#UNARTE

[ilikegoodstories]

Lomography 100 exp. 06 '13

[certainartisanchaos-blog1]

Aurora Király (n. 1970)

[eternalwandering]

abstrait, novembre 2022

[leadendeath]

HOW U GONNA HAVE THE ACAB NUMBER IN YOUR URL BUT BE AN AUTOMATED ACCOUNT FULL OF UN-ART??????

[ranchlotte]

30 day oc art challenge - day 5, eating their favorite food

i dont feel like this is the best i couldve done but i havent draw a character eating something so WOO something new. i wish i spent more time rendering the pizza out but also bleghhh its fine.

its also mac and cheese pizza covered in hot sauce.

[dadrielle]

#every time Ashton and Laudna talk people end up understandably furious at Ashton and also I think it should happen again #because the two of them CRUNCH like none other and sometimes some sand in the gears is actually exactly what you need

@overnighttosunflowers and I were talking about how much we want Ashton to have an opportunity to talk to Laudna about the Delilah of it all, and since neither of us has the time to make a proper fic of it, here's the raw dialogue we were bandying back and forth:

"Don't be so arrogant as to think you're the thing that's going to make the fucking difference, that whatever scrap of power you trade your soul for is what the world hinges on."

"Excuse me?"

"If the world depends on us, it depends on us TOGETHER, so stop fucking trying to leave. You think any of the rest of us will be able to give it our all if we're grieving you? You think IMOGEN will be able to? Fuck off."

"It’s not a matter of arrogance, Ashton, the opposite really. It’s that there are things Delilah can provide that I just simply cannot. Because let's be honest, in the grand scheme of things, I’m not worth much."

"Oh fuck off. Do NOT talk to me about low self worth. Do you know what I was telling myself when I took that fucking shard? That it was what was going to help. You know, I told Imogen once that every hit I take is one someone else doesn’t have to. And I wanted to take the hit. And it just about fucked us all."

"Ashton-"

"And I don’t even care that it fucked me and almost fucked me worse, so don’t talk to me about that. What I fucking hate is that all of you had to watch. That Fearne had to watch.

"You want to self immolate? It's not like anyone but you can stop you. But don't you for a second think there's not going to be collateral damage. If you care about what any of us think, do not throw yourself away the way he did. Because yeah I guess it saved us or whatever, but not one of us would’ve chosen that shit."

[thebelugawhalefriend]

The Men Before The Rose - Yan!Royal Harem x Reader

PART ONE

CW: RELIGIOUS THEMES, EXECUTION MENTIONS, Homophobia

Note: This is a sequel to the first story! An expansion into Rose's heritage and how the world works for them. As someone pointed out, it's rather sudden how the homophobia shows itself and comes off as unartful. So! This will mostly dive into the division about same sex couples.

Months passed before you could consider yourself okay again. The isolation from your family and friends was something you slowly had to overcome the pain of. It still stings like an arrow to the heart, but living on was the least you could do for yourself.

In the meantime, you decide to busy yourself with finding the history of the royals. Rose isn't too excited to share in his own history, only providing you one book. Even given the sparse information Rose would provide, his family's long time rule was no mere feat to scoff at. What draws your attention most is his direct father, Aquila. Upon seeing his name on one of the pages, you turn to read the chapter dedicated to his reign.

Before our red haired king had assumed the throne, Aquila Florian sat upon the gilded seat of power. Hair as golden as the rays of sun, eyes a similar shade. No man nor woman could even compare to his mere size- Murals along the castle walls could only paint his figure from the top of his chest if they wished to paint his face!

By his side was his appointed wife that he named Tyto. Her previous first name has been erased from our records, but his command ruled that her name be changed to fit his rigid structure. In fact, much of his rule came from...

The book quickly proved itself to be a rather boring account of events. But, there is perhaps another way to experience the story. You close the leather book in your hands and set it onto the dresser, lifting up and wandering out of the bedroom.

"My Lady, to where shall I accompany you?" You're well aware of the guard outside of the room, and yet he never ceases to surprise you when you step out. "I told you before, you can call me (Y/N)..."

"Not when you've been wed to the king. I've been ordered to call you Lady and nothing more."

"Then... Alright, I don't wish to cause you trouble. Do you think you could guide me to Rose's study?"

The iron clad guard pauses for a moment, "His... His study is more than private, Your Grace. I wouldn't be allowed to lead you there- much less fulfill my duty to your care."

You shake your head a little. It's always been this excuse time and time again, "Is it a sin to want to know more about the man I married? About the family I am part of now?"

"With all due respect, not even Queen Florian has ventured within the study. I cannot let you violate the trust of the king- nay, your husband..."

"He's violated my own trust the day he commanded I stay within these walls and never see anyone I care for again. I'm not just asking as a..." You struggle to utter the mere words, "As a royal, but as a confused human being... Please, I must see the study."

The walk to Rose's study was short, but the tension made it seem like hours. Charles is anything but a hard hearted man. A tender gentleman just above your own height. While he was commanded to keep watch by the threat of death, he couldn't bear to see another moment pass with you longing for more.

"Thank you... Thank you so so-"

"Please make it swift, My Lady. Rose will return in a few hours."

You nod, easily slipping into the unlocked study.

Creeeaaaakkk....

The oakwood door moans as it reveals the room to you. It took your eyes but a moment to adjust to the darkness inside, but there's no mistaking what you're seeing. The eerily large room holds plenty of large murals that paint the elongated walls. Moonlight mixed with dim flames of the torches just barely illuminates the inside from behind you, but God almighty you want to see more.

"I'll need light..."

Closing the door carefully, you snatch yourself a candle from one of the nearby side tables and hold it to a lit torch. After all, no noble could leave their castle barren of a lighting system. It takes you little time to slip right back in and start to walk along the hall of artwork. Strangely enough, this didn't feel like a study. No, this felt like a room dedicated to telling the tale of their rule. You can animate in your head just what each painting told...

