#as always fascinated by what the hell louis is reading all the damn time

[volkswagonblues]

@archive-z i didn't mention this when i first saw this post but oh my god, I swear this was a scene I wrote and cut from a fic draft, where Daniel and Armand talk about Ginsberg. Aw yeah Daniel and his vonnegut and his ginsberg like yesssss that is exactly what he would've been reading. I just want to say i see your vision and its incredible 🙏🙏🙏

Billy Pilgrim has come unstuck in time or, what was on Daniel Molloy’s bookshelf in 1973?

Inspired by @volkswagonblues’ and @islandbetweeenrivers’ reading list of texts providing historical and cultural context for Daniel Molloy as journalist in the 1970s and 80s

This is, pretty much in its entirety (bar one or two references throughout the show and its extant material), assumptions I’ve made about the character. But, also: it’s my blog so I can do what I want. Dating works is somewhat inconsistent, as I opted for the date a piece was published in a collection or translation rather than when it first appeared in print if it seemed more realistic to have been acquired in that format.

I’ve found the archives of Rolling Stone and Playboy have been helpful in piecing together a who’s who of literary life in the late 1960s and early 1970s, especially for a intellectually precocious teen from suburban Modesto, CA transplanted into the centre of countercultural life in Haight-Ashbury.

From what I can gather, being born in ‘53 means Daniel was just a year shy of being drafted to fight in the Vietnam War, an experience that would have profoundly effected his peers just a year or two older than him. Throughout his teenage years, he’s got the spectre of the possibility of being drafted hanging over his head. It reminds me of pop-inspirational phrases like “you only live once,” which really puts his risk-taking, thrill-seeking behaviour into the perspective of yeah, this is someone who is trying to live life to the fullest every second of every day because the possibility of being drafted means that he might not make it past twenty. (Unfortunately! Louis & Armand also mean he might not make it past twenty either xoxoxo)

However, crucially, he did narrowly miss the draft, and despite that it would be horrible, I think there’s an acute sense of having missed out on this profoundly altering experience as well. Moving to Haight-Ashbury, he’s six years late to the Summer of Love ‘67, and the rose-tinted image of hippies, peace, and love is replaced by the grittiness of speedfreaks and serial killing (the Zodiac Killer being active throughout 1969, when Daniel would have been sixteen). He’s made it to San Francisco just a few years after its golden era, and i think this makes him even more determined to live, more determined to chase living life in order to make up for that, yknow?

i think the themes that he’s drawn to when reading are:

new journalism, and particularly when the journalist-as-rockstar persona is inserted into said reporting

the provocative, bacchanalian pursuit of pleasure, whether it be sex, drugs, or rock ‘n’ roll — and often sex mixed with violence in a way that is neither straightforward nor legible

travelogues and adventure stories that reflect his restlessness, particularly which let him romanticise far away places with thriving literary scenes like Paris and New York

a general aura of repressed queerness and crises of american masculinity (Capote, Tennessee Williams, Ginsburg, Hemingway)

war narratives as a vehicle for cold war/red scare anxieties

Without further ado, the actual book list:

Periodicals

Playboy magazine. People have long joked about reading Playboy for the articles, but it is the one piece of literature teenage Daniel is in-universe confirmed to have readily accessible, so I’m running with “Danny actually does read it for the articles, though” (and anyways, it’s Diana Ross’ Rolling Stones cover issue from Feb 1 1973 that he jerks off to). In 1973 alone, Playboy featured interviews with playwright Tennessee Williams; Huey Newton (co-founder of the Black Panther Party); news anchor and journalism’s elder statesman Walter Cronkite; science fiction novelist Kurt Vonnegut; and Pulitzer Prize-winning New York Times Vietnam war correspondent David Halberstam. Other Playboy interviews of possible interest: Fidel Castro, Orson Welles, Michael Caine (1967); Norman Mailer, Truman Capote, sexologists William H. Masters and Virginia E. Johnson, Paul Newman (1968); Martin Luther King Jr., Marshall McLuhan, Allen Ginsberg (1969). Also of note: between 1969 and 1971, Playboy was publishing faked letters to the editor that eventually developed into the Illuminati conspiracy theories.

