#and the sketch got about 80% done before I had to sleep

[lostonehero]

More time travel

Just to preface this I hate security breech but I love the idea Micheal can't fucking rest and ends up as glamrock Freddy

Also Gregory is a spilt from Evan the crying child spirit robo kid

Anyhow let's go

Henry sighs as he parks in the diners parking lot. They had to shut down for the weekend, Henry couldn't run this place by himself, and William's youngest had a meltdown. He hoped it was just a meltdown. He didn't think he could get those screams out of his head. He sighs as he spots his partner heavy eye bags and a sleep deprived look with a warm coffee in his hands. "Is Evan ok?"

William frowns. "He stopped screaming, and he responds to Evan again. He isn't normal yet, but Clara is convinced it's Micheal's fault. She locked him in his room and hadn't been able to see him all weekend. He's 11 Henry, and he can't cause that kind of damage. Clara won't let me take him to the hospital."

Henry matches his partner frown. "We have to figure out what caused it."

"I'm going to tear this place to the nails and rebuild it so nothing ever happens again." William barely bites back a yawn.

Henry nods as he unlocks the door he only manages to take a few steps in before he can hear William shout.

"MICHEAL DAVID AFTON DID YOU SPEND THE WEEKEND HERE?" William shouts, and it barely stirs his son sleeping at the table. A notepad he got from the security office was next to him.

Henry picks up the notebook and starts to read through it. His eyes get wider as he keeps going. "William...." Henry grabs the taller man before he could shake Micheal awake. "William, look at this. Micheals is the same age as my girl."

William rubbed his temples. "Henry, I know that. Why are you bringing it up? Clara lied to me. Micheal never came home. She locked his room, and I believed her." He can't even spiral as Henry shoves the note pad at him.

"William read it now." Henry's tone doesn't leave room for argument. "I have to check...." He sinks into a bench. "Your son can't write like that, right?"

William can feel the panic and shame drain from him. Even his exhaustion was replaced with confusion as he flipped through the notepad detail sketches of designs he couldn't even fathom were on the pages, then drawings of human anatomy and changes. Then the writing the handwriting was too neat to be from a child, and too detailed as well. He sat next to Henry as both men read the notepad detail notes upon detail notes spread across the pages.

There was a list on the front.

1. You're alive. You have to eat, and (recharge was crossed out replaced with sleep)

2. Are you 11? 10? Doesn't matter you are a child.

3. Cleaned the diner. Didn't have to need something to pass the time.

4. Found fathers sewing kid fixed a unform for my body. (Body is then crossed out and replaced with you're alive. Micheal refers to yourself as such)

4. Eyes glow and change color based on mood did not have that when I was alive or a corpse.

5. Remember to eat and drink. You have bodily functions again.

6. (Medical scan is crossed out) Not a machine figure out what is different than your normal human you had 40? No 60 years ago before you were a walking corpse.

7. I fucking forgot about Gregory fuck (the name is bold and underlined)

8. Wait for father to return, I am a child, and it would be suspicious if I just left here by myself.

9. Scratch that recharge then leave when the sun comes up its the fucking 80s stranger danger isn't a thing yet.

10. Figure out how I got here, and again, check out my body. I haven't done that yet.

11. Am I too young to have coffee yet, I know physically, yes, but is that different if you have an adult mind?

(The rest is just general diary entries and extremely detailed notes of the repairs and fixes he has done around the diner as if he already knows how everything works. Along with detailed drawings and anatomy sketches of his new features that humans shouldn't have.)

William and Henry share a look at each other. Neither man knows how to move forward, and Micheal is still dead asleep.

Henry spoke up first. "I'm going to check the animotronics."

"I-i'll check the kitchen and security office." William stutters each man had to confirm what was written.

......

What both men found was that the building was spotless, and every single mechanical issue they had was fixed. Micheal even fixed the camera in the kitchen. They returned to where Micheal was still asleep as William gently shook him awake.

"Mmmh, five more minutes, need to charge..." Micheal mumbles and shakes slightly harder, and he screws his eyes shut. He huffed and opened his eyes they were glowing a bright blue. He rubs his eyes and sits up, cracking his back. It doesn't do much considering he is a child.

"Micheal...?" William cautiously spoke, not really ready for how Micheal was going to act.

Micheal yawned, looking over to his father. "Good morning, I assume you've read my diary." Henry stops him from grabbing William's coffee. His attention turns to his uncle. He wasn't exactly used to seeing him young and full of life. Charlie's death ruined the man, and he devolved into his work building a massive franchise at the cost of his sanity. The fake pizzeria was the last time he saw the man withered by age and depression. He didn't look any better, but still. Here was his uncle before the tragedy before the ruin. He flicked his eyes to his father. He wasn't his mother's puppet. He wasn't a drunk that was a slave to her control. He wasn't a corpse in that springlock failure. He was still him."

Both men stepped back as Micheal pushed himself out of the bench. He stood up and scratched his stomach. William noticed his nails looked pained and that his teeth were much sharper than they should have been, and white like ivory. "Micheal?"

Micheal looks up at his father and sighs. "Hello again father, it's been a while." He frowns at his voice. "I forgot how high pitched my voice before puberty. Doesn't matter." He wipes his mouth of the drool from his sleep. "I'm not used to having bodily functions again."

Henry raises his brow and gives a look to William, who merely shrugs. The notebook only referred to a corpse body, then that one of a machine. "Micheal, what happened?"

Micheal pauses. "I was running away from a woman named Vanessa protecting a child, his name is Gregory and we fell.... I woke up here approximately 56 hours ago. Everyone had left, which was odd because I don't recall that ever happening except.... that isn't important, but I woke up alone and confused. I'm not used to being small." He's not used to having strong emotions again either.

William reaches out and pulls Micheal into a hug, and he can feel Micheal start to cry he was silent, which threw up major red flags. "Hey, it's ok, how about we get breakfast and we can talk. How old are you?"

Micheal sniffs, clinging to his father. "I don't know, but it was 2036."

Henry's eyes widen. "I'll start my car, and we can head to the local diner since you did a very good job fixing up everything." He smiles as Micheal nods.

Neither adult knew how to handle this situation. William was at a loss for how he even forgot his son at their diner, and Henry could see the sheer amount of horrors Micheal ad faced with his thousand yard stare.

......

Micheal kicks his feet, staring at the menu. He looks confused and slightly overwhelmed. He grabs his father's arm when the waitress comes by.

William raises his brow but sighs. "I'll have the spinach omelet, and my son will have the chocolate chip pancakes."

Henry smiles. "Oh, I'll have the steak and eggs."

The waitress smiles. "Pretty late seeing you two here. Good morning at the diner?"

William nods. "Just a bit of maintenance, and everything is running smoothly."

"That's great to hear my little angel loves the place." She smiles and heads to the kitchen.

Micheal frowns. "I apologize. I haven't had to really eat in a long time. I think I've forgotten what I like."

William can feel his heart break. "It's alright. We can always figure it out."

Henry nods. "Micheal, is it ok to ask why you seem so nervous?"

Micheal shrugs. "I haven't uh been around a lot of adults in a long time, or people for that matter, I think I was 21 or 22 when I got scooped and became a living corpse couldn't really stay in touch with anyone after that. I was close to Jeremy for a while, but we got into a massive fight right before I got scooped, and I ran away like a coward." He messes with his hands. "Probably deserve it, though, I ended up killing Evan when I was 14 golden Freddy jaw can crush a skull." He bites his lip. "Lozzie died before that baby malfunction and stuffed her into her chest cavity." He stops seeing both men stare at him in shock and horror.

William clears his throat. "I..."

Micheal frowns, crossing his arms. "I'm sorry. I haven't, I uh..." He sighs frustrated his eyes flicker red. "This was easier before." He stops as his father ruffles his hair, and his eyes return to his normal blue.

"We have time to stop the tragedy." William pats his son's back. "Take a breath. We can do this."

Henry clears his throat. "Your father is right, but I do have to ask who Gregory is? Was he in the diner with you? Do you think he came back with you? If there is another child, I don't want them to be trapped there."

Micheal shakes his head. "I looked everywhere. I couldn't find him."

Henry nods. "Ok, we can search for him later."

The waitress returns with their food, and Micheal stares at his food, not really understanding how to proceed. He pokes at it, pulling off a piece and shoving it into his mouth. His eyes light up like they were glowing as he continues to rip off pieces eating his food like he hadn't eaten anything in years. William has to grab his hands.

"Micheal, please use a fork and knife." William looks down at his son, who seems to finally return to reality, and his face grows red, and his eyes glow a yellow.

"R-right, my apologies." Micheal cleans off his hands and eats slowly with a fork. "I think I like them."

Henry holds back a laugh as William wipes off Micheal's mouth. "You seem out of practice, I think I can help remedy that."

William gives Henry a look. "It is getting too cold for one of your cookouts."

"Bah, it's fine. we can have one." Henry smiles as William sputters.

Micheal smiles softly. "Can I go home? I want to see Elizabeth and Evan again. It's been a long time, and I have to apologize."

"Of course, after we finish, I'll take you home, and I have to talk to your mother.

.....

Micheal didn't recognize Evan at first he looked too much like Gregory, or was it the other way around. It didn't matter he nervously got closer to him. "Hello Evan." His moments were robotic, and he gave a half nervous smile.

Evan's eyes flicker as he takes a breath. "....Mikey?"

Micheal nods, and he can't control how much his eyes start to glow.

"Freddy?" Evan's voice changes it inflection to one Micheal recognized.

"Gregory....?" Micheal tilts his head.

Elizabeth tugs at Micheal's arm. "Are you a weird time person too?"

"What?" Micheal stared down at his sister.

Evan looks embarrassed. "I uh.... Mikey my uh.... my spirit split... my parts were reused to uh..."

"Gregory was an android?" Micheal pauses sitting next to his brother, and Elizabeth sits next to him.

"Yes?" Evan pauses. "I didn't know I could eat and stuff."

Micheal sighs. "Ok, it's ok."

"You were Freddy? How did you die?" Evan stares you at him

"I died twice." Micheal frowns. "I got scooped, and then I was burned." He sighs. "I'm sorry, Evan."

"Don't..." Evan leans against him. "We both have agreed that you're ok, but Gregory wants your foxy mask."

Micheal smiles. "Yeah, you can take it."

"But you don't have it yet." Evan giggles.

Micheal crosses his arms. "Then why ask for it?"

Evan shrugs.

Elizabeth gasps. "If you're giving away your stuff, I want your plushies."

"No." Micheal frowns. "However, you can paint my nails and do my hair whenever you want."

"Can you have tea parties with me?" Elizabeth smiles when Micheal nods. "Then you can keep them."

I'm so glad you won't take them." Micheal sighs and nearly jumps when the shouting starts. His eyes glow yellow and hold onto Elizabeth and Evan.

Elizabeth clings to Micheal's arm, and Evan clings to the other.

"Let's have a tea party in my room." Micheal gets up carrying both his siblings. He didn't really let either of them argue.

......

Micheal distracts the two long enough that they take a nap on his bed. He looks over to his door opening. He sees his father with a large gash across his cheek and a stab wound in his shoulder. "Father, you are injured."

William sighs, holding his shoulder. "Your mother...." He stops. "It was just an accident. I'm sure she was just threatened by me raising my voice."

Micheal knew that was a big fat lie, but he knew his father didn't know that. He takes a breath. "Father, you need to take us to Uncle Henry's now."

"Micheal, what are you..."

"Father, this is not a suggestion." Micheal stands up. "I know Mother hurts you if you do not follow her instructions. I also know mother has been killing the local pets and strays. I know you know this, too." He stares at his father. "Take us to Uncle Henry's."

William nods, picking up his two sleeping children as Micheal follows behind him.

......

Margaret answered the door and covered her mouth, William was covered in blood, and it looked like his shoulder was still bleeding, and he was swaying from blood loss. His three children were in front of him, and Micheal was holding onto his two siblings. "What happened?"

"Inside." Micheal mumbles, pushing past her, helping his two siblings inside. "Need string and a needle and a lighter."

Margaret shakes her head and drags William inside. "What the fuck happened?" The door slams behind her alerting her husband and daughter who just got back from school.

"Uncle William?" Charlie stops when her mother gives her a look.

Henry comes in right behind her and freezes. He was no stranger to a knife fight, and his partner looked like he had lost badly. "Margret, I can take him." He grabs William before he falls and motions for Margaret to grab the kids.

"Right, children, come on, this is an adult issue." Margaret is unable to grab Micheal, but she'll come back for him. She herds the other three into the guest room.

Micheal frowns. "Mother stabbed him after he tried to confront her about me."

"It was an accident." William slurs barely upright.

Henry shakes his head. "Micheal, there's a lighter in the front draw and grab a knife. I'm going to caturize the wound."

Micheal nods and follows his instructions as Henry straps his father's shirt off and heats up the knife.

His scream echoes through the home.

Henry shuts his eyes and takes a breath. "Micheal, how long?"

"They were arranged to be married, my father had no choice in the matter." Micheal frowns as he stares at his uncle, who was cleaning up his father's cheek. "You never knew. He never told anyone I found out going through paperwork."

"An arranged marriage?" Henry, stop and look over at his wife. "How much, did you hear?"

"Enough to know, I'm not letting any of them go back." Margaret crosses her arms. "I see enough of the outcome of abuse at work. I don't need to see it on people I care about." She sighs. "I don't even want to know how you know to catutrize a wound like that. Micheal, I don't know what happened to you, but I know you're different, but it doesn't matter." She sighs. "I'll get some of your clothes for him, and Micheal, can you help your siblings?"

"Yes, Aunt Margaret." Micheal runs off down the hall.

......

It's been a few hours, William was still out cold, and Henry was cooking a 6 course meal. She hadn't seen the children, so she walls down, and they weren't in the guest room, and she heard muffled talking from Charlie's room.

Micheal is standing on Charlie's bed with a handful of hand drawn pictures and notes on the wall tapped to the wall and crayon lines connecting them. Charlie was raising her hand. "So Uncle William kills me, and I become the puppet who's lefty?"

Micheal pauses. "Uh, I think a variety of Freddy you used to get around being in the rain. So to continue, after the fire and your father's speech, I woke up in glamrock Freddy." He points to the realize drawing of a colorful Freddy Margaret thinks. "Where I find Gregory aka half of Evan in my stomach hatch used for birthday cake and gifts, and it continues from there. There's the other security guard, Vanessa, who was possessed by our mother Clara, and developed a second personality that kills children, and she went after Gregory, who I know know was a very realistic android, and now understand why he looked so much like Evan. Then, somehow, in our escape, we ended up back in the past where we are now. We've already changed things."

Elizabeth raises her hand. "Did you ever see Jeremy again?"

"No, I did not." Micheal sighs. "I do miss him, but it's not important."

"You deserve to be happy too, Mikey." Evan mumbles.

"Jeremy's our age, so we just have to find him." Charlie gets up. "I vote we look for him since we know future events."

Elizabeth gets up and nods. "Yeah!"

Micheal sighs and covers his face. "That's not important. We have other things to be concerned about." He slams his hand against the wall of the pictures and notes.

Evan stands up. "No, I agree with Evan. we are finding this Jeremy guy first. We want to see your eyes glow pink again."

"Yeah, they were pretty." Elizabeth giggles climbing on the bed.

Charlie nods. "It's like a mood ring."

Micheal sighs and covers his face. "But we have to...."

Margaret clears her throat. "Um...."

"Oh hi, mom. Micheal was explaining the future to us." Charlie smiles. "We have to save the future, isn't that cool."

Margaret nods, straining a smile. "Uh yes, your father made dinner for all of you. Could you guys wash up."

Micheal nods, jumping off the bed and grabbing Elizabeth and Evan. "Time to wash our hands."

Margret stops. "Why is he carrying them like that?"

"Dunno?" Charlie shrugs following after him.

.....

[rin-afananditshows]

I’m sure she is very warm and comfortable where she is. ♥

(day late, sorry)

[mariacallous]

I’ve been thinking a lot about the past and some of the choices I’ve made and the future and how near and far and exciting and terrifying it is, and all the things I have to deal with still and will have to figure out, and in particular my great aunt, who’s been gone for 15 years now but who I spent so much time with pretty much from when I was born up until she died, and which prompted me to start crying and, though I usually hate that, I didn’t and couldn’t really stop it and it felt kinda nice to have that kind of emotional release.

She was a very devout Catholic, who lived her vodka martinis and her black coffee and her newspaper crosswords (and the newspaper was the San Francisco Chronicle, thank you very much), and her hourly (at least) cigarette, having started when she was 14 and continuing right up until the end. She helped my grandma raise my mom and her brothers, and she lied about her age so that she could work longer in the job she enjoyed. Of her niece and nephews I think my mom was her favorite, and of the great nieces and nephews I think I was her favorite ( @corgial would agree I think).

She never married or had kids of her own, but was very much like a second mom or parent and she was like a grandma with me and my sisters and cousins (and my mom’s mom died when I was very little so I don’t remember much directly with her but only stories that I was told).

She was very set in her ways, and she had a particular Estée Lauder perfume she liked and used and which I still think about even though it’s been so long now.

She helped babysit me when I was little and I spent probably every weekend with her and several holidays (which she’d spend with us or do a rotation) and vacations and I really valued the time I spent with her because I got to pretty much be on my own and explore the house my mom grew up in, with so many books and old mementos and so forth.

She was also one of the first people who gave me the space to be me and explore - I used to spend hours going through the house my mom grew up in and all the stuff there, from the books to the jewelry and scarves and so forth, and we used to play pretend games and she didn’t really bat an eye when I was being more feminine or more interested in those things and when I experimented with makeup. (Of course I had tried to hide it or wipe it off but you could still tell).

I used to just be *me* around her, one of the few times and places where I could do it without too much worry. If I spent hours arranging my Hot Wheels cars on a makeshift freeway and road system and tried to create an urban scene using the coffee table and books and some board game, or if I found a peacock costume necklace and an old silk scarf and decided to try to be a European noble, or if I just wanted to read the book of fairy tales with illustrations done by children, or watch The Golden Girls or The Jeffersons or Cartoon Network, or sketch and trace from the D’Aulaire’s book of Greek myths, it was allowed.

As much as I love my parents, and as much as they love and support me, it was not quite the same and there was always some kind of pressure or correction, especially if you went too far outside the expectation. So there wasn’t really much opportunity or freedom or comfort in some of the exploration and thinking about myself at home, which is a little ironic since my parents are and generally have been pretty progressive but also have gotten more Catholic (and more Social Justice Catholic) over time, whereas my great aunt was very old school Catholic, helping to make costumes for the Virgin Mary statue and praying to St. Jude and prayers every night before going to sleep and grace before meals and church every weekend etc.

It was the perfect mix of stability and structure and freedom and I didn’t realize how much I missed it and her.

Kennedy was her favorite President and she was a supporter of JP2, and she even got to go to the service he did at Laguna Seca in the late 80s. Several phrases she told me still stick, from “if wishes were horses, beggars would ride” to “if you ever feel weird or upset, try going to the bathroom and usually that’ll help resolve the issue, or at least make you feel a little better” to “if you can’t remember it, it must not have been important”.

She always had coffee brewing and drank it regularly (and black) throughout the day, with vodka martinis (with two olives if possible) her treat. Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune were her regular night time shows, and we tried to call her every night, and by we I mens mostly me, although she also talked to my mom obviously.

She could have a sharp tone and words when irritated or tired and she didn’t have much use for flattery and fools.

She’s also the last link to so much of that part of my family, really - my mom’s dad died when she was 9, so I never met him. My mom’s oldest brother died in the 80s, and then her mom, and then her other brother, and then my great aunt, and then several years later the second to last brother of my mom (who still has one left). And my dad’s mom died when I was 6-7, and my dad’s dad died a year or two before my great aunt, and then a few years before my mom’s brother died, one of my dad’s 2 brothers died. So she’s the most poignant reminder of how much is gone in my family, and how little there is left, and how we’ve had more losses and solemnities than celebrations for the most part (one of the first events I went to as a baby was a funeral) and just how much time has gone by and how much more you recognize it the older you get.

Ultimately, I just wish she could be here now and see everything that’s happened and gone on, because she was always so supportive and always knew what to say - for better or worse. And so certain of things, in a way that I wish I could match.

[fannishcodex]

So I love @revasnaslan 's Where One Fell Verse, a SPOP AU. :D (Will add a link to the fic series in a comment or reblog below after remembering that tumblr sometimes has issues with embedded links, I think.)

Like, I really love it a lot, it borders on self-conscious "am I being too much, will this for some reason bother the fic writer??" And really, I’ve realized, no way, it won’t, especially since I write fic too and know I would be delighted if my fic got that reaction; but I think this may be more part of my self-consciousness and shyness. In any case, my affection for these fics is on hyperfixation level. I'm in the WOF Verse fandom. It's a thing I've been thinking about in some way since I found it late last year via @cirusthecitrus, it's one of the things that cheers me up these days. I struggle to articulate my pleasure with this fic, but I want to try to do it more.

This fic is a wonderfully character-driven story.

