damn you. Damn you for forcing him to learn something new. Damn you for making him realize how empty he feels in the group and how he doesn't want you to feel the same way.

So sometimes, after you go to sleep, he'll stay up with Husk, both cooing at him and begging him to teach basic sentences.

Simple signs stick with Angel, even as drunk.

"Is hello that easy?" He asks. Husk just laughs.

"Some signs are a lot easier than you'd think."

Husk is rusty in his ability. He's only had to use the language a few times when he was alive, and he doesn't remember ever interacting with an actual Deaf person. Surely, he had learned it for a good reason. His soul is so long gone that he can't even remember.

But the alphabet sticks with him, and so do gambling-related signs. He picks apart those sentences and tries to teach Angel the words rather than their meanings when pieced together.

And one night, not even a week since you arrived, somebody tapped Angel's shoulder as he leaned over the bar's counter.

He turns, hair bouncing with the whip of his head, and he bites the inside of his lip when he sees you. He finger spells your name, and you can only give him a sympathetic smile in your sleepy haze.

"Good job," you sign to him before turning to Husk. "Do you have water over here, or is it in the kitchen?"

He stares at you blankly. You, water, pointing to the bar, pointing somewhere else, question face. "Yeah, give me a second."

Angel eyes you, taking notes in his head. Your hands move slower when you sign to Husk, compared to signing with Alastor, and you tend to sign high so Husk can focus on your hands instead of your eyes.

Holding back a yawn, you rub your eyes while sitting on a stool, taking the very full glass of water and sipping the top. If you sit here, they'd have to acknowledge your presence, but they need to be more confident to hold a conversation. What could they even talk about? Card dealing? Sex?

You look between them and smile to yourself, dropping your head and looking away in case they try to start signing. You're just here for water, not to be a test subject. The more they practice, the better they'll be.

A small groan leaves your throat. As you turn to Angel, he stops talking to Husk, closing his lips and searching your lifted hands. You sign your name, giving him your name sign, hoping he'd understand. When he stares at you in panic, you fingerspell your name and then wave it off, signing your name again.

Husk speaks up, dropping his voice. "It's her name. You don't gotta fingerspell it all the time."

Angel glances over, whispering as if you'd overhear. "Do I gotta use it everytime I see her? When do I use it?"

"It's a fucking name, you don't go around naming Charlie every time you see her."

Your eyes flicker back and forth between the two of them. Husk pauses, and so does Angel, almost in alarm.

"Idiots." You're not even sure they understood the insult, but you keep going. You grab the glass with one hand, signing with the other. "I know you filled this up just to keep me here."

Husk shrugs, pretending to understand, and grabs a bottle (copying your actions) and drinks it. Angel stares with red cheeks, awkwardly holding his own and mimicking the movement.

You fight a frown; they're so annoyingly cute.

So you chug the drink, closing your eyes as you do so. Angel would have preferred if you had stayed, but he had to say his goodbyes with his hand twitching as if he was waving wrong. You get up from the stool. "See you tomorrow," to Husk and a simple wave to Angel.

They both watch you walk off.

"Could have been worse," Husk mumbles.

"Great. What if she thinks I'm a dumbass." He puts his check in his hand, his elbow pressing hard into the wood of the counter. The words sound faint coming from Angel. The change of heart has Husk grinning behind a bottle. "What's come over you?"

He runs a hand through his hair. "Nothing, it's whatever."

.

Once again, once you wake up, you walk downstairs and head straight to the bar. But Husk isn't there. A prominent frown falls onto your face. The water you drank last night was the most comfortable liquid you've ever had the pleasure of drinking in Hell. It cleared your throat and overstayed its welcome in your need for hydration. You enter behind the bar, eyeing the crazy amount of bottles and the array of fridges. How does he remember all of these products? Perhaps he just drinks them and hopes they do something. Your hand runs across the area for mixing, feeling the sticky covers. Maybe he's not the best bartender.

You grab a glass, wiping off the rim just in case, and you eye the hose-like thing nearing the sink.

Husk watches from afar but your focus is too direct to perceive his presence. You push down on a trigger as lightly as possible, and a powerful burst of water fills the cup, wetting your arms. You place the glass on the counter and use a hand towel to dry yourself off. Is this thing stained? You hope not. It's so unclean back here.

You see the blurry colors of Husk in the corner of your eye before you look up at him. He can't help but give you a small, unadorned smile.

You figured the water out yourself; that's cute; the whole ordeal was a show he would have paid to watch.

He crosses your body and stands next to you, grabbing the hose from you and showing you the switch on it. It's not a button but a pressure-related scale. Your mouth forms an O.

Angel isn't the only one who wants you to feel welcomed.

Vaggie is having issues letting Angel be the second guest getting so close to you. She knows that he is undoubtedly someone who can't read the room and will fit sexual words into any conversation. His ability to read the room is either nonexistent or actively ignored. She watches him practicing signing with Husk whenever he can. Maybe he's trying to learn complete sentences before harassing you.

She also notices that whenever he hears the click of your shoes against the floor, he'll look up with excitement, clenching his fists to calm down his delight. He always tells himself, 'this is the day I'll actually talk to her.' The day doesn't come for a while since whenever he sees you, you're by Alastor. Alastor will tell you stories about his life (lies?) and things that happened in the hotel. He'll describe the nightshade assemblages before explaining how often their railings have fallen apart.

Angel can't understand anything that demon says but glimpses at your hand shows how comfortable you are around him. Angel stares expressionlessly at the two of you, signing back and forth, and your smiles, wide. The jealousy heats him constantly, but nothing ever comes from it.

It will take a while before he can talk to you like that. The realization puts him on the brink of giving up.

Beer dribbles downward, discoloring the tips of his chest fur. The bar is messy, as if it's not the middle of the day. His confidence rises when he drinks. All he needs is a moment where you're alone. Or not.

With all his might, he drags himself sloppily towards the lounge and almost flops onto the couch next to you. He steps over the threshold, inhaling deeply. Alastor eyes him with his every step, and you follow his gaze, staring at Angel. Angel braces himself by gripping the top cushions when he staggers close enough to the couch. He raises his right hand, fingers wiggling in thought. It almost comes across as a "wait."

Alastor's eyes go to you, half expecting you to look back at him and roll your eyes, but you continue your stern gaze at Angel.

Angel drops his head, looking up at you through his eyelashes, "I'm sorry."

The chandelier darkens his face from above, and gravity pulls down the fluff of his head that seems to have been unbrushed this morning. At your silence, his confidence melts leisurely down from his head to the tip of his fingers.

"Sorry for what?" You drop the smile that was on your face and adjust yourself to face him a little more. The major thing you notice is him signing with one hand comfortably.

"I'm sorry you only have him to talk to." Angel's interpretation of 'him' wasn't a point but a wave in the direction, almost a 'that guy over there.'

You laugh. "We are talking now, aren't we?"

More apprehension burns a hole in his chest. He finally stands up, using two hands instead of one. "I'm running out of signs I know."

"Are you sure?" You finally switch your position on the couch to face him completely, ignoring Alastor at last. Your eyes look him up and down. "You look tired."

Tired, he knows that sign.

"Just a little."

You hum, reaching out to him. Your fingers brush his fur, feeling the drip, trying to wipe it away. "Sure."

You unveil a smile that looks as if it were snatched from Charlie's at her bondings. But your eyes continue to stare intently. "You should go to sleep. Stop drinking so much. It's not even night."

"I got things to do."

"Really? Astonishing."

He snaps into focus. One day, he was worried about whether he was waving right, and days later, he signs simple sentences you understand. His vision aims at your eyes, the area he wonders he should actually be looking at.

His thoughts are interrupted by the clearing of a throat. "I'm afraid you're intruding," Alastor says. Angel frowns at him, and you follow his gaze.

"Alastor," you sign with a psah, "he's just practicing."

"Rather annoyingly, my dear. I don't know how you do it."

"With patience."

Patience, Angel doesn't know that sign. When you whip your head back and give a playful shrug, you lean in. "He's going to get pissy if I talk any longer. You're doing a good job, Angel. Don't doubt yourself."

You grab his hand, holding his pointy fingers and maneuvering his fingers to form a thumbs-up. If he doesn't understand half of your signs, at least he can understand that. And then, with a wink, you turn back to Alastor, who lets out a hum in disapproval at the whole ordeal.

The flicker of the lights went unnoticed as Angel marched over to Husk, a big smile on his face. He had left a manly collection of bottles surrounding the area, which Husk had politely taken care of.

Husk chuckles before Angel can even get close. "Yeah?"

"You won't believe it," Angel boasts. "I actually got her approval."

"Wow," it almost sounds sarcastic. "Good work."

Angel plops down on a stool, holding the edge counter to stretch out his hands, dramatically straightening his shoulders and putting pressure on the middle of his palms. "Now, whiskers, do I get a reward? I've been a good boy."

Husk grimaces as if he's smelled a foul odor. "Not excited for the day you learn how to sign that."

"She'll be ecstatic," Angel smiles at himself. "Won't even see it coming."

[princess-of-the-corner]

Relating to the Tiger-Bee stuff from yesterday but I am just imagining the anarchy of all this and then the the classes perspective, cos like.

OK, so Chloe & Juleka are being super heroes and having a great time in their new personas/identities that are "Completely" or near completely divorced from their civilian selves. & have enough free time to hang out 'a lot' in hero form; Queen Bee's particularly avid as this is literally the healthiest relationship she has.

There's definitely some flirting, but despite some genuine mutual interest, Tigress has someone she's pursuing in civilian guise and QB steps back. Juleka's boost in confidence gets her to finally shoot her shot with Rose but oops, Ali is here so that burns out.

Which circles into a nit of comfort turned flirting, turned QB making her move cos Chloe has zero chill when she likes someone and no grasp of what a healthy relationship looks like. So being a "Rebound" doesn't even register, besides Tigress already said she liked her, just that she'd been pursuing someone as a civilian for longer. Obviously with time, QB's exceptional-ness will surpass this nameless scrub.

Or to quote an 80s song:

The Stingers - Perfect Match Someone wonderful as you, needs someone as wonderful as me Lady can't you see, we're a perfect match, perfect match Side by side unified we make an ideal pair Where else can you find someone, so good, so right, so theeere! No one's half as good for you and no one is ever gonna be Together we would be a perfect a match

So that's happening and is very public, but it also kind of serves as spark for Rose to make her move at last. (Ali was a celebrity crush) Which oh boy, Juleka's apparently somehow found someone else but also can't introduce or explain them and then disappeared in a room with no means of leaving unless someone can jump ten stories to avoid the awkward conversation?

Weird.

Tigress explains to QB who after some strange facial contortions is like "This is fine, our civilian lives and hero lives are different people entirely. You said yourself how different you are. Its not cheating if we're different people." & like, Tigress isn't 'sure' it works that way, but her sense of self while not as skewed as Chloe's is definitely divided enough for it to logically work.

So she tries to explain this to Rose & well, yeah its not hard to put together who Juleka is now is it? But Rose is seemingly OK with it (Cos she finds Tigress a little bracing and isn't sure how to process that side of Juleka & has been shipping Tiger-Bee since minute one).

So all's well that ends well right?

Well not quite as this isn't exactly a well structured poly relationship put together by three people who know what they're doing. But its hanging together- Until Chloe's ID is discovered by them.

Chloe: So then you have been two timing? Juleka: What!? Chloe: If you see my personas as the same person despite everything then the same is true for you no?

Juleka: Dammit... Now I feel like a heel too. Rose: Well I didn't do anything so I think- Chloe: You did worse than nothing, you kept Juleka on standby until you thought you might lose her, how is that fair? She's a person not some mint condition collectible!

Juleka: Hey that's not fair! Rose: No I... I kind of did always just rely on the fact you'd be there. Chloe: Seems like I'm the one with the moral high ground.