In terms of reporting from major national newspapers in circulation, significant stories that come to mind are the New York Times publication of the Pentagon Papers (1971) and Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein’s Watergate investigations for the Washington Post (1972-73). It’s harder to gauge the circulation of underground newspapers like the Berkeley Barb (CA) and the Village Voice (NY) but its entirely likely that a resourceful and enterprising young reader with a point of view in Modesto, CA could get their hands on a copy.

Prose, Fiction & Nonfiction

The Little Red Book by Mao Zedong. At Berkeley, The Black Panthers would raise money by selling copies bought in bulk at markup to students. Absolutely makes sense that daniel would acquire (and actually read) a copy. Growing up in the wake of McCarthyism/Red Scare nonsense def makes me think he would see flirtations with communism as provocative and cool/edgy, but never back that flirtation up with follow-through.

The Hell’s Angels, a Strange and Terrible Saga (1966) by Hunter S. Thompson. Throughout the 1960s and 70s, the Hells Angels had a sizeable presence in San Francisco and Oakland — from what I can find they lived dead centre of Haight-Ashbury up until ‘69 if not later. As a teenager in Modesto, Daniel would have been geographically quite close (if not actually in attendance at) the 1969 Altamont Festival Rolling Stones performance where a teenage concertgoer was stabbed to death by a member of the Hells Angels.

Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail in ‘72 (serialized in Rolling Stone magazine) by Hunter S. Thompson. The quintessential text to understand ‘73 Daniel, imo. Fuck Nixon, Fuck Reagan, fuck the National Guard killing student protestors. Thompson’s other works include “The Kentucky Derby is Decadent and Depraved“ (with illustrations by Ralph Steadman) and Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.

The New Journalism: An Anthology (1973) edited by Tom Wolfe. In addition to excerpts of Hunter S. Thompson’s work already discussed above, the anthology collects In Cold Blood (1965) by Truman Capote, Slouching Towards Bethlehem (1968) by Joan Didion, The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test (1968) by Tom Wolfe, and Armies of the Night (1968) by Norman Mailer. I won’t do justice to summarizing the New Journalism here, but it’s def important.

Slaughterhouse-Five (1969) by Kurt Vonnegut. The quintessential Daniel Molloy fiction novel, to me. Exploration of post-traumatic stress disorder through an encounter with time travelling science fiction aliens. Takes on a new resonance for Daniel when he’s dealing with his own ptsd post-1973. Vonnegut’s other works include Cat’s Cradle (1963) and Breakfast of Champions (1973). On the subject of Cold War anxieties, there’s Catch-22 (1961) by Joseph Heller. I don’t have much to say about it as I’ve not read it yet, but it feels like the kind of thing teenage Daniel living in Schrödinger's draft call-up would take to. Maybe also John Le Carré’s The Spy Who Came in From the Cold (1963) and The Looking Glass War (1965), the latter particularly for the palpable air of repressed homoeroticism and WWII nostalgia/Cold War anxiety.

A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway (published posthumously in 1964). Daniel absolutely spent his teenage years romanticising being an expat America writer in the Paris literary scene. Substance use, war, and crises of masculinity throughout. In addition to Hemingway’s reporting on the Spanish Civil War (1937-1938), other works include novels The Sun Also Rises (1926), A Farewell to Arms (1929), and For Whom the Bell Tolls (1940).

George Orwell: Down and Out in Paris and London (1933), Burmese Days (1934), Homage to Catalonia (1938), Animal Farm (1945), Nineteen Eighty-Four (1949); and essays ”Books v. Cigarettes“ (1946), ”Decline of the English Murder” (1946), “Politics and the English Language” (1946), and “Why I Write” (1946). I think Orwell’s nonfiction writing would appeal to Daniel more than his fiction, especially when at the right age to romanticize the poverty-tourism of Down and Out. Also bonus points for Paris.