Men upon horses trample over others of their own kind. White stallions proudly sported iron clad warriors upon their backs, while at their hooves were unarmored and weaponless men. Swords glowed a beaming sun yellow to declare a holy victory to claim the land they fought for.

A man with white hair stands over a crowd of adoring people and dogs. What's strange is that the dogs stand on hind legs and praise him as if they themselves are human. Horses behind the crowd also cheer for him, but all four hooves stay connected to the ground.

A single long line connects a chain of kings, each one holding a link within a golden chain. Most sport blonde hair and blue eyes, but the last king stands as an outlier. He holds golden eyes and curled red locks. Under them each is a name, but most of the older ones were too faded to read. 'Raven Florian/Lady Mourn - Aquila Florian/Lady Tyto - Rose Florian/Lady Azalea/Lady (Y/N)'.

Even if the third one isn't the last, you take a long pause to look upon the names. Your new marriage has quite literally been set in stone. Painted with your name under the striking red haired man. Yet, you keep going. You must know more about them! What stops you is the hall widening into a rather quaint room. Now this looks a lot more like a study, with a large red chair sat in the midst of bookshelves and a messy desk of papers and a journal. It's the desk you're drawn to first, picking up the most worn out journal upon it.

"Blank?" You look on the cover. The only thing even describing what could be inside were the initials AF written on the leather cover's corner. "What could you be hiding?" You set your candle close and sit down, starting to read the pages inside.

Day of 30th, December, 1201

Today has transpired like any other. My breakfast was rather lean, but I can't complain when dinner is to be grand.

You laugh softly at such an inconspicuous entry. Maybe this would be a silly little journal of thoughts. Most follow such an idea, but some entries catch your attention more than others.

Day of 14th, April, 1202

Joanne of Jonstown has been captured.

Your eyebrows knot in confusion, turning to the page behind it.

Date of 12th, April, 1202

A grand disturbance has taken place at Noble Stewart's wedding. A strange rogue appeared and objected to the union, disgracing the ceremony to declare a disgusting lust for his wife. Any sane man would have wrung her neck on the spot, but the rat got away before he could catch her. It's no matter to him now. I have hired Jasper and his men to bring her to justice. With any luck, he could receive his own spot here by my side...

Date of 15th, April, 1202

Her execution has been dated for three days from now. I suggested we string and quarter her for her sins, but my royal advisor suggested I treat her not as a mere criminal. Rather, we could give her the same treatment as we do for suspected dark arts users. Not only will this serve as a painful death one like her deserves, but will also set the further precedent for what is to come of unlawful relations. If one is to partake in disturbing the union of a man and a woman for their own desires, they are to be burned at the stake. I have no quarrel with what the royal advisor pointed me to, and have let him write the law. It's on her execution day that I shall decree this law and set it into swift motion.

With an uneasy hand, you turn it to one of the final pages.

Date of 18th, April, 1202

The law has been set, and all was well. Not a single soul objected to the law while the spectacle took place. The

"Have you no respect for my personal space?" You immediately shift your eyes from the book to see those familiar golden eyes looking upon you with scorn. Dim candle light in his hand flickering and lighting up the underside of his displeased face. His figure draws closer as you retreat into yourself.

"I-I'm sorry, Rose! I wanted to know more- I-"

"My father's words are about as much history as murderers are innocent!" He practically roars, snatching the journal away and towering over your frame. "I gave you the resource you wanted... I gave you all you could ever want to know. This?" He holds up the book, "These are the ravings of a madman that no person should EVER learn from!"

"Learn from?" You start to rise from your position, a little offended by his assumption, "I wanted to learn ABOUT your family! Is it not my right to know what my children will be born into? What I tie myself to?"

"My father's words and thoughts have died with him. There is no need to continue learning from his example."

Standing up from your position, you place a finger to his chest and start walking him backwards. "You can't hide what your family has done to innocent people! Your father was a horrible-"

"I KNOW!"

His right hand drops the journal, latching onto your shoulder to allow his anger to set deep within. The glow from his candle dims to let the dark features of his anger settle in.

"I know he was a horrible man. He ordered the execution of many people who did not deserve it. If he knew of what I have now... He would surely kill me." Rose sighs, letting you go and setting down his fading candle. "I come from a line of men who claim to know their faith. Who hoped that persecuting the innocent would cure them of their own sins. You want to know what I think?" He looks to the book on the desk with a wicked snarl. "I think they're all burning in hell for the rest of their days. My father, his father, and the ones who came before. The men he hired that still work in the castle? They too will burn for being so stuck in their ways..."

You place a hand under his chin, bringing him to look at you. "It's no use to hide the history of your lineage. You are the result of those men, whether you like it or not." He tries to butt in, but you're quick to pause his interruption. "But what they've done doesn't make you a horrible man. It's what you do now that truly matters, does it not? You wouldn't have executed them. You let my mothers live in peace despite the law your father put into place..."

With a hefty sigh, he cups your face and finally draws out a smile upon his own. "You still violated my trust, dearest. I didn't want you to wander..."

"You assume I'd be content staying in one room for the rest of my years." Your teasing is bold, but his laugh was moreso. "I suppose you're right. Come then, I guess I owe you a proper tour of our home." As you both approach the doorway, you pause for a moment in thought.

"What is to become of Charles?"

"Ah... Him. He can't go unpunished for disobeying my order, my dear."

Your blood runs ice cold, but Rose is quick to try and soothe your tense worry, "Calm yourself! He's not going to be executed- Lord almighty, did you forget my whole point of not being my father? He'll spend some time thinking over his betrayal and punished as severely as the crime calls for. Which... Isn't too cruel."

"Will he continue to serve for us?"

"That remains to be seen. Come! I'll show you to the bottom floor!"

[notdefendingtaylor]

allow me to visit petty city for 2 seconds:

joe alwyn is a presenter at the oscars among very established personalities/industry luminaries like whoopi goldberg, elle fanning, penélope cruz, willem dafoe, john lithgow, goldie hawn, scarjo, & etc

vs.

she didn't even qualify at a smaller festival.

hollywood is far, far from perfect, the academy is known to be mercurial, sometimes overly subjective, and racially biased.

but they really don't like bald, presumptuous clout greed and unartful manipulation from amateurs.

meanwhile, joe holds a grammy...