Rose & Juleka: That is not remotely true and you know it.

The entire Class & Madame Bustier: (OO)

Cos like, from their perspective this is just rapid fire:

Juleka made her move, but on no it didn't pan out! Now she's seeing someone else? But she won't introduce them, so they might be fake! Now she's apparently dating two people!? What, how Juleka's a heartthrob?! & both girls somehow didn't know who the other is, but do know they exist? How does this work!? Wait, one of those girls she's seeing is Chloe!? How!? Chloe!? What!? How!?

Cue the trio realizing they have an audience and just fucking bailing.

So class is confusion, Tiger-Bee has marked their relationship publicly as "Complicated" and wow, so weird that drama is happening at the same time as Rose/Juleka/Chloe explosion.

Strange timing!

Anyway, I actually imagine that like, some shirt gets worked through, clumsily and fumbling, with a sort of "OK, maybe we all rushed into this & need to work on some stuff" attitude prevailing. All in time for season 2, with parental and medical drama ahoy! Also maybe some new heroes too!?

Juleka jumping out a 10 story building to avoid an awkward conversation is a Mood™

[anonymoushouseplantfan]

Meghan and Harry: Episode 1

Why?

Seriously, why?

Bet let’s start at the beginning. I live-blogged the documentary on my Notes app. I wasn’t originally going to post it because I’ve stopped blogging, but omg, this is truly, as Scobie would say, the endgame. Of course, it’s not the monarchy losing the game. It’s the Harkles, They’ve checkmated themselves.

This was a six-hour own goal. I knew it was going to end badly for them when I saw Sunshine Sachs dropped them. Without SS astroturfing positive coverage all over the place they were doomed anyway.  However, the content of the documentary takes it beyond doom and into truly apocalyptic. I bet it has great ratings. It’s a complete train wreck.

[Edited after first liveblog: Netflix is calling it the most viewed documentary ever, but that’s misleading. It barely held on to The Crown’s audience which was its base number, and I doubt it will have the same staying power. Still, not a bad The Crown companion piece for Netflix.]

But let’s break it down.

Episode 1

Starting with shots in an airport lounge and a rented house looking like absolute crap is the weirdest branding idea I’ve ever heard of. They don’t look relatable. They look pathetic.

[I’m editing this after finishing their series and this opening is even more baffling now. Episode 5 covers their last week of royal engagements. First, that segment is a lot more glamorous and exciting than these sad-sack iPhone videos and they really should have opened with that. Second, Episode 5 shows they were elated and super excited after finishing those engagements. They loved the crowd reactions and the press coverage and were over-the-moon with happiness. These videos are supposedly shot after that and they are all sad and mopey and wondering “how they got here.” It’s a huge disconnect.]

The intro music screams “cheap YouTube production.” So does the stock photo montage. Oh, now it’s home movies…why? This resembles the video tab of a super-basic Facebook couple circa 2014. Netflix paid millions for this? I don’t think they got paid $100m, but I bet Netflix shelled out a tenth of that. They still overpaid.

[Actually, maybe they didn’t. The Crown cost $13 million per episode and they likely paid $10 mil for six episodes of Harry and Meghan which got the same audience.]

Now they are in a house (theirs? Victoria Jackson’s? Oprah’s?) that looks like a Restoration Hardware showroom and they look slightly less pathetic but also like they are in couples’ therapy. Oh, she did know who he was. What a shocker. Dimwit doesn’t seem to realize the implications. I wonder if the filmmaker is secretly mocking them.

[The house is a random rental that is now for sale so I wonder if they get a sales commission for the product placement. https://www.forbes.com/sites/emmareynolds/2022/12/20/montecito-home-where-prince-harry-and-meghan-markle-filmed-documentary-lists-for-335-million/?sh=3285e16b74fa]

My husband is watching with me. He was very confused by Meghan’s comment about how “when the stakes are so high” it makes sense to get the story from them. He doesn’t understand why the stakes are high. I told her Meghan is a narcissist and he didn’t believe me. He used to watch her on Suits and despite my best efforts still thinks she’s Rachel Zane. Anyway, he thinks the house looks like an expensive rehab clinic and now I can’t get that out of my mind. I think they are trying to look like the happy couples in When Harry Met Sally but it does feel like luxury drug rehab therapy full of Restoration Hardware furniture. He also asked me what was going on with Harry’s pupils in the airport lounge video. He thought that was weird. I tell him it's cocaine, but he thinks it's Xanax or something like that.

Montage. “They are destroying us.” “This has always been bigger than us.” Oh, please.

Montecito sunset. I guess this is their backyard? It looked better in the real estate photos. Meghan croons “isn’t it beautiful?” and Archie agrees. All I can think of is that these idiots used to live in freaking Windsor Park and now they have my grandma’s yard (complete with chicken coop and everything).

Walking with Archie. Harry mutters “this is a great love story” while pushing an empty newborn stroller (why? Where’s the baby? Is Meghan carrying the baby?). This is surreal. 

Glamorous wedding shot (a melancholic reminder of past glories, frankly) and it turns into a closeup of Harry’s legs. Eew.

Meghan goes to the chicken coop. There’s a lot of cyclone fencing in this house. 

Back to the Restoration Hardware Showroom. Meghan is in sweats because…I don’t know. Weird Instagram family pics including a sad little birthday party for Archie. Good lord, my kids had better parties than the King’s grandson. This is so pathetic. 

Oh, no. She got the cheap Amazon patio furniture protectors. At least they match the cyclone fencing. 

More family Instagram. They are protecting their kids…by putting them in a documentary?

Did I just see Harry’s underwear??!! Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Between the sale of family pics, the family drama, and the plumber’s crack, I’m starting to feel that Meghan married her dad.

Harry talks about consent with regards to his children…but they are too young to consent so it doesn’t really makes sense. Guess he thinks it’s only his consent that matters.

My husband asks if Harry is an addict. I suspect it’s partly his demeanor and partly the inconsistencies in the narrative. Meghan said she’d prefer Prince Harry, and that showed how little she knew about the royals? Media exposure requires consent, but your kids are in a documentary? Harry doesn’t seem to realize that these things make no sense.

I feel the way they structured these confessionals with an invisible interviewer was a big mistake. Oprah’s presence during that interview served to validate their shady claims. She has a lot of credibility so when she nodded and smiled people trusted that. It made their statements credible. Here they don’t have that and all the contradictions are apparent.

They’re in the yard. Meghan is trying to channel Martha Stewart and failing. Martha wouldn’t have cyclone fencing, Megs.

Meghan in sweats in the Restoration Hardware showroom. BIG expensive drug rehab vibes. I bet this is what all the rich women wear at the Betty Ford Clinic. She complains that other people write books about them and “wouldn’t it make sense to hear our story from us?” Actually, Megs it’s becoming painfully clear that the tabloids and royal biographers have made you two look a lot more interesting, glamorous and stylish than you really are. Left to your own devices you two are boring as dry toast.

Really cool shots of London. Whoa, the city looks great! They spent money on these. They probably should have spent that cash making California look good. London is their past and California is their future and so far their past looks a lot cooler and more glamorous than their future.

Tig Instagram pic montage. I wonder who was taking these? She should have rehired the photographer because the family pics she has now are terrible. These were much better. Her Tig life feels a lot more upscale and aspirational than her current Montecito existence which goes to show what good photography can do. LOL, she used the airport with the Ghurka suitcase. Yes, she didn’t know she was going to meet a prince and that’s why she traded in her Rowena for the luggage brand the princes are known to use.

Pics from what appears to be Harry’s private Instagram. Interesting—wait, the Insta rumor was real? What the? Good lord why would you admit that in a documentary???!! This is freaking surreal. Whyyyyy?”

[To those who don’t know. There was a rumor back in 2016 that Meghan was a designated Soho House “companion” and the girls were “advertised” through a private Insta account run by Marcus. If you liked a girl you could DM Marcus and get an introduction…which seems to be exactly what Harry did. I don’t understand why they would mention this in a a documentary. Everyone bought the Violet von Westerwhatever blind date story. They should have stuck to that.]

I wonder how the mainstream audience is reacting to the new instagram story. The original story got a lot of coverage and a critical mass of people may start to wonder what the heck is going on. Even my husband is skeptical and I don’t think he knew the blind date story. 

BTW, the fact that she was following his account was known in Toronto as soon as the relationship story broke. Interesting.

“Friend” talking about Wimbledon. She’s actually Serena Williams agent so I’m not sure why she’s labeled as a friend. Wimbledon, blah, blah, blah. Lol, Again, Meghan’s old life appears a heck of a lot more glamorous than her current one. OMG, she told Serena’s agent she was going on a date with Harry??!! She was telling everyone wasn’t she?

Texting. She was posting all of this to Insta as it was happening which is absolutely hilarious. Actually, this whole documentary reminds of the early days of the relationship when she was posting everything on Insta and leaking stories to US Weekly constantly. They really wanted all of this material out there and waiting until they got paid for it probably took probably took enormous self discipline. Guess they took Doria's "don't give the milk away for free" advice to heart.

I just realized she’s wearing Trevor’s Cartier bracelet during her monologues and that cracks me up. 

More cheap stock footage. Seriously, how much did Netflix pay for this? Endless chat about their first date, which is nowhere near as interesting as they seem to think it is. They should have stuck to the blind date story. It was slightly more interesting. Bad Soho House selfie. 

Nacho shows up as a “friend” and he’s really Harry’s promo buddy. The Silver Tree person was also a Suits director. Everyone is a business contact in this documentary. All these white people in California resort wear are giving me White Lotus Season 3 vibes. 

Baseball hat pics in a messy kitchen…these two are hellbent on shedding whatever royal glamour they had left. Wait, isn’t this an old picture from Toronto? Like real old, first year in Toronto kind of old. What a weird choice.

“Marry someone who fits the mould instead of someone you are destined to be with” followed by a pic of Megs trying to look sexy in a wifebeater shirt. Does the director secretly hate them? He was born in a palace but he had a trailer park heart…she was a tacky actress from the wrong side of the tracks…they were destined to be together selling family pics to the tabloids just like dad…it’s a family traditioooooooon….

Old royal footage…Diana…Charles…childhood photocalls, which Harry seems to resent, but he’s doing the same to his kids in this documentary, so I really don’t understand what he’s thinking. The Diana footage is a big misstep because wow Di was charismatic and these two losers can’t hold a candle to her. 

Thirteen whole minutes of archival footage, most of it stuff his parents “consented” to, and lots of whining about press intrusion. Dude, you’re in a reality show. You’re putting your kids on television. Know where you stand.

Then a slew of private couple pics that they really should have kept private. Love the wallpaper. Bet that was Frogmore. The documentary is rather disorienting. I can’t tell what house they are in or when the pictures were taken.  

Boom. “So much of what Meghan is and how she is is so similar to my mom.” My husband actually rewinds this part to make sure he heard right. Pic of Diana with her kids in the garden and then another pic of Meghan with her kids in the garden. Very similar gardens. Not so similar women.

“He wanted to marry his mom?” my husband asks. 

Cringe video of Archie with a Diana photo. “I didn’t want history to repeat itself,” Harry says.

“He did want to marry his mom,” my husband says, amazed. “So he can save her this time.” Shaking his head. “This is nuts but it’s television gold. Did the brother marry his mummy too?”

“No,” I said. 

“And the brother is the one who gets to be king, right?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good.”

More monologue about their courtship. Lol, they really did leak the handholding painting to the press. Footage comparing Megs to Di and it’s painfully obvious she’s nowhere near as charismatic. 

Diana’s death and more archival footage. This documentary is a humongous downer, isn’t it? Childhood friend of Harry’s I’d never heard about. Was he invited to the wedding? I don't think so. Strong White Lotus vibes coming from this guy.