On the Road (1957), The Dharma Bums (1958), and The Subterraneans (1958) by Jack Kerouac. In particular, The Subterraneans is based on Kerouac’s interracial relationship with an African American woman in the 1960s. He’d also probably read Naked Lunch (1959) by fellow Beat poet William S. Burroughs.

Lolita (1955) by Vladimir Nabokov, both for its salacious notoriety and its unreliable narration. Like myself, Daniel feels like the kind of teenager who would read Lolita at sixteen as a provocation in a conservative environment, but come away genuinely enjoying it.

Poetry, Drama, Misc

Howl and Other Poems (1956) by Allen Ginsberg, particularly the edition published locally by San Francisco’s City Lights Books Pocket Poets series.

A series of miscellaneous titles I’d group together as “Daniel Actually Did the Assigned Reading in High School English Class” — The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald, Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger (“Get off that bench, brother”), Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck, and “The Second Coming” by W. B. Yeats. Most significantly, I imagine high school is where he’d be exposed to the work of American playwrights Tennessee Williams and Arthur Miller. The Glass Menagerie (1944), A Streetcar Named Desire (1947), and Cat on a Hot Tin Roof (1955) by Tennessee Williams. In the context of his relationship with Louis, I think it’s fun to imagine he’s familiar with/attracted to the Southern Gothic by way of Tennessee Williams (again with the crises of masculinity, the spectre of war, the repressed sexuality). Williams and Death of a Salesman (1949) by Arthur Miller, present the life Daniel could have had ie. the alcoholic husband, housewife vacuuming on Valium, etc.

If there’s anything else anyone thinks I’ve missed, feel free to hit me with a reply or a dm or an @ or whatnot. stay freaky & support yr local library x

[saintarmand]

Is armand really that obsessed and in love with lestat like the fandom claims i haven't read the books but i get the feeling that he hates him

the fandom DEFINITELY exaggerates it but it's not at all a baseless claim either. but you're right that he does hate him too lol

obligatory disclaimer i've only read books 1-6 in full (stuck on chapter 2 of merrick still) and seen some out of context quotes from later books

without going into specifics their relationship started by armand fucking over lestat who then fucked him over right back (while also mocking him) and armand kinda lost everything and decided that the person(s) responsible should fix it by becoming his everything. because that's what happened LAST time armand lost everything. and they both realize how much they have in common and they're both attracted to each other but lestat gets Bad Vibes so he says thanks but no thanks. but then later he's like hmm maybe armand freaks me out so much because i actually could love him TOO MUCH. scary... and every time armand falls in love he goes intense obsession mode (which lestat also tends to do ofc) and getting rejected by someone who was clearly tempted made it so the whole thing rears its head again every time armand doesn't have someone else. such as louis who is worth a million atrocities they both know this.

to summarize the Vibe they have a mutual love hate thing going on like they've done awful things to each other but also forgive each other but also don't forget but also care deeply about each other but also find each other so fucking annoying. the love is mutual but bc lestat is repulsed by both their similarities and their differences, he doesn't want to actually spend much time around armand. whereas armand wants lestat as his companion because of those similarities and differences. i saw a post once saying they're basically "recognition of the self through the other (derogatory) and (affectionate)" and i think that's a great way to put it. and they're able to forgive each other to an insane level because they recognize that in the same position they would've done the same thing. to me that's kinda the core of their relationship

but yeah there's a lot of baggage so they just end up fighting every time they meet except sometimes lestat is like omg hi armand hiiiiii 😄🥰 and armand is like omg hi 😳🥰🙄

oh and also armand seems to be the only one consistently willing to acknowledge out loud that lestat is a fucking idiot. but also kinda looks up to him in some ways. and lestat thinks armand is pathetic and a child even though armand is older by several hundred years. basically this:

and lestat is kinda marius's "favorite" (or rather just the one he actually respects) even though armand is the only one he actually kinda "raised" (yuck) and lestat is the one who never fucking does as he's told (probably actually all crucial to the respect thing.) so this also contributes to a deep resentment once armand finds out which is valid as hell like who wouldn't go insane like that's his ex-loverfather (die marius die) and lestat is just some guy marius met and decided to like and trust. but im getting off track

basically as always it's much more complicated than the fandom jokes make it out to be and like almost everything in these damn books it's a fascinating relationship that's very underwritten and has the potential to be explored better in the show...