Fic spoilers under the cut, so recommend reading Where One Fell (fic 1) and Everything But A Door (fic 2) before this--and also, just, this fic has my deepest rec and everyone should check it out:

But, another different note first, even more self-conscious on my part: me writing about this fic more feels long overdue, but I really do struggle to sometimes articulate even my positive feelings about a thing because I want to get it across well--but I'm trying to more just spill it out now instead of trying to refine it more; and just also other things have been...a lot, there's been a lot (good and less good) that's pulled my attention in other directions too. So, long overdue, I wish I could've done more earlier, but I still just want to...gush about the fic; but I get self-conscious and worry about, like, "I don't want to end up pestering/pressuring and asking for immediate gratification for a new chapter/I don't want to guilt-trip for an update especially since I feel like I understand because I write fic too and I write slow and it's hard"...but I still want to gush about WOF verse, especially since it's like any other story I enjoy. I like gushing about the stories I enjoy.

So, again, this fic is wonderfully character-driven, which I love.

I'll bring up some canon for obvious reasons, but mostly in terms of contrast. One of the ways WOF Verse felt refreshing and drew me in was that after SPOP canon--well, in some ways SPOP canon feels like a wasted ensemble show; like many other things SPOP doesn't pull off, it doesn't pull off an ensemble show (especially when it ends up sidelining a bunch of characters that should've been prioritized more instead of a very mishandled character), and it kinda feels like it ends up having too many characters/like it starts feeling like too many characters if some are sort of just there and not really used (and I have my thoughts on who should've been prioritized, but that's another post; though granted I think my interest in this fic really indicates some of the characters I would've prioritized more).

So, I enjoyed how WOF Verse focuses on a smaller cast, giving them more attention and exploring them more. The general summary of the fic immediately drew me in, because I'm a sucker for family themes and dysfunctional families and familial love getting messy and complicated in fiction, and I hadn't realized I needed clone Hordak and his genetic template/progenitor Horde Prime shifted to them being literally brothers, plus the added twist of having Horde Prime actually care for his brother, but Prime's become thoroughly twisted in how he shows that affection and protectiveness--didn't know I needed that until I found this fic. And oh do I enjoy how this fic opened up the original '80s She-Ra/MOTU up to me more, because I just thought "wow, Hec-Tor Kur is a good made-up alt name/'real-ish' name with a last name for Hordak in this AU, and Anillis Kur just sounds cool and it just feels like it fits as an alt name/real name for Horde Prime when he's not always using that title," and I thought making them literally blood brothers was just a neat twist on them being clone and genetic template/progenitor. But nope, apparently Hec-Tor Kur and Anillis Kur are their real alt names from the original '80s canon which also heavily implies they're brothers, and that's really cool. (And I think it would've been really interesting if spop/the latest reboot had actually just explored that more, explored them more as brothers and siblings.)

Again, WOF is very character-driven, and I love that. And I enjoy how this feels like it also fits the story and world of the fic, which involves Anillis Kur/Horde Prime going into Extremely Overprotective Brother Mode and confining his sickly younger brother Hec-Tor (Hordak) to the Velvet Glove because he's that paranoid about anything happening to his brother due to a lot of family trauma that happened before Hec-Tor was even born/when he was just a baby (and baby Hec-Tor himself almost succumbing to illness and dying did not help with Anillis's issues), not to mention that controlling; so much of the fic so far is in a closed world, it adds to the hyper focus on the characters in that closed world. I appreciate how at times the fic really does have this claustrophobic feeling. I like how it sometimes makes me think of like a one-setting/limited setting play on a multi-chapter scale.

And of course, I like the specific characters getting this sort of hyper focus, and WOF makes me enjoy them even more. I love Hordak, his character, his voice, his design, etc. Horde Prime also has such a cool design and again that same cool voice, I adore Keston John's voice acting and his range in it. Canon S5 doesn't give him enough internal depth or character though, and ultimately makes him too much of just an obstacle and symbol/too much of a plot device in the show and a wasted opportunity for a more interesting character. That becomes even more apparent in contrast to WOF Verse, because Anillis Kur/Horde Prime is so much more interesting!!! Like Anillis/WOF!Prime is so much more interesting, it makes me realize how canon Prime is lacking in character/interest.

Ohman, this Prime. Prime has a great design and a great voice, and WOF has an interesting personality to match those elements in quality. There's so much fascinating contrast with him in WOF, and it makes him feel like a more unsettling villain. We've seen him care, and so it feels more frightening when he turns more aggressive and ruthless and cold. WOF's opening scene really effectively sets that contrast with him; it starts with him exhausted but having a really sweet moment with a very young Hec-Tor, and then not long after that when Hec-Tor's asleep in his arms it's a very unsettling mood whiplash with how Anillis coldly treats the clone attendant; it's even very effectively distilled and crystalized even further with the image of Anillis holding a sleeping Hec-Tor in his arms while glaring daggers at the clone attendant, that contrast of love and threat. Like, definitely a character that can do Both and I love that. And contrast adds layers to Anillis, it renders him in even more emotional dimensions, he can be multiple things at once.

And I rather love that he's far less...touchy, with everyone; it more finally struck me that he's rarely negatively touched anyone until a pivotal scene, and it being a rarity made the scene pack more of a punch, and then I looked back and realized he just doesn't do that often, there's another earlier scene that also feels shocking because it's another rare use of explicit touch, his touch is more targeted--he doesn't need to constantly do it to feel threatening at all, and is in fact much more threatening and unsettling without it. (I literally had to pause some instances because I was nervous about what Anillis would do next.) It's so fascinating to watch Anillis steadily grow worse and to watch Hec-Tor gradually have the dawning realization of what Anillis is really doing and the truth of his situation. It's interesting to see Hec-Tor gradually realizing that what he's lived with his whole life and what has felt normal isn't a good thing, it's not acceptable.

And I really do like that familial love is such a motivating factor for Anillis, and that it's something that feeds into a lot of his ruthlessness and villainy; and it feels like something I still don't see enough in fiction. And it just feels more believable, more consistent. Anillis acts horribly, is abusive, but it still feels like what he does is out of love for his brother and he really is blind to what he's actually doing to his brother, that it's the opposite of what he wants, it's not protecting him like he believes. I like that level of character believability/consistency, and part of that also involves how it's overall framed, and it's still framed as pretty terrifying; Anillis cares about his brother, but his methods are twisted.

And my gut feeling does...well, feel connections between canon and this AU--and that may be obvious as source material and fic based on it, but I mean--it's as if canon were the very rough first sketch/draft, and WOF is the fully realized version of the character, plus the change of shifting his brotherly status into a brother that actually does care but goes about it in a horribly twisted way. WOF takes parts and pieces and little details from canon and fleshes them out into something more fully dimensional and more interesting. Like the trace of canon Prime's collection with plants/other things and even arguably the imagery at the end with his ship the Velvet Glove becoming a tree feel connected to a more fleshed out version in WOF where Anillis keeps a garden. And there's so much meaning that can be pulled from his garden--it's another reflection of his controlling behavior with the way he controls/manages the garden; on the flip side, it feels like it further reflects the contrast/dichotomy in his character, as gardens can still have positive connotations too--it can reflect the potential Anillis had (may still have?) for genuine good/for genuinely nurturing care. And it also does more explicitly point to Anillis's affection for family since his late father had kept a garden too and Anillis's own garden on the Velvet Glove still has his father's plants. There's so much done with Anillis's garden.

And with his backstory and the contrast in his character, just his...everything, I also want to know more about Anillis, I'm curious for even more of his backstory, even going more into "why are you like this?" Like this is a genuinely fascinating, charismatic, threatening, multi-faceted antagonist right here.  

And I can go on about Anillis, but I love Hec-Tor/Hordak in this too. I love Hordak, and I enjoy how this still feels so much like Hordak, but with a different life; I feel like there are commonalities that remain from canon within him combined with differences based on the AU he's in and the different experiences he's lived with. Like, there's such an interesting detail with Hec-Tor's growing anger issues that remind me of Hordak--it's there, but different because of their different lives, Hec-Tor's developing because of his isolation but still quieter, simmering, because his brother only has his best interests at heart, he shouldn't act like this... And then it’s so nice to see Hec-Tor be even more talkative about SCIENCE because he does have more space to be a bit more open about his passions in this AU/different life situation. And it's all like another AU I didn't realize I wanted until I saw it--I really dig seeing Hordak/Hec-Tor as a baby, as a little kid, getting to have a childhood and get to have more typical developmental stages and to have more familial experiences, albeit twisted ones. And I love how the story has shifted to Hec-Tor more, love his POV and following him on his journey.

And the clones! The clones are great in WOF and give me feels too. I love how more of them are focused on as individuals, and that we get to see more of their characters and glimpse their differing views. And when Etherian characters join in, they're as well written and interesting too (the Entrapdak is so good). I just like WOF's cast, and the line-up plucked from canon and how they adjust to the AU; this ensemble just feels better, and it's utilized and treated better than canon.

And the worldbuilding with Anillis & Hec-Tor’s race and the clones and their world is so good and seamlessly interwoven with story and character, enhancing the whole thing even more and making things even more interesting.

I just...really love these characters and this story. They have a lot of heart and intrigue.

(Disclaimer: I definitely ended up having trouble figuring out tags for this. Especially since I think only the first five tags actually show up at first? And I think last I checked tumblr freaks out over dashes within a tag so while “hec-tor kur” probably fits better, I don’t think tumblr can handle that for some reason so just going with “hordak,” which also really still just fits.)

[thewriting-corner]

‘Renegades’ trilogy by Marissa Meyer: review

Welcome today to a post I have been waiting to do for months. I never do entire posts for book reviews, but since this was a trilogy (and one of my favorites I read this year) I decided it would deserve a little more.

Note: I will be doing a spoiler-free review first and then I’ll put a warning before talking about each individual book :)

Synopsis: The Renegades are a syndicate of prodigies—humans with extraordinary abilities—who emerged from the ruins of a crumbled society and established peace and order where chaos reigned. As champions of justice, they remain a symbol of hope and courage to everyone... except the villains they once overthrew.

Trilogy Review ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I honestly think these are the best books I’ve ever read. The description was fascinating, easy to follow and gave amazing imagery without that heaviness that a lot of fantasy books have (this is more sci-fi/dystipia-ish but still).

The characters felt real and their individual voices were clear from start to finish. I loved every single character, even the ones I hated. 

However, there is one thing that bothered me BUT it does align with their world and that is the lack of accountability certain characters recieve (but I will be talking about that in my Supernova review).

Then the PLOT OH MY GOSH. I mean, it’s superheroes. It’s nearly impossible to be original with a plot that isn’t the same as any Marvel or DC comic/movie/show. And yet Marissa Meyer that such a beautiful job of taking a common conflict (heroes vs villains, villains wanting to take over the world) and turning it into a unique plot with amazing twists. 

I mentioned the world-building before, but I’ll do it again. Third person POV is not my favorite and neither is heavy world building like the one this book needed and had. Still, it was written in such a simple way that I didn’t feel like she was trying to confuse me, it was just a story.

Overall, this series was amazing and I highly recommend it to anyone looking for a fast paced, mind-blowing world building and compelling characters that will make you feel single to the core even in a relationship.

🚨Spoilers Ahead🚨

Renegades ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

“We were all villains in the beginning.”

I went into this book with low expectations because I didn’t think I’d like Marissa Meyer’s style and boy was I wrong.

The first few chapters were a bit confusing but the moment Adrian fixed Nova’s bracelet I KNEW this would steer towards romance and it sold me. And then Nightmare making fun of the Sentinel for his comic book phrases and poses was my favorite thing ever. That would be me as a superhero, no doubt.

I really liked the way the plot progressed “slowly” without feeling dragged on. In fact, despite it’s slower pace of the story, the book still felt quick and that just won a million points with me.

Don’t even get me started on the Anarchists. I LOVED them. I like how they weren’t presented as villains from Nova’s POV, just enemies of a totalitarian state. Not even just in her point of view though. I genuinely didn’t think any of them were bad until Ingrid decided to show up at the library and almost killed Sketch’s crew.

And speaking of Sketch’s crew … the minor characters??? Hello??? Who writes side characters that are SO good?? Oscar is my favorite though. He wins. Danna being the only one to question Nova about Adrian’a feelings for her was hilarious, although it stressed me out that Nova put her to sleep. Counterpoint: it was very cute that the only way she could stop thinking of Adrian liking her was by putting Danna to sleep. Very on point teenage reaction. I would’ve done the same thing if only I wasn’t trying to remain anonymous in the organization that indirectly killed my parents. 

The climax, on the other hand, felt a teensy bit rushed but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy Nodrian in their not-date. It was adorable, especially when they stopped at the kid’s party and then Nova panicking over the mere thought of going on the ferris wheel with Adrian. All the carnival chapters where my favorite thing ever and I really wished they hadn’t ended with Nova killing the woman who raised her. But I did like the irony of it being Ingrid who told her she didn’t have the guts to press the trigger and then she died at the hands of Nova’s gun. 

AND THE ENDING WITH ACE BEING ALIVE. That shook me. I suspected it, of course, but it shook me to my core. 10/10 plot twist there.

Archenemies ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

“I guess I figured you deserve to have good dreams every once in a while. Even if you never sleep.”

This one gets six stars because somehow I read it in 11 hours and I’ve never read such a large book in one day. The entire story was just fast-paced action, superhero world building and Nodrian flirting and eventually kissing. Best book ever.

I liked how in this book we got a closer look into other character relationships like Oscar and Ruby and then Danna’s suspicions over Nova. I would’ve liked to see more of Danna’s friendship with the team though, since at times it seemed she was only there to send passive aggressive comments at Nova. And the Sentinel’s “death” was amazing. Pure comic book material right there. 

There is this thing though that I mentioned in the general review that bothered me and it’s when they reveal Agent N. This weapon they created using Max’s blood is a great example of how the Renegades had obtained way too much power. It’s when we start to see that maybe Nova and the Anarchists are right. The Renegades are slowly becoming a dictatorship and it’s bothersome that nobody except Nova and Adrian notice. Especially when it was so obvious with things like them using Agent N “against every prodigy who didn’t follow the Renegades code”. Sure, they were criminals, but that wasn’t about arresting them. It was about changing the DNA of people who made one mistake and were immediately deemed enemies of the state.

Back to the good stuff, Nodrian flirting was the highlight of this book. They’re both so awkward and adorable, especially when Nova’s teaching Adrian how to shoot and then when they’re in his room later on. The whole “you want me to ignore everything?” and “you’re not allowed to have girls in your room?” quotes KILLED me. Those were peak flirting moments and I’m immensely surprised by the way that Marissa Meyer manages to write teenagers realistically as an adult and not even having teenage kids of her own. Also, Nova opening up to Adrian was just. No. It killed me. My ghost is writing this btw.

The ending, once again, amazing. I loved it. Not only did it once again show Frostbite’s true colors, show us how much hate Adrian actually held against Nightmare and the way Nova had softened by the Renegades’ influence. And Ace Anarchy’s capture goes into the good things pile.

Supernova ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

“To be honest, I’m not sure there are such things as villains anymore. Maybe there never really were.”

Is it a bad review if I just insert the word “AH” for the next ten lines? Yes? Damn it. I admit that I was expecting something much different, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. I have never cursed and squealed so much by reading and had I not bought the hardcover with my own money, I would’ve thrown that book against the wall. It stressed me out. First of all, getting Nova and Adrian kissing in the tunnels a few chapters before Adrian arrests her for being Nightmare was another level of messed up. Clearly, she did everything in her power to save him from her house’s explosion and he threw it out the window in blind anger. And then the whole execution thing??? That was horrifying and it’s when the Renegades’ incompetence really showed its true colors. They couldn’t bring the people back to their side - because they failed - so they sentenced a broken, dying man and an underage girl who acted under the manipulation of her entire family, to death. If Hugh had ever even attempted to find out what happened to both Artino girls, none of that mess would’ve happened, but instead Lady Indomitable died and he went “WELL, can’t do anything about her last task, can we?” I get he was preoccupied by her orphaned son and the Ace of Anarchy, but it was as simple as going back into the house and searching. In fact, this entire book was just showing how their society was crumbling and in the end they went “we were all heroes”. I’m surprised Nova forgave the entire Renegades organization for what they did because even if it was Ace who sent a hit after her and her family, the Renegades were still willing to overuse their power. 

And once again back to the good stuff before I end up bashing the Renegades even more, I never thought I would be on board with Adrian and Nova’s relationship at the end of the book. I try not to ship toxic relationships in YA because they happen a lot and I wouldn’t like younger readers to think that it’s okay, but I loved how both Nova and Adrian were willing to make a change for their relationship to work. They compromised because they loved each other so much it didn’t matter who had tried to kill the other person and their dad or who hadn’t advocated against the other’s execution, you know, the ups and downs of every relationship. While I do wish we had seen them talking about everything, I get a book can only have a certain amount of words and I was glad just the same with how it ended. Also, Leroy’s threat to Adrian is iconic, just like Oscar proclaiming his undying love for Ruby at the arena were they almost witnessed multiple murders.

The epilogue. Just. Wow. I knew it before because I’m smart and I spoiled it but I NEED another Renegades book. You can’t just end the series saying Evie Artino was Magpie and her being as angry as Nova once was. Like, no. You just can’t. That was a crime against humanity, tbh, but overall the series was amazing and I have never been more grateful to spend almost $80 in books. 

[ohpsshaw]

~DFS Christmas Special~

No desire to draw lately, so I’ve been doing little prose sketches instead.

Just in time for December, here’s what turned out to be Uncle Jack taking Al Christmas shopping. This would be circa 199X B.G. (Before Glenn), making Al in his early 20s.

(Watch out if you have high blood sugar, cos this gets KINDA SACCHARINE.)

It had finally stopped snowing, thank goodness. The fresh white blanket reflected crisp light in through the windows, making him feel chilled inside. Luckily Pop was a comfort creature who kept a stock of hot chocolate mix in the pantry. Al never seemed to reach for it back at his apartment, but something about visiting home in the winter months made a warm mug feel as essential as a limb.

Uncle Jack had asked Al to accompany him for some holiday shopping later, and a chocolate briquette would be good to have heating his gut. He took it to the couch in the living room. Someone had dug up the old photo books and left them on the coffee table a few days ago. Flipping through, he noticed that half the pages were completely empty— photography had never been a popular concept in the Czar household. The preserved moments were of family trips and landmarks, rambunctious sepia-washed office parties, Al’s school portraits. Rarer was anything taken inside the house. One shot of himself at four or five years old, standing on the yellow-sunlit staircase and showing the camera a toy car, surfaced a memory of being coached to keep his mouth closed so as not to alarm a 1-hour photo developer. Thinking on it, it may have been more than coincidence that most of these were instant Polaroids.

Through the window, he heard the muffled sound of a car door, then: “What the fuck are you doing!?” Hey, Pop’s home. Al pulled back the curtain to watch the drama unfolding at the end of the driveway, where Uncle Jack had been chipping at the wall of powder the afternoon snowplow had left. Xav had just returned from morning errands and parked in the street, storming over the slush to stop his brother from working.

Cold air blasted from the foyer. Snow crunched as Xav shook out the snow shovel behind him. “Why was he doing this by himself? Did you become a quadriplegic when I wasn’t looking?”

Al flipped through the Rolodex in his head for the answer that would earn him the least amount of grief. He shrugged, as if confused by the absurdity of the question. “He didn’t ask.”

“I didn’t ask, Max.” Jack took the shovel back. “But you’re right, I should have. Reckon it was my vanity what did me in— I can’t stand to be upstaged by some young buck doing the same job in half the time.” He winked at his nephew. “Well, three-quarters.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Xav spat, the corners of his mouth curling up against his will. “You both know I’m not being unreasonable. You’re not a guest, Alan Henry. As far as I’m concerned, you still live here. You earn your keep during the day, and MAYBE I’ll consider putting on my robe and letting you suckle dinner from my left tit.”

Al choked on his hot chocolate.

“Shit. Careful on the carpet. I’ll get you a paper towel.” Xav left for the kitchen, grumble-exorcising demons as he walked. “If Papa caught one of us sitting on our ass while the other did chores...”

Why did Pop have to save his best lines for when people were eating? Bent over and lapping chocolate out of the crevices of his palm, Al thought he saw a piece of marshmallow among the bubbles. Heh... hope that didn’t come out of his nose.

“You still need me to shovel?” he asked Jack.

“Son, I would be honored,” Jack nodded, holding the shovel on the doormat like a knight leaning on an orange sword. “Gitcher boots on and you can finish the job before we head out. I’ll make sure your Pop watches the show from inside.”

Xav returned with the towels and a smirk. “Talking shit about me, Jack?”

“I was just sayin’ how you’ll hate to see us go, but you’ll love to watch us walk away.”

“Got that fucking right.” Al cleaned his face while Xav dabbed each of his fingers individually. An oddly tender gesture. “What are you two going out for, exactly?”

“Juuust... shoppin’. I need Alan’s opinion on somethin’.”

“Uh-huh.” Secrets being a rare and dangerous thing in this family, there wasn’t much question as to what this was really about. Especially between brothers who were as close as twins. But the holidays were about giving, after all, so Xav seemed to decide to give them the benefit of the doubt. A game is more fun when everybody plays along.