Diana’s funeral. Harry’s drug scandal. Hellraiser Harry. Bitching about paparazzi. No mention of Vegas, which is weird. You’d think that would be the big traumatic story about media intrusion. I guess he only wants to blame the UK media and Vegas was a TMZ story in the states and the UK media wasn’t allowed to print the pictures so it doesn't fit his narrative.

More whining about royal photocalls…except for the Lesotho photo ops which Harry didn’t seem to mind. Bit of a disconnect there because those were royal pr as well. In fact, it was the way the royals rehabilitated his image after the drug scandal. Seems like Harry only hates the royal pr he can’t personally monetize. Why isn’t Sentenbale getting a shout out? You’d think he would plug the charity here (Audi, Soho House, and JP Morgan got very obvious brand placements) but if he did I missed it. [Edited: Should have added the house to the list of product placements]

LOL, Prince Seesio straight out says that the Lesotho vacation was a response to the bad press in the UK. They should have briefed him better. I don’t think he was supposed to say that.

Botswana vacay with Meghan. Wow, the Daily Mail made this look a lot more glamorous than it actually was. This wasn’t exactly glamping, was it? Were there showers? No, best to not go there. No charities are mentioned. No mention of the “love” bracelets, just a Daily Mail article shot.

More whining about press intrusion then private Halloween pics that really should have stayed private. Lol, they went to a party with Eugenie after the relationship was leaked. Tell me you leaked the relationship without telling me you leaked the relationship. I bet Meghan wanted to post this on her Insta and Jason didn’t let her. I wish they’d let her. The press reaction to the Call of Duty costume would have been epic.

Harry doesn’t seem to be catching on. If you were in disguise and no one knew you went to this party except Meghan, Jack and Eugenie, then who exactly leaked it, Harry? Because we knew about it a day later.

That’s a Toronto newspaper, the same one that had the leak about Meghan following Harry’s private account. At the time the evil British tabloids were actually under the impression Harry was still in England and had cancelled a trip to visit Toronto.

The other outlet who got the scoop early was our old friend US Weekly, and the byline was by a then-unknown gossip hack called Omid Scobie. Given what we know now about their relationship with Scobie. Yep, I think these two just confessed to leaking stories about their own relationship.

The DM had to quote the Toronto paper and US Weekly when they finally broke the story on the other side of the pond.

Interesting that Meghan and Harry’s “new and improved super real love story” is the one that was being leaked in Toronto and not the one that the evil UK tabloids had supposedly uncovered through nefarious means. I don’t understand why they are changing the story, though. The blind date wasn’t a tabloid rumor. It’s what they themselves said during a BBC interview. 

End of episode. Overall, I feel this was a huge missed opportunity. Not much about his work in Africa or her UN/One Young World work. We hear about Harry’s photography but barely see it. It’s their chance to tell their story and their story is “we’re boring and tacky people who sell pics of their kids.” I feel they really wanted to put the “real” story of how they met out there—the IG dog pic, the Call of Duty costume, the crappy Soho House selfie. It reminds me of her old Working Actress blog where she was constantly stressing how unglamorous acting life really was. 

I’m not blown away by the quality either. Their home movies feel cheap and curiously inauthentic. They should have run everything through a filter to make it feel coherent and cohesive. The stock/archival footage is sometimes great (London and the royal family), sometimes cheap (Soho House), sometimes missing (California), and sometimes misleading (pap shots of Chelsy, Cressida and Kate that are narrated as though Meghan was the victim). 

The documentary lacks the authoritative tone most documentaries have. You really feel it’s “their” side of the story and not the “real” story. I think the problem is how they switch from the couples’ personal narrative, confessionals, and personal pics into historical pictures and public royal narratives. The institutional credibility of the royal shots makes the personal material feel biased and unreliable. The videos of Charles and the kids interacting with photographers, in particular are massive own goals because they remind the viewers that everything, including Meghan and Harry’s pictures and videos, includes invisible photographers. It’s just that the Harkles are hiding that from us, whereas the royals are upfront about it. The confessionals in the rehab setting, in particular, were huge mistakes, imo. They feel like reality show confessionals (like the ones the Housewives franchise uses) and viewers are trained to see those as unreliable narrations. Using someone else's house was also a bad idea. It feels fake.

The whole thing feels very chaotic and unconvincing. My husband thinks they are both addicts and I remember thinking that when they first started doing their beanie hat appearances. I ask him why and he cites the dilated pupils, contradictory narratives, family resentments and couch-surfing at other people’s housing. He says it’s standard junkie drama.

Other family members are watching and most of the group chat (lawyers and social workers) reaches the same conclusion: even the royals have junkie kid drama. The social worker says she has tons of clients like Meghan and the all sound the same. “They’re trying to destroy us.” “It’s a great love story.” “I don’t know how we ended up here.” “What happened.” They are all more interested in having their side of the story validated than in actually fixing the problem and they just repeat the same family dynamics over and over again. That’s why Harry is showing us pics of his kids in the house/garden/vacation right after complaining that his parents showed the world pictures of him, his bother, and his cousins in the house/garden/vacation.  She noticed that he posted a pic of himself in military gear (the Halloween pic) as an adult and a similar one of himself a kid. He also posted skiing pics with the royals and then similar pics in the sand in California. She’s says he’s basically re-living his childhood and trying to get it right this time. 

I didn’t expect many people in my family would be interested in this, but they are all having fun psychoanalyzing these two. Everyone thinks this is Harry rewriting his past so he gets to save his mum this time. Meghan’s motivations are less clear. No one believes she didn’t know who he was. The psychologist says it’s weird that Meghan’s side of the love story was just “it was exciting…we just got to know each other….” Her motivation is not that clear, although there was that one story about wanting to be protected from the elephants in the tent. Opinion is split with half the chat thinking she wanted to be rescued by Prince Charming and the other half (the psychologists and social workers) thinking that as an actress her fantasy would be A Star is Born. The psychologist says those two are not that different. In the Prince Charming fantasy you get rescued by an individual and in the Star is Born fantasy you are rescued by an institution, i.e., the studio or Hollywood. She thinks her fantasy was A Star is Born and that’s why she’s so resentful now. I think we’d discussed that in the blog before. Interesting to hear someone else saying it. Meghan didn’t want a love story where she was rescued by Harry, she wanted a Hollywood success story where she was acclaimed as a star by the palace. She didn’t get that and that’s why she’s still upset even though she got the Prince Charming love story. That’s not what she wanted. Harry got the fantasy he wanted, so he’s not as upset. 

Not much support for the theory (mine) that she was manipulating him consciously. Everyone seems to think it’s a case of two mental illnesses falling in love, along with junkie drama. That’s why Harry is so amazed at their “fantastic love story.” He wanted to marry his mum and she wanted to be his mum. That’s a pretty unlikely combination. 

I’m very curious about the “friends” featured in this episode. No Jess, no Markus, no Misha Nonoo, no one from the Suits cast except Abigail Spencer, and no Janina. Everyone seems to be a business partner of some sort. Cory was missing also, but it makes sense that she wouldn’t mention him. Reitman’s wasn’t mentioned either but I guess she doesn’t want to give them press.

I don’t understand why they didn’t lean into the charity work angle. She was doing One Young World and he was working Africa. Her "You can be Both" essay wasn't mentioned either and I feel they should have led with that instead of going with her “single girl trip” and the not-so-glam Botswana vacation. I also don’t understand why we didn’t see more of Harry’s supposedly amazing wildlife photography. After all, they are trying to build a career as documentary producers. You’d think that would be relevant. The big takeaways from this episode are: Meghan is mummy and I saw history repeating itself so I had to save her. “Save Mummy” seems like a weird narrative to craft a brand around, but my husband is right. It’s television gold.

On to the next episode.

[lunathebee]

THE MOON BOYS WITH A ADHD S/O

A/n: I have no words to justify myself; I did not avoid this request, nor did I disrespect the anon who requested it. This is just the war between me and my really bad memory problem (and stacks of endless work). Thank god, my brain just randomly decided to remember this.

Warning: Like the title said, not everyone can relate to this HC, and if so, please don't throw hate or say "Steven would never do that" or "I think Marc hates it," etc. Please, my masterlist has plenty of HC for everyone; leave this one for the people who really need it, aye?

🍓 Steven Grant 🍓

There wouldn't be much of a problem, I think.

If you told him you have ADHD, Steven would be a bit surprised—not because you had it, but because it is something new to him.

Man spent hours reading books and conducting research to learn more about you.

And I swear at some point, he would find himself mumbling symptoms with wide eyes.

"...zoned out or some would talk really fast—wait, I do that."

I don't know why, but I always feel connected to Steven in a different way, like the way he acts isn't just for quirky scenes or to make the audience laugh.

I truly (with my whole heart and deepest respect) believe Steven is somewhere on the same side as you (not ADHD, but the chance of him having another condition that affects him is high).

So yeah, I think you guys would share some similar moments together.

Steven would help you with many things and is always so kind and nice.

He takes a special interest in your fidget toys, so he hopes you don't mind that.

🍓 Marc Spector 🍓

"What is that?"

You have to explain it to him.

"Oh...Oh...Okay...Um Uh huh"

So serious and focused, Marc loves you, so if there is something about you that he doesn't know yet, he will try his best to understand.

I don't think he would be bothered by it that much.

Always keep an eye out just in case you guys are in public and someone looks at you "weird."

He's one of those grandparents who says, "You used to LOVE this thing because you told me that when you were 5, so I bought you 2000 stuff of it even though you're now an adult."

Marc might be a bit confused, but he's got the spirit!

Your shirt doesn't feel "right?" Maybe a jacket would be better?

You're feeling overwhelmed by your homework?That's okay, let's take a break.

Overall, I would say Marc really tries his best to make everything around you guys more comfortable for you.

Marc = best lover <3

🍓 Jake Lockley 🍓

I won't lie to you; this is just my brutally honest opinion on Jake.

At first, he would get bothered by it and might even be annoyed on some days.

Jake doesn't understand why and how on earth you can't make a decision on picking anything, or how you always say you're going to do this thing and then completely forget about it 15 minutes later.

But he has more important things to deal with, so he doesn't show that he's bothered by them.

"Bae! Why don't you throw the empty toothpaste away?" Jake asked one night

"I'm so sorry, I keep forgetting about that. Sorry, babe, I'm sorry."

Jake decided to let it go; it was just toothpaste, right? What is the big deal?

And then later on, he noticed you lingering in the bathroom a bit longer, how you always touch the toothpaste to make sure it's not empty, and how you also DOUBLE check that.

Everything turns into a big mess when Jake sees you having a breakdown from your trip to the supermarket.

When you tell him you went there to buy toothpaste but forgot, and when you DID remember, you can't remember if the tube is empty or full despite checking almost every day, his heart breaks.

Jake would hold you and comfort you, feeling guilty that he was the one causing you so much distress.

After that, he will have a totally different view of you and your chronic condition.

Jake will just silently do his job if he ever sees you forgetting something or leaving something randomly on the kitchen table.

He listens to you talk about 50 hobbies and plenty more.

Jake learns how to adapt just fine; your condition doesn't define you; you're his lover, not a burden.

[heyidkyay]

Tag along |

Part two

You asked for a part two and so I delivered! Wasn't too sure where to lead with it at first so.. hopefully it's up to par and you actually enjoy it! Anyway, thank you for the love on part one!!:)

Summary: (From anon) Just wondering if you would ever consider writing a Matty fic where he falls in love with a fan in the audience of a show?

Warnings: food, brief mentions of anxiety

Part One

--

The concert drew to an end. As all things tended to do. And still, I found myself sort of floating.

It was strange, I just wanted to simply stand there whilst the rest of the crowd ebbed around me, slowly making their way out of the pit, back to reality.