tl;dr it's like this:

[covenofthearticulate]

❤️ + Daniel/Lestat

Oooh an interesting rare-pair!! I feel like I have to put a disclaimer that I'm not very well-versed in these two but I hope these are still fun to read anyway

Who is the most affectionate? In terms of physical affection, I think they're actually an even match! Lestat finds it much easier to express his affection through a little shoulder squeeze or an embrace. He's so damn touch-starved but at the same time he's so used to making up elaborate excuses to be able to connect with others, so I think Daniel would actually do a really great job at teaching Lestat to let go of those things and just be more casual, more modern in his physicality, y'know?

Who initiates the handholding? Lestat but only because Daniel still isn't sure it's like? allowed??? he's still kinda weirdly intimidated by him but in a totally different way than he was ever intimidated by armand. like lestat is an icon and a god and also his prince but also his boyfriend's boyfriend and also daniel knows so many intimate details about lestat's life so ANYWAY this is all to say that even though he laughs in the face of any idea of regency or title or ranking, deep down he sometimes gets overwhelmed by how Important lestat is and forgets that he's allowed to like....treat him like a person

Who worries more for the other? They both worry about each other, actually. Daniel probably does a bit more worrying, if only because it's Lestat who is more consistently in trouble. Daniel also tends to keep his problems very close to his chest, whereas Lestat spirals very loudly and publicly lmao

Who is more likely to ask for help? Depends on what help is needed. If it's "How do I send a gif in the group chat?" or "What the hell is Armand thinking right now?" they lean on each other pretty freely. In terms of Actually asking for help though...it's complicated. Neither one of them are very good at that kind of outreach, but actually because they're not quite as deeply entrenched in each other's lives as someone like Louis or Armand, that actually makes it easier to ask for help. They offer each other some really valuable perspectives— Lestat is much wiser than anyone gives him credit for and he's much more optimistic than Armand or Louis, so sometimes Daniel really depends on that light to see him through. And Daniel is so good at stepping back and assessing the actual stakes of any situation. Lestat tends to think that any minor inconvenience is the end of the world (Armand was totally right with that "gutter theatrical comment LOL) so Daniel sits him down and is like "Okay, so maybe you need to cut your losses. Big deal. Move on. You're gonna be fine."

Who is the one always losing the keys? Lestat :)

Who leaves little love notes for the other? They both do!! Although Lestat's are slightly more apologetic (He's always leaving little "Sorry. Love you —xo Lestat" notes on broken tv's or shattered vases or some shit LMAO)

Who can’t sleep unless the other is there? Lestat will die before sleeping in an empty bed. He stays up the latest out of all the vampires, which means he gets the pleasure of sneaking into Daniel's room once he's asleep and just making himself at home.

Who is more likely to propose to the other? Daniel is the one who "formally" invites Lestat into the fold. It happens in bed one night, closer to dawn. Armand and Louis have settled in their own room and Lestat jokes that Daniel is "stuck with him" for the day, but Daniel just smirks and pulls him close and tells him how he's glad to be with him, and that this...thing they have, whatever it is, between he and Louis and Armand...it's nice.

Who introduced the other to their family first? Technically Danny read all about Lestat's family in his book LOL

Who is more likely to play with the other’s hair? Surprisingly it's Lestat who plays more with Daniel's hair! He's fascinated by it, the way it's forever clipped short unlike his own. It makes the hair fall differently on his head and it's full of so many different textures (the front bangs are fun but Lestat likes just kinda scratching at the fuzzy hair at the nape of Daniel's neck).