Truthfully, even Al wasn’t sure what they were going to get for his father. A successful family man hitting his sixties doesn’t want for much. By this point, Xav had enough neckties and “#1 Dad” mugs to be buried surrounded by them like a pharaoh. Jack could always steal the show by reaching into his deep D.D.S. pockets or by making a new piece of furniture, but the son was held to no such standards. Xav had simple hobbies, and he seemed to have the house exactly how he wanted it. Was Al too old to make a coupon book, redeemable for hugs and remembering to use a coaster?

Or maybe his gift to Pop could be giving college another shot. Dropping out had caused some... friction, a flint-strikes-wood situation that had led to Al moving out of the house, and eventually out-of-state. He had to admit, the independence felt good. Putting his shoes on the coffee table, not having to tell anyone where he was going... he’d definitely become more promiscuous. No independent murders, though, which was starting to grate on him. He’d realized lately that he had always expected to be allowed to do more, without his father and uncle. Maybe if he did what Pop wanted, things would calm down so he could move back to Michigan and use the cabin. But the idea of sitting in another classroom, taking notes on a subject he didn’t care about, all for the promise of 50 years chained to a desk... It made him want to sleep forever.

When the car pulled up to the mall, Al was not surprised at all by the entrance his uncle had chosen. “Mind if I peek in Sears?” Jack asked, as if wild horses could stop him.

Home improvement and appliance stores were another phenomenon Al only seemed to experience at home. The dusty, unvarnished smell and high ceilings had been a frequent backdrop during his childhood— for Jack, they seemed to be akin to a candy store. He was talented as a carpenter and repairman, and sincerely relished something going wrong with the house if it meant he could pull out his toolkit. He also liked to make things go wrong with human bodies on occasion, but there was a separate box for those tools waiting up at the cabin.

Two steps in the door, and a weary-looking holiday hire hit them up with a canned pitch: “...and I’m happy to help you find whatever’s on your list!“ Aggressive customer service, the bane of the paranoid shopper. Jack was the front line for shaking off overly helpful greeters, which Xav had called “the second-worst thing to come out of the 80s after Iran-Contra.”

“Just lookin’, God willing— I brought my conscience with me to make me behave,” Jack looked to his nephew. “Don’t let me buy a single screw, y’hear?”

“Got it. Bulk purchases only.” That earned Al a shove.

Salesperson successfully deflected, Jack ducked toward his usual corner: the big ticket carpentry goods. When Al caught up, he was running his hand over a table saw. As much as he loved his uncle, Al wasn’t particularly interested in watching him fantasize about cutting wood, or even bone. “You have a project in mind?”

“A bit of a science experiment, next time we play cards,” Jack’s pupils darted along the equipment, still in reverie. “I’ve been readin’ a book about crucifixions, and how they affect the body.”

“Oh, that’s seasonal.”

“‘Course, I won’t be able to try it ‘til next year. You think your Pop would let me pick out a rabbit by April?” Jack chuckled. He was not talking about the Easter bunny. “We can see if she comes back to life after three days.”

Al snorted. “Jesus.”

“Precisely. Y’know, Christ is usually depicted with holes in his hands, but in actuality, the Romans would have put the nails through his wrists.” Jack picked up Al’s arm to demonstrate, dancing fingers across his palm. “Ain’t much to take hold of in here. It’s too fragile and open-ended. But if you move up the arm,”— he pressed his thumb into the straightened portion of Al’s median nerve— “You can hook the radius and the ulna. Much better support.” Jack’s eyes flickered with glee. “And it hurts like a bitch!”

“Wait, are you going to go first, or last?” Playing cards was usually a once-a-year affair, and the night Al looked forward to the most. If Jack snuffed her out before he had his turn...

“Oh, don’t worry, son. Done right, she could last for days.” Not that she would, since Pop would probably have something to say about that. “I just want to try, er... doin’ as the Romans do. And who knows, maybe you’ll like it. Every bachelor eventually needs to have a girl nailed down!”

They cackled and then shushed each other, wincing like sneaky little boys at the idea that someone would hear them over the store’s ambient shopping muzak. They really shouldn’t talk like this in public, even with code words and euphemisms. Though over the years they’d learned that people can be experts at ignoring what’s right under their noses. Certainly none of the men had ever overheard anyone else planning a murder.

“It’s just a pipe dream, I’m still in the plannin’ stages,” Jack added. “Ain’t even got the lumber yet. So if you wanna put some packages under the tree that are, say, 4-by-6 and 72 inches long... I promise to be shocked when I unwrap ‘em.”

Al’s attention shifted over his uncle’s shoulder, to a shelf of handheld orbital sanders. Al was more of a hands-on kind of guy— he still got a little queasy thinking about Jack’s experiment to see which sandpaper grit was the best at removing skin.

“So what was it you wanted me to look at? I don’t think Pop needs a crucifix for Christmas.”

“Oh, I’m just killin’ time before our appointment.”

“Appointment?”

“At the photo studio. I want you to give your Pop a picture.”

“...of us?”

“Naw, just you.”

Al loved that. “Yeah, that’d be hilarious. Merry Christmas, Pop, I got you me!”

A pause. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“As a heart attack, son. It’s just what he needs.”

“Do you have, I don’t know, a backup plan?” Al faltered. “Something less self-centered? I’m not exactly his favorite person right now. He kind of thinks I’m a failure.”

“Alan, you are not a failure. You are...” Jack patted his nephew’s cheek. “An unbroken mustang who has not yet found his ranch. And your father is just tryna keep you from bein’ sold as horse meat.” He slid them into a far aisle for more privacy. “He worries about you a lot, and he misses you somethin’ fierce.”

Al chewed his cheek. “Well, talk to him about showing it sometime.”

“No, son,” Jack took him by the shoulder, looking around to make sure they were alone. “Your father cries. At night when he talks about you, he starts wellin’ up like a waif. He doesn’t need to hear that you know about it, but it’s the God’s honest truth. All he talks about is wantin’ you back home.”

“I think movin’ out has been good for you, and I’m happy you did it. But it wounded him to his core. You’re his heart, kid.”

Al wasn’t sure how he was taking this information, but he knew how he was supposed to. He scrunched his eyes closed and took a deep breath.

“Okay... If you’re completely sure he won’t think it’s stupid.”

“Are you kiddin’? He’ll put it on the nightstand.” Jack grinned. “And if you smile for it real nice, I’ll take you to that steakhouse in the plaza after.”

Al cocked an eyebrow. “You were gonna go there anyway.”

“Yes. Yes, I was. But won’t you enjoy your ribeye that much more knowin’ you’ve earned it?” Mmn, maybe. “Besides... did you have any better ideas?”

⬥ ⬥ ⬥

Come Christmas Day, Xav had unwrapped the waist-up portrait and just said “thank you”— which was worrying because he was usually much more verbose than that— and gone silent in his chair. At least he wasn’t mad. Al looked to Jack, who smiled knowingly and handed him a package to keep the gift exchange going.

Al figured it was because Jack had given him something funny, but then he heard his father breathe in sharply.

“Maudit tabarnak... you fucking assholes,” Xav’s voice sounded high and squeaky, like it was being squeezed through slabs of rock. He ducked his chin into his bedshirt collar to hide his face.

“You, fucking... why’d you have to...” He shook his hand at the framed photo. Oh boy, he really did hate it. The whole idea was idiotic. Al had sat in front of that artfully-mottled green backdrop and squinted for a man with a bow tie and no indoor voice for nothing, except for the sheer discomfort of it. And a ribeye steak with a baked potato.

Xav blinked up at the ceiling and gulped, his Adam’s apple fluctuating grotesquely. Eventually he seemed to find his voice again. “Why didn’t you tell me you were having pictures taken, so I could make sure he had his fucking hair combed?” He showed them the photo. “Look at his bangs— they’re all over the fucking place.”

Al had to admit, they did look a little wild. “Aw, shoot. Sorry, Pop,” he laughed.

Jack tutted. “I think it looks nice. Rugged.”

“That’s because you don’t know how to comb your hair either, Jack.” Xav brought the photo back into his lap, looking it over. “Looks like he fought a bear before sitting down. But don’t worry, I still like it. You look handsome, kid. Maybe I can find some space on my nightstand.” Al and Jack exchanged victory grins, and didn’t catch Xav wiping tears from both eyes.

[phroyd]

Oh My, what terrible timing, and what a great loss! Rest In Peace Justice Ginsburg, thank you for all you have done for our country! - Phroyd

Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg, the demure firebrand who in her 80s became a legal, cultural and feminist icon, died Friday. The Supreme Court announced her death, saying the cause was complications from metastatic cancer of the pancreas.

The court, in a statement, said Ginsburg died at her home in Washington surrounded by family. She was 87.

"Our nation has lost a justice of historic stature," Chief Justice John Roberts said. "We at the Supreme Court have lost a cherished colleague. Today we mourn but with confidence that future generations will remember Ruth Bader Ginsburg as we knew her, a tired and resolute champion of justice."

Architect of the legal fight for women's rights in the 1970s, Ginsburg subsequently served 27 years on the nation's highest court, becoming its most prominent member. Her death will inevitably set in motion what promises to be a nasty and tumultuous political battle over who will succeed her, and it thrusts the Supreme Court vacancy into the spotlight of the presidential campaign.

By subscribing, you agree to NPR's terms of use and privacy policy. NPR may share your name and email address with your NPR station. See Details. This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.

Just days before her death, as her strength waned, Ginsburg dictated this statement to her granddaughter Clara Spera: "My most fervent wish is that I will not be replaced until a new president is installed."

She knew what was to come. Ginsburg's death will have profound consequences for the court and the country. Inside the court, not only is the leader of the liberal wing gone, but with the Court about to open a new term, Chief Justice John Roberts no longer holds the controlling vote in closely contested cases.

Though he has a consistently conservative record in most cases, he has split from fellow conservatives in a few important ones, this year casting his vote with liberals, for instance, to at least temporarily protect the so-called Dreamers from deportation by the Trump administration, to uphold a major abortion precedent, and to uphold bans on large church gatherings during the coronavirus pandemic. But with Ginsburg gone, there is no clear court majority for those outcomes.

Indeed, a week after the upcoming presidential election, the court is for the third time scheduled to hear a challenge brought by Republicans to the Affordable Care Act, known as Obamacare. In 2012 the high court upheld the law by a 5-to-4 vote, with Chief Justice Roberts casting the deciding vote and writing the opinion for the majority. But this time the outcome may well be different.

That's because Ginsburg's death gives Republicans the chance to tighten their grip on the court with another Trump appointment that would give conservatives a 6-to-3 majority. And that would mean that even a defection on the right would leave conservatives with enough votes to prevail in the Obamacare case and many others.

At the center of the battle to achieve that will be Senate Majority Leader Mitch McConnell. In 2016 he took a step unprecedented in modern times: He refused for nearly a year to allow any consideration of President Obama's supreme court nominee.

Back then, McConnell's justification was the upcoming presidential election, which he said would allow voters a chance to weigh in on what kind of justice they wanted. But now, with the tables turned, McConnell has made clear he will not follow the same course. Instead he will try immediately push through a Trump nominee so as to ensure a conservative justice to fill Ginsburg's liberal shoes, even if President Trump were to lose his re-election bid. Asked what he would do in circumstances like these, McConnell said: "Oh, we'd fill it."

So what happens in the coming weeks will be bare-knuckle politics, writ large, on the stage of a presidential election. It will be a fight Ginsburg had hoped to avoid, telling Justice Stevens shortly before his death that she hoped to serve as long as he did--until age 90.

"My dream is that I will stay on the court as long as he did," she said in an interview in 2019.

She didn't quite make it. But Ruth Bader Ginsburg was nonetheless an historic figure. She changed the way the world is for American women. For more than a decade, until her first judicial appointment in 1980, she led the fight in the courts for gender equality. When she began her legal crusade, women were treated, by law, differently from men. Hundreds of state and federal laws restricted what women could do, barring them from jobs, rights and even from jury service. By the time she donned judicial robes, however, Ginsburg had worked a revolution.

That was never more evident than in 1996 when, as a relatively new Supreme Court justice, Ginsburg wrote the court's 7-to-1 opinion declaring that the Virginia Military Institute could no longer remain an all-male institution. True, said Ginsburg, most women — indeed most men — would not want to meet the rigorous demands of VMI. But the state, she said, could not exclude women who could meet those demands.

"Reliance on overbroad generalizations ... estimates about the way most men or most women are, will not suffice to deny opportunity to women whose talent and capacity place them outside the average description," Ginsburg wrote.

She was an unlikely pioneer, a diminutive and shy woman, whose soft voice and large glasses hid an intellect and attitude that, as one colleague put it, was "tough as nails."

By the time she was in her 80s, she had become something of a rock star to women of all ages. She was the subject of a hit documentary, a biopic, an operetta, merchandise galore featuring her "Notorious RBG" moniker, a Time magazine cover, and regular Saturday Night Live sketches.

On one occasion in 2016, Ginsburg got herself into trouble and later publicly apologized for disparaging remarks she made about then-presidential candidate Donald Trump.

But for the most part Ginsburg enjoyed her fame and maintained a sense of humor about herself.

Asked about the fact that she had apparently fallen asleep during the 2015 State of the Union address, Ginsburg did not take the Fifth, admitting that although she had vowed not to drink at dinner with the other justices before the speech, the wine had just been too good to resist. The result, she said, was that she was perhaps not an entirely "sober judge" and kept nodding off.

Born in Brooklyn, N.Y., Ruth Bader went to public schools, where she excelled as a student — and as a baton twirler. By all accounts, it was her mother who was the driving force in her young life, but Celia Bader died of cancer the day before the future Justice would graduate from high school.

Then 17, Ruth Bader went on to Cornell on full scholarship, where she met Martin (aka "Marty") Ginsburg. "What made Marty so overwhelmingly attractive to me was that he cared that I had a brain," she said.

After her graduation, they were married and went off to Fort Sill, Okla., for his military service. There Mrs. Ginsburg, despite scoring high on the civil service exam, could only get a job as a typist, and when she became pregnant, she lost even that job.

Two years later, the couple returned to the East Coast to attend Harvard Law School. She was one of only nine women in a class of over 500 and found the dean asking her why she was taking up a place that "should go to a man."

At Harvard, she was the academic star, not Marty. The couple was busy juggling schedules, and their toddler when Marty was diagnosed with testicular cancer. Surgeries and aggressive radiation followed.

"So that left Ruth with a 3-year-old child, a fairly sick husband, the law review, classes to attend and feeding me," said Marty Ginsburg in a 1993 interview with NPR.

The experience also taught the future justice that sleep was a luxury. During the year of Marty's illness, he was only able to eat late at night; after that he would dictate his senior class paper to Ruth. At about 2 a.m., he would go back to sleep, Ginsburg recalled in an NPR interview. "Then I'd take out the books and start reading what I needed to be prepared for classes the next day."

Marty Ginsburg survived, graduated, and got a job in New York; his wife, a year behind him in school, transferred to Columbia, where she graduated at the top of her law school class. Despite her academic achievements, the doors to law firms were closed to women, and though recommended for a Supreme Court clerkship, she wasn't even interviewed.

It was bad enough that she was a woman, she recalled later, but she was also a mother, and male judges worried that she would be diverted by her "familial obligations."

Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg is pictured in the justice's chambers in Washington, D.C., during an interview with NPR's Nina Totenberg in September 2016.

A mentor, law professor Gerald Gunther, finally got her a clerkship in New York by promising Judge Edmund Palmieri that if she couldn't do the work, he would provide someone who could. That was "the carrot," Ginsburg would say later. "The stick" was that Gunther, who regularly fed his best students to Palmieri, told the judge that if he didn't take Ginsburg, Gunther would never send him a clerk again. The Ginsburg clerkship apparently was a success; Palmieri kept her not for the usual one year, but two, from 1959-61.

Ginsburg's next path is rarely talked about, mainly because it doesn't fit the narrative. She learned Swedish so she could work with Anders Berzelius, a Swedish civil procedure scholar. Through the Columbia Law School Project on International Procedure, Ginsburg and Berzelius co-authored a book.

In 1963, Ginsburg finally landed a teaching job at Rutgers law school, where she at one point hid her second pregnancy by wearing her mother-in-law's clothes. The ruse worked; her contract was renewed before her new baby was born.

While at Rutgers, she began her work fighting gender discrimination.

The 'Mother Brief'

Her first big case was a challenge to a law that barred a Colorado man named Charles Moritz from taking a tax deduction for the care of his 89-year-old mother. The IRS said the deduction, by statute, could only be claimed by women, or widowed or divorced men. But Moritz had never married.

The tax court concluded that the internal revenue code was immune to constitutional challenge, a notion that tax lawyer Marty Ginsburg viewed as "preposterous." The two Ginsburgs took on the case, he from the tax perspective, she from the constitutional perspective.

According to Marty Ginsburg, for his wife, this was the "mother brief." She had to think through all the issues and how to fix the inequity. The solution was to ask the court not to invalidate the statute but to apply it equally to both sexes. She won in the lower courts.

"Amazingly," he recalled in a 1993 NPR interview, the government petitioned the United States Supreme Court, stating that the decision "cast a cloud of unconstitutionality" over literally hundreds of federal statutes, and it attached a list of those statutes, which it compiled with Defense Department computers.

Those laws, Marty Ginsburg added, "were the statutes that my wife then litigated ... to overturn over the next decade."

In 1971, she would write her first Supreme Court brief in the case of Reed v. Reed. Ginsburg represented Sally Reed, who thought she should be the executor of her son's estate instead of her ex-husband.

The constitutional issue was whether a state could automatically prefer men over women as executors of estates. The answer from the all-male supreme court: no.

It was the first time the court had ever struck down a state law because it discriminated based on gender.

And that was just the beginning.

By then Ginsburg was earning quite a reputation. She would become the first female tenured professor at Columbia Law School, and she would found the Women's Rights Project at the ACLU.

As the chief architect of the battle for women's legal rights, Ginsburg devised a strategy that was characteristically cautious, precise and single-mindedly aimed at one goal: winning.

Knowing that she had to persuade male, establishment-oriented judges, she often picked male plaintiffs, and she liked Social Security cases because they illustrated how discrimination against women can harm men. For example, in Weinberger v. Wiesenfeld, she represented a man whose wife, the principal breadwinner, died in childbirth. The husband sought survivor's benefits to care for his child, but under the then-existing Social Security law, only widows, not widowers, were entitled to such benefits.

"This absolute exclusion, based on gender per se, operates to the disadvantage of female workers, their surviving spouses, and their children," Ginsburg told the justices at oral argument. The Supreme Court would ultimately agree, as it did in five of the six cases she argued.

Over the ensuing years, Ginsburg would file dozens of briefs seeking to persuade the courts that the 14th Amendment guarantee of equal protection applies not just to racial and ethnic minorities, but to women as well.

In an interview with NPR, she explained the legal theory that she eventually sold to the Supreme Court.

"The words of the 14th Amendment's equal protection clause — 'nor shall any state deny to any person the equal protection of the laws.' Well that word, 'any person,' covers women as well as men. And the Supreme Court woke up to that reality in 1971," Ginsburg said.

During these pioneering years, Ginsburg would often work through the night as she had during law school. But by this time, she had two children, and she later liked to tell a story about the lesson she learned when her son, in grade school, seemed to have a proclivity for getting into trouble.

The scrapes were hardly major, and Ginsburg grew exasperated by demands from school administrators that she come in to discuss her son's alleged misbehavior. Finally, there came a day when she had had enough. "I had stayed up all night the night before, and I said to the principal, 'This child has two parents. Please alternate calls.'"

After that, she found, the calls were few and far between. It seemed, she said, that most infractions were not worth calling a busy husband about.

The Supreme Court's Second Woman

In 1980 then-President Jimmy Carter named Ginsburg to the U.S. Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia. Over the next 13 years, she would amass a record as something of a centrist liberal, and in 1993 then-President Bill Clinton nominated her to the Supreme Court, the second woman appointed to the position.

She was not first on his list. For months Clinton flirted with other potential nominees, and some women's rights activists withheld their active support because they were worried about Ginsburg's views on abortion. She had been publicly critical of the legal reasoning in Roe v. Wade.

But in the background, Marty Ginsburg was lobbying hard for his wife. And finally Ruth Ginsburg was invited for a meeting with the president. As one White House official put it afterward, Clinton "fell for her--hook, line and sinker." So did the Senate. She was confirmed by a vote of 96 to 3.

Once on the court, Ginsburg was an example of a woman who defied stereotypes. Though she looked tiny and frail, she rode horses well into her 70s and even went parasailing. At home, it was her husband who was the chef, indeed a master chef, while the justice cheerfully acknowledged that she was an awful cook.

Though a liberal, she and the court's conservative icon, Antonin Scalia, now deceased, were the closest of friends. Indeed, an opera called Scalia/Ginsburg is based on their legal disagreements, and their affection for each other.

Over the years, as Ginsburg's place on the court grew in seniority, so did her role. In 2006, as the court veered right after the retirement of Justice Sandra Day O'Connor, Ginsburg dissented more often and more assertively, her most passionate dissents coming in women's rights cases.