Matty and the rest of the band had since departed, the stage now deserted after having blessed the crowd with an encore. That last song had been something else.

“What was that last one?” I heard myself ask out loud, blinking out of the hazy daze.

Rosie glanced back at me from over her shoulder, plaited hair falling down her back. “What’dya mean?”

Lewis squeezed my shoulders as he and his boyfriend passed us by, I smiled up at him and gave them each a hug goodbye, already having promised to talk again soon after having swapped numbers a little while earlier.

Rosie was still waiting for my reply once the couple had set off, working their way through the restless mass made up of forlorn fans. I actually could relate, which was something I didn’t think I’d be experiencing this time around.

She quirked a brow.

I took a second to sort through my many thoughts. It still felt as though my mind was whirling, sort of like coming down from a long-lived euphoric high.

“That song- the last one they sung. What was it?” I replied, and I could feel the slight crease in my forehead as I zeroed in on her.

Rosie’s face gave away her evident surprise to my sudden interest but she was quick to replace it with an enthusiastic grin. “The Sound. You liked it then?”

I found myself nodding at her lightly as I hummed my approval. I could actually still hear the song’s lyrics, playing on a loop in my head. Still hear his voice.

I snapped out of it though the second that I realised something was off. My head snapped to my left then to my right, eyes darting about. “Wait, where’s Tea?”

I watched my younger sister’s eyes widen as she quickly came to the same conclusion. Frowning, her gaze drifted all over the place in search. “Tea?” She called out, but only the strangers surrounding us glanced back.

“Tea?” I repeated, only this time a little louder. But still, no reply. 

Fuck. I dragged a hand through my hair, searching. Oh god, was I so fucked…

“Tea?” I called out again, panic rising in sudden waves throughout my chest. “Tea!”

Rosie was now a little way a way, shouting out her best mates name too, jumping to look for her over the heads of the slowly dispersing crowd. “T-ea?” I heard her drag out, my heart clenched she looked as distressed as I felt.

I turned towards the nearest group and tried to swallow down some of my hysteria. If I’d lost her… shit, I dreaded to even think of what would occur.

“Have any of you seen a girl?” I asked them, eyes still scanning the masses. 

I huffed slightly, realising that that probably hadn’t been the best question to ask. There must’ve been over a couple thousand girls in this very arena. I swallowed again thickly, my anxiety was palpable.

“I mean- she’s about a head shorter than me. Brown hair. Blue top.” I attempted to describe, using a hand to taper off her height against me, but they all just shook their heads in return. “Right, okay.” I sighed in defeat, already moving onto the next as I briefly thanked them.

But there were only more shaking heads.

More, “No, sorry”’s.

I wanted to scream. How had things flipped this quickly?

I took a moment to simply inhale, knowing it wouldn’t do anyone any good if I was an inch away from a meltdown. Tea was a big girl, she could take care of herself. In fact, she’d probably just gotten swept up in all the excitement and was already waiting near the exit for us. 

“Y/n! Y/n!”

My head spun in every which direction, trying to place my sister’s voice in the sea of people.

No, no. 

No, ah no, no- 

There!

And there Tea was too, stood right beside her!

I thanked every star in the nights sky as I darted my way over to them, blood rushing in my ears now that the bubble of panic had finally burst. I gripped them in a tight hug the second I could, my relief evident. 

“I swear to every God- I am this close to having an actual aneurysm!” I all but panted to the two teenage girls, and as I held up a hand to demonstrate just how close I’d actually been I could see that my hands were shaking. I willed myself to take a couple deep breaths, calming the slightest. “Don’t do that again. Please? I can not afford to die at the hands of either of your mothers. I want an open casket at my funeral and something tells me they wouldn’t leave me a pretty sight if I lost either one of you.”

Tea gave me an impish smile, looking truly apologetic as she gave me a sorry, whilst Rosie merely snorted at my dramatics, clearly over the whole catastrophe now.

“Oi, you three.”

I jumped out of my fucking skin at the sound of the sudden deep voice which had come from right behind us. Still riding out the adrenaline and anxiety(!!) I’d just been drowning in, I leapt around, eyes wide, only to come face to face with some big burly bloke. I lifted my head to meet his eyes.

“Christ! I just about pissed myself!” I breathed out, placing a hand over my erratic heart and noting how he gave the three of us the once over. My brow pinched. “Look mate, can we actually help you?”

“You the girl from earlier?” Was all he replied, his face as blank as canvas whilst he jutted his chin out towards me.

“Um…” My mouth opened and shut in confusion, severely caught off guard. He was like a stone wall of a man, it was hard to even fathom him being an actual human too and not just some robot or emotionless machine. Thankfully Rosie was there to save the day. As per usual, at this rate.

“She is. Why, who’s askin’?”

I glanced over towards my sister and bit back a small chuckle at the suspicious expression she now wore. Completely uncaring for the fact that this guy was three times her size.

He stared her down. She stared right back. 

I ground my teeth together then, frowning as I crossed my arms over my chest to join my younger sister in this weird face off.

“Sorry, have we done something wrong?” Came Tea’s polite little voice, and the bloke and I both turned slightly towards her, whilst Rosie continued scowling, undeterred.

“No,” The man said, moving an arm up to gesture out over towards a point a little further away. It was that motion that allowed me to catch the laminated tag on the sleeve of his black polo. Security. Oh. “Someone backstage asked after the girl from the show’s end. The one who spoke with the lead singer.”

My head reeled back at this information. “What’s that meant to mean?”

But both Tea and Rosie were already squealing quietly to one another behind me, talking in that squeaky high pitch tone of theirs. My brow furrowed further as I averted my attention, not even questioning my sister’s sudden change in mood. It wasn’t anything I wasn’t used to at this point, lets be honest.

I had to withhold a massive sigh.

The security guy gave no reaction to the girls- probably used to it by now too, having had to deal with thousands of them at each show, I could only suppose.

He glanced towards me, “I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to catch sight of you to be honest, but you’re pretty hard to miss.”

I felt the flush as it crawled its way up my neck, recalling the state I’d just been in. I must’ve looked a right twat, screaming and shouting about for Tea. Of all the names in the world, hey?

But I fought my way through the mortification, smiling up at the bloke as though it was a regular occurrence.

“Oh yeah? Well, I’m glad something came out of it then.”

The man’s demeanour cracked the slightest bit. I saw it in the tiniest curl of his upper lip, a barely there smirk. I grinned victoriously.

He then hummed, “So, if you’d like to follow me backstage?”

My grin fell as quickly as it had came. But the girls’s squeals only grew louder.

“Backstage.” I reiterated slowly, blinking up at him owlishly.

The bloke nodded just once. “Backstage.”

“Like now?”

“Now.” He replied, that emotionless mask making him hard to argue with.

“Right…”

Rosie shook my shoulders, practically bouncing in her stance. “We’re gonna meet the band! Oh my fucking God, Y/n, we’re actually gonna meet them!”

I looked over at her, alarm swimming in my eyes as I tried to match her enthusiasm. “Seems so.”

—

I was a jittery mess.

Who the fuck knew just how many corridors and hallways there were hiding around back here… I don’t think anyone could even begin to comprehend just how much work seemed to be happening either. Mics, cameras, crew: backstage was a proper hectic mess. 

God, Backstage.

Because shit! We were actually behind the stage! As in, on our way to meet the cocky headed twat of a singer who had spotted my ugly mug in an arena full of them.

How? Why?

What was I even supposed to do- to say- to people like them?

It seemed like Rosie and Tea were just as bad though, if not more so. I’d never seen Tea so pale, and my sister… well, she had yet to utter a single word since we’d been given these badge-things. I flicked at it aimlessly. I didn’t think I’d ever seen her so quiet. The two friends were practically clinging to each other now, all moon-eyed as they surveyed their surroundings.

I had to swallow past the lump in my throat, as well as the oncoming nerves, and instead decided to try and attempt to converse with the woman the security bloke had passed us over to. If only to distract me.

“Sorry, can I ask, what’s it that you do here?”

I hadn’t known what else to ask, if I was being honest. Work seemed like the easiest topic, other than the weather, as well as having been the first thing that had come to mind.

She didn’t seem to mind it though, smiling politely over at me as she directed us down another hallway and past some sound technicians.

“You’re fine, lovie. I’m just an assistant of sorts really, help out where I can. Mainly in it for the music and the money though.” She said with this gorgeous sort of laugh that had me settling slightly.

“So you must get to meet all sorts of people then.” I prompted and it helped us fall easily into a real conversation, her describing some of the faces she’d encountered throughout the years she’d worked at the arena, as well as reliving a couple of wild tales about what typically went on behind the scenes.

She had me in actual stitches over this one Coldplay story that had occurred a few years prior- apparently Guy couldn’t hold his drink as well as he claimed he could, which had led to the fire-brigade being phoned and a head having had to be extracted from a toilet bowl.

So by the time we’d come to a stop, I’d almost completely forgotten the reason as to where we’d been headed to in the first place.

“Shoot me.”

I peered over my shoulder at Rosie with a confused frown, wondering what had caused the painful croaking sound she’d just made. But then, well…

“Shoot you, now why would we do that?”

My eyes closed instinctively at the sound and I was thankful that I still had my back  towards the doorway of the room we’d since paused by, because I was already able to recognise that voice of his. Which in itself was baffling beyond belief. But also, I didn’t think I’d ever be prepared to look at him again. Not this soon at least. 

Rosie squeaked at having just been spoken to by her idol and I really couldn’t help the snort which escaped my mouth. Because if there was one reason for older siblings to exist then it was merely to laugh at their younger ones expense.

“Ah, come on, darling! Don’t laugh at her, she’s just starstruck, ain’t you? Not everyday you get to see a face as fit as mine.”

“Or meet someone who talks completely out of their arse.”

That was the voice I did eventually turn back around for, wanting to place the person who had Matty huffing in a strop.

“Oh fuck off would you, George?”

George? George…

Oh! Immediately my eyes found Tea and the poor girl’s mouth was hung wide open, tongue practically licking the carpeted floors as she stared at the band’s shorthaired drummer. If Rosie wasn’t in the same position right now I’d bet my life on the knowing that she’d lord this over her best friend for the rest of time. 

“Oh no, please do continue! I’d honestly love to hear more.”

Every face in that room darted towards me then and I had to hold strong, fighting to keep the small smirk that had taken hold instead of cowering under their sudden stares. Fuck, this whole groupie thing was well hard. Internally, I cackled to myself. I couldn’t even begin to imagine. 

“I like her.” The drummer announced with a small shrug of his shoulder, pointing over at me with a cardboard box full of- was that chow-mein?

“Ooh, any more of that going ‘round?” I asked him, my stomach gurgling at the very smell. “I’m fucking starved- drink always has a funny way of turning me into a ravenous teenage boy.”

“Yeah, I like her too.” Another announced, and I titled my head over towards the long haired man who was lounging on a bright orange settee. “And you lot can just go ahead and help yourself, always get enough to feed a tiny nation.”

I grinned, thanking him as I swanned past Matty, who stood almost bewildered, to gravitate towards a large table full of takeout.

“This what us common folk have been missing out on then, hey? Who would’ve guessed that rockstars had a thing for Chinese food rather than just sex and alcohol.”

“Um, young ears?” Someone else chimed in.

My head lifted and landed on a tall figure who was now leaning in another doorway, one which led elsewhere I presumed. I seemed to remember myself then, but waved the blond’s weary caution off. “Oh yeah, they’re all good. Probably said much worse in truth.”

A light laugh came from beside me and I smiled over to my right, already knowing just who it would be. “Alright there, Curly?”

“Me? I’m great. Figure you are too, making yourself right at home there.” Matty retorted, grinning wickedly as he watched me steal a few dumplings.