Who makes sure the other has meals/stays hydrated? They're both actually really good at this in a way no one else really is. Sure, Louis and Armand have both had their bouts of depression-induced starvation, so of course they understand and are sensitive, but they also tend to be quite...worrisome lovers. Daniel and Lestat are so chill. They trust each other in a different way than they trust anyone else.

Who is more likely to stand up to anyone for the other? Daniel speaks his mind for better or for worse LOL but of course when it comes to physical protection, Lestat has absolutely made (and possibly carried through on?) threats to burn up any new fledgling vampire that tries to start shit with Daniel

Who is the most likely to prepare a surprise for the other? Lestat's love language is surprises lmfao listen he's so terrified that people will get bored with him so he's always plotting something. He likes surprising Daniel with things he can actually use (rather than things to dress him up in like Armand tends to do). Tickets to whatever sports team he follows, baggy jackets that he knows Armand will hate, a rare vinyl he mentioned he used to love in college, etc.

Who makes the other pinky promise not to do certain things? Daniel very much regrets teaching Lestat to pinky promise LOL

Who puts a blanket over the other when they fall asleep on the couch? Lestat :)

[lululawrence]

hello!! i was wondering if u had a werewolf tag for fics? i would search it but not sure how to use tumblr that well :)) if not do u have recs? LOVE U HAVE A NICE DAY<333

hi babes! i don't have one here... damn that's a fucking great idea. hahaha i'm HORRIBLY unorganized when it comes to tags for fics on tumblr. i mostly use ao3 for the organization of fics. so! that said, i defo DO have recs for you!

you didn't specify pairing, which makes me smile because i get to rec rare pairs in addition to larry and hope you read them hehe okay, here we go!

He Carries The Key by me (8k, NR, niall/louis) - this fic is the only one of mine i'll include, okay? promise haha but it is also one i wrote for wordplay just a week or two ago and it's werewolves and a pack fic and i just had a lot of fun. very soft. much fluff. many feels. i hope you enjoy. lol

There's Fur Everywhere by @londonfoginacup / LadyLondonderry (4k, G, Harry/Louis) - this is a 5 times fic, and it's HYSTERICAL. it feels slightly spoilery for me to even be including it on this list, but also... it's still fucking hilarious. emmu is queen of the crack fic that makes you feel all the soft and wonderful things, and she doesn't disappoint with this one.

I Hear Them Calling for You by @jaerie / jaerie (6k, E, Harry/Louis) - this fic is... not for everyone. like at all. please please please read the tags and the summary and if you don't like it or it makes you uncomfortable, then close right out of it. as for ME i loved what she explored with it, all the emotions and the story and worldbuilding of it all. i thought it was fantastic and incredibly interesting. it is A/B/O, pack fic with claiming and... yeah. it's amazing.

Campus Creatures by @kingsofeverything / kingsofeverything and @louandhazaf / YesIsAWorld (25k, E, Harry/Louis) - werewolves! vampires! fae! university! frat houses! science research positions being vied for! enemies to lovers! like... not sure what more you could ASK for, but there's also a fuck ton of humor and nudity and sexual tension and... it's just a lot of fun. can't go wrong, really. haha

From What I've Tasted of Desire by @evilovesyou / 4ureyesonly28 (72k, T, Harry/Louis) - okay so i'm including this one even though like... harry and louis aren't werewolves. but it's a twilight au, so there ARE werewolves and i'm ASSUMING you know twilight and therefore know that means you know they're pretty involved and... that's true for this fic too. ahha for real, though, i love evi's writing and this fic was one of my first introductions to it and it was a fun read, so i wanted to include it in case it had enough of the werewolf flair to entice you haha