[somethingclevermahogony]

Happy WBW! 🗺 - How many countries are in your world? Feel free to share as much/little about them as you wish!

So "Country" is a bit complicated. There are relatively few "countries" in the modern sense, however if we take country to mean land, or cultural/lingual/ or political groups there is somewhere around 229 "countries."

For example, Kishetal is a land, its people are Kishite and speak the Kishic language, however it is composed of many smaller city-states, so in actuality Kishetal would be dozens of tiny countries, but I am counting it as a single cultural entity, "Kishetal". Think of it the same way that you would think of Greece in the Classical Era. There was no single state called "Greece" yet the Greeks/Hellas were still an identifiable group and region.

Here is a complete list of all 229 regions/lands!

Names which are highlighted in red have a majority (>50) forestfolk (non-human) population.

Below!

Kalimacia

1 The City-States of Kishetal

3 The Kingdom of Shabala

4 The City-States of Korithia

5 The Kingdoms of Ikopesh

6 The City-States of Baalkes

10 The Makoric Colonies and Makora

11 The Elusian Tribes

12 The Queendom of Kulayu

13 The Kingdoms of Dirsia

14 The Ikeniic Tribes

15 The Janic Tribes

16 The Nislic Tribes

17 Konlun Confederation

18 The Larlisi Tribes

44 The Republic of Shaab

45 The 100 Kingdoms of Sinru

46 The Nengalish Empire

47 The Kingdom of Kashalun

48 The Southern Ukarrian City-States

49 The Northern Ukarrian City-States

50 The Kingdom of Saekat

51 The Republic of Nuret

52 The Nomadic Tribes of Palluyad

53 The Kingdom of Baban

54 The Kingdoms of Jezaan

55 The Nomadic Tribes of Western Makia

56. Central Makia

57 Eastern Makia

58 The Tribal Confederacy of Zahur

59 The Gutic Tribes

60 The Four Kingdoms of the Kimersians

61 The Unartic Tribes

62 The Nabaric Tribes

63 The Kingdom of Anjaz

64 The Kingdom of Dalba

65 The Kingdom of Vadrus

66 The Empire of Batricca

67 The Bochalic Tribes

68 The Galudic Tribes

69 The Obsidian Peoples

70 The Sassoni Tribes

71 The Rokiti Tribes

72 The Vjordi Confederacy

73 The Sea Tribes of the Thun

74 The Liturgii Tribes

75 The Hurtish Kingdom

76 The Gaedish Clans

77 The Bulakic Tribes

78 The Shumuya Chiefdoms

79 The Luduric Tribes

80 The Yanikurti Tribes

81 The Isunim Tribes

82 The Lulivatic Confederacy

83 The Kingdoms of Kushek

84 The City-States of Hangutia

85 The Zurrian Tribes

86 The Shurbi Nomads

87 The Suhurid Kingdoms

88 The Ubkhuz Clans

89 The Inrusi Kingdom

90 The Wuduji Tribes

91 The Chiefdoms of the 4 Sisters (Akuri)

92 The Sud Tribes

93 The Belavus Nomads

94 The Pauri Nomads

95 The Quina Confederacy

96 The Eastern Whale-Eaters (Ungilu)

97 The Western Whale-Eaters (Yagilu)

98 The Giant Tribes of Jonluria

99 The Nenshit Tribes

100 The Chiefdom of the Yevunuk

101 The Chukakic Tribes

102 The Ice Walkers of Tilkulkut

103 The Svarui Tribes

104 The Rudi Tribes

105 The Umul Tribes

106 The Funikic Tribes

107 The Orudishi Tribes

108 The Chakatat Nomads

109 The Republic of Xir

110 The Jushi City-States

111 The Tiwa Nomads

112 The Northern and Southern Siji Kingdoms

113 The Kingdom of Goguke

114 The Tum-xi Democracy

115 The Temna Kingdom

116 The Empire of the Jamun

117 The Eket Tribes

118 The Mu Dynasty

119 The Runashu Kingdom

120 The Xianti Theocracy

121 The Kumtai Empire

122 The Nanampa Kingdoms

123 The City-States of Pya

124 The Kingdom of Panyu

125 The Kingdom of Junjat

126 The Kingdom of Burta

127 The Republic of Utkaj

128 The Kingdom of Pinlinga

129 The Chiefdom of Angubat

130 The Chiefdom of Kai

131 The Chiefdom of Du

132 The Democractic Tribes of Latshu

133 The Queendom of Busira

134 The Oligarchic Houses of Daoku

135 The Kingdom of Malu

136 The Republic of Jini

137 The Kingdom of the Jagi

138 The Great Cities of the Viat Sea-Kings

139 The Kingdom of Phangui

140 The City-States of Mekan

141 The Oligarchy of Ewru

142 The Land of Seven Crowns (Bhurka)

143 The Musimwam Empire

144 The Takala Empire

145 The Kavuru Kingdom

146 The Indosi Tribes

147 The Balijivuri Empire

148 The Ship-Builders (Kikiruru)

149 The Wuru Queendom

150 The Domain of the Pearl Lords (Panshu)

151 The Cholyasi Thalassocracy

152 The City-States of the Vatkapa

153 The Tribes of the Kurupaja

154 The Kingdom of Kanpuduta

155 The City-States of Janji

156 The Five Houses of Pun

157 The Kingdom of Arani

158 The Kingdom of Diruwa

159 The Republic of True Diruwa

181. The Inkul Tribes

182 The Waste (Uninhabited)

Pyritia

2 The Kingdom of Apuna

7 The City-States of Knosh

8 The Kingom of Satabul

9 The Tribes of Pyria

19 The Kingdoms and Tribes of Namut

20 The Houses of the Aguru

21 The Kingdom of Akal

22 The Oligarchy of Eb

23 The City-States of the Sahuri

24 The Musahati Empire

25 The Ungwa Confederacy

26 The Bon Confederacy

27 The 9 Cities of the Zabudi

28 The Su Tribes

29 The City-States of Yorungo

30 The Dumu Tribes

31 The Desert Nomads of Azu

32 The Empire of Oparudu

33 The Kwi Tribes

34 The Hasa Tribes

35 The Kingdom of the Ruk

36 The Kingdom of Urururu

37 The Xhosi Tribes

38 The Merchantile Kingdoms of Pan

39 The Republic of Odi

40 The City-States of the Coral Queens (Zuwi)

41 The Zun Tribes

42 The Empire of Zunduba

43 The Isles of the Ru

Zudia

160 The Kingdom of On

161 The Families of Gungwari

162 The Families of Ninkuduri