I shrugged, wiggling my brows as I bit into one. “Have to, I’d be shitting myself otherwise. Intimidating lot you are.”

The long haired bloke just snorted loudly whilst George gently beckoned Rosie and Tea further into the room, nodding his goodbyes to the woman who’d led us over. I shouted out mine too just before she could disappear behind the frame and received an amused smile in turn. I frowned slightly, wishing I’d had the foresight to grab her name beforehand, she’d really been great.

“Alright, I’ve got to know your name.” Orange settee resident all but demanded, holding his fork up at me. Seemed we shared a brain.

I smiled, moving across the floor to join him. 

“Give you mine, if you give me yours.” I quipped, having nestled myself into the sofas other end, tucking a foot up under me.

He cocked an eyebrow, mouth pulling up at both sides.

“Wait, you two were actually serious when you said she’d never heard of us?” George quizzed the girls with a gleeful sort of laugh, vastly different to that of his husky low voice. 

It was then that Rosie decided to shake herself out of the dreamlike daze she’d been living in, visibly taking a deep breath before she answered him. 

“Um, yeah,” Another breath, then she plastered on a smile and carefully took perch on a nearby ottoman, Tea sliding in quietly beside her, eyes still honed in on a certain drummer. “Yeah, we all but dragged her here- mum wanted us safe and what not, but we didn’t want her spoiling our fun. So…”

“So big sisters do come in handy. Or at least I’m assuming.” Bearded bloke concluded and I withheld a long sigh whilst the girls nodded at him.

“Alright, seeing as we’ve established the fact that I’m in desperate need of a debrief. Can I get all of your names now? ‘Cause I can’t keep calling you bearded orange bloke, and you tall one in the doorway.”

“Bearded orange bloke?” Settee man with the fork parroted under his breath, obviously not too big a fan of the nickname. Matty was laughing away though as he threw himself between us the two of us, kicking his feet up on the coffee table after having gifted the girls a couple cans of coke. I tired to hide my endeared smile by inhaling another dumpling.

“That the best you could come up with, really? What name did you have for our G then?” Matty questioned me, and I had to pull all my focus on answering him instead of how our arms were now touching ever so slightly or the way his brown eyes were hyper-focused on me.

I hummed around a mouthful of food whilst nodding. “Don’t make fun, and I already knew George’s.”

“Wait, hang on. You can fuck right off. How’d you know his name and not any of ours?” Matty exclaimed, wrinkling the skin between his brows, seeming properly offended by the mere idea.

George looked far too pleased with himself though as he continued to tuck into his food and I glanced up just in time to catch my sister’s look of warning, but paid her no mind. 

“The pit is a place of the people.” Is what I decided on, rather than opting to further embarrass the two teens. My gaze landed on the drummer as I spoke and I gave him a wry little smile before I continued on, “There were lots of lovely looking girls out there screaming your name.”

“Ah, what can I say?” George gave us all a put-upon sigh, but he was smirking. “Although can I just say, it’s a right shame you didn’t happen to join them.”

“Who’s saying I didn’t?” I quipped right back. But my teasing was cut short when Matty piped up, apparently feeling a tad left out now.

“Come off it. Did you see how flustered she got when I nabbed her attention?” He challenged his bandmate with a delighted grin, leaning further into my side as he did. His dark playful eyes flicked up at me, mirthful and alive, they really had a way of pulling you in.

“Uh, maybe because you singled me out in a crowd of around ten thousand people?”

“Twenty actually.” The smartarse responded, and I tried not to outwardly react when his hand came to rest on my knee. “Full house tonight.” He squeezed lightly. 

The rest of the band whooped loudly and it was sweet to see them so sincerely proud of themselves.

“Twenty thousand?” Rosie parroted, looking baffled by the sheer thought.

“Mad, ain’t it?” Matty grinned at her and I smiled behind a loose lock of hair when she blushed, having caught his full attention. I felt her pain. It was a lot, being trapped under his intense stare.

“Insane.” She breathed, and thankfully Tea was the one to save her.

“Does it ever get overwhelming?” The girl appeared a little startled by her own question when everyone turned to look towards her, and she found herself spiralling to clarify, eyes shifting back and forth between us all. “You know, being up there. In front of that many people.”

I let myself relax further into the settee whilst the boys begun to converse with the girls, telling them funny tales and answering their many, many questions. And the girls seem to follow soon after, gaining the courage to poke fun and simply enjoy themselves in the presence of their favourite people. 

When we first got asked to head backstage, this was far from the image I’d pictured. 

But still, I wouldn’t have changed it for anything in the world. Especially when Matty’s grip seemed to tighten on my knee almost subconsciously whenever he chattered away, gesturing this way and that, but his hand never moving.

[jokeroutsubs]

[ENG translation] Is Joker Out a possible antidote to the youth's obsession with turbofolk music?

Original article written by Aleksandar Dragaš and published in Jutarnji List newspaper and online on 19.01.2024.

English translation by @moonlvster and proofread by @itinerantbookworm (Instagram)

The most wanted Slovenian music "export"

Is Joker Out a possible antidote to the youth's obsession with turbofolk music?

They have experience performing abroad and a contract with the powerful Virgin Music: nobody from this region has had that kind of start to their European journey since Ivo Robić.

Last autumn Joker Out had two rapidly sold-out concerts in Tvornica Kulture, at which youngsters fainted and sang along like a chorus with their favourites, regardless of whether the songs were in Slovenian, English, or Croatian (Serbian).

The Croatian youth's mass hysteria around the Slovenian pop-rock band Joker Out started after their performance at Eurovision. However, no matter how young Bojan Cvjetićanin (son of the Croatian basketball player Danko Cvjetićanin¹), Jure Maček, Kris Guštin, Jan Peteh and Nace Jordan were, even prior to their Eurovision performance they had already published two albums, 'Umazane misli' and 'Demoni', and packed clubs and even concert halls around Slovenia, like Cvetličarna in Ljubljana.

¹Bojan isn't related to him, his parents are Branko and Snežana Cvjetićanin

More popular than Laibach

In the meantime, they gained experience through concerts closer and farther abroad and scored a direct contract with the powerful British Virgin Music. In short, practically nobody from this region has had that kind of start to their European journey ever since Ivo Robić left Opatija, went to Germany and signed with Polydor, or since Laibach signed with Mute, even though Joker Out was far from winning Eurovision, like the more experienced Italian glam-rock band Måneskin accomplished.

Since Joker Out performed in the Stožice Arena in Slovenia, an extensive live album has been published through Virgin Music, which offers practically all of their studio songs in live versions. And that is the most appropriate introduction to Joker Out's music for older folks for whom this young band isn't (or hasn't been) in focus. This craze of the young audience for Joker Out might remind them of the teen ecstasy caused by Plavi orkestar's first two albums. Of course, there are differences, because Joker Out still hasn't reached that level of popularity and they have no connection to Bijelo dugme like Plavi orkestar did, nor do they come from Sarajevo but from Ljubljana. We don't live in the same country anymore either, but because of that it's even more interesting to note that Joker Out is experiencing sucess outside of Slovenia, Croatia included, which is usually not that inclined to like Slovenian musical performers. You can already say that Joker Out has become more famous in Croatia than Buldožer, Pankrti, Lačni Franz or Laibach were during their time.

Even more importantly, Joker Out - enthusiastic and attractive, melodic, and even danceable - offer a possible antidote to the youth's obsession with "turbofolk music" or "estrada(stage) performers"; even with their pop production, which tends to neglect electric guitars, it's clear that Joker Out's songs, sound, instrumentals, image make them equally a rock and a pop band modelled after the Killers, Franz Ferdinand, Imagine Dragons, One Republic, the Kooks. Something similar applies to the Serbian band Buč Kesidi, who have gained visible popularity in Croatia as well, and we're still waiting to see if some young Croatian (pop) rock band will see similar success. Maybe one will "emerge" from the praiseworthy festival of Croatian high school bands 'Superval'. As a reminder, Joker Out "emerged" as the winner of the third season of the Slovenian 'Špil liga', a similar festival meant to promote highschool bands started by Kino Šiška in Ljubljana over 10 years ago.

European tour

The problem is that Zagreb doesn't have Kino Šiška as the city's cultural institution, or abundant subsidization of clubs such as Tvornica Kulture, Močvara and Vintage Industrial Bar, so now our jaws are dropping in shock because our youth is caught in the paws of turbofolk music while Joker Out, after a full Stožice Arena, at the beginning of March starts their tour around Finland, Germany, United Kingdom, Italy, Belgium, France, the Netherlands, Sweden, Poland and the Baltic republics. The first two concerts in Helsinski are already sold out.

It's great that a young pop-rock band, which happens to be from Slovenia, but also due to the cultural politics there, became popular in their home country and outside of it. A bonus is that Joker Out shows that new sucessful rock stories are still possible today, which is a paradigm that goes far beyond Slovenian borders. The problem with Croatia is that not a single young (pop) rock band today can hold a concert in Arena Zagreb, let alone set off around Europe. We should look up to Slovenia, with a question if Smrdljivi Martini, a band from Zagreb who recently competed in Superval, could become a Croatian version of Arctic Monkeys?

[pillow-anime-talk]

3. “Are we gonna fight? Like fist to fist or rather... lips to lips?”- samatoki🍭

# tags: scenario; enemies/?; light romance; a bit of comedy, i guess; maybe fluff; rapper!reader; rap battle; girls power; i love girls; teasing; gender discrimination, difficult childhood, superiority over others (in the lyrics); sfw

includes: female reader ft. samatoki aohitsugi {hypmic}

3. “Are we gonna fight? Like fist to fist or rather... lips to lips?”

You, Nikki and Yume ran onto the stage with white microphones in your hands. Your serious expressions described your immense confidence and sense of victory. You were ready for anything, but definitely not for failure that evening. Several groups have already performed before you, including i.a. Buster Bros!!! and MAD TRIGGER CREW. Their performances were good, full of emotions and at a high level. Still, it wasn’t what the audience expected. Surely three brothers and three friends raised the level of today’s performances, the fans wanted even more. Everyone needed a fire on stage.

The song was started by the youngest of you – Yume – who immediately started a personal attack towards all the rappers gathered inside the building. She touched on the sexualization of women in rap tracks, as well as injustice in modern times. Her lines have always been the most moving and always loved by female audiences (Yume was generally very popular with girls and women). You moved your head slightly at the sound of her words hitting the beat perfectly; blonde girl almost blew up the stage. Nikki was next.

She was your younger cousin on your father’s side. She was passionate not only in music, but above all in dancing, which is why she rocked slightly during rap, moving her hips and hands. While her body expressed pure playfulness, her voice seemed genuinely sweet. But don’t let that cute tone of voice fool you. Her rap parts were always the most aggressive and full of references to the past, to the injustice of the world, to hatred towards others and the government’s decisions on teenagers’ lives. Everything based on her own experiences surrounded by a sense of fear and uncertainty about the slowly coming future.

And then it’s time for you; leader, composer, the greatest mental support of the trio. Your parts have never been marked by emotions or sad memories. You focused more on yourself and your girls; praise, boasting, showing your dominance on stage was your most important goal and your best weapon. Offending people? Yeah, why not. Talking negatively about everything? Sure, you don’t care about other people’s feelings. Supporting your own group and showing the three of you as the best crew? Of course, that’s what you’re for. It was your role, your way of expressing yourself. People loved your confidence, your determination and superiority over others. No woman ever thought of gossiping about you, and no man has been able to speak negatively or about you and your girls – people respected you and sometimes feared you.

Your performance ended with the loudest applause and cheers. And it couldn’t be otherwise, and everyone knew it… Even if their fists were clenched as tightly as possible.

{ ･ﾟ✧ }

With sunglasses on, you left the dressing room with your friends and rolled your eyes at the sight of one of your opponents.