Compete Against the Stars by @daggerandrose / amomentoflove (31k, M, Harry/Louis) - omg okay so this one is like ANGSTY AF and i FUCKING LOVE IT because it's one of those fics that you HOPE you have figured out, and you probably do, but also there's SO many twists and turns to it all that you just have NO idea how it's all gonna work out and omg are they gonna just ruin it all for themselves by being stupid and ahhhhh the tension of just FIGURING OUT HOW THEY GET IT ALL TO WORK OUT!!! and of course it does. hahaha but HOW??? this is a RIDE and in my mind feels like a longer fic than 31k in the best of ways, they did an amazing job of packing a LOT of world building and storytelling into those 31k.

the straight for your heart (wolfpack au) series by foreverkneeld and foundfamilyvevo (96k, T/G, Multiple or No pairings including Niall/Louis, Zayn/Liam, OT5, and Shawn/Niall) - This series is the ultimate hurt/comfort and healing pack fic series omg. it was recommended to me when i was in a super hard time and my anxiety was so bad i couldn't focus on anything. These short fics that all focused so much on healing and found family were exactly what i needed. so so soft, so lovely. I still haven't read them all because i'm saving them for when i need them. they're glorious.

when the air ran out and we both started running wild by darlingjustdont (48k, M, Nick/Louis) - OMG OKAY LISTEN THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVS. a tomlinshaw werewolf pack fic?! ahhhhhhhhh i was SO happy when i discovered this one. louis is alpha of the pack and things are... shaky, shall we say. there's a lot going on that he's worried about and then he meets nick and it's kind of enemies to lovers? okay, more than kind of. but omg the FEELS. SO. MANY. FEELS. but also danger and a;lsdgkhas;ldfkja just please read this and rave with me because i don't have many i can talk about this one with and i LOVE IT.

You Smell Like by mystic_believexx (185k, M, Harry/Louis) - i had no idea this fic was so long hahahaha wow ANYWAY louis is human, but he's always been close with harry and therefore basically a part of his pack. but then one day harry leaves and louis kind of accidentally becomes the pack alpha. even though he's human. but there's SO much more to it. there's just sooooo much with the friendship and the pack bond as well as the danger and trying to figure out what the hell is going on... it's just a LOT and one of those epic fics that i still think about even though i read it...a year and a half ago i guess. but it's amazing and i highly recommend it if the word count doesn't scare you away haha

Canyon Moon by @eeveelou / delsicle (41k, E, Harry/Louis) - this is a lion king au, made a/b/o werewolves! i really enjoyed this one a lot, actually, because i could absolutely see the parallels, but also the way it was adapted made it so it wasn't always obvious how it would all play out. it was a really interesting and cool world building as well.

The Truth I Can't Explain (Smoke and Mirrors) by @fallinglikethis / FallingLikeThis (9k, M, Harry/Louis) - ohhhhh this one is SO cool cause it's by tabby so she made it incredibly fun and fascinating to try to figure out. there's magic and mages and werewolves and feuds and they're basically on the eve of battle and holy cow it's just SO cool.

One Touch Is Never Enough by @kingsofeverything / kingsofeverything (4k, E, Harry/Louis) - once again lauren delivers and there's just so much i keep giggling about with this because it is SO fun. there's a lot that louis is dealing with in this fic hahaha and the way she writes it all is so funny. the poor man just wants a fucking massage! lololol it's lighthearted, humorous, and basically filled with fluff, crack, and smut. hahaha

Knot Safe For Work by @jaerie / jaerie (6k, E, Harry/Louis) - a;sldkgha;lfdkjas listen i forgot about this fic until i found it in my bookmarks for werewolves because jenna writes so many fucking amazing fics that when i think of werewolves, i think of at least two others first, but i could NOT do this rec without this fic because now that i remember it exists i am going to have to go and read it again! hahaha harry's a werewolf, louis is a wizard, there's knotting dildos and table sex and... just read it. lolol

Saving's What I Need by @jaerie / jaerie (17k, M, Harry/Louis) - writer louis is out for a drive one day and he hits a dog. THIS POOR DOG! he takes it to the vet and tries his best to take care of it... but things are not as they seem. because yeah, harry is defo not a dog. lollllll this fic was hilarious and sweet and omg there's just so much to love about it. there were so many more emotions in it than i expected. loooove!