Dissenting in Ledbetter v. Goodyear in 2007, she called on Congress to pass legislation that would override a court decision that drastically limited back-pay available for victims of employment discrimination. The resulting legislation was the first bill passed in 2009 after President Barack Obama took office.

In 2014, she dissented fiercely from the court's decision in Burwell v. Hobby Lobby, a decision that allowed some for-profit companies to refuse, on religious grounds, to comply with a federal mandate to cover birth control in health care plans. Such an exemption, she said, would "deny legions of women who do not hold their employers' beliefs, access to contraceptive coverage."

Where, she asked, "is the stopping point?" Suppose it offends an employer's religious belief "to pay the minimum wage" or "to accord women equal pay?"

And in 2013, when the court struck down a key provision of the Voting Rights Act, contending that times had changed and the law was no longer needed, Ginsburg dissented. She said that throwing out the provision "when it has worked and is continuing to work ... is like throwing away your umbrella in a rainstorm because you are not getting wet."

She viewed her dissents as a chance to persuade a future court.

"Some of my favorite opinions are dissenting opinions," Ginsburg told NPR. "I will not live to see what becomes of them, but I remain hopeful."

And yet, Ginsburg still managed some unexpected victories by winning over one or two of the conservative justices in important cases. In 2015, for example, she authored the court's decision upholding independent redistricting commissions established by voter referenda as a way of removing some of the partisanship in drawing legislative district lines.

Ginsburg always kept a backbreaking schedule of public appearances both at home and abroad, even after five bouts with cancer: colon cancer in 1999, pancreatic cancer 10 years later, lung cancer in 2018, and then pancreatic cancer again in 2019 and liver lesions in 2020. During that time, she endured chemotherapy, radiation, and in the last years of her life, terrible pain from shingles that never went away completely. All who knew her admired her grit. In 2009, three weeks after major cancer surgery, she surprised everyone when she showed up for the State of the Union address.

Shortly after that, she was back on the bench; it was her husband Marty who told her she could do it, even when she thought she could not, she told NPR.

A year later her psychological toughness was on full display when her beloved husband of 56 years was mortally ill. As she packed up his things at the hospital before taking him home to die, she found a note he had written to her. "My Dearest Ruth," it began, "You are the only person I have ever loved," setting aside children and family. "I have admired and loved you almost since the day we first met at Cornell....The time has come for me to ... take leave of life because the loss of quality simply overwhelms. I hope you will support where I come out, but I understand you may not. I will not love you a jot less."

Shortly after that, Marty Ginsburg died at home. The next day, his wife, the justice, was on the bench, reading an important opinion she had authored for the court. She was there, she said, because "Marty would have wanted it."

Years later, she would read the letter aloud in an NPR interview, and at the end, choke down the tears.

In the years after Marty's death, she would persevere without him, maintaining a jam-packed schedule when she was not on the bench or working on opinions.

Some liberals criticized her for not retiring while Obama was president, but she was at the top of her game, enjoyed her work enormously, and feared that Republicans might not confirm a successor. She was an avid consumer of opera, literature, and modern art. But in the end, it was her work, she said, that sustained her.

"I do think that I was born under a very bright star," she said in an NPR interview. "Because if you think about my life, I get out of law school. I have top grades. No law firm in the city of New York will hire me. I end up teaching; it gave me time to devote to the movement for evening out the rights of women and men. "

And it was that legal crusade for women's rights that ultimately led to her appointment to the U.S. Supreme Court.

To the end of her tenure, she remained a special kind of feminist, both decorous and dogged.

Phroyd

[mcrmadness]

Madness draws: my dä fanart from when I had my (arts) comeback in 2018

For years I didn’t draw anything because of a personal (art crisis) and because I simply was studying and working so much I just had no energy left for arts.

In 2018 I was done with schools and studying and dropped out of the school I was in at that moment, and also the horse stable I was working at (school related stuff) was sold and closed its doors so also my work ended. For the first time in almost 5 years I was actually free. The longest holidays I had has was 3 weeks summer holiday in 2016, I think. I had another in 2017 but of that I actually was having health issues (nothing serious) for 2 weeks and then had to be in school for the 3rd one, after which I even got the flu.

So I was SO excited when I finally was free the first day of November in 2018. After I had got enough sleep and rest, I started to find my creativity again. And I started to “daydream” before falling asleep every night, I started to write fanfictions in my head and I started to draw, too. Partially it was also because for the first time in years I had an online friend I enjoyed talking with and we had similar interests, aka dä and Bela/Farin, and that inspired me a lot to draw even more - but unfortunately that friendship did not work out in the end and we’re no longer friends.

Anyway, most of these drawings are very much Bela/Farin related again because I talked about that a lot with this person and I often asked what they’d want to see and then drew it if the idea was something I could carry out.

This is not the first one I drew but maybe the 4th or so. I’m just putting this here first because it’s the most “innocent” aka not too much shippy stuff rubbed into the faces of my followers who don’t care about that. There’s 5 different drawings + 1 comic behind the read more link. All of these, apart from the comic, where drawn into my old sketchbook.

About the drawing above - I didn’t use pencil for these first ones at all yet, I just drew them with the fineliners as I was still a bit rusty as the last time I REALLY drew anything was in 2013 aka over 5 years ago from 2018, so I had to actually look at my old comics and drawings to even figure out how to draw these characters anymore. And I think the last actual time I drew in this style was in 2011 even. And that is very visible from the first 2018′s drawing I did! ↓↓↓

This is the one - and wait, I have an explanation!

So with this person I mentioned, we just constantly had this playful debate over whether Bela is “bottom” or not - and honestly I couldn’t care less about that because I no longer read any fanfics. I do write fanfics - or a fanfic - but only for myself and as an asexual I have never been interested in writing about certain themes so I never need to think about the whole top/bottom stuff anyway. I used to read smut before until I one day just realized it’s SO BORING and uninteresting to read, started skipping all smut scenes and wanted to read fluff but all the fluff was so quickly and badly written because everyone wanted to write smut only, that I was left with absolutely nothing to read. So it was the old story again: I started writing/drawing the stuff I wanted to read and see.

However, back to the top/bottom topic, I always base my opinions with everything over how things are in real life and with these guys, if you look at how they are in interviews and on stage, the dynamics are not just plain black&white. I’ve never seen there anything that would indicate that just one is “top” or “bottom” whatsoever which is why I kept saying imo they’re more like just switching if you listen to their jokes. Remember: I don’t read any fanfiction and don’t give a fuck about smut (lol at the pun) and honestly, even tho I understand those jokes they do and say on stage, I wish not to have any visuals about any of that “activity” in my head.

So, to support my “they switch!” opinion, I drew this, just for fun. And it is the official first drawing I did in 2018. I just needed to fire back bigger than I could do with simple text messages :D

***

Moving on. The person in question was very fascinated by the idea that Farin would be a vampire and not Bela (to support their top/bottom views...) which is why I drew this:

Also a very quick one, without sketching anything before drawing with fineliners. This and the first image of this post both are very small in real life actually, the signature is about the same size in every drawing so you can see from that that they are actually pretty small.

Talking of the signature: The funniest thing to me about this IS the signature. Because I was so rusty I didn’t even know how to write it anymore :DDD You can compare it to the signature in the other drawings because in them it’s better. Why it’s so funny to me is because it should say “Aada” but it looks more like “Hella” which means “stove” in Finnish.

***

Next one was something I saw in my head and wanted to draw - I think this one was also done without sketching it at first:

Kinda simple, right? :D I just wanted to draw something with heavy shadows and they’re meant to be watching TV at night. I guess it came out pretty okay.

***

The next two I drew based on one of my old fanfics I wrote years and years ago. I’m a bit annoyed that I decied to draw these into my SKETCHBOOK when I could have used just paper I use for drawing but I guess I didn’t know yet where I was going to end up with these and drew them into the sketchbook because of that. I thought I didn’t sketch these at first but I have found photos of these with sketched with pencil so that means I started sketching my drawings at this point.

So, back to the fanfic, it’s one of the longer ones I wrote (but still not that long even) and set to happen in the late 80s. There was some drama in the story because of Bela’s drug use and Farin was very harsh and Bela left altogether. For some time they had no idea where each of them were but then one very rainy night they both were on a walk at the same time and happened to stumble upon each other for the first time in weeks or so. I can still see those scenes so vividly in my head and here’s my artistic view over those scenes:

Yes. I love drawing stuff like BRICKS.

I have used my Promarkers with the second image, the paper was not the best for them which is why the black looks awful.

What comes to the image... it really annoys me to look at that because how the FUCK that is something I have drawn? And it’s legit based on something I have written. ME??? Like wtf. My aroace ass just can’t handle me writing/drawing fluff like this. I have days when I need to see fluff more than anything and then have to produce the content because can’t find it from anywhere else and my brain is simultaneously like “flufffff 8))))” and “boohoo whyyyyy how staaaaaph D:” because I am so afraid of being connected to what I draw. Like. If I draw or write fluff, it doesn’t mean I would be a romantic person nor allosexual nor alloromantic, right? Because I can also draw a comic or write a story about a murderer and it doesn’t make me a psychopath either. It’s the exact same thing.

And in fact: I had a comic book character who was called Micro the Insane Murderer because that’s what he was. Also I once wrote a story about a serial killer but she was also insane. But for whatever reason it’s much harder to show people fluff I have written or drawn than my fictional serial killer stuff... I guess people just easier assume that you’re an allo, thanks to anormativity, but usually don’t think you’re a psychopath just because your OC is :D

***

The last one is the comic that has a Halloween theme as it was around Halloween and the person I talked with still wanted to see/read something where Farin is the vampire instead. So here’s something that was my first B/F comic in 7 years. I didn’t remember how to do pretty much anything anymore and the coloring is a bit off, and I was really still just trying to figure out how to do all this again :D

At that point I think my head was still filled with fanfiction stuff so the comic also is full of (hurt/comfort) drama - and a long-ass “backstory”. You can see that from this on I have moved to more humorous stories. Sometimes I draw occassional fluffy comics when I’m really on that weird mood (usually 1-2 days/month thanks to the uterus and hormones), but my main focus is on the humour and I wish to make people laugh.

But that’s about it. I think I have now posted everything here, the newer ones I have posted here after drawing them since 2019 but this post is the “missing link” between those old old comics and the newer stuff :D Then I of course have all the other traditional art like potraits and such I did in 2009-2012 which I have never shown here. Maybe I should post those too?

[marvels-writings]

Phoenix and the Stars (5)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | 

Carol Danvers Masterlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: due to popular demand this is back earlier than i expected. 

“Let me help,” Carol said, ignoring her needs and quickly rushing to help you with a small smile on her face. 

She quickly ran upstairs and got the warmest clothes she could find, which included one of your shirts, her hoodie, your fleece pajamas and fuzzy socks. She wore a similar attire, and quickly headed back downstairs to find you staring into the fire with the blanket huddled around your shoulders. 

“I’m so sorry about all of this.” You apologized softly, turning to Carol and shrugging the blanket off, exposing your body to the cold air of the cabin. 

“It’s not your fault,” Carol replied, kneeling down in front of you and helping you pull the shirt over your head, staring at your body the entire time in awe. “So stop apologizing.” 

You opened your mouth to say something again, Carol got impatient and put her hand on top of your mouth, effectively shutting you up. You stayed like that for a second as Carol tried to help you get into your pajamas, but then you licked her hand. 

“Ew, seriously?” Carol whined, pulling her hand away as you grinned like an idiot, Carol tried to be angry but a grin quickly took over her face. “I thought you were an adult.” She wiped the drool on your thigh, you blushed at the action but caught Carol blushing too and smirked. 

You bent down slightly, gasping at the pain before pulling the pajamas onto your hips, tying the strings and then letting Carol help you into her hoodie. It was way to oversized, you lifted your arms to the best of your ability. 

“This isn’t my hoodie.” You stated, looking up at her and pouting. Carol laughed and jokingly pulled the hood on, you pulled on the  hoodie strings, turning yourself into a garden gnome. 

“I’ll get our things.” Carol stated after helping you sit on the couch, giving you your phone to keep you occupied before running upstairs and packing everything up. 

You started browsing pinterest, extremely bored, thankfully the burn wasn’t bleeding anymore and it wasn’t even an open wound, it just hurt like hell. You continued scrolling, mindlessly listening to Carol run around upstairs trying to get everything together. 

Carol quickly got her room sorted, even made her bed and leaving it in the exact same state she found it before heading into your room. Your room was much messier than hers, but it was still fairly neat. Carol walked around finding your duffel bag and putting your clothes into it. 

Then she walked around, picking through the drawers and finding your personal belongings and putting them into the small backpack you had brought along with you. Carol found a few uninteresting things, a speaker, headphones, a camera for some reason, some sketches of random things and doodles on flashcards thrown about. 

While looking for a place to put the flashcards, she found a small diary of yours, she opened the front cover to find some random funny notes telling the person to put it back, she laughed a little and flipped through the next few pages. Until she found a few days before today, she scanned the page for her name and found Stargirl instead. 

How very typical of you, Carol knew it wasn’t the best idea to go through your personal diary but you had to be more careful with it. Carol thought of it as revenge for all the pranks you played on her in the small cabin and continued reading. Just the usual daily activities the two of you had done, but then she saw the word ‘beautiful’ in close proximity with Stargirl. 

Carol quickly skimmed the page, she saw a small sketch of her with stars around her head, she smiled at the picture and read the caption below it. 

‘Beautiful stargirl I’m forced to live with, it’s much better than I thought.’ Carol blushed and grinned, ‘she’s much better than I thought’ was crossed out, Carol chuckled and decided not to look further but one sentence caught her eye. 

‘I definitely don’t have a chance though, she’s a literal goddess for christ’s sake, thus the name stargirl, I’m just me.’ 

Carol frowned but also blushed, she grabbed a pen from the side table and quickly scribbled out ‘just me’ and put in ‘I’m her phoenix.’ she grinned and put it in your bag, then bringing both of them downstairs to where you were browsing your phone. 

“You got everything right?” You verified, putting your phone in your pajama pocket and attempting to get up, only to flop back down on the couch out of exhaustion. 

“You can go through it on the plane.” Carol answered, slinging all of the bags over her shoulders. “I’ll come back for you in a second y/n/n.” Carol stated, smirking at your blush when she used your nickname. 

You groaned at your inability to do anything by yourself and saw the fire die as Carol returned, a bit chirpier than before. 

“I can carry you if you want.” Carol offered, you shook your head no and Carol understood. “Stubborn phoenix.” Carol muttered and bent down. 

You winked at her jokingly and wrapped your arm around her shoulders, Carol wrapped one hand around your waist, cautious of your wound and pulled you up. She cautiously helped you hobble out of the small cabin, you kicked the door shut behind you but lost your balance. 

You tumbled forward, Carol caught you by your waist and used the momentum to propel you backward into her arms and scooped one arm under your knee quickly and picked you up. You glared at her but didn’t protest, instead crossed your arms over your chest. 

“That cabin was a mini hell hole but I’m gonna miss it.” You whispered, looking at the cabin as Carol carried you. 

Carol gave a small mhmm, too overwhelmed with how relaxed you felt in her arms. You were so warm, Carol pulled you closer to her chest slightly, ready to protect you if anything surprising happened again. Though, she still couldn’t stop thinking. 

If you liked her, why hadn’t you done anything yet, was she just blind? And if you did like her, she definitely likes you back, you were bright, stubborn, clever and funny as hell. She could see herself spending more time with you and she couldn’t wait. 

But then again, she barely had time to eat most of the time let alone a relationship. The only reason she had been eating recently was because of you, the cooking and the fact that you didn’t eat unless she ate with you. It was adorable. 

“Earth to Carol.” You shouted, snapping your fingers in front of Carol’s face weakly as the two of you entered the jet. 

“Yeah?” Carol asked, setting you down on one of the benches in the jet carefully. She pulled over a large box from nearby and sat on it. “What’s up?”

“Nothing actually,” You confessed, Carol laughed and reached over to hold your hand, hesitating at the last second and deciding not to. “Just rather not have you space out the entire flight.”

“Then I won’t.” Carol joked, taking in a deep breath and taking your hand, looking away and pretending as if it was nothing. You smiled at the gesture, a light blush on your face as you intertwined your fingers together, stroking her knuckles gently. 

“Hey did you get the vinyl for Technicolour Beat?” You asked, it was your favorite vinyl there. 

“That’s called stealing y/n/n.” Carol answered, squeezing your hand lightly as the plane took off. 

“Yeah but it was just like ‘our song’ you know?” You joked, resting your head back and looking at the boring ceiling before glancing back at Carol, watching her features relax slightly in your presence. 

You gingerly took your phone out of your pocket, ignoring Carol’s hazel eyes staring at you in confusion and switched on Spotify, letting the song play through the ship. You smiled and let your phone rest on your lap. 

“Honestly I think this is one of my favorites now.” Carol confessed, shifting so she could rest her back against another box while still holding your hand. 

“Yay I got stargirl to listen to something except 80’s rock.” You joked, Carol sent a spark in your hand jokingly, you smirked but glared at her. 

“I mean it does have good memories attached to it.” Carol said softly, watching the scenery fade away from outside as the plane went into the sky, the pillar of smoke still visible. 

“True.” You replied sleepily, turning your head to the side, falling asleep out of exhaustion. Carol smiled at you softly, trying to take her hand out of your grip so you could sleep, you squeezed tighter and she stopped trying. 

Instead, she leaned back on the boxes and watched you sleep, listening to the music play in the background. 

‘And I feel life for the very first time. 

Love in my arms and the sun in my eyes’

The lyrics meant so much more now.

| Part 6 |

Tag list:  @capcarolsdanver, @versdan, @lesbian-girls-wayhaught, @lovebotlarson, @dhengkt, @5aftermidnight, @hstoria, @natasha-danvers, @veryfunnyal, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx let me know if you’d like to be in any of my tag lists!

[queen-of-my-goofball-army]

Howard Ashman Documentary August 7th on Disney+

How many people do you know that have childhood memories sitting in front of a television with Little Mermaid, Beauty And The Beast or Aladdin playing on the television? If you are anything like me these films are some of your most treasured memories. I grew up in the sunny state of California and I was often sick with ear infections or migraines as a little girl. My most treasured memory is watching Beauty And The Beast. For years it’s been my favorite Disney movie, for me you can’t get any better. But did you ever wonder who it was that made the movies so good? Who was so opinionated and never backed down from a fight even though most people wanted to fire him? That man was the one and only “savior” of Disney animation in the late 80s up until his death in 1991 when he was 40 years old. His name was Howard Ashman. 

Disney was having a rut just like they are right now back in the years of the 70s up until generally around the release of Oliver And Company. Their movie “The Black Cauldron” was said to be their lowest point yet. It was expensive and it didn’t even bring back half of it’s budget. It was beaten out by the Care A Bears Movie. Disney had hit rock bottom. But there was a shining light at the end of the tunnel. A man that would show them that music in animation was possible. It could be even better than possible, it could be great. Just like it used to be back when The Sherman Brother’s ruled the Disney sector. 

Howard grew up in Baltimore Marilyn where all he did was theater. He was drawn to it the same way that people are to their biggest passions and life affirmations. It is said by Don Hahn the director behind one of my favorite movies Waking Sleeping Beauty that Howard was gay, Jewish and loved musicals. He was the last person that most people would have expected to work for Disney at all. But he would be the man behind the bringing about of the Disney renaissance period of filmmaking. 

It all started with The Little Mermaid back in 1988. Howard stood by what he called the “I want song”. He claimed that it was usually about the second or third song of the evening and the leading lady usually sits down on something; sometimes it’s a tree stomp in Brigadoon, sometimes it’s under the pillars of covet garden in My Fair Lady, or a trash can in a show that he wrote the lyrics for one of my favorite stage shows Little Shop Of Horrors but the leading lady sits down on something and sings about what she wants in life. For the most part this type of song was in all of the films that he worked on. Most of us know the one that he did for Little Mermaid of course, Part Of Your World. But how many of you knew that the song almost got cut? During this time period when the movie was still being made they were showing the film in just pencil sketches. The audience just wasn’t resonating with the song like Howard insisted it would. Jeffrey Katzenberg was threatening to cut the song and if Howard hated anything it was people undermining his authority and the things that he worked hard on. He had a temper if you crossed his path and he was extremely opinionated. If he thought that something was good he would insist that the song stuck. He would only hand in his best work and nothing less. He lost his temper and came over to him telling him “Over my dead body you will I’ll strangle you first.” Thankfully Jeffrey relented and it became one of the biggest successes of the 80′s for Disney. It would only go up from here. 