“... Aohitsugi, long time no see. How do you feel after losing?” You giggled, nodding to Nikki and Yume. Two girls smirked and then left the huge hall. You were planning to go to the grill bar and drink something.

“You were good, but you can do it better next time.” He replied in a low tone, his tiger eyes looking at your figure.

“If I showed more you would get depressed. I prefer to spare your fragile psyche.”

“Shut up, Y/N.”

Your relation was… quite specific. You’ve known each other for years and even grew up in the same neighborhood. You were also in the same class in elementary and high school, but then your paths parted. For several years you have been meeting during street performances or rap battles organized in the city. You liked him, but nothing else. He was, after all, another pawn to knock down.

“Ouu, so scary, Mr. Hardcore.” You bit your lip between your teeth, then rested one hand on your hip. “Are we gonna fight? Like fist to fist or rather… lips to lips?” Samatoki sighed, crossing his arms. “Of course, I mean our microphones.” You liked teasing him and you knew perfectly well that he had a soft spot for you. After all, everyone in this world had a soft spot for your person.

So why not have more fun? Especially if we’re talking about Samatoki?

[lboogie1906]

Dr. Betty Shabazz (born Betty Dean Sanders; May 28, 1934 – June 23, 1997) known as Betty X, was an educator and civil rights, advocate. She was the wife of Malcolm X.

She was born Betty Dean Sanders to Ollie May Sanders and Shelman Sandlin. She was born in Pinehurst. She was placed with Lorenzo Don Malloy and Helen Lowe Malloy who became her foster parents.

She grew up in Detroit. She graduated from Northern High School in Detroit and enrolled in Tuskegee Institute where she began studying elementary education. She switched her major to nursing after months of working at the front desk at the campus hospital. She graduated from Brooklyn State College of Nursing in New York City with a BS.

She joined the Nation of Islam. She became Sister Betty X and for the first time began to publicly acknowledge racism in America. She married Malcolm (1958-1965). They were parents to six girls (the twins were born after his assignation).

She began giving public lectures which focused on the African American condition. She fought for education and human-rights causes, as well as issues crucial to women and children.

She earned an MA in Public Health Administration at Jersey City State College. She taught remedial reading and childhood health care, while she was completing her Ph.D. in Education at the University of Massachusetts at Amherst. She joined the faculty of Medgar Evers College. She became the College’s director of public relations.

She spent her final years trying to remind audiences of the historical legacy of her husband Malcolm X. By the early 1990s renewed interest in Malcolm X, including the 1992 film of the same name with Denzel Washington playing the title role, helped increase popular awareness of that legacy. She died three weeks after her grandson, set fire to her Yonkers, New York apartment. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence #deltasigmatheta

[districtunrest]

Do you think Katniss and Peeta have biased opinions of each other?

Yes / No? Why?

Could you give example?

How did Peeta's hijacking affect their views of each other?

Disclaimer : these questions are for textual analysis, it’s not meant to incite fandom war.

Thank you :)

@curiousnonny

absolutely they do, in the way everyone who loves someone does. but it's important where they start out and where they end.

at first, they think the best of the other and the worst of themselves (or rather, Katniss thinks she's worse and Peeta thinks he's lesser):

Katniss sees Peeta as good, particularly in relation to herself and other survivors/victors. he doesn't have the same strong survival instinct that would push him to kill - whereas Katniss sees herself as a wild, desperate thing that Peeta has to condescend and give bread to out of kindness. like she has guilt about killing, but she'd do the same all over again if she needed to, even tho she agrees with Peeta that 'it takes everything you are.' so anyway there's a kernel of truth - he was being kind, and she was desperate - but she's not a worse person than him for it. her idealized view of him is very much spurred by her own insecurities and guilt.

as for Peeta, he thinks of himself as weak and unimportant compared to Katniss. he's not a survivor in the way she is (the way Gale is), so he can't win the Games as readily and doesn't even want to. but also people are always choosing her over him - Haymitch does (who straight-up admits it), the audience does (they don't shout his name when he's the boy on fire), President Snow does (he doesn't personally visit Peeta to threaten him into submission), the rebels do (he's literally captured and tortured over it). so Peeta very well understands Katniss is something great and inspiring, and he thinks himself lesser for it. he doesn't see how strong and charming and kind he is in her eyes. and with what we know of his upbringing, he's also carrying some baggage that plays into how he idealizes Katniss. so again, Peeta sees something good in Katniss but then compares it to the worst of himself.

and what's so horrible about the hijacking is that it takes Peeta's known insecurities and warps/exploits them, which in turn brings out Katniss'. so now here's all of Peeta's emotional baggage on steroids, alongside a monstrous, fearful distrust in Katniss. this makes him view her quite critically when faced with the reality of her, stripped of the childhood crush and the 'mutt' delusion at bay. the mean, challenging comments he makes to her in MJ are not only calling out her faults but also directing his own hurt/confused feelings about her and, ya know, everything, at her and not holding back.

and it's the worst possible thing to do to Katniss, to make her think he doesn't love her anymore and in fact hates her very being, when she in turn thought the world of him and was coming around to the fact that he still liked her the more he got to know her in CF. like at one point she literally states outright that she hates him for no longer seeing her in the high regard he once did, that now he sees her as she is (aka the worst of herself, the part she's always known about herself but hoped Peeta wouldn't notice or at least not reject if he did). her opinion of him is so idealized, she considers him an inhuman monster for going against the standard he set prior to the hijacking.

but the hijacking also forces them both to have to reckon with their biased/idealized versions of each other, what with their worst selves coming out in full force, or at least now more apparent to the other than ever.

and like. they make it. they grow back together. they suffer the mortifying ordeal of being known - fully known, the good and the bad and the ugly trauma - and they work together to heal. after everything, the love is still there. and what's funny is they most likely still have biased opinions of the other in the end. like they probably still see the other as the best thing ever, but now it's a much more informed decision, and hopefully not so much at the expense of themselves - which makes it all the more meaningful than when they were young and insecure with crushes on each other. and why shouldn't they? I have never met another man as incredible as my husband, like not even close, and I know enough about him that could detract from such an obviously biased statement. and he'd say the same about me. that's just kind of part of it, love.

[xceanlynx]

I don't think Ray has ever really loved Mew romantically. Not ever.

The thing is, when you are deprived of love your entire life, it's very hard to differentiate between platonic love, romantic love and gratitude.

Ray was at his lowest. We still don't have enough information to understand exactly how his familial relationships shaped him as the person he is, but from what it was implied, he never really felt like he belonged to anywhere, to anyone. His understanding of love is already distorted - the person that society says is supposed to love him the most, his mom, didn't love him, or she did in a toxic, abusive way. The only person close enough to him to form a similar bond (the bond of healthy dependency) with was Mew.

Ray never had love before Mew. Not from his family, not from other friends, not from himself. How could he differentiate between all of these kinds of love? No one would be able to.

Mew saved Ray, who already saw him as his bestest friend, the one he could count on. Saving him from his attempt just solidified it in his mind - Mew is the one who could save him. Mew is the only one that showed him love, true love. But Ray doesn't understand that there are different kinds of love. A friend's love can be just as strong as a lover's love for someone, but they are still different kinds of love.

To Ray, if he lets Mew go, he will be letting go the only form of love he has ever known. He sees Top as competition because he doesn't understand that love can have different facets (also Boston is feeding his ill brain with shit but that's just a small part of it all). He is afraid of being in that position again, of being lonely again, when no one - not even himself - loved him. He is afraid that, when a newcomer arrives in the friend group, a player, someone that "obviously" do not love Mew the same way as Ray does, and Mew actually likes the player back, he will be set aside. Because Mew likes someone romantically, and romantic love is more valued anyway, so no matter how many times Mew says he loves Ray, it will not be enough. I could write an entire book about this specific topic through an aroace lens, but this is not the point of this post.

Now we see Ray, after being rejected by Mew (rightfully so - Mew did a very good job setting and enforcing his boundaries), seeing in Sand another person that could love him, that could take care of him when no one else would. There is hope, in his perspective, that another person can and will love him. He even begin to repeat the same patterns he experienced in his life with Sand: asking him to curse him won't bother him because it's what he was used to his entire life. That's normal life to him. That's what people who are supposed to care about him do anyway (Mew being just enough outside of the standard to make Ray obsessed). What Ray still doesn't know is that NO OUTSIDE LOVE can save someone.

What I mean is, the only hope for Ray to live a joyful and fulfilling life, is if he starts loving himself. It does sound cliché, but it's true. No amount of love from other people can save someone. It's not family, friends, lovers, or even God and religion that is going to save someone from themselves. They can and do absolutely help, but at the end of the day the willpower must come from inside. His self loathing, his hatred, his low self esteem caused by whatever trauma he holds will only get better if he works on himself of his on volition. For Ray to understand it, I'm afraid only with psychological and medical help - and this is how other people can help.

I have high hopes for his character development. As someone who went through similar stuff (don't worry, I've been through years of therapy and it had no hard drugs involved), some scenes can be quite triggering, but I still very much enjoy what they are doing with his character, by far the one I can relate the most. Ray is a complicated, flawed character and definitely not the cup of tea for everyone in audience, but I can't help being fascinated. I do hope his development won't fall flat at the end of the series.

(also, Khaotung made me cry again. Thank you for your acting, sir. I know you will destroy me eventually.)

[giantmushyfriend]

The Ineffable Husbands are ABBA coded (I went overboard on this one) (S2 SPOILERS) (I’m not sorry)

I see your “the ineffable husbands are so Hozier coded,” and your “they’re so Taylor Swift coded,” and I raise you a “the ineffable husbands are incredibly ABBA coded.” 

Listen, I know we all know about Aziraphale’s playlist having Angeleyes on it, which makes perfect sense given where Series 2 left us. I mean, come on; 

“Look into his angel eyes

One look and you’re hypnotized. 

He’ll take your heart and you must pray the price” 

And

“Sometimes when I’m lonely, I sit and think about him 

And it hurts to remember all the good times 

When I thought I could never live without him 

And I wonder, does it have to be the same

Every time? When I see him, will it bring back all the pain? 

How can I forget that name?” 

It’s obvious that this song, from a post-Series 2 standpoint is Aziraphale (and also Crowley) analyzing their relationship. It’s them admitting to themselves that although the other caused them pain, they still miss and love each other, even if they aren’t willing to admit it yet. 

However, this isn’t where the ABBA train ends. We can see Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship, both the highs and lows, in several different ABBA songs. Do you want to talk about how Crowley is probably feeling after the finale? And how he’ll probably be feeling when we get our AziraCrow reunion in S3? Let’s look at The Winner Takes It All. The entire song relates to how Crowley see’s the split and different aspects of their relationship. 

“I’ve played all my cards

And that’s what you’ve done too

Nothing more to say

No more ace to play

The Winner takes it all

The loser’s standing small” 

Tell me this is not his confession scene. Crowley laid it all out there, and it wasn’t enough. They both have laid out what they think is best, and neither of them was pursued (mostly because of the bad communication). Heaven’s influence on Aziraphale and his inherent want to do good won out, the cards were never in Crowley’s favor in this situation. He’s left with essentially nothing when Aziraphale leaves, his one constant, his one tether to this world, is gone. 

“I was in your arms

Thinking I belonged there

I figured it made sense

Building me a fence

Building me a home

Thinking I’d be strong there

But I was a fool

Playing by the rules”

Talking about how Crowley built a home within his relationship with Aziraphale, and how he feels like a fool for relying on it after its been stripped away. 

“The gods may throw a dice

Their minds as cold as ice

And someone way down here

Loses someone dear” 

In reference to God’s ineffable plan, if Aziraphale leaving him and choosing Heaven is really a part of it. To God, this separation is just a smaller part of a larger scheme, insignificant, but to Crowley, it is life-changing. He’s lost his best friend, seemingly for good, all in the name of “the greater good.” 