163 The Families of Uruninj

164 The Families of Waardugoi

165 The Families of Gumwarnugoi

166 The Families of Amanwonguri

Tarinia

167 The Dorthuit Tribes

168 The Four Bands of the Tlinkuat

169 The Wakshianic Tribes

170 The Alkugu Confederacy

171 The Beoguk Tribes

172 The Shumee Tribe

173 The Cahata Republic

174 The Powangic Tribes

175 The Linu'k Tribes

176 The Chanta Tribes

177 The Sepochee Tribes

178 The Pokunu Tribes

179 The Carupa Tribe

180 The Arawaino Tribe

181 The Inarwai Tribe

182 The Okalokee Tribe

183 The Yupu Tribe

184 The Wall-Builders (Missishikoa Confederation)

185 The Chatacua Tribes

186 The Mindakolo Tribe

187 The Iokatoo Tribe

188 The Grass Warriors (Susudi and Shoshok)

189 The Tuz Kokone Tribes

190 The Chinoho Tribe

191 The Satlugulish Republic

192 The Adushunic Tribes

193 The Chumiwokic Tribes

194 The Corn Peoples (Nalap)

195 The Zanuzi Tribe

196 The Wakoni Tribe

197 The Serrahavi Tribe

198 The Atawakapa Tribe

199 The Chemepano Tribes

200 The Desert Dancers (Hutlipotizec Empire)

Ulania

201 The Clans of the Paguai

202 The Atahcutec Empire

203 The Southern Yupu Tribes

204 The Tikoto Tribes

205 The Guya Tribe

206 The Jivargua Tribe

207 The Conura Tribe

208 The Anapapre Tribe

209 The Fifteen Pijano Cities

210 The City-States of Agataba

211 The Cura Tribes

212 The 8 Sisters of the Nañagua

213 The Zamoba Tribe

214 The Lake Confederacy (Upuwawa)

215 The Tere Tribe

216 The Karavante Tribe

217 The Kayib Tribes

218 The Kingdom of Xapajo

219 The Musahatic Colonies

220 The Zabudic Colonies

221 The Charuru Empire

222 The Island Kingdoms of the Po'kukua

223 The Nomads of the Green (Ukabawu Tribes)

224 The Kiwa'wano Hunters

225 The Ikayuguaya Tribes

226 The Olmayuk Tribes

227 The Daokipaqa Kingdom

228 The City-States of the Naonomi

229 The Acaniruana Mountain Kingdoms

Did I need to do this whole list? Probably not

If y'all have any questions about one of these "countries" send me an ask! Even if its just the number haha

[engagemythrusters]

This? This art that you claim has effect on people?

Is a solid colour.

This? This house that you claim is the death of creativity?

This is also one colour.

You may swear to high heavens that the first one is more important. It’s done with a special technique! It’s a colour of its own!

The beige house is decorated down to the inch by its owners. Every last thing is carefully curated and thought out. Is that not art? Because it doesn’t move YOU? It moves the owner. The owner loves it. Isn’t that what matters? That it moves the right people? If it doesn’t matter, then neither does the blue square.

You cannot pick and choose. You can love one and dislike the other, or hate both, but you have to stop claiming one is the kills artistry while the other is a masterful statement.

never understood why people will hate beige houses in one breath and then praise a solid blue painting in the next. Both are minimalism. You have to accept the ones you hate, too.

[ilikegoodstories]

Rollei Retro 80s

[daughterofhecata]

In der Tram oder im Café lautstark zu telefonieren (am besten noch mit dem Handy auf Lautsprecher) ist auch so eine Unart.

[princesscoryofsunspear]

In The Pursuit Of Friendship

Starter with @theheartofgodsgrace

Perfection, Coryanne thought in the midst of reorganising her papers for what felt like the hundredth time, was everything. So what if the pursuit of it caused her to decide the chronological order was worthless compared to an alphabetised inventory, which would mean she needed to rearrange her files in their drawers and shelves entirely?

It wasn't as if anyone could stop her.

Yes, a servant had been dispatched to make her go to bed last night, as she had planned to stay up sorting through letters. She had entrusted Qyle with the task of sending her the letters that arrived at Sunspear addressed to her, and he had been diligent in that duty thus far, but it had begun to pile up.

Now, after getting up early this morning to sort it out, Coryanne had gotten through most of them and was in the midst of tucking them away for future reference when she had been struck with the urge to reorganise her entire system. Food brought in at the usual time she broke her fast was laying untouched on a side table, rapidly cooling, and she was surrounded by papers and determined to finish what she had started.

It was all beginning to come together. She had gotten the As and the Bs and the Cs sorted (Gods, she'd never quite realised how many of those there were), and was midway through the Ds when she heard a knock on her solar door.

For just one moment, Coryanne froze, before looking down to check that she was presentable. She liked to think that she was above sorting through letters and forms and numbersin her nightgown and a robe, but previous experience had proved her greatly wrong. Yes, decent enough, even if her hair was messy in a decidedly unartful way.

"Come in!" Coryanne called out, hoping it was a servant, or perhaps one of her sister's former secretaries, the ones who had yet to yield their duties fully to her. Those, she could deal with at this hour.

The door creaked open and Lady Kiera Allyrion peeked in. Oh, Coryanne remembered yes, I did invite her to join me this morning. However, she suspected that she had written the wrong date in her journals, or maybe even neglected to mention it, which would explain why she had forgotten.