His work on Beauty And The Beast wasn’t initially what he wanted to do. He got some rather distressing news after the release of Little Mermaid. He had AIDS in the 80s. It was a rough time to be queer during those days because people were getting sick and dropping like flies. He was working on Aladdin and he was happy doing that. I think that if Jeffrey hadn’t have done the one thing I commend him for, he would’ve never worked on Beauty And The Beast at all. This story always makes me laugh whenever I watch the documentary. So the two directors were extremely naive and they didn’t understand the wrath of a lyricist if you piss him off. How many of you remember how that movie opens? When you pan forward and see the stained glass windows? That was Howard’s idea!! The entire idea of the Beast having a backstory at all was something that he stood by. In his mind he saw something tragic and beautiful. The directors couldn’t get this idea out of their head of how the Beast as a boy would look. During one of their first meetings they in their dumbass naivety decided to tell him “We think that the little Beast boy is kind of a cheap shot.” It is said by Kirk Wise that the word “cheap” really set Howard off. He ripped into them like he has never been ripped into before. 

Howard was only able to work for about a year and a half full time on Beauty And The Beast before he had to take up residence in a hospital. It was here that he wrote Prince Ali for Aladdin. He died before Beauty And The Beast could be released and most of his songs got cut from Aladdin and into the scraping bin the day after he died because he couldn’t defend them anymore. 

Why am I talking about this other than for my own please and enjoyment? I want to spread the word as much as I can about an upcoming documentary on August 7th and it will be simply titled Howard. It was supposed to be released on opening day of Disney+ but sadly that isn’t what happened. It got pushed back until next month. I worried that I would never get the pleasure of learning more about my biggest hero to ever work for Disney. This man did so much work in so little time and I took it upon myself to spread the word as much as I could so that people will watch it and learn more about his legacy and his work. I’ve idolized him since I was 14 despite there being hardly any information about the life he lived. I hope that this has been informative for everyone and that you’ll stream the movie if it sounds interesting to you even if you don’t have Disney+. I’m extremely excited and if anybody wants to have actual video footage of Howard you can dm me I have some Youtube videos of him that I can’t link from my laptop.  

[soysaucevictim]

New Year, New Program (technically going to be a rerun.)

-

Jan. 2

I woke up around 2PM, today.

After a bit of the usual, I did today’s exercise.

First, today’s DD. 30 [deep] side-to-side lunges with EC. This was just about manageable.

Last, Chapter 1 of the Age of Pandora Program. I’ve been wanting to revisit this program a lot, given how much I remember liking it. Let’s just say, AoP wasted no time in kicking my ass, barely got through Level 2 today, I’m BUSHED - the killer were the half jack squats.

(Pffft, I wound up echoing my feelings from last time, too. Let’s see if overall I can do things a bit more intensely than last time, however. But no guarantees.)

After some dishes, I made today’s Hello Fresh Meal. Italian garden veggie soup. I personally rather like it. Worth a revisit, I think!

On top of some of the usual & chatting, I basically pulled an all-nighter setting up a masterpost for fandom blog. Been wanting to get that dealt wit h for awhile.

-

Jan. 3

I woke up after 1PM.

One of the fist things I got started on today was exercise.

First, today’s DD. 30 crunch kicks with EC. Just manageable.

Last, Chapter 2 of the AoP. First part, I managed Level 3, with the maximum rest. Jump knee tucks are pretty intense, but I could manage this okay.

Second part, I went for Level 3 too. Split the 4′ wall-sit time into: 2′ wall-sit + 2′ rest + 1′ wall-sit +1′ rest + 1′ wall-sit. Think my quads were pretty much done from everything I did the past two days. Or being somewhat sleep deprived didn’t really help matter. But this was no less a challenge.

(Looks like last time, I managed this in 2x2′. Ah well.)

I spent few hours finally getting around to updating my DD archive/log.

Then after/while doing some chatting, me and friend watched Pacific Rim together. Good movie.

The last thing I did that day was whip up a sketch of iZ!Remus I’ve been wanting to draw for the past few weeks.

Got to bed late and in the red zone, but earlier than yesterday.

-

Jan. 4

I woke up after 1PM.

One of the fist things I got started on today was exercise.

First, today’s DD. 30 jumping lunges with EC. Not super low/deep but no less ending/fatiguing.

Last, Chapter 3 of the AoP. I did both the rep and set number to Level 3 today (20 reps per exercise, 7 sets total), rested for the maximum 2′. I had a brief moment of self-doubt on whether I could manage this today, but I’m happy I could get through it alright. Split jacks are still probably not my favorite kind of jack (a bit too close to a dang jumping lunge, pffft.)

(This was a day I surpassed my first go around. Did Level 2′s rep count and Level 3′s set count. Which is basically half as intense as how I performed today, a nice little achievement!)

Did some dishes, made some dinner, and hit the showers after that.

Spent a good few hours working on and streaming that iZ!Remus drawing some more. Chatting throughout.

After a few more hours on the usual, I got to bed a bit later than yesterday.

-

Jan. 5

I woke up after 10AM.

One of the fist things I got started on today was exercise.

First, today’s DD. 30 single leg deadlifts with EC. This was pretty manageable, not much to really comment on.

Last, Chapter 4 of the AoP. Level 3, max rest. I might’ve been able to shorten my rest periods - given I think that this was a tiny bit easier than prior chapters. But ah well. Got it done.

After some of the usual, spent most of the day working on and streaming that iZ!Remus drawing some more. Chatting throughout.

I went to bed around the same time as yesterday.

-

Jan. 6

I woke up after 11AM.

After a bit of logging stuff (and unnecessary/mistaken appointment preparation), I went into today’s exercise.

First, today’s DD. 40 seagulls with EC. I did this 20/20 to be a bit easier on the elbows. But it was manageable.

Last, Chapter 5 of the AoP. 18 travel points taken, I went for Level 2. I did the 180 reps as high knees, in one go.

For the workout proper - I went for Level 3 (5 sets), with max rest. the 2x8 push-ups per set were getting a bit sloppy. But I felt it enough.

Bleh. And then the whole fascist coup attempt shit happened in the WH today. Just exhausting to even think about or process right now.

Forced self to get dishes done, making dinner, and finishing draw/streaming that iZ!Remus drawing. Got a bit grouchy with the process - in part not helped by Everything Happening. But screw it. Happy I got it done at all.

Got to bed obscenely late - later than yesterday (and later than I had any business to - did finish the drawing around 2AM).

-

Jan. 7

I woke up after 11AM.

Spent a good few hours on the usual stuff before doing today’s exercise.

First, today’s DD. 40 scorpion twists, with EC. A fun one, as usual.

Last, Chapter 6 of the AoP. This chapter wast the one to introduce one to the job system of the program. Had three different jobs to pick from and I decided to do all three. Took me a bit over an hour to complete these tasks:

Camp to Canis = 12TP | xLv2 (HK)

Canis to Bunker 201 = 19TP | xLv2 (HK)

[Chapter] - Bunker Job = 50 Push-Ups (5x10)

Bunker 201 to Camp "Mira" = 13TP | xLv2 (HK)

[Chapter] - Camp Mira Job = 200 half jacks (100+60+40)

Camp Mira to The Swamps = 21TP (HK; 11+10)

[Chapter] - The Swamps Job = 400 side-to-side backfists (1x400)

The Swamps to Canis = 43TP (HK; 10+11+11+11)

108 total travel point done at Lv2 as high knees. Split some batches of exercise as above. Earned 380 scraps for it - spent 80 superfluously.

Interspersed amongst the usual, I did do more dishes and writing for the iZ!AU today.

I got to bed really late, but earlier than yesterday.

-

Jan. 8

I woke up proper after 1PM.

After a bit of the usual, I did today’s only exercise - the DD.

First, today’s DD. 2′ tricep dip hold without EC. Split this inot 2x1′, with 1′ rest. Mostly due to energy levels. And trying not  to have chair dig into back too uncomfortably.

After a bit of YouTube and dishes, I made tonight’s Hello Fresh Meal. Chicken and guac burrito bowls. Reasonably tasty, i gave myself kind of a lot. Everybody liked it well enough.

(I really didn’t need to eat so much frozen pizza after that either, so I was groggy and overfull for basically the rest of the night.)

Most of the rest of my night was spent BSing. Got to bed obscenely late again.

[softkitten]

Months in music, 2020

I used to always write about my favourite songs and albums of the year, but recently I’ve fallen out of practice. I felt I had to write about this last year, as the pandemic has played havoc with my memory, but I need to be able to remember what happened. It’s been important. I came out changed. I know you did too, and I hope if you read this, you find something to relate to. 

I’m unsure as to whether 2020 was an amazing year for music, or if being under lockdown and out of work meant that I had more time to spend with it, but I do know that music this year overall made me more excited than any year since I was a teenager. The circumstances we’ve all been putting up with have meant that we’ve had to learn new ways of being, new circuitry is growing in our brains, even if we’re old farts, as we’ve discarded habits that no longer work and take on new ones. 

I’m a mess. My anxiety disorder is worse than it’s been since I was a teenager. I’m not sleeping well. I spend a lot of time with my heart in my throat, and sometimes my temper can just erupt all at once, surprising me and anyone unfortunate enough to be present for the outburst. But I’m kinder, more considered, better with money, better at acting ‘professional’ without performing a weird caricature. I kind of moved on from performance this year, despite a lot of previous generational habits. The version of me that I present at work is me in some way, reconciled with the idea that if I were allowed to do whatever I want I’d be on a beach somewhere with a drink in my hand. That ideal doesn’t define me, nor does a workplace role. 

2020 music hit different. Calvin Harris dropped the hottest club tracks of his entire career in a year when if you were caught in a club, you were doing something very, very bad indeed. Disco has dominated Spotify playlists and public spaces (when allowed), this is alright by me as disco is responsible for the sexiest parts of hip hop, house, pop, etc. We consume music differently, as the monoculture has by now completely disintegrated and no one ever, ever listens to radio. If you like something, Spotify will find ways to bring you more of it, you will rarely, if ever, hear Britney Spears or even Michael Jackson unless you seek them out. I’ve spent more time with music this year than I have since I was a teenager, I’m excited and awed by it in a way I haven’t felt in a very long time, but I also feel out of touch and very much my age. I don’t go on Tiktok. I don’t get it. I don’t need to be dancing in the kitchen or composing sketch comedy bits on my phone, I’m a middle aged man with payments on my car and a desk job. I think what’s going on is a changing of the guard - millennials are no longer the focus of ‘youth culture’ insofar as that exists. Remember 1999-2001, the cringiest of pop eras, when the major stars of the ‘90s were releasing sedate, mature records or just breaking up their bands, and the charts were the province of things that seemed retrogressive and primitive like Korn? It certainly was primitive, it was made for literal children, and I see something very similar in Tiktok hits and emo rap. 

Sheena’s ex was enamored of a scene in a 2000s action movie starring The Rock, wherein Schwarzenegger cameos to toss The Rock a set of keys and tell him, “Have fun”. Well, you censorious unfunky Gen Z brats are welcome to youth culture, I hope you do a better job of it than we did - frankly we left you a hell of a mess to clean up. If you need me, I’ll be working out how to enact my plan to die on a beach somewhere. 

January - Work Drugs - Burned 

January was a fuck of a lot different. Sheena and I had just come back from Playa del Carmen, our skin was tan and our hair was long. I had a great big bushy beard. I looked older in January, I was trying to cultivate a professorial air for work. I had plans. I was aggressively dealing with my debt. We were going to go to the west coast in June to see Luna, our newborn niece, and we were going to try to make it to Bass Coast, where, hopefully, Denis Sulta would be playing as he had done in the previous two years. 

Work Drugs is something Spotify found for me. I know nothing about these fucking people, after a year of listening to their entire catalogue. I think I found out that two guys were responsible for it, two guys I couldn’t pick out of a police lineup. They make knowingly corny ‘80s style pop - think Hall and Oates, or Huey Lewis on tranquilizers. One of my favourite things millennials have done in art is reclaiming elevator music, smooth jazz, adult contemporary, etc. - this music that was the definition of uncool when it was first published is now the new punk statement, millennials never had any appetite for buzzsaw guitars or shouty anger men outside of, like, emo. 

Vaporwave started ten years ago and it was pronounced dead within months. It’s far from dead. It’s responsible for Work Drugs, The Midnight, Nonlocal Forecast - music that is desperate to return to the illusory public stability of the ‘80s and ‘90s. Work Drugs fit in because it played well at the diverse office I worked in (median age, 46), because the name spoke to a duality I see in myself. The drugs you take on the weekend, the drugs you take to get through the work day. If only we could be ‘80s adults happily blasting through our uppers-downers cycles, mulling another affair and when to put in a pool. 

February - Tame Impala - Breathe Deeper

One night Sheena and I got drunk and I told them my plan. I was going to go back to school for a master’s of counselling psychology, and I was going to pursue a doctorate in same immediately after. I was going to quit my job once I upped my education and apply - I don’t know where? The government? It all seemed so clear and now it’s as easy to recall as a nine year old dream. Anyway, Sheena told me “Your future seems so much clearer than mine” and two hours later we were fighting like cat and dog, talking divorce. The divorce didn’t happen, thank the lord. We went to counselling, and it took a few months, and a few fuckups, but the lessons did sink in eventually. I love Sheena more than ever, even moreso than during the halcyon infatuation phase of 2010, the glittering release from the tension of our friendship, and I feel more loved than ever. Things are good to great. Don’t worry. I’m not worried. I didn’t realize how worried I was before, how flawed my communication could be before. The pandemic year has helped. We’ve patched things up because we do love each other, and because we are seeing each other through the misery and uncertainty in a way no one else could. 

I used to envy the relationships of my grandparents and their contemporaries - people who were together for decades, still, for the most part, happy. I remember the way my grandmother would flirt with my grandfather, how they’d keep up their little bits well into their 80s. Contrasting that with boomers, who were all about divorce, made a child version of me think that something had gone horribly wrong. 

Tame Impala’s last album is about aging - my favourite off it is not actually “Breathe Deeper,” it’s “It Might Be Time” - It might be time to face it/ you ain’t as cool as it used to be/ you won’t recover - these lyrics spoke to me as I crested over the wrong side of 35. But “Breathe Deeper” spoke to my reality in a more complete way. I’ve always seen our grandparents, Depression survivors, in us - when millennials were firmly at the reins of youth culture, Justin Timberlake brought sexy back right after he raided my grandpa’s wardrobe. That aesthetic reflects us, as it did then. Our relationships will endure because we’ve endured hardships together, we know how to take care of each other in unique, special ways. But the paradox there is all over “Breathe Deeper”, its last lines are “We’re both adults but we behave as children/ long as we’ve got enough to keep on livin’.” Indeed, it might be time to face it, but the world leaves us little other options. The adult world, with its aspirations to middle class status, closed to us forever in 2008, two years after Timberlake. I know the aging club boy act is getting tired. So do a lot of us, but we don’t have anything else to do. May as well go to the club and shut the anxious brain off for a few hours, make it harder for us to reach our blessed phones. Return home. Do this and get through this, and until we see the sun, you’re my number one. 

March - Duke Dumont - Nightcrawler

The week after the fight in February, I got fired. I have no idea why. The official statement on my record of employment is “termination, no misconduct”. No one ever thought to explain it to me - did they find out I jacked off in the staff bathroom a couple times? Did they somehow find out that, in my off hours, I’m into psychedelics? Was I chatting on Twitter too much for their liking? I was on top of my deadlines, so why shouldn’t I be chatting on Twitter? It wasn’t a retail job, where if you have time to lean, you have time to clean. I have a lot of work trauma. What happened to me there was essentially what my anxiety disorder tells me is going to happen at any job, 24/7. Part of me is sure I’ll be fired from my current position at any moment, despite having built a totally workable relationship with my boss, clients, and staff. I took it hard. 

Everyone remembers March for the onset of COVID lockdowns, but we would do well to remember that we had no idea what we were in for back then. We were talking then about “a week off work” - can you imagine? I still fully intended to see Detroit Swindle play at Hifi Club on March 27 well into lockdowns. Hifi has since shuttered after months and months of closure and subsequent inability to produce revenue. I applied to jobs like a machine in March. Just as I was getting somewhere with interviews, the lockdowns started, and the interviews were delayed indefinitely. I had nothing to do during the day and so spent a lot of time on the online red light districts of Whisper and Reddit, plying my trade, back to my ways, looking for anons to talk sex to compulsively. “Nightcrawler” feels to me like the compulsion of hypersexuality, boredom seeking validation while already bored by the numbers game of it, going through the motions. It’s so easy. Promise the moon and then disappear. 

In March, Sheena and I were going to go back to Saskatoon for a party with Twitter friends. Instead, we got caught in a snowstorm out in the Badlands and nearly died trying to get our car back up the hill and on the way to Calgary. Immediately after, everything closed. I think about that day all the time.

April - JARV IS - House Music All Night Long

It’s not a week off work, we have no idea when it’s going to end, and the statistics are going from bad to worse. We watch the news obsessively. We keep up chat threads all day long. We don’t leave bed until our hair is lank with sweat. We drink like fish - at one point during April, I ordered delivery booze, desperate to keep the party going. I met the delivery person at the door in my bathrobe and fell down the stairs. Shortly after that, I decided to clean up my act - at least, the drinking nights have to be self contained. New routines develop. With no gym, we learn floor exercises, playing Spotify playlists of house music off a Bluetooth speaker. Cooking becomes tremendously important. I begin reading Marcel Proust’s In Search of Lost Time in earnest - a book I began at 17, which I finally finished in June, 17 whole years after my initial purchase. Jarvis Cocker, who has been with me since I was 17, returns with a song recorded in 2019 that he seemingly composed with a crystal ball. 

“House Music All Night Long” is about endless, inescapable isolation. The futility of making and loving music that only makes sense in a public space, music that’s meant to soundtrack a joyful mutual celebration that will continue to be denied to us for the foreseeable future. It’s the closest solo Jarvis has come to the horror-porno soundtrack of the This Is Hardcore album and it speaks to a pandemic-specific version of the dread earlier described on “The Fear”. It mocks and sympathizes at once. When Jarvis yelps, “Saturday night cabin fever in House Nation,” he sounds like he’s going to the gallows, and we can find the inverse of the release house provides in it, through our Bluetooth speakers, on Zoom, in ragged house clothes, drunk as lords at 2pm, miserably unaware of what day it is. 

May - The 1975 - What Should I Say

In May the new routines started to stick. I accessed government relief, the days were getting longer, the snow was gone. On the weekends, Sheena and I went hiking, something we’d only done sporadically before, usually at the behest of others. Alberta is beautiful. Its countryside provides miles and miles of scenery to explore, and we spent hours outside, escaping the claustrophobia of our little apartment. 

In May, The 1975 released their latest album, Notes on a Conditional Form. It dominated my listening this year, to the point that my Spotify statistics were a little one-note. This album means as much to me as albums that started me on my journey with music, like Nine Inch Nails’ The Fragile. It came along at a similar time, I guess, a time in which my brain was working overtime to deal with circumstances and emotions and in which I had endless hours to devote to it. 

In May I fell out with a younger online friend, someone I’d met only once but spoke to every day for months. I have no idea why we fell out. I asked. I didn’t get an answer, I just got unfollowed, and I unfollowed right back. We will never speak again. “What Should I Say” is Matty Healy talking about being cancelled online by younger fans whose brains are developing faster than his, who love him, absorb his influence, and then abruptly reject him. “How do I get out of this? How do I win them back? Do I blame it on the drugs? Circumstance? Ambien makes me crazy, that’s why I said the wrong thing, that’s why you feel this way, please forgive me.”

After releasing Notes on May 22nd, Matty referred to the May 25th murder of George Floyd on his Twitter account, posting a protest song from his last album which includes the lyric “Suffocate the Black man”. His fans did not care for this and dogpiled on him, calling him self-serving, narcissistic, faux-messianic. He has since cut social media out of his life almost completely, returning sporadically to update Reddit fans and allowing his publicist to post official images. I took acid after my friend dumped me and listened to Notes on repeat. The day after, I deleted my old tweets. I won’t engage with younger people in this way again. I’m done trying to court the good opinion of those who don’t understand me or care about me at all. Unlike Matty, I have nothing to gain from this, and it’s really lost its appeal. 

June - Duck Sauce - Captain Duck

I remember the pandemic summer as a golden age. After a few months of it, the pleasure of having wide open days, no responsibilities, no phone calls to make or idiots to impress had fully set in. We kept up hiking until the bugs took over the trails, we took long drives, we took mushrooms, we ate al fresco in Calgary’s outdoor spaces, we went to Fish Creek Park and stuck our feet in the drink. I found I didn’t miss going out as much as I thought I would, this is an opinion I go back and forth on. I miss the good nights so badly, I fully intend to return to nightlife with bells on once it’s safe to do so, but I don’t know how long I’m going to stay. I don’t miss drunk DJ’s, or ones who are so amateurish that they blow the speakers prior to the headliner’s slot, or expensive drinks, or strangers intoxicated on much different drugs than the ones I took talking to and touching me. 

“Captain Duck” is a dancefloor bomb, one of a bumper crop of absolute bangers released this year as clubs closed en masse. Armand Van Helden, who I loved in high school, is doing the best work of his career solo and with his partner in Duck Sauce, A-Trak. “Captain Duck” played when I made ratatouille, when I made cheesecake, when I cleaned the toilet, when we took long drives to nowhere, when we worked out in our cramped living room near the catbox. I imagined it coming on right at 1:30am at a packed club, I imagined myself dropping it at Pacha to a rapturous reception. I fear the reality will not live up to the fantasy, when we are able to return. I hope I get to hear it in its intended setting. 