“Somewhere deep inside

You must know I miss you

But what can I say?

Rules must be obeyed

The judges will decide

The likes of me abide”

COME ON. Crowley doesn’t believe that Aziraphale could ever love him, he’s a demon, and to the rest of the world, he is inherently below Aziraphale. Those are the “rules” of the world, and this is a dejected Crowley saying that maybe they can’t rewrite them. This is him, in his darkest moment, telling himself and Aziraphale that there is nothing they can do, rules in the end have to be obeyed and the likes of him have to abide by them eventually. 

To an extent, Aziraphale is the “winner” in this split. He’s the one that gets to leave, seemingly unbothered by the pain he is causing Crowley. We as the audience know differently, but Crowley doesn’t. In his perspective, Aziraphale has won the game. 

And their reunion in (hopefully) S3?

“And I understand

You’ve come to shake my hand”. 

Admitting defeat. Good game. 

You want Aziraphale to reflect on his mistake of leaving Crowley, which he inevitably will? Look at One of Us. 

“My picture clear

Everything seemed so easy

And so I dealt you the blow

One of us had to go”

Aziraphale is obviously still working through his toxic relationship with Heaven as an institution. In his eyes, with his belief in the greater good, everything seems easy. He can go to Heaven, make it worthy of beings like Crowley, and make it better. But when Crowley says he doesn’t want to go with him, Aziraphale knows he has to make the choice. And because of his inherent belief that Heaven can and is good, he chooses them, dealing the blow to Crowley with that final “I forgive you.” 

“One of us is crying, one of us is lying 

In a lonely bed

Staring at the ceiling

Wishing she was

somewhere else instead

One of us is lonely, and one of us is only

Waiting for a call

Sorry for herself, feeling 

stupid, feeling small

Wishing she had never left at all”

The entire chorus is Aziraphale wishing he could take back what happened that day. It’s him wishing that he was back on Earth, in his bookshop with Crowley. It’s him wishing that Crowley would come back to him. It’s him completely enveloped in regret. 

“I saw myself 

As a concealed attraction. 

I felt you kept me away 

From the heath and the action. 

Just like a child 

Stubborn and misconceiving

That’s how I started the show 

One of us had to go 

Now I’m changed and I want you to know” 

As we’ve already discussed, Aziraphale believes that Heaven is inherently good and thus must just need a push in the right direction. To him, he could be that push. When Crowley stands firm in his belief that Heaven won’t change, a part of Aziraphale had to have taken offense to that, because he’s partially hearing “Heaven won’t change, let alone for you”. Aziraphale, for his entire existence, has been told his efforts aren’t enough. So when he’s given the chance to make an impact, to finally do what he thinks is right, he jumps for it. He’s stubborn in his core beliefs that there is an inherently good and inherent evil, which we as the audience have come to learn isn’t true. To us, and probably to future Aziraphale, his past self was misconceiving. This is both present and future Aziraphale admitting that he made a mistake choosing Heaven over Crowley. This is Aziraphale pinning for the life he could have had with Crowley, for the life he gave away for what he thought was right. 

You want both of them to look back on the good times of them traveling the world throughout time before all of this Second Coming shit went down? Look at Our Last Summer. 

“I was so happy we had met

It was the age of no regret” 

“We took the chance

Like we were dancing our last dance 

I can still recall our last summer

I still see it all

In the tourist jam

Round the Notre Dame

Our Last summer

Walking hand in hand

Paris restaurants

Our last summer

Morning croissants

Living for the day 

Worries far away

Our last summer

We could laugh and play”

Do you want some angst where they both are looking back at what went wrong? Look no further, SOS has got you covered! 

“I try to reach for you, but

you have closed your mind. 

Whatever happened to our love? I wish I understood”’

That’s literally their final argument before Aziraphale leaves with Metatron. It’s them reaching for each other, both of them saying “Stay with me” but the lack of communication has shut down all hope. 

“When you’re gone, how 

can I even try to go on?”

“You made me feel alive,

but something died, I fear

I really tried to make it up

I wish I understood” 

Crowley in his last stitched attempt to make Aziraphale stay: the kiss. He tried to make it up, but it didn’t work and he doesn’t understand why it really didn’t. 

Oh, are you tired of angst? Do you want some happy ineffable husbands? ABBA beat us to it! You better believe that Crowley jams to Take a Chance on Me at least once a day. 

“Gonna do my very best 

and it ain’t no lie

If you put me to the test, if 

you let me try

Take a chance on me” 

“‘Cause you know I’ve got

So much that I wanna do 

When I dream I’m alone 

with you, it’s magic

You want me to leave it

there

Afraid of a love affair

But I think you know

That I can’t let go” 

“Oh, you can take your time baby

I’m in no hurry

Know I’m gonna get you” 

The entire song is Crowley asking Aziraphale to just give him a chance. To let him prove how much he loves him. 

Do you want them talking about that first Doomsday where they turned against their respective sides for each other? Fernando. 

“There was something in 

the air that night

The stars were bright, 

Fernando

They were shining there 

for you and me

For liberty, Fernando

Though we never thought 

that we could lose

There’s no regret

If I had to do the same

again

I would, my friend, 

Fernando” 

How about them talking about how much they love each other? I’ve Been Waiting For You, Waterloo, Super Trouper, and Lay Your Love On Me sums it up perfectly. 

I’ve Been Waiting For You:

“You’re something I’d been

pleading for

I love you, I adore you

I lay my life before you

I’ll have you want me more

and more

And finally, it seems 

my lonely days are through

I’ve been waiting for you” 

Waterloo:

“Waterloo

Promise to love you

forevermore

Waterloo

Couldn’t escape if I

wanted to

Waterloo

Knowing my fate is to be

with you”

“And how could I ever refuse

I feel like I win when I lose”

Super Trouper:

“So I’ll be there when you

arrive

The sight of you will prove 

to me I’m 

Still alive, and when you

take me in your arms

And hold me tight

I know it’s gonna mean so much tonight” 

Lay  All Your Love On Me

“It was like shooting a 

sitting duck

A little small talk, a smile

and baby I was stuck

I still don’t know what

you’ve done with me

A grown-up woman

should never fall so easily

I feel a kind of fear

When I don’t have you

near

Unsatisfied, I skip my pride

I beg you dear”

“I used to think that was sensible

It makes the truth even

more incomprehensible 

‘Cause everything is new

And everything is you

And all I’ve learned has

overturned

What can I do?” 

In conclusion, the ineffable husbands are probably the most ABBA-coded thing I’ve seen in a while. And no one talks about it! Absolutely no one! I think part of it comes from the fact that Series 2 of Our Flag Means Death has already been lumped with ABBA, but they both can be ABBA coded! Aziraphale and Crowley inspired all of the songs on the Mamma Mia set list, and you can pry that fact from my cold, dead hands. 

[symbioticsimplicity]

I don’t need to be up this early but this idea won’t leave me.

So, Steddie Battle of the Bands AU featuring punk!Steve.

Corroded Coffin join a battle of the bands competition run out of a little bar just outside Indianapolis, expecting fully to make it all the way. There’s not a lot of musicians in their area and out of all of them, CC have the most milage and the most unique sound. Sure, it’s metal, but in the bigger city that’s not the death sentence it would be back in Hawkins.

For the most part, they’re right. There’s a little pop trio that do okay, a Bob Dylan type with an acoustic and the flattest, most nasal tone Eddie has ever heard, a rock outfit with a drummer who’s clearly on speed and fixing to pull a Spinal Tap, and one very old dude who’s there more for the fun than to actually compete. They’re a shoe-in.

Except there’s a punk band that were running a little late, and manage to take stage literally just as they’re being called. The Demogorgons, they’re called. 

Eddie is pissed the instant he sees them, firstly because he’s been on sight with punks since ‘84 when a flock of the little shits dissed Dio to his fucking face. Second because out of all the things they could have been called, they picked a DND creature??! In Eddie’s house??? Who the fuck did they think they were?!

The longer Eddie watches them play (he can’t leave until they announce who’s moving on from this round, he’s literally a captive audience), the more pissed off he gets because they’re good.

The lead guitarist is a girl with dark, short hair mostly hiding her face, but she’s absolutely slaying their cover of White Wedding, adding more than was originally in the song seemingly on the fly. It’s beautiful, as a guitarist himself he can at least begrudgingly respect her talent.

The bassist is also a girl with short hair who seems like she’s in her own world, totally lost in the music and jamming so hard Eddie can’t really look at her for too long without getting sucked in with her.

The drummer looks like an absolute madman, big buff blonde guy who looks like he’d bite if anyone got too close to him. He’s bare chested, showing off a few tattoos and a couple piercings that make him far more interesting than Eddie cares to admit.

But the singer/ rhythm guitarist, is what is really tripping Eddie up.

He’s prettier than he has any goddamn need to be, and he’s weirdly smiley for a punk. Like being on stage is his happy place, which Eddie can relate to, even if he hates admitting any commonalities between them at all. His voice too, is lovely. It’s not the typical scratchy punk sound, it’s high and airy and from a technical standpoint (only that, Eddie swears) it’s really good. And he seems like he’s not having any trouble playing and singing at the same time, which is shitty as hell because Eddie still does sometimes.

Before their set ends, Eddie has decided he hates them. He hates them, so much.

So much in fact, he goes over to heckle them once they finish.

It goes south almost immediately.

He was right, the drummer is definitely a maniac. It’s like he was waiting for an excuse to fight someone. And given how fast the singer snatches him up after he decks Eddie, this is a frequent thing. The singer and the drummer posture at each other and for a second Eddie thinks they’re about to fight.

But evidently the drummer thinks better of it and stalks off to start helping put their gear up.

The singer apologizes for his bandmate, even though Eddie started the fight, and introduces himself as Steve, the drummer being named Billy. He’s a good kid, Steve tells him, just angry and still learning where to put that anger. He offers to buy Eddie a drink for his trouble, and he’s so floored he ends up accepting.

To Eddie’s surprise, they end up talking, and they end up talking a lot. Steve is easy to talk to, and he listens like what Eddie has to say is important. When he talks, it’s with this sardonic edge to it that reminds Eddie of sour candy. Before he knows it, it’s been like three hours, and it’s time to announce who’s advancing to the next round.

To Eddie’s complete lack of surprise, Corroded Coffin make it through, but so do The Demogorgons. Steve congratulates him, sincerely, and Eddie stutters out the same.

They part ways for the night, but the pretty punk with the prettier smile won’t leave Eddie’s thoughts.

Cue CC telling Eddie to get his head in the game, trying to head off the crush they can spot forming. They know him well enough to know the signs, and they don’t need him pulling a Romeo and Juliet with some punk he met for one night.

Little do they know, The Demogorgons are having a similar chat with their own lead. They’ve worked too hard to have Steve get distracted, or worse, go soft, over some greasy metalhead he’s only talked to like, once. Steve of course promises that he won’t. After all, it’s not like he’s really going to see him much, and Steve isn’t easy, he has to get to know someone to fall for them.

Cut to a week later when one Steve Harrington is dropping Dustin off at his DND thingy, only to see none other than Eddie Munson perched at the head of the table. He’s explaining what their quest is for the night, or something, and he’s so animated, so into it, he doesn’t notice Steve frozen in the doorway.

Steve makes it out before Eddie sees him, but from that moment on it’s like he’s every where Steve goes. They bump into each other constantly, Hawkins is a small town, it’s easy to do. It gets to be such a regular thing that Eddie makes a joke about following Steve, and Steve sings that Rockwell song about being followed and they find themselves laughing together again.

It’s easy, really. Too easy. And before they know it, whenever they bump into each other, they end up talking for a while. It’s just a few minutes, they both reason to themselves, a few minutes is fine.