"Lady Allyrion" Coryanne greeted her, standing up. She had known Kiera when they were girls, but that was a long time ago now, and she would not want to offend either the lady or her cousin, Lord Davos, with uncalled for familiarity. "Please, do come in. I do apologise for the mess, but there is a free seat if I move some of the letters from Hellholt from that chair, just give me a moment-"

[bjfinn]

NOWHERE MAN

"Foul Play"/"Deadbeat" crossover

"Mockingbird" by Charlie & Inez Foxx, © 1963 Emi Unart Catalog Inc., performed by Carly Simon & James Taylor on the 1974 Elektra Records album "Hotcakes"

"I ... I asked him if he'd like to get together with me socially," Jimmy said. "He gave me his number."

"That's wonderful, Jimmy," Dr Bartholomew said. "Are you planning to call him?"

"I ... I don't know. I'd like to, but I'm not sure I know how to be friends with someone."

"It can be intimidating, certainly. But you have good social skills."

"When the cameras are rolling," he pointed out. "On set, I'm Jimmy F. Pop the talk show host. But I'm not sure how to be Jimmy Popovic the friend. I am a narcissist, after all."

"Yes, but you're a high-functioning narcissist. You have the skills to be someone's friend -- they're not that different from those needed to be a talk show host. It's just about engaging with the other person. Listening, reframing, reciprocating -- I've seen you do all of these."

Jimmy nodded. "Yes, but a talk show interview is different -- there's research done, a list of questions ... a timeline. It's more structured. More ... formal."

"The basic skills remain the same, nonetheless," the therapist reminded him. "It's simply a matter of ... tweaking them to suit the situation -- wouldn't you agree?''

"I can't find any flaws in what you're saying," Jimmy conceded. He paused, and asked, "Will you help me learn how to 'tweak' my skills, as you put it?"

"Of course," she said. "In fact, role-play is an integral part of your treatment, Jimmy. Would you like to begin now?"

Jimmy nodded hesitantly.

"Very good. Now, imagine that I'm Pac -- you're going to call me to ask if I want to ..." She paused, waiting for him to finish the sentence.

"I suggested that we meet for drinks," he said.

Dr Bartholomew nodded in approval. "Good choice -- a bar is casual, social but with the opportunity for private conversation." She tilted her head expectantly.

Jimmy's brows furrowed momentarily. "Ah, right -- I need to 'call' you, as it were." He mimed picking up a telephone receiver and dialling a number -- Dr Bartholomew noted that he'd chosen a landline rather than a cellphone. "Brringg, brringg," he said.

A small smile crossed the therapist's lips as she lifted an imaginary cellphone to her ear. "Hello?"

"Hello," Jimmy said. "Is this Kevin Pacalioglu? This is Jimmy Pop -- you were on my show the other day."

"Jimmy!" Dr Bartholomew said brightly. "How's it going, man? I was just thinking about you!"

Jimmy looked disconcerted for a moment at hearing such casual language from his psychiatrist, but he ploughed on. "Thank you -- that's very nice of you to say. I was wondering if you would be free to meet for drinks this evening?"

"Yeah, dude -- that sounds great! Where do you wanna go?"

"I'm not very familiar with Flatbush yet -- perhaps you can recommend a place?"

"Of course! How about Such-and-Such? It's got great vibes and good beer on tap."

"That would be very nice," Jimmy replied.

"Great! It's on the corner of ... This Street and That Avenue. Around eight?"

"I, uh ... yes, eight o'clock is good."

"Fantastic! I'll see you there, buddy!" And she put down the imaginary phone.

Jimmy gave her a tentative smile.

"That was ... a good first try," Dr Bartholomew told him. "May I suggest we do it again? And this time, try to be a bit less ... formal. Try to match the casualness of the other person."

After a second role-play, Dr Bartholomew nodded approvingly. "That's much better, Jimmy."

"It felt ... strange," he said.

"Of course -- it's something you're not accustomed to. But the more you practice, the easier it'll become. Shall we try again?"

*****

Jimmy sat on his bed, trying to psych himself up as he looked at the phone.

He wanted to call Pac, but the thought of ... socialising unnerved him. Dr Bartholomew had told him to be himself, but he didn't know who that was when there were no cameras around.

He got up and went into the bathroom. Placing both hands on the edge of the sink, he looked at his reflection in the mirror. "You can do this," he told himself. "It's just a phone call, and Pac gave you his number -- he clearly wants you to call him.

"That's true -- he did," he said, answering himself.

"The two of you will meet somewhere for a couple of drinks and some casual conversation -- you simply need to remember that it's not an interview. It's two people getting acquainted. Best case scenario, you become friends. Worst case, you don't. Either way, you will have learned something about interpersonal communication.

"I know what you're thinking -- what if you say something that repels him?

"What if I have another psychotic break?

"You're on medication for that," he reminded himself. "And Pac is aware of your ... issues. Some of them, at least. And Dr Bartholomew feels that you're ready for this, that it will be good for you.

"You're right, of course -- that's all true. But ... I don't know if I'm ready.

"Will you ever know?" he asked himself. "Does anyone ever know when they're ready? At some point you have to take a ... leap of faith. You have to believe."

He nodded at his reflection and pushed off from the sink, turned on his heel and returned to the bed. As he sat, he lifted the receiver and dialled Pac's number.

*****

Jimmy hung up the phone, a small smile playing on his lips. "I did it," he said quietly. He and Pac had arranged to get together at McGuffin's Saturday evening.

"You did," he answered himself. "You should be proud of yourself."

He furrowed his brows thoughtfully. "I am proud of myself," he said, nodding. "It wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be.

"Of course it wasn't. Now you simply need to remember what Dr Bartholomew said -- a social interaction isn't structured like an interview. You'll need to practise being spontaneous to build up your confidence.

"How do I do that?

"By practising alone, at first -- then, once you're comfortable, you can try it with other people. Mrs Márquez at the bodega, for example.