July - Spotify “Peaceful Summer Nights” playlist

No paradise is permanent. In July, I had no intention of going back to work. Once I finished reading In Search of Lost Time, I started making music again, for the first time since I was a teenager. Sheena and I were painting nearly every night. In Search of Lost Time features a cast of thousands, innumerable loveable characters lovingly realized. No one would read this long, sometimes dull book if it wasn’t deeply pleasurable, and if one couldn’t see oneself in it. There are a lot of characters that you will think about for a long time after you’ve finished the Search, if you read it - Odette de Crecy and the Baron Charlus have inspired endless discussion in formal academic circles and less formal ones, on Reddit and in the living rooms of friends. I saw myself in Elstir, the painter character who is a composite of Whistler, Monet, Harrison, a million other painters and Proust himself. In Elstir we see the mature artist, presented in contrast to Proust’s narrator, whose search for lost time is crucially also a search for his own artistic voice. 

In July, I felt as though I had finally found my artistic voice - with so much time freed up and so much beautiful, heavensent sunlight, all I had to do was concentrate on creating. The music I made is not half bad for an amateur. I found my skill as a painter improving. In a perfect world, I would still be dedicating my days to this. The “Peaceful Summer Nights” playlist would go on at night, we’d put ourselves to sleep to it, it’s one part smooth jazz, one part smoke and study mix. You’ve done your best. You’ve seen the sun. You’ve made things that you might one day publish. I felt like Elstir those days, the aging but still vital artist, the person who is perennially a student, but can easily make a teacher, if you ask the right questions. I go by Elstir online now. I try to access that part of my personality as often as possible, though, unlike Proust, I do not come from a background of means and therefore can’t make my own epic In Search of Lost Time analogue, or my own Guernica. With a universal basic income in place I could be that person, and I hope it happens in our lifetime. 

August - The Knocks & MUNA - Bodies

In August, Dennis came to visit us from Saskatoon, driving out in their car Heather. Heather smells like a grow show and is rammed with belongings in the exact same way that my mother’s car is. We went to the beach. We cooked. We smoked copious amounts of weed and shared music and went to bed drunk and happy. 

This song captures the feeling of that summer, and that trip perfectly. You are alone at sundown, just as the streetlights switch on, 9:05pm. Blue light from the neighbours’ TV flickers out into the street, and you’re fairly sure they’re watching The Simpsons. A skateboard grinds in the distance. You check your phone. You’re horny. You miss your friends. It’s another suburban summer. The sense of peace mixes with the dread, an uneasy combination. This will be over soon, who’s to say what comes next. Take your teenage regressive times when you can get them. You don’t know when they’re coming back. 

September - Modernlove. - Use Me

In September I returned to work after six months off, my longest time away from work since leaving university. I’m a program supervisor now, I run a group home for teenage boys. I have a lot of people asking me questions. I’m good at it, and part of me likes it, but I’m not painting or making music like I used to. I’ve had Marcel Proust’s biography out from the library for months, and I haven’t finished it. 

Modernlove are a copycat band for The 1975. The 1975 have been around for long enough now that their influence is written all over Spotify, and if you like The 1975 and engage with streaming platforms you will find Modernlove. The 1975 have a song called Chocolate, so naturally Modernlove did one called Liquorice. “Use Me,” though, takes that blueprint and goes in a different direction. It’s manic, hysterically anxious - a simp’s anthem. Where The 1975 maintain a baseline level of dignity, Modernlove abandon it completely. The narrator is making himself plain that he will accept the worst, most inhumane treatment his partner can dish out if only he’s allowed to continue to exist with them. The beat is all happy hardcore lunacy, the singer’s voice wavers and cracks. It’s extremely vulnerable. 

This is exactly how I felt being back to work. I was working 12 hour days. I was sitting in endless, very important trainings while dealing with a suicidal client and anxious staff and then reporting to a boss who seemed to think all my hard work was at best a normal work day and at worst pissing into the wind. Use me. I felt used. I made myself available for use. I waited for phone calls from clients at 10pm, who proceeded to tell me about the shits they were going to take when I begged them to stay in the program and away from their drug dealer friends. Use me. You work so goddamn hard to avoid squalor and misery, to keep it from the door, and here it fucking is at 10:00pm when you started work at 6:00am. Elstir has left the building. I’m a simp for money, the worst kind of simp there is. Keep dishing out the punishment and I’ll keep taking it. I have no other choice. CERB has ended. 

October - Charles Webster - The Spell (Burial Mix)

After all that stress, I took a week’s worth of stress leave. I am not the Sicknote Steven type normally, I haven’t had a family doctor since coming to Calgary, I haven’t needed one - the last time I was to a doctor before this year was in 2018, after I picked up flu from an airplane. When I went to the doctor, they took my blood pressure. It was through the roof, and the first time I was anything but low for my age and sex in my life. Why would it not be? I felt my heart jackhammering at my ribcage for three days straight, before I was able to pull myself together enough to operate a vehicle and carry on an adult conversation. 

This happened during the weekend of my birthday. I spent some time in a sensory deprivation tank, took mushrooms, went for dinner with masks on with a few very good friends. I painted. And at the end of my stress leave, I went to meet my boss for a showdown. I said what my boundaries were, and since then, I’ve had a fine time at work. It’s not sitting around the flat all summer painting but for now, it’ll do. 

This song sounds to me like exploration - exploring the same neighbourhood that the Knocks’ “Bodies” takes place in, but with a chill in the air and some colour in the leaves. The pandemic isn’t going anywhere, in fact, it’s about to play its ace. Halloween is cancelled. People were coming to me, asking me questions, but I was able to make space for myself in the liminal spaces I got to spend the whole year occupying up until this point. 

November - The Weeknd - Heartless

A few years ago, I had tweeted during the month of November, “I woke up from a 7pm nap and wondered if we’d already had New Year’s. God I hate winter”. This month was that feeling again, amplified by pandemic conditions and work exhaustion. As is typical for the shoulder seasons in Calgary, the weather vacillated from bitterly cold wintertime air to crisp autumn with no arc or sense of relief. Depression set in. In November I’d organized and was finally able to execute a hotel-room liaison with a friend I’ve flirted with for years. I played this song on repeat to pump myself up for the encounter - it’s a pimp anthem, teeming with sexual menace, crackling with possibility. 

The reality of the situation was not as The Weeknd described. We messed around a little bit. We went to the Canadian Brewhouse. We binged all of The Queen’s Gambit in one go. She bitched about the bathroom facing the bed. I flipped out a little when I couldn’t get the internet to connect. We ordered Skip the Dishes and got the evil eye from the concierge, who was fully aware that we were there to violate new provincial pandemic restrictions. C’est la vie. 

December - Fred again.. - Julia (Deep Diving)

As I’ve said many, many times, I’m not a fan of Christmas. I used to love it, right up until my mid-20s. Why would I not? I was an only child. It was all about me. I received extravagant gifts at Christmas, got days and days of time off, got to get drunk with my friends, hang out with my mom, watch movies. The thing they don’t tell you is that once you’re no longer a cute kid, Christmas takes on a dramatically different meaning. As an adult, there’s always someone coming around to heap extra work on you at Christmas, and insist that you perform it while wearing a stupid fucking sweater or a hat, and demand that you like it.

This year gave others a taste of my baseline experience of Christmas. Work parties conducted through Zoom, wherein tedious and impersonal games are played through apps, leave bad tastes in everyone’s mouths. It’s all very Ready Player One. The dystopia is fully here. But you have to do something. 

In December I let myself become more sentimental. I had an emotional conversation with my mother in which I talked about her relationship to memory and mine, which mirrors Proust’s. I’m in therapy and developing strategies to deal with my seasonal depression and get back to making art while still working. Fred again’s releases this year all feature spoken excerpts from conversations he’s had with his friends in virtual venues. “I’m deep diving into your emotions,” Julia says from afar, maintaining and developing a connection to someone she loves despite many obstacles. I’m depressed. I’ve been a crappy friend this month, I’ve left conversations on read, my sex drive is in the toilet and I’d prefer to be invisible. But I want to connect with you as best I can, in the limited capacity we’re afforded. 

2020 - The 1975 - I Think There’s Something You Should Know

One of the things I love about The 1975 is that their music is iterative, their songs follow plot threads that advance from album to album. On “Robbers,” the narrator, deep in infatuation, describes his lover as having a face straight out of a magazine. One album later the luster has worn off of the love object, and the face straight out of a magazine now just looks like anyone. 

“I Think There’s Something You Should Know” is described by Matty Healy as a direct sequel to their most famous song, “Somebody Else”. “Somebody Else” is emo R&B, it’s about addiction and identity, and about the ways in which one’s personality can come to be distorted by devotion to a substance or a person, and how one finds their way back to themselves once the drugs don’t work, or the perfect lover has become someone you hope to never see again. 

“I Think There’s Something You Should Know” builds on that theme, but this time, the conflict isn’t about a person or a drug. It’s the feeling of idealized performance versus lived reality, the dissonance that one feels in the middle of impostor syndrome. When I listened to this song on our acid trip in May, I pictured an idealized version of myself in a camel coat and a cashmere sweater, with new leather gloves and a clean black car. The song feels like good cologne in the way it envelopes and embraces the listener. It seems to be able to tell the future. The paradox, then, is that it’s all about self-doubt. “I don’t feel like myself, I’m not gonna lie,” Matty sings, fully aware that he’s forgotten what feeling like himself even is. The song’s narrator is someone who is functioning at the absolute top of their game while being completely sure that they have no business being where they are. 

The year has been a paradox, and it’s left me in a position reflected perfectly in these lyrics. In some ways I’m incredibly competent, in some ways I’ve moved past mental health issues that have set me back for years. But I’m emotional, raw, exhausted. Social media and COVID have given me ADHD, I can’t keep a thought in my head. I have no idea if the people I’m talking to think I’m right on the money, or completely full of shit. And yet, somehow, I am where I am, and the police haven’t arrived to cart me off to jail. My boss blows endless smoke up my ass when before I was terrified of her. I do what I say I’m going to do. I ask the right questions. I think there’s something you should know, and that’s that I think I’m wrong about most things. That I think people are worth our effort and that communities are worth building, but that individuals have the potential to do reprehensible, incomprehensible and unforgivable things. I’m beside myself with relief that this year is over, but I highly, highly doubt that next year is going to be some great leap forward. We have a lot of work to do, and I’ll help to the best of my abilities, but I need to be allowed to be alone, to decompress, to self-destruct as a form of recreation, and to create things. This year has traumatized me and all of us, and my post-pandemic brain is one that’s responding to trauma. In some ways, I’m dramatically better, and better off. In other ways, I’m sicker than I was. This is true of you too. Let’s talk about it. 

My favourite albums of the year:

The 1975 - Notes on a Conditional Form

Dua Lipa - Future Nostalgia

Pole - Fading

Ana Roxanne - Because of a Flower

Teen Daze - Reality Refresh series

Sparkle Division - To Feel Embraced

Jake Muir - the veiled hum of your voice

Moodymann - Taken Away

The Mountain Goats - Getting Into Knives

Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith - The Mosaic of Transformation

Sevdaliza - Shabrang

DJ Boring - Like Water

Actress - Karma and Desire

Avalon Emerson - DJ-Kicks

DaBaby - Blame It On Baby

Duval Timothy - Help

Velocette - Discotheque Saudades

Jex Opolis - Net Worth Pantha du Prince - Conference of Trees

Four Tet - Sixteen Oceans

Caribou - Suddenly

Megan Thee Stallion - Good Newz

Romeo Poirier - Hotel Nota

Southern Shores - Siena

The Weeknd - After Hours

Tensnake - L.A. 

Kylie Minogue - DISCO

The Avalanches - We Will Always Love You

Nonlocal Forecast - Holographic Universe(s?)!

My favourite songs of the year: 

Love Regenerator - Moving, Rina Sawayama - Comme des Garcons, Rina Sawayama - Lucid, Megan Thee Stallion - Savage (Diplo Remix), Phony Ppl ft. Megan Thee Stallion - Fkn Around, SG Lewis ft. Robyn & Channel Tres - Impact, The Midnight - Neon Medusa, Dua Lipa - Break My Heart (Moodymann Remix), Dua Lipa - Hallucinate (Tensnake Remix), Blue Hawaii - Feelin’, Tensnake - Strange Without You (Sunnery James & Ryan Marciano Remix), Disclosure ft. Mick Jenkins - Who Knew? (DJ Seinfeld Remix), A-Trak & Ferreck Dawn - Coming Home, Robyn - Baby Forgive Me (Floorplan Remix), Robots With Rayguns - IWD4U, Southern Shores - Estrisa, Lindstrom & Prins Thomas - Limousine Lies, Sophie Ellis-Bextor - Crying At the Discotheque, Hot Chip ft. Jarvis Cocker - Straight to the Morning, Bonobo & Totally Enormous Extinct Dinosaurs - Heartbreak, Moodymann - Do Wrong, BT & Matt Fax - 1AM in Paris, Kiesza - Love Me With Your Lie, Tritonal ft. Linney - Electric Kids, Jessie Ware - What’s Your Pleasure?, Roisin Murphy - Murphy’s Law, Kllo - Somehow, DaBaby - Rockstar, Diplo, SIDEPIECE - On My Mind, City Girls - Jobs, Greg Foat - Yonaguni, HAIM - I Know Alone, Sassy 009 - Ghost Town, Yves Tumor - Limerence, RAMZi - couer dodo, Jayda G - Both of Us, Kygo, Valerie Broussard - The Truth, Kelly Lee Owens - Night, Dagny - Somebody, L’tric - 1994, The Japanese House - Chewing Cotton Wool, Amtrac ft. Lali Puna - No Place, Eris Drew - Transcendental Access Point, David Guetta ft. Sia - Let’s Love, Armand Van Helden ft. Lorne - Give Me Your Loving, Pet Shop Boys - Monkey Business, Pale Blue - I Walk Alone At Night, Yumi Zouma - Cool For a Second

[harvestheart]

HOME, SWEET HOME - now more than ever

I have not been out of my house since March 17.  In that time, while viewing the daily news updates, I notice both Arizona Governor Doug Ducey and Dr. Fauci, the  immunologist, have had haircuts. With Trump, I can never tell when Melania has cut his hair.

But  today was the day I had to go to a store.  After 10 days of seclusion, it felt strange to be driving again. It came back quickly enough, so no worries. There was more traffic on the road than I had thought there would be. Certainly more than there should be. It was still lighter than "Friday light" but it was 2:30 p.m. My goal was to be done before rush hour and back home.

I also noticed several houses had "for sale signs" on my street that were not there two weeks ago. I am thinking they may be on  the market a while since so many people have lost their jobs. It is going to be a rough market until the economy evens out.  I only wish I had money to buy a car, because there should be some good deals on the 2020s.  However, my reality is less grandiose.  I dream of a new washing machine or refrigerator.

So I was forced to go into the world today because the pet food supply was getting dire and to prevent the pets from even thinking of eating each other or me, it had to be done.  I made a list to do everything in one shot and get back to seclusion.

The 99 Center store was the first stop. I got some decent produce (potatoes, onions, garlic, cabbage, cauliflower, tomato, sweet potatoes) all cheaper than at the regular grocery stores. I found  the cans of dog and cat food, enough to last another 10-12 days. Yet there was absolutely no paper products to be found.  

On to Fry's/Krogers. I did pretty good there, except, again, no napkins, paper towels, toilet paper, paper plates. NONE. There were also no gallons of drinking water, so I got a case of bottled water. Also, there was barely any pasta or rice. Even the Hamburger Helper section was nearly empty, which is okay, cause you can make your own in a covered skillet better than that. I thought the supplies would be evened out by now, but ... nope.  What are people doing with all that paper? Fry's is letting seniors shop Monday through Thursday 6-7 a.m., so I can try that next time I absolutely must shop.  

I did find bread, but not the kind I would normally buy. Stlil and all, am glad to have bread again. It is not the time to be picky.  (I can always try that recipe for beer bread when this runs out.)

On the next isle I saw a guy sneezing like crazy. I promptly did a 180 to a different isle. He might have allergies, as do I, but it is also not the time to tempt the fates.

I snagged a large package of chicken breasts (only one package per customer allowed). One is plenty for preparing several different dishes. Gonna do a creamed chicken & rice dish with snap peas and spring green onions. I will supplement my meat proteins with tuna, SPAM, quesadillas and also make some pasta carbonara with bacon instead of ham and hard cheese.

As a weekend treat, I purchased two big cans of Sol Chelada.  This should also help me sleep soundly, 'cause I have been having nightmares. Anxiety has a way to find you even in your dreams.  Self-talk doesn't help you there.  Only lots of exercise or whiskey or long hours of work helps me there.  With the gym being closed, and admittedly not being self-disciplined about my at-home exercise, I can feel the waist expanding.  But one crisis and problem at a time.

Another treat, a box of Almond Honey cookies.  Plus, I still have my brownie mix and may make an easy peanut butter fudge soon.

Overall, I feel fortunate to have gotten most things on the list, though the sizes and brands were not my normal selections. I just really do not want to go back to the store until I must. I keep hoping we turn the tide sooner than later, but looks like Arizona's numbers are still climbing. We are headed toward 80+ degrees next week and I wonder if the warmer weather will actually work in our favor soon. If this turns out to be a seasonal virus, it might give the scientists time to find answers.

While I fill my days with weed-eating a badly overgrown backyard and being creative in my cooking, watching old DVDs, sketching, reading, watching television, the days are passing.  

Meanwhile, my long time friend in Ohio is facing real challenges.  She is currently a patient at the Ohio State Hospital in Columbus. She has been ill for a long time and waiting for a kidney, but because of a persistent infection that just won't go away, her doctor had her go to ER because that is the only way to get a hospital bed right now.  She was put into isolation until they could test her for "the virus". Today she got the news she is negative and they moved her out of isolation to a regular room.  Now we are hoping they can get her better enough with intravenous antibiotics to let her get out of there and away from possible contagion.  

Home is where you want to be right now.  Home, be it ever so humble, there really is no place like home -- never more true as now.

[shinymixedbag]

Given chapter 27 summary

I’m back ~ @things-all-love, Thank you SO MUCH for the raws~ ♡＾▽＾♡ ♡＾▽＾♡

I'm not quite sure how to proceed with the summary this time around because this chapter is a beautiful mess of thoughts and feelings and I wish I didn't have to spoil it. 80% of the chapter is 3 characters' thoughts (Mafuyu, Aki, Ugetsu) and it randomly switches from one person to another :/ I apologize in advance for doing a crap job of summarizing such an incredible chapter. 

***spoiler alert*** I came across many comments on aggregator websites outright spoiling the story for other readers. Please don't do that without warning :/

Before I begin, Kizu Natsuki Sensei had tweeted that she had an opportunity to talk with Yama-San, the guitarist of the J-Rock band WHITE ASH, shortly before the release of chapter 27. So, as a way of expressing her gratitude, Sensei has sketched him among the audience in this chapter. And that we could try looking for him if we have a lot of free time (LOL) Needless to say, I tried [kind of] and failed.

WHITE ASH -> 

They disbanded in 2017 (._.) Yama-san is the one wearing the hat!

Alright then, let's begin :)

Given is on stage and begin their sound check. Akihiko- the drums, go first. The bass, Haruki- follows. There is a palpable nervy tension among the audience and on stage. Take-chan, Shizu, Hiiragi, Itaya, Ueki and Yayoi are all present.

Cover page: "I want to let you know. To those who are beyond this bright light and those who are in its shadow"

Akihiko recalls what happened the day before with Ugetsu. He could not reply immediately when Ugetsu demanded to know if he was going to "abandon the violin". He couldn't deny it on the spot.

After Haruki, is the sound check for the Guitar- Uenoyama, and finally it's done after the vocal- Mafuyu's turn.

Lost in his depressing thoughts, Akihiko drops his drum stick, he looks upset [and a bit unsure?] Haruki picks it up and hits him on the head with it and remarks on his miserable face expression while returning it to him. 

[Ugestu needs a haircut.. and some sleep? Also, is that YAMA-SAN behind him?!]

Given is about to start performing. Mafuyu stands facing the audience, holding the mic, obviously nervous. [These few pages really get you pumped] The buzzing crowd noise is replaced by Mafuyu's breathing. He slowly breathes in and out several times. Meanwhile, he's thinking about a lot of things simultaneously (About his feelings, Uenoyama, music, love.. and how to resonate music with emotion.) He starts singing a capella and the band starts playing. The audience are stunned [even Ugetsu] Akihiko is reminded of Ugetsu playing his violin and he lets out a laugh thinking, "wow"

[Ugetsu really needs a haircut but he's still gorgeous damnit!]

Continuing with Mafuyu's thoughts, he wants to convey his feelings because he knows that he might not always be able to. He thinks that "(intertwined) hands will be separated" no matter how much he wishes it wouldn't [The panel shows Yuuki and Mafuyu’s hands, barely touching] He thinks of Yuuki and the feeling like he (Mafuyu) is moving away one step at a time from the past [ie, "Yuuki" is fading] And the fact that a new day will come and he wouldn't be able to return back- he was afraid of. 