But a few minutes turns into an hour, turns into a couple hours, turns into a smoke sesh at Eddie’s, turns into a jam sesh at Steve’s, and before they know it, they’re missing each other when the other isn’t around.

Of course it isn’t long before Gareth notices his best friend’s preoccupation, and Robin could clock Steve’s daydreamy look three miles away. They each come clean to their respective long-suffering bestie.

Neither are happy, but they both care more about their friend than some stupid band competition. They know the rest of their bands won’t be happy, and that could be a pain, so rather than being even slightly reasonable, they hatch a plan.

Eddie and Steve are determined to be the punk-metal version of Romeo and Juliet, but that doesn’t mean their story has to be a tragedy. This is a musical, afterall. What better to do than bridge the gap with the power of music.

So the next time Eddie and Steve hang out, they both spend probably fifteen minutes uncomfortably dancing around trying to ask the other to write a song with them.

Steve cracks first, because seeing Eddie uncomfortable is so fucking bizarre it trumps his own nerves and he has to ask what’s going on. Eddie decides to be brave and takes the leap, asks Steve what he’s got to ask, and to his surprise Steve tells him he was going to ask the same thing.

They haven’t really talked about it, the tension between them, but it boils over when Steve tries to explain why he wants to write a song with Eddie. Eddie can’t watch him flounder for a second more, when he knows he could just be kissing him instead.

He takes Steve by the jaw and kisses the soul out of him. If they weren’t sold they were doing the right thing before, the kiss seals the deal.

They spend the night trading kisses and lyrics in equal measure, alternating between strumming strings and heartstrings until they’re both so caught up in creation, in each other, they’re harmonic.

After that, they hit crunch time. The battle of the bands is next week, and learning a whole new song is a pain in the ass for both bands. It’ll be worth it, but Jeff doesn’t know that and Billy doesn’t care.

The boys make time to see each other, but of course, they get caught.

Band practice gets postponed on both sides of the fence. They know they shouldn’t, it’s stupid, but Eddie spent the day getting harassed by a flock of “Concerned Christian Mothers” who were not shy about telling him exactly what they thought about him, and would not get the hell out of his face about it. Steve is a caretaker down to his bones, and doesn’t think twice about going to care for his metalhead.

Nancy however isn’t stupid, and Grant knows damn well Eddie would only postpone practice if something was genuinely wrong. So Nancy follows Steve to see what the hell could be so important to him that he’d call off practice, and Grant goes to bring Eddie a care package.

Nancy isn’t happy about finding the two spooning on Eddie’s couch, but she doesn’t make as much of a fuss about it as Grant does. Grant goes off about sleeping with the enemy and treachery and the metalhead code of honor (which he made up right there on the spot), but the real bucket of cold water is Nancy telling Steve how disappointed she is that he pulled them all into this, made them care about it, only to waste his time chasing after someone instead of putting his heart into the music the way they all had been. She asks him to get serious, then leaves.

Steve excuses himself, ignoring Eddie’s pleas to wait a second, come back, please, let’s talk about this.

They don’t see each other again until the night of the show.

The competition threw them a curveball, however. None of them know until they get there, see the layout of the big warehouse like space, but instead of playing one after the other, the competition is amp versus amp. CC are freaking out a little bit because they’ve never played that way before, and Eddie is picking up an acoustic, why the hell did he even bring an acoustic, what’s going on?? The Demogorgons are equally nervous, this being a first for them too, and Steve is quiet, so quiet, he’s never like this before shows, what’s going on??

Despite everyone’s nerves and fears, the two bands take their places on the two stages, on opposite ends of the room from one another.

Eddie introduces Corroded Coffin with the same flare he usually does, but tells the audience that tonight’s performance is going to be a little different than their usual. He finishes with “This one’s for you, Juliet.”

He starts strumming the acoustic, the song he and Steve had written together filling the space, warm and full and a wild departure from their usual sound. He’d gone over it with the guys, added some polish to it, made it more metal, but he’d asked them to hold off on that until he cued them.

“And hey darling, I hope you’re good tonight. And I know you don’t feel right when I’m leaving-”

The rest of Corroded Coffin have never heard Eddie sing like this, didn’t even know he could. Usually he was all growls and grit and demon noises he’d figured out how to imitate. They had no idea he was even capable of making a song sound so beautiful.

Eddie continues singing his heart out, strumming his guitar, praying that Steve picks up on what he’s doing, joins him at the drop, doesn’t leave him again. He’s nearly convinced himself he’s going to end up singing the whole thing alone, and God how stupid would that be, that when he reaches the switching point, he nearly drops his guitar when Steve’s voice rises up to meet him. A spotlight flicks on, illuminating him as he sings into the microphone, playing his own part of the accompanyment.

“And hey, sweetie, well I need you here to night. And I know you don’t wanna be leaving me here tonight-”

Steve’s voice is the perfect counterbalance to Eddie’s. It’s light where his is heavy, soft where his is gritty. It showcases their duality, while highlighting how good they are together and Eddie would cry if he weren’t on stage.

He takes the next verse as planned, but Steve’s voice stays with him, harmonizing along side him so perfectly it’s as if they’ve been singing together for years rather than about a week.

“You know you can’t give me what I need, and even though you mean so much to me, I can’t wait through everything.”

That’s different, not the line they wrote together. It lands like a gut punch when Eddie looks up and sees Steve’s expression. He’s not smiling. He always smiles on stage.

“Is this really happening?” Eddie sings back without missing a beat, knowing the next verse is his, meaning it might be his only chance. He prays to every muse he’s ever had to lend him the improv skills to land this.

To his suprise, he hears Jeff’s heavy guitar start to build, Grant’s bass swooping in beside it to flank him. When he turns his head to check, they both give him the nod, the one that’s always meant they’re beside him, for better or worse. It gives him to courage to put his soul into the words he’s about to spit.

“I swear I’ll never be happy again, and don’t you dare say we can just be friends, I’m not some boy that you can sway.” 

There’s a half a second pause in the music, just long enough to wreck Eddie’s heartrate. He can see Steve’s face from here, not clearly enough to make out every emotion that flashes across it, but enough to see when it lands on determination.

“We knew it’d happen eventually.” He and Steve sing, or in his case shout, in tandem.

Corroded Coffin fall back in with them, and to Eddie’s utter surprise, The Demogorgons join them. The sound of two bands playing the climax of the song he and Steve had written together hits Eddie so hard he can barely sing past the balloon of emotion swelling in his chest.

The crowd reminds him they’re there, joining in on the chorus of ‘La la las’ going around the room, their voices loud enough to shake the walls. It’s everything Eddie has ever wanted from a crowd, and it’s way too much along with everything else going on right now. Eddie can’t focus on it, not when Steve is staring him down from across the room.

“If you can wait ‘till I get home, then I swear we can make this last.” Eddie belts, Steve’s higher register wrapping around the notes the same way his hands wrap around his mic.

Both bands let the song taper out, leaving just the crowd echoing back the words to them, just Steve and Eddie singing to each other.

Eddie reaches out his hand, as if he could take Steve’s in his despite the distance. Steve once again meets him halfway, extending his own hand as if to bridge the distance.

The lights go down and the crowd is still chanting. It takes longer to settle them down than it does to make the decision to shrug off his guitar and run to his boy. Eddie hesitates only to look over at his bandmates.

They look exhasperated, but fond. Grant rolls his eyes and tells him to go kiss his stupid punk or whatever.

Eddie is off in an instant.

He finds Steve tearing his way over to him, runs straight into him almost the same way he’d run into him the first time they met outside of a venue.

There aren’t words, they don’t need them, already sung them. There’s just Steve and Eddie and how badly they’ve missed each other. The apologies and affirmations can come later, when their mouths aren’t so busy kissing the life from one another.

In the back of his mind, Eddie registers some of the crowd around them wolf whistling, but for once he doesn’t give much of a shit what the crowd thinks of him.

[grandhotelabyss]

What makes an artwork highbrow? What makes another low?

Keeping in mind that this is a sociological rather than an aesthetic distinction, I believe the distinction hinges on how much you already have to know about art in general to appreciate any given work. As the sociologist Pierre Bourdieu writes:

A genre containing ever more references to the history of that genre calls for a second-degree reading, reserved for the initiate, who can only grasp the work’s nuances and subtleties by relating it back to previous works. By introducing subtle breaks and fine variations, with regard to assumed expectations, the play of internal allusions (the same one that has always been practised by lettered traditions) authorizes detached and distanced perception, quite as much as first-degree adherence, and calls for either erudite analysis or the aesthete’s wink.

This is most obvious in the case of a work that is both intensely allusive and extremely sophisticated in technique, like Ulysses, but it also applies to works of a radical simplicity or even contentlessness, like the writings of Gertrude Stein or the paintings of Jackson Pollock, where you have to know enough about art to know why this apparent non-art ("my toddler could paint that!") is actually very serious and meaningful art.

In practice, these distinctions don't hold. They don't hold aesthetically, because most actual practitioners say that the relevant distinction is not high and low but good and bad. But they also don't hold sociologically. The high-low distinction only applies after the mass literacy of the late 19th century, which generated both a mass culture industry and writers and artists who wanted to set themselves apart from this mass culture industry. The very same industry, however, produces such a proliferation of niche markets that even low-art genres become as complex and recursive in their own traditions as the high-art genres, such that you can't really just hand The Big Sleep or Dune or Watchmen to a person off the street anymore than you could with Ulysses. This is the symbolic import of the factoid I am always insisting upon: that this all comes from Poe, that Poe invents both Mallarmé and Lovecraft.

Then "middlebrow" as a concept presents problems of its own. A serious critic wants to scorn the middlebrow and uphold only the raw energy of the lowbrow and the radical intellection of the highbrow, but this standard is too severe. Anti-middlebrow critics get trapped in a hipper-than-thou spiral, or, to vary my image, they futilely chase an unreachable horizon of authenticity and difficulty. There is such a thing as middlebrow—we know it when we see it—but if you become obsessed with the idea, then soon you'll find that nothing is astringent enough for your taste. Anti-middlebrow critics may start by dismissing Our Town and The Grapes of Wrath, but they will inevitably end up writing "Against Ulysses."

Finally, these categories assume too much about who attends to what, and where and when and for what purpose. I quoted that Bourdieu passage above this summer in my Oppenheimer essay. Is Oppenheimer lowbrow, middlebrow, or highbrow? A film made for and sold to a mass audience through memes and sex appeal (lowbrow), a film full of Big Themes and Human Interest and Major Issues (middlebrow), a film formally ambitious, politically ambiguous, tragic in theme, and freighted with unexplained scientific, historical, political, and cultural allusions (highbrow)? I just don't think it's a very interesting question.

Do these categories explain why I read about Ulysses on Microsoft Encarta when I was 13 years old? (It included a recording of an Irish actress doing some of Molly Bloom's interior monologue.) I first checked the novel out of my suburban public branch library the summer of the same year and determined to read it, a task I admittedly didn't accomplish in full until later, when I was in college, just as Bourdieu would predict. But the ambition first found me in the lower-middle-class suburbs through a simple consumer conveyance rather than through any type of elite training.

I don't mean to sound a note of false populism here, to suggest that there's much hidden greatness in the morass of cranked-out junk clogging Amazon. It is, as I've written, "lonely at the top." My populist instinct, insofar as I have one, runs in the other direction: not "low art is actually great" but rather "great art is actually for everyone." (Or perhaps not "everyone" but "anyone." Not every single person but any single person capable of being found by it, which can't be determined in advance.) Still, the worth of a work of art is not extrinsically determined by the position it occupies in the social field, as the sociologists claim, but rather relies on its intrinsic merit in dynamic interaction with an unpredictable range of actual and potential audience members.