"All right," Jimmy said. He cleared his throat. "Hello, it's nice to see you. How have you been?

"You should practise in front of the mirror," he told himself. "You need to check that your body language is appropriate.

"Of course." He stood and went over to the full-length mirror hanging on the closet door. He held out his hand, smiled warmly and tried again. "Hello, it's nice to see you. How have you been?" He mimed shaking hands with someone, and let his hand drop to his side.

"I've been well," he said. "And yourself?

"Things have been ... progressing." He stopped, at a loss. "What next?" he asked himself.

"Perhaps a comment about the bar."

He nodded. "This seems like a nice place -- do you come here often?

"Either he does or he doesn't ... yada yada yada ... talking about the bar ... quiet or noisy ... asks if I want something to drink.

"Yes, thank you -- that would be good.

"What'll you have?

"I'll have whatever you're having," he said. "You know what's good here."

He smiled, pleased with himself -- Dr Bartholomew had suggested that he let Pac take the lead in such matters.

"Two beers coming up! Here you are, Jimmy," he said, miming handing a glass to his reflection. He held the imaginary beer for a moment, wondering if it would be appropriate to make a toast.

"Leave the decision to Pac.

"Right." He mimed sipping from the glass, and then pretended to set it down. He sighed heavily -- small talk was exhausting. He wondered how long it would take before he and Pac could actually start getting to know one another.

"Remember what Dr Bartholomew said," he reminded himself. "It takes time and effort to form a friendship. Just ... what did she say? Go with the flow?"

Jimmy smiled at that -- the phrase reminded him of one of his favourite songs from when he was a child.

Mock- (yeah) -ing- (yeah) -bird (yeah)

Yeah (yeah)

Mockingbird, now everybody have you (have you heard?)

He's gonna buy (he's gonna buy) me a mockingbird

And if that (if that) mockingbird won't (bird won't) sing

He's gonna (he's gonna) buy me a diamond ring

And if that (if that) diamond ring won't shine

It's surely gonna break this heart of mine

And that's the reason why I keep on tellin' everybody

Sayin' (yeah, yeah) whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa whoa-oh

He'd started moving to the rhythm of the song, awkwardly at first, but it wasn't long before he abandoned himself to the 1974 Carly Simon/James Taylor hit, dancing around his apartment and singing loudly.

Hear me now and understand (and understand)

He's gonna find me some peace of (peace of) mind

And if that (if that) piece of mind won't (mind won't) stay

I'm gonna get myself a better way (a better way)

And if that (if that) better way ain't so

I'll ride with the tide and go with the flow

And that's why (yes, indeed oh) I keep on shoutin' in your ear

Saying (yeah, yeah) whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa, whoa-oh

He stopped suddenly -- what was he going to wear? He didn't have anything that would be appropriate for a neighbourhood bar.

"I'll have to go shopping tomorrow," he said disconsolately, sitting back down on the bed and putting his face in his hands. After a brief moment, he scrubbed his face roughly and stood up.

"I have to go shopping tomorrow," he said, his mouth set in a determined expression. He nodded curtly.

*****

Jimmy put the shopping bag on the kitchen table and smiled as he began pulling out the contents -- two plain black t-shirts, a grey zip-up hoodie, dark blue corduroy trousers and a pair of black sneakers. He hadn't worn clothes like that since ... well, since ever. Even as a child he'd preferred button shirts and chinos.

"This will be ... different," he said. "Change is good -- so they say, at least."

He stripped down to his skivvies and tried one of the t-shirts -- extra-large, it was neither too tight nor too loose. He then pulled on the cords -- he'd tried them on in the store, of course, but he wanted to see what the whole outfit would look like. The legs were too long -- he'd have to take them to the tailor's tomorrow -- but for now he just rolled them up. Then he put on the hoodie and sneakers, and looked at himself in the mirror.

"Hi there," he said. "I'm Jimmy Pop -- no. Hi there -- I'm Jimmy Popovic, regular guy." He raised his eyebrows bemusedly. "I think I'll have to work on it." He started to remove the hoodie, but then he stopped -- it was comfortable, and he should get used to wearing it before Saturday.

*****

Good afternoon, Jimmy," Dr Bartholomew said. "I must say -- this is definitely a change for you."

Jimmy nodded as he sat on the chair in front of her desk. "It is. I decided to buy a more ... appropriate outfit for tomorrow night." He looked at her, frowning slightly. "What do you think, Doctor?"

"I think that was a very good idea," she told him. "You should fit in quite nicely. What do you think about it?"

"I ... I'm not sure," he said. "It's strange to be dressed so casually. But these clothes are comfortable. I don't think I'd want to dress like this all the time, though."

"Of course not -- and no one is suggesting that you should. But it's good that you recognise the importance of dressing to suit the occasion."

"I'm glad you approve, Doctor." He shifted uncomfortably. "I'm still concerned about tomorrow evening, though -- what if Pac decides that he doesn't want to be friends with me after all? I'm not ... the most socially adept person. What if I say or do the wrong thing?"

"It's good that you have such concerns," she said, smiling. "It means that you have a vested interest in the outcome. But I think you really have nothing to worry about -- from what I saw from your interview with him, he seems like a genuinely nice person. And he no doubt knows what it's like to feel ... different."

"What do you mean?"

"Orphaned at a young age, being the 'fat kid', seeing ... ghosts -- all these things can lead to feelings of isolation."

"I suppose that's true," Jimmy nodded. "I hadn't considered that. I certainly understand what it was like to be the 'fat kid' -- I'm sure it's one of the reasons my father never showed me any real affection."

*****

"That sucks, man," Pac said. "Your own father?" He took a sip of his beer.

"He wasn't abusive," Jimmy told him. "But he never seemed to enjoy having me around." He sighed. "Most people don't -- not once they get to know me. I'm a narcissist, after all."

Pac frowned. "Yeah, you keep sayin' that -- but you don't seem like one to me."