Akihiko's internal monologue picks up from there. He's got goosebumps and wonders how long it has been since he felt like that, and when had he begun to think that music was a burden, even though he had loved it so much. He thinks that this is exact same feeling he'd had when he first listened to Ugetsu play the violin. And then Akihiko realizes that he does indeed love music

Next, Ugetsu's thoughts as he watches them perform [looking thoroughly blown away] reveals that as he watched Given's first performance, he had a hunch that Akihiko could also improve by leaps and bounds if someone influenced him strongly and he realizes that Haruki is the one who did [influence Akihiko, that is]

Mafuyu's internal monologue [yes, again. 80%, remember?] He thinks once again, about Yuuki and how intertwined hands will be separated, even though he cannot go anywhere and he doesn't want to either, things will change [this line is interesting because the actual word used here can mean "to dawn" or "to end" or "to begin"]

Scene cuts to a conversation between Ugetsu and Mafuyu. Ugetsu tells him that he's often asked himself "What if Akihiko doesn't come back?", yet he's unable to imagine what it would actually be like. But all the same, he wants "this suffering" to end. He's conflicted because he doesn't really want his jam packed room to become empty. He thinks that even if they cannot go back to what they were like, and even if they're far away, it would be okay if music alone remained.

Cut back to Mafuyu's thoughts. While thinking of the people currently in his life, he says that "it's okay", no matter what, dawn will come and  it is okay because he can certainly go wherever. Given’s performance thus ends on a powerful note. And when they're done, the audience responds with thunderous applause. Mafuyu says "thank you very much." Ueki and Itaya look stupefied. Hiiragi has his face buried in his hands [and he's shaking] Take-chan is in tears and he cheers loudly, whistling [Take is such an amazing guy :D] The performance is over and the audience is still cheering loudly. Given is getting ready to leave the stage. Akihiko notices Ugetsu leaving and asks Haruki if he could "accompany someone to the station" and promises that he will return immediately. Haruki wishes him a safe trip.

Ugetsu is descending a flight of stairs alone out on the streets and Akihiko rushes after him shouting his name. Ugetsu does not stop and continues walking. Akihiko tells him to wait but Ugetsu cuts him off without turning to look at him, and says "no," "because if I do you're going to talk about breaking up aren't you?" Akihiko is surprised. Ugetsu pauses and tells him that he played the drums well but it was "as delicate as ever" and tries to walk away. Akihiko reaches out, grabs his arm and shouts "listen to me!" Ugetsu stops but does not turn to face him. Akihiko quickly tells him that he loves the violin and he has fun playing drums. And that all the effort he "poured into playing the violin until now" wasn't a lie. Ugetsu looks surprised and asks "what, this isn't about breaking up?" and then understands that it was. Akihiko stares at him, and apologizes to him for "hurting him so much until now" and thanks him. Ugetsu replies after a long pause that he will be cheering for him [I assume he meant the band] Akihiko looks down at their intertwined hands. Ugetsu says, "I get it, so let go of me." Akihiko squeezes his hand tightly for a moment and slowly lets go and turns around, heading back the way he came. Ugetsu finally turns to look at him, tears streaming down his face and sobs as he watches Akihiko's retreating figure and stops himself from calling out when he recalls Mafuyu saying "it's okay" standing in front of the mic. Ugetsu watches Akihiko, looking dazed and says "Bye-bye, Akihiko."

That's it. Chapter 28 will be out on the 30th of November 2018 ^^ 

Soooooooo...My heart is broken. This is undoubtedly my favourite chapter of Given this year. Mafuyu's thoughts were overwhelming. I know I did a poor job of explaining it, I'm sorry~~!! Aaaaand... As much as I wanted Akihiko and Ugetsu to break up, it still hurt a LOT. I hope this isn't Ugetsu's exit from the story. I'd definitely love to see more of him.

Once again, I'm in awe of Sensei. The attention to detail, oml（￣□￣；） The sound check in the beginning and Mafuyu breathing to calm his nerves had me on the edge of my seat! And every single panel was so beautiful! *sigh* I could go on FOREVER about this chapter!!

Hopefully, the next chapter won't be as depressing and I'd really like to see the boys have some fun and celebrate after all their hard work. We have been stewing in angst ever since chapter 16 came out- on the 30th of November 2016 !! Idk about you, but I'm EXHAUSTED! And now that Akihiko and Ugetsu are over, will Haruhiko happen? IDK, I hope sensei will take her sweet time with ships.

Until next time~ 

Chapter summaries (14-26) here

P.S. I'd like to apologize to that one anon who shipped Ugetsu with Take, tbh, there's a 99% chance of that ship never sailing but YOU ARE free to ship whomever you like!!! (￣ー￣)ｂ

Also, DID ANYONE MANAGE TO FIND YAMA-SAN?!?

[queennicoleinboots]

I Hate This Planet, part 1

(I started this story six months ago)

I was so pissed when I walked into Peter's house that day. Once again, Godiva was pissed off with the universe and got short with me over the phone as a result. I had my own issues that day. Jasper, my 69-year-old client with back issues, was mad at me because I wasn't supporting the government shutdown. Joebear, my husband, was mad at me because I wasn't at the latest government shutdown protest. I couldn't win for losing.

"What's up with you?!" Peter asked in a pissy tone.

I laughed. "Well, I made it to work to put up with your stupid bullshit. What's up with you?!"

"Ha ha ha. I had the strength to answer the door for your BITCH ASS!" Peter said as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

I poured my own. "So what the fuck is your problem?!" I asked him.

"Oh I don't know! My mom is in extreme pain, and my DAD is asking her to do 50,000 things. I I I have to HEAR about it, and you come in with a pissy attitude like you have been for the last two fucking weeks!" Peter started as he stared at me with glowing red eyes.

"Sorry, but it's not *my* fault she's in pain or that your dad suffers large. Also, I'm in a pissy attitude because every every every decision I've made in the last three fucking weeks has been the wrong one! The government had been shut down for a month. Jasper hates that I go to rallies, and Joebear is pissed that I'm not in the front lines for every single one of them!" I said as I took a sip of my coffee.

"Well, fuck, Xara, get it together! The fuck are you taking it out on me FOR?!" he asked as he sipped his coffee.

"Because you're a curly-haired JERK and the bane of my mere existence!" I yelled as I gulped mine and poured myself another cup.

"Ooooh! So you're mad at me for publishing one novel and trying to publish the other?!" Peter said with a guffaw sound as he drank more coffee. "Jesus. Get over it. God Forbid I accomplish something besides be in 1,200,895 porn videos, model for 15,000 clothing companies worldwide, paint 2,000 masterpieces, sketch 5,000 legitimate drawings, and make 30,000, THIRTY-THOUSAND original photoshop illustrations, all of which are AMAZING! And not to mention I've published and written 20 screenplays!"

I stared at him for a few seconds as I sipped my coffee. "You are a pretentious ass, Peter," I said. "Thank you, Peter. I was in two amateur porn videos, never modelled in my life because I'm not as attractive as you are, only painted 20 paintings, most of which are complete shit. Thank you, Peter. And only did about 567 sketches, but they weren't as good as yours are, PETER. Well, I have another reason to hate this planet now. You fucking ass."

"I'm sorry for being amazing. But I still hate my life. I tried so hard. I'm still broke. Thank you, Trump. Thank you, ever-failing healthcare system of America. Thank you, pretentious ass literary agents that would rather publish bullshit like Danielle Steele and James Patterson. Thank you, Republicans. YOU ASSHOLES have the greatest political party ever. Fuck you. I also hate this shit my parents are going through..." Peter started to say before his mother named Godiva walked out of her bedroom with her shoulders near her ears, a strained face, and her arms to her sides.

"Is there EVER A DAY IN MY LIFE WHEN I CAN JUST HAVE A CUP OF COFFEE TO MYSELF WITHOUT HEARING GODIVA THIS GODIVA THAT!!!!" she yelled.

We looked at her and said, "No."

"EXACTLY!!!!" she said with gritted teeth and poured herself a cup of coffee. She grunted and gritted her teeth some more. "Why is this the last cup of coffee left in the pot?! Why? I worked hard all my life... well, minus when I homeschooled Peter. That was awesome." She said that last sentence as she batted her eyes at Peter.

Peter grinned. "Sorry. I'm pissy today," he said as he got up. "I'll make you some more coffee because you're the only person I'm not angry with."

"Thank you," she said as she drank her coffee. "But seriously. My husband has driven me to the point of insanity. Has he lost his senses? I'm 80 years old. I don't HAVE the strength and patience like I used to to deal with his ever-sinking health. And everyone else in the world is incompetent!"

"Oh boy do I agree!" Peter said as he poured water into the machine and managed to spill half of it on the counter. "I'm incompetent as fuck!" He said as his eyes widened and as his smile became bigger. He added a stupid chuckle at the end of that sentence.

I laughed and managed to projectile spit coffee on the floor. Peter was cracking me up with his stupid bullshit. I went to use a napkin to clean up my coffee spill while I was still laughing.

Godiva stared at him like she wanted to kill him. "My Goodness. Everything's a joke to you two!" she said with red glowing circles around her blue eyes. She threw a paper towel roll at Peter.

Peter took some paper towels and cleaned the counter. "Like I MEANT TO DO THAT!" he said as he widened his eyes at her.

She poured some more water into the pot and handed it to him. "Don't spill it this time, huh!" she said as she glared at him.

"I don't plan to!" he said in a whiny, childish voice as he poured the water in the pot normally. He then turned the coffee pot and waited for it to brew.

"GODIVA! PETER!" Jamie, Peter's bedridden father, called from his bedroom.

"WHAT?!" Godiva and Peter yelled. Godiva stomped her right foot, and Peter slammed his right fist into the counter.

"I need you two to get me out of bed!!" he yelled. "My back is KILLING me!"

Godiva marched over to him. "Mine is, too, but nobody cares about that," she said quietly.

Peter just walked over with this "Fuck my life" look on his face. He stuck his tongue out in disgust.

I tried to get myself ready to clean house, but I laughed and cried the whole time. I hated my life as much as they did. I managed to get myself to work, but I was still frustrated with everything.

My phone buzzed. It was none other than an angry old man named Jasper. I sighed loudly and picked up the phone. "Hello?" I said in an agitated tone.

"Hi Xara," he said with a sigh.

"What happened to you?" I asked.

"I'm building a space ship to get off this planet. I'm fucking done with these people. I can't deal with society. I can't deal with my family full of primates. I can't deal with the banks. I'm done with it all. I'm taking Gabby and Murphee with me. You want to come?" he asked as he was banging on shit in the background. Gabby was his old cat, and Murphee was his middle-aged dog .

I sighed in relief. "Yes. I'd love to get off this planet! When is the space ship going to be done?" I asked.

"Two weeks unfortunately," he said. "Good thing I don't plan to sleep. I'm ready to fly away now."

"No kidding. Fuck today. Please get back to work," I said.

Peter walked out of the room and attempted to have some more coffee.

"Peter! I forgot! I need help with fixing my alarm clock. Your mother's in the bathroom!" Jamie called.

"Ugh!!!!" Peter said as he made an air gesture of choking someone. He had those angry red circles around his eyes.

"Sounds like you have work to do, too," Jasper said. "Peter sounds like he is in the mood to be an asshole."

"Well, that's typical for him," I said.

"My point exactly. I need to get some more horsepower on these jets. Talk to you later," Jasper said.

"Talk to you later," I said.

He hung up.

Peter walked over while he was beating the alarm clock against his head. "Did I hear something about you getting off this planet?" he asked as he still banged the clock against his head.

I chuckled. "Yes," I said as I began dusting his office. "You want to come?"

He bashed the alarm clock off his head and somehow managed to get it back to normal. "Dad, I fixed your alarm clock!" he called to his father. "Yes, please. My dad literally drives me crazy. Look at me. I just beat his alarm clock against my head. Ha ha. It fixed the damn thing. Teeheehee! I need to get the fuck out of my house! Please help me. Ha ha ha." He left the room.

I called Jasper.

"Hello? What do you want? I'm not done with my space ship yet?" Jasper growled over the phone.

"I knew that, asshole. I wanted to know how much room was on your space ship," I said.

"I can fit like 10 people on here. Why the fuck not? I'm sure we aren't the only ones sick of this shit. But anyone but you will have to pay," he said.

Tug, Peter's basenji, charged down the stairs. "Did you say 'space ship'?"

"Well, we'd have to put a gold backing on the currency if we go to another planet," I said to Jasper. "Can Tug come along?"

"Who the fuck is Tug?" Jasper asked.

"Peter's very intelligent basenji. The dog is smarter than Peter," I said.

"Well, yeah. Animals are free, but jackass Peter has to pay. I'll give him a discount if I can tie him up." Jasper said.

"Thank you, Xara. If I could, I'd provide the rope. I'd like to put that jackass on a leash once in a while," Tug said.

"No worries. I can provide rope," I said.

"Fuck you guys," Peter said as he went past us to go to his computer.

Tug followed him and sat on his feet. He looked up at Peter and said, "Because fuck you, too."

"You knew I was going to take you with me if I left the planet. Stop this bullshit," Peter said as he looked down at Tug.

Tug laid out and put more weight on Peter's dainty feet. "I would hope so, fuckface," he said as he bared his teeth at him.

"Peter owes me $300 for getting on my ship. It can be $200 if he lets us duct tape his mouth shut," Jasper said as he built his space ship.

"Oooh. Can it be $100 if he is naked?" I asked.

"Hmmmm... very tempting, but I don't think he'd go for it," Jasper said with a chuckle.

Peter flicked me off before going back to trying to publish his novel.

I giggled. "I think he'd like the idea," I said with a big smile.

Peter snorted angrily and had steam coming from his ears.

"Only if he agrees. Otherwise, it's $200 to have duct tape over his mouth," Jasper said.

"All right. I'll put duct tape over his mouth and pay you $200 to let him on the ship," I said.

Peter smirked.

"Sounds good!" Jasper said. "I need to go back to working on my ship."

"Okay," I said. "I am going to buy duct tape soon."

"Good idea! See you later today," Jasper said.

"See you, Jasp," I said.

We hung up.

"Duct tape? Jasp?" Peter asked with a smirk.

"Jasper will charge only $200 if you let me duct tape over your mouth. And Jasp is my nickname for Jasper. My nickname for you is Peetie. And BaeWhuhh is my nickname for Joebear," I said. I only called Peter Peetie in rare occasion.

"Peetie?" he asked with a grin.

"Mhm," I said as I walked over to him and ran my fingers through his curls. "Peetie seems to suit you."

He grinned. "That might be my new name when I leave this planet," he said.

Joebear called me.

"Hold on, Peetie," I said as I answered the phone. "Hello, BaeBaeWhuhhh?"

He growled over the phone in frustration. "Ughhhhh! Fuck this planet. Satanists are at full force trying to brainwash everyone again. SIGH!!!!" Joebear growled.

Peter was laughing in the background. He snorted.

"Jasper is building a space ship to get off this planet. You want to get on it?" I asked.

He growled in bear language. "Yes!!! For the love of humanity, I'm done with people and this fucking planet. Fuck society. Fuck everyone and their 401k. Fuck these self-centered assfucks! I'm done. Get me on first class on a plane THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!!!" Joebear screamed. "Garfield and Cupid are coming, too." Garfield and Cupid are our orange cats.

Peter belly-laughed.

"Oh. Apparently Peter's done, too. He's fucking laughing hysterically. He's hysterical. He's fucked up," Joebear said.

I laughed. "Yes, bae. You are technically an animal, so you can get on for free," I said.

"Fuck that logic. I'm a goddamn giraffe then. I'm fucking tall enough. Two hundred bucks. Of all the chances to get off this goddamn planet, it has to be with some old fuck who hates me," Peter muttered. "I'll take it. Fuck this planet."

I laughed at Peter's comment.

"I won't keep you, Little Bae. Peter sounds like he is having a mental breakdown," Joebear said.

"He is," I said. "I love you, Buh Buh Huhhhh!!!"

"Love you, too. See you tonight, bae," he said.

"See you tonight, BIG BAAAEEE WHUHHH," I sung.

He hung up.

"My mind is fucked," Peter said as he went back to his bullshit activity on the computer. "I can't figure out this damn website. How the fuck do you design your own website? This is bullshit."

"I don't know. Do you want me to call Bae back?" I asked.

"No. I want off this God-forsaken rock of planet. How long do I have to wait to get the hell out of here?" he asked.

"Two weeks," I said.

"Jesus fuck," he muttered. "I don't know if I am going to make it two weeks. I do know I'm putting in my two weeks' fuck you notice tomorrow." He was a disgruntled drywall installer who hated his job more than life itself.

"Good idea," I said. "I get to keep my job because I am going to convince Mr. Williamson to come with us. He's a nice guy."

"Oh God no. Then I have to deal with Ted the Alligator and Jack the Crocodile. Ugh. Those two give me lung cancer from a the screaming I do at them," he said. He sighed.

"Come on, Peter. I have to make a living, and I still have to put you through bullshit," I said. "At least you won't have to do drywall for the rest of your life in two weeks."

"Fine! I'd rather drill my own teeth than keep my drywall job!!!" Peter exclaimed.

Godiva came in the room. "Why are you ridiculous, Peter?" she asked as she folded her arms.

"Because I don't give a fuck anymore, Mother," he said with an emphasis on 'Mother.' "I'm leaving the planet."

"No you're not. At least not without me, douchebag," she said.

"Fine. You can come with. We can leave together and say fuck this world," he said.

She grinned. "When?!" she asked with bright eyes.

"Two. Agonizing. Painful. Drawn out. Weeks," Peter answered.

"How will we leave?" Godiva asked excitedly.

"My other client is building a space ship to get off the planet," I said.

"Really?! Awesome. How much is he charging?" she asked.

"Hold on. Let me call him," I said as I called Jasper. The phone rang a few times and went to voicemail. I hung up because leaving a voicemail is awkward.

My phone buzzed. I answered. "Hello," I said.

"What do you need? I'm still building my space ship. I'd like to get the hell out of here as soon as possible," Jasper said.

"I'm well aware. How much for a human to get on the space ship if she is not tied up or has duct tape over her mouth?" I asked.

"Oh man. $500. $400 if she gives me a blowjob," he said.

"$500, but $400 if you are willing to do an unspeakable act," I said to Godiva.

"Sure! I stimulate my husband's bowels, and I don't have a poop fetish," she said.

"You're probably one of the only humans in my fucked-up life who doesn't," Peter muttered.

I chuckled. "She'll give you a blowjob," I said to Jasper.

[danfanciesphil]

Some Kind Of Folliful (New Chapter)

Edgelord!Dan x ObliviousBisexual!Phil AU [CHAPTER SIX] (based off the 80′s classic Some Kind of Wonderful)

Synopsis: Dan has one friend, and only because he was forced into it. Phil is loud, excitable, and irritatingly happy all of the time. Phil seems to find Dan’s perpetual attitude funny, and despite Dan’s best efforts to shun him and everyone else, wants to be around him all the time. That is, until Phil starts talking about Amanda Jones. Word Count: WIP (Estimated 12-15 chapters) updates every Tuesday Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smoking, swearing, implied prostitution, broken home, class divide/classism, pining, light homophobia, sex

[Chapter One] [Chapter Two] [Chapter Three] [Chapter Four] [Chapter Five]

[Ao3!]

Dan hates the closing shift.

Or rather, he hates it usually.

He hates the hour it takes to shut the café down after the last customer leaves. He hates having to clean the entire coffee machine inside and out. He hates the pressure of counting the money in the till, especially as he sucks at maths.

He hates having to wipe down every table and surface. He hates having to restock the milk in the fridge and the sugar on the counter. He loathes having to switch off every single light one by one, letting the shadows crawl out of their corners and smother the place. He usually does this final task at the last possible moment, so that he can just walk straight to the door and leave as soon as possible. The café, which is quite a sweet, pretty place with a soft, happy feel in the daytime, becomes something evil in the dark.

Tonight however, it’s not so bad. The late shift is given to Dan at least once a week, because he’s worked here a lot longer than most of the other staff, and so can be trusted. He’s done it so many times that he could do it blindfolded, he’s sure, so Louise allows him to do it on his own.

Tonight, he’s not on his own.

Phil walked to work with him today, and has stayed ever since. He has seemed perfectly content all evening, sat at a table for two in the corner by the window, drawing in his sketchpad. He’s ordered at least three coffees, which he’ll probably regret once he gets home and can’t sleep, but Dan isn’t going to lecture him again. The last customer left around twenty minutes ago, and Phil is still there, frowning down at whatever he’s sketching. Dan has just finished counting up, so he walks over to Phil’s table to collect the mug he’s been drinking from.

“You planning on sleeping here?” He asks, picking up the mug and saucer.

Phil looks up at him in surprise. “Oh, hey let me take that.”

Dan snorts at him. “It’s literally my job, Phil.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Dan walks away then, shaking his head fondly at Phil’s owlish protestations.

“Am I slowing you down?” Phil calls as Dan heads into the kitchen. “I can go if you like.”