"There are two kinds of narcissist," Jimmy explained. "Put simply, there's the grandiose narcissist, which is the kind most people think of -- they take pleasure in hurting others for their own benefit, and are objectively terrible people.

"And then there's the vulnerable kind -- that's what Dr Bartholomew says I am."

"What's the difference?"

"Vulnerable narcissists don't deliberately try to hurt others, generally speaking," Jimmy said. "We just ... we tend not to think about others' feelings." He looked down at his drink, turning the glass in his hands contemplatively before raising it to his lips. "It's something I'm working on."

Pac put his hand on the other man's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Hey," he said. "Hey -- look at me." Jimmy raised his head and looked at Pac. "That's good -- at least you're trying, right? I mean, it can't be easy."

Jimmy gave him a half smile.

"I was in therapy for a while when I was a kid," Pac told him. "I mean, I was seeing ghosts, so I musta been crazy, right?" He chuckled sadly. "Sometimes I wish I had been crazy -- it woulda made it a lot easier."

"Why did you stop going?"

"My parents died." Pac took a deep breath and let it out. "And the orphanage wasn't gonna pay for it, so I couldn't keep going."

"That's a shame."

"It would be, if it was something I actually needed," Pac said. "But I wasn't crazy -- just ... tuned in to the dead. Therapy can't fix that."

"You seem to have adjusted to it."

Pac chuckled. "Yeah, seems that way, doesn't it?" He snorted softly. "Yeah. Yeah, I have, kinda. Dewey helped."

"Dewey?"

"Dewey Finn," Pac explained. "We met in middle school -- the first friend I ever had. Well, first real friend. He introduced me to the miracle of Mary Jane."

"Mary Jane?"

"Marijuana. Only thing that helped with my anxiety."

That's ... cool," Jimmy said -- the word felt strange coming out of his mouth, and he wondered if Pac would notice.

Pac gave him a sidelong glance and chuckled. "Yeah," he said. "But what was really cool was that Dewey didn't treat me like I was nuts, you know? He was the first person to make me feel like I was just ... normal." He drained his beer and stood up. "Want another one? I gotta hit the head."

Jimmy finished his beer and nodded. "Thanks," he replied.

Pac raised his hand to get the bartender's attention and held up two fingers. The barman nodded, and Pac said, "Be back in a sec."

Jimmy smiled and watched his new friend head to the men's room, wondering if Pac actually would return.

*****

Pac finished up his business at the urinal, shook himself off and zipped up. He turned towards the sink to wash his hands and nearly collided with an older black man.

He looked up, startled. "Aw, fuck," he said. "Not now."

"I need your help," the man said, clearly desperate.

Pac rubbed his face and gave his head a quick shake. "Can't you find somebody else?" he asked. "I'm just tryna have a nice time with a friend."

"I been here all day, and no one else can see me," the ghost explained. "Please -- you gotta help me."

Pac sighed. "Fuck." He inhaled deeply and set his mouth. "How 'bout I help you with whatever it is that you need tomorrow, okay? Right now I'm kinda busy." And he turned and left the men's room.

"Please! " the ghost said, following him out the door. "I'm begging you -- I can't wait until tomorrow! You need to help my family before it's too late!"

Pac didn't respond, just walked back to his table, the ghost still following, and sat down.

"Hey, Jimmy," he said. "Uh ... where were we?"

"Who's he?" Jimmy asked.

"Who's who?"

"The man standing behind you, talking to you."

"Wait -- what? You can see him?"

Jimmy nodded. "Yes, he's a rather tall, well-built African-American man, in his mid-fifties, I'd say -- wearing a denim jacket and a baseball cap." His eyes widened. "And he has a trail of blood on the left side of his face."

"How the fuck -- you can see ghosts??? "

"I ... suppose," Jimmy said. "At least, I can see that ghost." He frowned, confused. "I don't think this has ever happened before, though."

"You gotta help me, man," the ghost said. "Please."

Pac sighed and looked at Jimmy. "Wanna go on a little adventure?"

*****

"Okay, so you need to get five hundred dollars to my wife by tomorrow morning," the ghost, who'd said his name was Marvin, said. "The rent is past due, and if you don't, my family's gonna get evicted."

"Right," Pac said. "Sure ... okay, so where's your body?"

The ghost shook his head. "Don't matter, man -- money's gone. I got mugged and the guy killed me."

"How am I supposed to get five hundred by tomorrow morning?"

"You can go down to the OTB and put twenty down on tonight's fight. It's a sure thing."

"A sure thing," Pac said. "Riiight."

"It's twenty to one, but I know my guy's gonna win." He grinned. "I'm ... I was his trainer."

"Twenty to one? Not great odds, dude."

"It's guaranteed, I swear!" Marvin insisted. "You can keep the rest of it -- just give my wife the five hundred for the rent."

"Twenty to one odds on twenty bucks ..." If the guy was right, Pac would get fifteen grand -- that was more money than he'd ever seen at one time. "You swear it's a sure thing?"

"Cross my heart and hope to ... well, you know what I mean," the ghost said, chuckling. "But you gotta get to the OTB ASAP -- the fight starts in an hour!"

Pac looked at Jimmy.

"It's just twenty dollars," Jimmy said. "And this is what you do, isn't it -- help ghosts with their unfinished business? I might be a narcissist, but even I know that helping someone who's facing eviction is a good thing. And I've never seen a boxing match before. Although I did once interview a boxer once on Pop Goes the Night. He was what they call an 'up-and-comer' -- I believe his name was Jackson Matthews."

"That's my guy!" Marvin exclaimed. He looked at Pac. "Will you help me?"

Pac sighed again. "You absolutely sure Jackson's gonna win?"

The ghost nodded solemnly.

Pac blew out his cheeks in a long sigh. "Okay, sure -- what the hell, right? It's only twenty bucks."

*****

"Twenty on Jackson Matthews to win," Pac said, fishing the bill out of his wallet.

"A Jackson on Jackson," the bookie smirked. "Cute." He took the banknote and handed Pac the betting slip. "Good luck, pal," he said, shaking his head. He knew a sucker bet when he saw one. "People love an underdog," he said to himself.