“No, it’s fine,” Dan calls back, rinsing the crockery before stacking it into the dishwasher. “Just don’t make a mess.”

“It’s kind of creepy here after hours,” Phil says as Dan walks back out. “I don’t know how you do it all on your own.”

“I’m not on my own,” Dan counters.

There’s a hesitance on Phil’s face when Dan glances at him. “You think I’m nuts, don’t you? For going through with the date.”

Dan looks away, busying himself with stacking chairs. The scraping of the legs on the tiled floor makes him wince. “It’s certainly brave.”

Phil snorts. “Brave. Because you think it’s a joke. That she doesn’t actually like me, and that she’s doing it to get back at Hardy.”

A chair clatters from Dan’s hands, and he curses. Instead of picking it back up, he turns to Phil. “It might have crossed my mind.”

“I know that’s what everyone thinks,” Phil says, shrugging. “That she’s just using me. I get it. It’s ridiculous to think she’d actually consider me.”

“It’s got nothing to do with you, Phil,” Dan says quietly. “That’s just how they are in the Elite. They don’t think about the feelings of people like us. The only time they even acknowledge us is if we can benefit their lives in some way. Getting them coffee. Giving them lifts home. Making their boyfriend’s jealous.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Phil says dismissively, frowning in an uncharacteristic way. “I’m still gonna go through with it.”

Getting through to Phil is like trying to get through to the floor beneath his feet.

“Even if you know for sure that she’s stringing you along?” Dan asks, barely disguising his frustration. “Phil, that’s suicidal. If she’s purposefully dangling you in front of Hardy Jenns you’re gonna get your ass kicked.”

“If that’s her intention going in, that’s her problem. I’m gonna change her mind by the time the date is over,” Phil says confidently.

“Okay, now I do think you’re nuts,” Dan says.

He begins stacking the chairs again, loudly and with a recklessness that he wouldn’t normally. He should drop this, change the subject or something. But the irritation is overwhelming. Phil can’t see two feet under his nose. He’s being stubborn, because he feels he has to prove he can go through with this now, even though every star in the sky is screaming at him to turn back.

“I’ve thought about it a lot, Dan.”

“Oh, I can see that,” Dan says, rolling his eyes.

“I have,” Phil insists.  I think I can make her see that it’s better to be in the real world with the rest of us, rather than up in the clouds of the Elite. That she’d be happier without all the drama and the materialism and the seedy guys.”

Dan snorts. “How’re you gonna show her that, exactly? What’ve you got to offer her apart from a paintbrush and some overpriced jewellery? I mean, have you even properly kissed a girl?”

He doesn’t mean it to come out so harshly, but he’s angry, and his tongue doesn’t listen to him when he gets into a state. He shuts his eyes, placing the chair in his hands down.

“Sorry,” he says bitterly, “I didn’t mean-”

“No, you’re right,” Phil interrupts. He stands slowly from his chair and lifts it onto the table. “I’ve only ever kissed one person. It’s been worrying me a little, actually.”

Dan stares at him through the legs of several chairs, trying to think of something to say.

“You think Amanda would notice something like that?” Phil asks, meeting Dan’s eye. His raw, genuine concern is so obvious in his expression that Dan has to tear his gaze away.

“Maybe.” He can’t stop himself saying it, because it’s the truth. “Amanda Jones isn’t likely to be fooled by an amateur kiss, if you ask me. That babe’s got plenty of battle scars.”

Phil rolls his eyes at the wording, but catches hold of his lower lip between his teeth, worrying it to and fro. “You think?”

Dan nods slowly, leaning against an unstacked table for some support. Something about this conversation feels dangerous. Dan can feel his heart racing, his palms growing damp. He swallows thickly, mouth suddenly dry.

“Well, if you think you can deliver a kiss that kills, you probably can,” Dan says, one shoulder shrugging. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“No,” Phil says hurriedly, taking a step towards him. “I’m no expert.”

Dan stares at him.

“Well… it’s all about, like,” Dan flounders, feeling himself grow red. “Confidence.”

Phil ducks his chin towards his chest, then peers up at Dan, eyes sparkling with mischief. Before Dan can react, Phil’s closing the short distance between them in three long strides, pushing him up against the table behind him. Dan’s lungs seize up, but manages to gather himself enough to prevent himself from squealing at the unexpected attack.

“Like this?” Phil asks.

He’s smirking like it’s a stupid joke, but Dan’s breaths are still getting stuck in his throat. Dan rolls his eyes, but there’s no way Phil can’t hear the hammering of his heart.

“Yeah, just ram her up against the table,” Dan says, ever the sarcastic bitch. “She definitely won’t find that creepy.”

Phil snickers. “You seem to like it.”

“Fuck off.”

Instead of obeying Dan’s command, Phil seizes hold of him by the thighs and lifts him deftly onto the tabletop, slotting himself between Dan’s legs. At this point, Dan is sure he’ll combust, so he focuses all of his attention on the tasks he has left to do before locking up tonight. Mop the floor in the kitchen, put the float into the safe, kick Phil in the balls for being such a fucking tease…

“So, what next?”

Exasperated, Dan glares at him, struggling to break free of Phil’s hold. “Forget it, I did not sign up to be your snogging tutor.”

“Dan, I’m literally begging,” Phil says, letting slip a sudden flash of the insecurity lurking beneath his flirtatious demeanour. “I just need to know if I suck. I just need to be passable. You can help me, I know you can.”

Dan is far, far too soft, he thinks, melting immediately, of course. Any resistance he may once have had was dissolved a few nights ago, in Phil’s bed, when the realisation of his own feelings for the man avalanched down upon him. He’s been trapped underneath the debris of that revelation ever since, struggling to breathe, aching and tortured, awaiting rescue that won’t come.  

“Ugh, fine,” Dan says, as if it’s some huge inconvenience.

Phil’s hands release Dan’s thighs, clapping together in glee. “Thank you, Dan. I owe you.”

“At this point, your debt to me is higher than all of England.”

“Right, so what do I do now?”

Dan struggles to focus, but catches sight of Phil’s frantically fidgeting hands. He can start with that, at least. “What are you gonna do with your hands?”

Phil blinks at him, confused. “Uh, it- it depends-”

“No,” Dan tells him firmly. “It doesn’t depend. They go on my- on her hips.” He blushes, waiting for this to register, but Phil just stares.  “Do it, you pleb.”

Phil chuckles nervously, but reaches out to place his hands on Dan’s hips. They’re just resting there, light as anything, but the touch of him, light and warm, still makes Dan want to cry.

“Okay,” he chokes out. “She’ll um- she’ll probably do this.”

Dan stretches his own arms out, reaching up until he’s got them locked around Phil’s neck.

“Is that what you’d do?” Phil asks, his voice sounding strange and thin. “If I were- if it were you being kissed?”

Dan shrugs, disliking the question. “Prob’ly.”

Phil nods, drinking down the information like it’s gold. “Okay, what now?”

“So, close your eyes,” Dan instructs, and Phil does. He’s so passively beautiful. All pale skin and dark lashes. Dan is not in any way ready for what’s about to happen here. How the fuck did he get himself into this situation? “Now, lean in really close to me, but… don’t touch me yet.”

There’s no denying that at this point, self indulgence has come into play. Dan can’t bring himself to feel too bad about it. He’s never going to get an opportunity like this again, and in all likelihood Phil’s too clueless to cotton on to whether Dan might be a little biased in his instruction. Phil closes some of the distance between them, their lips close now; Dan tightens his lock around Phil’s neck. He smells like the caramel macchiatos Dan’s been making for him all evening.

He lets Phil wait for it. In Dan’s opinion, the best part about a kiss is the build up. It’s the space between them, humming with an electric yearning. It’s the eyes darting to one another’s mouths, and the slow, careful dance around the minefield of wrong moves as they work up to it.

“Okay,” Dan whispers, knowing his breath will sizzle against Phil’s lips. He feels Phil shiver, and it makes his stomach flip. “Now, open your eyes.”

Confused, Phil does as told. He seems a little stunned to see Dan up so close.

“Like this?”

Dan nods, their noses brushing. “Tell her something.”

Phil frowns. “Tell her what?”

“Whatever you want,” Dan near-whispers. For some reason, his eyes sting. He focuses them on Phil’s tongue as it sweeps over his lower lip. “Tell her she’s got pretty eyes, or she’s a hot babe. Whatever you want.”

“I’m not telling her she’s a hot babe,” Phil says, rolling his eyes. He seems a little pink-cheeked, though. “And I’m certainly not telling you you’re a hot babe.”

“So tell me something else, then,” Dan says before he can stop himself. “I mean, pretend I’m her. Amanda. And tell me what you want to tell me.”

“Pretend you’re her?” Phil asks, eyes roving over Dan’s face as though it’s an impossible feat.

“I know it’s a stretch Phil, but try it.”

Phil is silent, his lips pressing together as he surveys Dan, still so close that he’s probably all blurry in Phil’s vision anyway. Eventually, Dan kicks him.

“Come on,” he prompts, heart stuttering already.

His palms have gone past clammy into damp; he feels a bit dizzy, from the coffees he’s been drinking, and the cigarette he hasn’t had yet. This is something from his wildest, most surreal dreams, something he honestly never thought would happen, and here it is, right in front of him. He blinks, but it doesn’t go away. Phil is still so irresistibly close, the blue around his eyes thinned to a sliver, his heartbeat loud enough to hear.

“You’re the most beautiful thing…” Phil starts to say, his voice slow and quiet. “I have ever seen.”

Dan’s breath catches, and he feels his eyes sting again. He nods. “That’ll work.”

“Now what?” Phil asks.

“Now kiss me.”

Phil’s eyes widen, but he leans forwards readily. Dan’s breath hitches again, and he finds himself drawing back a little.

“Wait,” he says hurriedly. He fixes Phil with a hard stare, trying to appear as unaffected as possible. “If you stick your tongue in my mouth, I will bite it off, do you understand?”

Phil laughs, looking a little relieved, and nods. Then, the hands on his hips yank him forwards, and Dan is being kissed. Slowly at first, tentative and unsure, but then harder, hungrier, as though some levee inside of Phil has broken. His hands tighten on Dan’s hips, fingers pushing into Dan’s skin, so hard it could bruise.

Phil’s lips drag Dan’s apart; he flicks his tongue against Dan’s lip ring, then pushes it into Dan’s mouth, breaking the one, singular rule Dan had given him, but he finds he doesn’t even care. He never meant it anyway. He likes tongue. He would give anything not to know the taste of Phil’s, but only because he’ll never know it again.

He tastes like coffee, and caramel, and the bitter lead of his pencil when he licks the tip. Dan whimpers as these flavours unfurl across his taste buds; he pulls himself closer to Phil by the vice grip he has around his neck.

They kiss for what feels like hours, but it still isn’t enough. There’s a sudden vibration against his thigh, from what must be the phone in Phil’s pocket. Like a shock of icy water thrown in his face, he remembers the time. He remembers the day, his own name, his tragedy of a life, and more importantly, who Phil is thinking about right now.

Somehow, along with the surge of disgust for himself that rises like bile in his throat, Dan manages to summon the strength to unwind his arms from Phil’s neck and shove, hard, against his chest. Phil stumbles backwards, shocked, his lips wet and reddened. There’s an indent in their corner from where Dan’s lip ring has pressed into his flesh, and the sight of it is making Dan want to throw up.

“Fucking hell, Phil,” Dan pants, staring at him. Phil just stares, stunned, breathing heavily. “You don’t need lessons, okay? You’re fine.”

Dan swallows, hands braced against the table as he tries to gain some control. How did he just let that happen? He is so, so fucked.

“Sorry,” Phil says at last. “I… I don’t know what- you’re just so, um, pretty, and it was all nice and familiar- I guess I just… I got carried away.”

“Carried away,” Dan repeats with a humourless laugh, still breathless. “Just a little.”

Phil ducks his head, his cheeks a little flushed. “Thanks, though. For helping me.”

Dan shakes his head, barely able to believe his ears. He feels a rush of hot, stinging anger flooding his veins, and he glares at Phil, unable to suppress it.

“Sure. What else am I here for, anyway?”

“What?”

“About the only thing I’m good for, isn’t it?” Dan spits out. He stands from the table on jelly legs, untying his apron and yanking it off. “As the town whore, you might as well use me for practise.”

“Dan, what- that is not why I-”

“Save it,” Dan growls, stalking past Phil towards the kitchen.

He pushes through the door, trying to ignore that his throat feels like he’s swallowed a lump of burning hot coal.

“Dan, I didn’t mean to offend you, I’m sorry!” Phil calls from the café floor. Dan leans his head back against the kitchen door separating them, shutting his eyes. “I don’t know what happened, I just- fuck. Please don’t be annoyed.”

Dan bites down hard on his lip, hating that he can still taste Phil there, all sickly sweet syrup and a rich, malty aftertaste.

“Dan?” Phil calls out again. “Please talk to me.”

There’s a push from the other side of the door, jolting Dan forwards. He moves out of its path, letting Phil swing it open. He stands in the doorway, looking shame-faced.

“It’s fine,” Dan sighs, running a hand through his hair. “That… happened. Let’s just move the fuck on.”

Phil nods, still a little dazed. “Okay.”

Dan nods, brushing past him as he goes to finish closing up the café. Phil just watches him perform the medial little tasks that need doing with a glazed expression, looking like a lost child. Dan is about a hundred percent sure he missed something on his to-do list by the time he gets his jacket, but he can’t be bothered to check. Louise can yell at him, he doesn’t care.

“Come on,” Dan says to Phil, his voice gruff still.

He walks to the door, jingling the keys, and opens it for Phil to step out into the dark street. Dan switches all the lights off without looking back, and follows him outside to lock the doors.

“It’s raining,” Phil says, as if Dan hadn’t noticed the moisture pelting him from above.

“You don’t say,” Dan replies, turning the final lock.

“Can I come over?”

Dan freezes, trying not to react. He turns to Phil slowly, a frown creasing his brow. “Don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Phil cocks his head like a spaniel. “Why?”

Dan purses his lips, looking up at the rainclouds, invisible in the dark. “Several reasons.”

He doesn’t mention that one of them is that he needs some time to privately flip the memory of Phil kissing him over and over in his mad, analytical brain until it’s wrung dry. He can already tell that that moment in time will forever be etched into his brain, just like his hips will always feel the ghost of Phil’s grip, and his lips… well. No other kiss will ever again mean anything, Dan is sure.

“It’s Prom tomorrow,” Phil says, his voice small. Dan rolls his eyes, wondering if Phil really thinks he could have forgotten when it’s literally all they’ve talked about for weeks. “You’re still gonna drive us, right?”

Dan sighs, desperately wishing he had enough spine to refuse right now. “Said I would, didn’t I?”

He stuffs the keys into his pocket, flicks up the hood of his jacket and starts walking down the street. Phil follows at his side, hands stuffed into the pocket of his hoodie. Silvery puffs of air escape from his mouth as he breathes; suddenly, Dan remembers his vice, digging into his back pocket. The packet’s a little damp, but he pulls a cigarette out with his teeth, uncaring.

“I just thought maybe you’d have changed your mind.”

Dan ducks into a doorway, lighting the end of his cigarette. They’re thin and black, these weird cherry flavoured ones, which is undeniably fitting to his aesthetic and mood. “And pass up three bags of Skittles? No way.”

He inhales, then continues walking, Phil still trudging along at his side. “So, I can come over, then?”

Dan rolls his eyes. “You’re literally following me home right now. It’s not like I have much of a choice.”

Phil says nothing, but when Dan sneaks a glance at his expression, misted from the rain, he’s smiling.

---

“Dan?”

The whisper filters through the filmy layer of Dan’s mind, hauling him out of the dream he was about to slip into.

“Dan, are you awake?” Phil’s voice sounds strange.

“Hm,” Dan says, stirring. “I am now.”

He opens his eyes crossly, irritated at being woken from what was sure to be a lovely, long sleep. The first thing he notices, even in the pitch black, is that Phil is very close to him. They’re sharing Dan’s single bed, so obviously their proximity is a little more than normal, but he’s shifted towards Dan’s side significantly.

Dan tries to put some distance back between them, but he’s got the wall behind him. He gives up, mind swirling in an attempt to distract himself from the fact that Phil is wearing his old Muse t-shirt and boxers, and is pressed almost against him, in his bed. Only hours ago, they’d been making out on a table in a closed cafe. Dan no longer feels very sleepy. Phil is staring straight at him, across the pillow. He’s chewing his lip, a worried crease between his brows.

“Wha’s the matter?” Dan asks sleepily. His heart races. “Did you hear Ricky come home?”

Phil shakes his head, and Dan’s lets out a quiet sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Phil says quietly; Dan really wishes he hadn’t said it at all. “The kiss, I mean.”

Dan shrugs a shoulder. “S’okay.”

It isn’t, though. It’s far from okay, it’s made everything a hell of a lot worse, but Phil doesn’t know about Dan’s feelings, so it’s not all his fault. Phil’s hand slides onto his hip. It’s warm, and gripping a little too tightly to be normal. Dan stares at him, entirely lost on what’s happening.

“You smell like cherries again,” Phil tells him, so quiet it’s barely audible. “You taste like cherries, too.”

Dan has no idea what to say, but it turns out he needn’t bother. Phil shifts closer still, that hand on his hip gripping tighter, and then their lips are pressed together. Phil is purposeful, searching, kissing Dan with the same unexpected intensity that he had back in the café. For a fleeting second, Dan is able to hold onto his resistance. He remains rigid, certain that this is a mistake, that Phil is not in his right mind, and that he should not give in to it. But Phil is stubborn, he is patient, and desperate. The hand on his hip feels like a plea, and Dan could never resist Phil’s begging. So he gives in, falls into the welcome warmth of Phil’s wave of wanting. He kisses Phil like he’s starving, not concerned with breaking away this time because he initiated it, there are no ‘kissing lessons’ to disguise it. This is unprecedented, unprovoked, and entirely Phil’s decision.

The hand on Dan’s hip slips round to grab at his bum, mostly to pull their bodies closer together. Dan gasps, allowing his limp, exhausted body to mould itself around Phil’s chest and legs. He imagines the clothes gone, the warm, smooth skin of him beneath, and groans. He winds his hands into Phil’s t-shirt, feeling the heady arousal sweep from his lips, down his chest, and between his legs, leaving a flush in its wake.

Phil’s hand works its way between them, finding the telltale bump of Dan’s erection and pressing against it. Dan gasps, pulling back from the kiss to look into Phil’s eyes. He should say something, make sure Phil is really sure he wants to do this, but the words die with a firm push of Phil’s fingers. He rubs against Dan in soft, gentle movements, still above his boxers. It’s too teasing to be enough, but Dan shuts his eyes anyway, choking back a moan of bliss.

“Do you want me to stop?” Phil asks, his voice quiet and husky.

Dan’s eyes fly open, and he shakes his head. Phil doesn’t seem to need any further confirmation. He dips his hand into the waistband of Dan’s boxers, curling his fingers around the length of him. Dan chokes on something – the air, maybe – thrown by the confidence with which Phil moves considering this is, as far as Dan knows, his first time doing anything like this.

Dan’s never been particularly vocal in bed unless asked, so he just buries his face in Phil’s shoulder, whimpering as Phil’s hand pumps a steady rhythm around him, gradually becoming slicker, messier as the build of his orgasm drags over Dan’s body. Phil’s movements are unpracticed, his hand is at an awkward angle, and he hasn’t even pulled Dan’s boxers down, but somehow it’s beyond incredible.

Dan comes hard, unable to stop himself crying out as Phil sinks his teeth into the exposed skin of his neck, sucking a mark there. He shudders as the pleasure ebbs away, going limp in Phil’s arms. Phil pulls his hand out from Dan’s boxers, wiping it on the Muse logo. A few seconds of stunned silence pass in the wake of what just occurred, and then Dan moves, jumping to attention like a soldier going about his routine. He pushes his lips back into Phil’s, just as hungry as before, and slides a hand down his torso, from collarbone to groin.

Phil catches hold of his wrist.

“Hey, it’s fine,” Phil says hurriedly. Through the Muse t-shirt, Dan can feel his heart pounding.

He stares at Phil, confused. “Let me… help you out.”

Phil smiles at him, though it seems a bit strained. “I’m fine, really. Let’s just go to sleep, yeah?”

Dan scans his face, trying to suss out why on earth somebody would refuse a return offer in this situation, but he comes up short. Hey, maybe Phil is just a little strange. Maybe his first time nerves kicked in a little later than expected.

“Are you sure?” Dan asks. His tongue flicks out to play with his lip ring, flirtatious. “I don’t mind, you know.”

Phil’s gaze hones in on the lip ring, and he swallows thickly. “Y-yeah, really. I’m just tired. Sleep.”

Reluctantly, Dan shuffles down, getting comfy again. It’s difficult, because he’d ideally like a shower right now, preferably one with Phil, but it’s obviously not going to happen, so Dan’s gonna just have to suck it up. But not literally, apparently.

“Okay,” Dan says after some thought. He shuffles closer to Phil, a warm and hopeful glow pulsating in his gut for the first time in years. “Goodnight.”

There’s a long time before Phil replies.

“Night.”

(Chapter Seven!)