"Okay, done," Pac said, putting the slip in his wallet.

"Thank you," Marvin said, breathing a sigh of relief.

"Don't thank me yet -- the fight hasn't started. And if your guy doesn't win, I'm out twenty bucks."

"Now what?" Jimmy asked.

"Now we go back to the bar to watch the fight on TV"

They returned to the bar, and Pac's face fell.

"What the -- what the fuck happened?" The big-screen TV was black, and Carlos, the bartender, was fiddling with the wires on the back of it.

"Damn cable went out.''

"Aw, hell no! I got twenty on the fight tonight!"

"Can't we watch it at your place?" Jimmy asked.

"My cable's been cut off," Pac told him. "I'm behind on the payments. Fuck!"

"You'll still win the money, though."

"But I won't know if I won right away," Pac told him. "And time, apparently, is of the essence."

"It's too bad that I don't get any sports channels," Jimmy said, "otherwise we could watch it at my place."

"It's gonna be on WBNY," Marvin said. "That's a local channel -- everybody has that one."

"WBNY?" Jimmy asked, raising his eyebrows. "That's where I work."

"Okay, then," Pac exclaimed. "Let's head to your place, Jimbo!"

*****

They arrived at Jimmy's apartment to find that the power was out in the whole building.

"Of course it is," Pac sighed.

"What do we do now?" Marvin asked. "The fight's gonna start in a few minutes."

Pac looked at him. "My buddy Dewey -- he's ten minutes away." He looked at his watch. "We won't get there in time to see the start of the match, but maybe it'll last long enough for us to see who wins. Let's go!"

*****

Pac rang the doorbell to Dewey's apartment for the third time. "Shit," he said. "He's not home. He and Rosalie must've gone out tonight."

Marvin's face fell. He looked like he was about to cry.

"Hey," Pac said. "Chin up, dude -- we're not giving up yet, okay? Just give me a moment to think ..." He looked at Jimmy. "Can we watch it at the station?"

Jimmy blinked. "I ... I suppose we could. I don't see why not."

"Let's get going -- there's no time to lose!"

*****

"Jimmy!" Ed Feinstein looked up in surprise when his newest hire arrived. "What are you doing here? And who's your friend?"

"This is Kevin," Jimmy said. "I need to ask you a favour, Mr Feinstein -- would it be possible for us to watch the boxing match here at the station?"

"Why can't you watch it at your place? It's not blacked out."

"My power's out, and Kevin doesn't have cable at the moment."

"Well, of course you can watch it here -- but it's already started." He looked at Jimmy. "I wouldn't've pegged you for a boxing fan, my boy."

"I'm not, but this is important," Jimmy told him. "Thank you, Mr Feinstein."

Jimmy led them to a conference room, picked up the remote and switched on the wide-screen TV, and the three of them sat down to watch the remainder of the fight.

"... but Matthews isn't ready to give up yet," one of the colour commentators was saying.

"You got that right, Mitch," the other agreed. "Gotta hand it to him -- he's got heart."

"That's my boy!" Marvin said proudly.

"Ooh -- a right cross to the jaw, and Matthews is down! That's gotta hurt, but he's back on his feet again! Now Edison is pummelling his midsection -- Matthews is trying to evade, but Edison is like a hurricane!"

"He's got Matthews against the ropes --" The referee stepped in and separated them. "Edison looks like he's getting a bit winded now, trying to catch his breath ... and Matthews goes on the offensive! A jab, a right hook, another jab ... look at him go! He just might win this fight after all, Jerry!"

"That would be a big feather in his cap, for sure!"

Pac, Jimmy and Marvin were on the edges of their seats.

"Come on, boy," Marvin said. "You can do it -- remember what I taught you!"

Jackson Matthews threw a punch -- an uppercut that landed squarely under his opponent's chin and lifted him off his feet. Edison hit the mat with a crash, unconscious. The referee grabbed Matthews' wrist and held it up, and the audience went wild. Jimmy and Pac leapt to their feet and threw their arms around one another, jumping up and down in their excitement.

"What an amazing comeback, Mitch! Jackson Matthews has won his first major fight! From nowhere man to champ ..."

Marvin smiled, tears in his eyes. "I knew you could do it," he said softly.

"Okay," Pac said when they'd calmed down a bit. "Let's go collect our winnings and get it to your wife."

*****

"Are you Mrs Jefferson?" Pac asked the middle-aged black woman who answered the door.

"Who are you?" she said defiantly, tears streaming down her face. "I got till tomorrow to pay!"

"Uh ... no, we're not here to evict you," Pac told her. "My name's Kevin, and this is my friend Jimmy. We're ... friends of Marvin, your husband."

"You know Marvin? What happened to him? Where is he?"

Pac looked at her, his heart breaking. "May we come in? I have good news and bad news."

She opened the door wider. Pac glanced at Marvin -- the ghost nodded with a smile of relief, and then he dissolved into a luminous cloud and rose up, disappearing into the corridor's ceiling light.

*****

Back at the bar, Jimmy took a sip of his beer. "That was ... incredible," he said.

Pac chuckled. "Just another day in the life of Kevin Pacalioglu, medium at large." He looked at Jimmy. "Hey, how come you didn't tell me you could see ghosts?"

"I didn't know -- Marvin was my first, as far as I'm aware." He stared off into the middle distance. "I never thought much about what happens ... after. It's rather nice knowing that this life isn't all there is."

[tolerateit]

Ttpd suffers the same thing ylm did which is trying to cover almost every base and covering nothing but if she whittled it down to one of four themes on the album. It might have been insightful and it might have said something. It just says everything and nothing. It's sometimes unartful and unpleasantly unedited.

I personally prefer the parts of ttpd and ta which are insights into herself and her celebrity and common problems (baring bdilh) I could whittle it down to a 15 track cohesive project easily or like 4 or 5 if I wanted to.

songs especially about struggling with or dealing with the dark side of fame are always so good imo (except bdilh lmao), which reminds me to give clara bow another try sjdjjd