Out of the Wild by @jaerie / jaerie (22k, E, Harry/Louis) - this fic has such fun world building, which is actually a huge strength of jenna's fics and you'll hear me rave about it with all 50 of her fics that will end up on this rec list (not really 50, but ya know lol). louis is a fairly wild and undomesticated wolf and harry's from the city and they end up as roommates during the x factor process. oh my word this fic is so fun because of all the challenges they're going through PLUS the wolf side of things and just... the way they work together and navigate it all as well as falling for each other is pure gold.

Out With The Old, In With The New by, you guessed it, @jaerie / jaerie (7k, E, Harry/Louis) - listen, just. this one is smutty as hell and it's gonna take you some places that some people will be uncomfortable with, which is totally valid and fair. please be sure to read the tags and make your decision on whether or not to read accordingly, but also know that its written in a super interesting way that is also pretty amazing if you do decide to give it a shot. lol

Instincts by @marastarfar / StarFar ( 100k so far - it's a WIP!, T, Harry/Louis) - omg listen. i LOVE mara's fics so much and when this first posted it was a one shot little thing that was FASCINATING. i loved it! and then i was happily surprised when i learned more was added to it. and then it was turned into a wip and omg i am so far behind now but i trust mara with my life because i love everything i've read by them and what i've read of this so far is INCREDIBLE so just. yeah. lollll

There's a Power in What You Do by @londonfoginacup / LadyLondonderry (7k, T, Harry/Louis) - i just read my comment i left on this one and it was just mainly me begging for time stamps because there wasn't any way for her to improve upon the perfection of this fic (nesting! softness! even a silly comment in her endnotes to perfectly cap it all!), but i still wanted to remain in the story just a bit longer and learn more about them. hahaha anyway, those time stamps aren't happening, but this fic is still complete perfection.

amaryllis by @hattalove / hattalove (147k, E, Harry/Louis) - for a long time this was thought of as THE werewolf fic. if anyone was talking about a werewolf fic, it was probably this one. is that still the case? probably. i'm not sure. ANYWAY. there's a REASON it was THE werewolf fic and that's because this is amazing. it sucks you in and you feel like you're truly a part of the action. it's filled with the vibe of found family and wanting to figure out what happened while also adjusting to your new life and just... so many feelings. so much angst. SO fantastically epic.

[twopoppies]

Firstly No pressure to read any of the below it’s just a lil rant after I ended up on the wrong side of tumblr!! ( + I have ADHD and i forgot my meds lol so its a bit disoriented and all over the place) and no response necessary unless you want to!

Oh god I accidentally ended up on the wrong side of tumblr....never ever ever ever again, I went back so fastttt lol im laughing at myself rn for how quickly i clicked away from disgust

i ended up on a blog that stalks u and some other larries and says absolutely atrocious things abt louis (I can send u their @ if u'd like so u can block them) and fully bought the stunt bs happening rn and it was horrible obvs but like i just do not understand like it was so creepy gina and im just so disgusted bc why? yk?

like u were not joking abt anti's actually being obsessed with larries - like half this person's blog was talking abt you and amy and i was just so shocked cause why??? like mate come on what the actual f? get a life please?? (im quite new so im like just now realising how insanely weird and obsessed these anti's are)

Also it was just an overall eye opener for multiple things:

Starting with that 1. the way 1DHQ and 1D Management managed to alienate larries actually worked and i like knew but truly doing a proper deep dive and seeing multiple blogs hate on larries and like obsessively stalk us was insane?? Like they truly believe everything they’re being fed???

Side Note: Lowkey feeling very lucky to have had the education i have because even before i even joined this fandom i believed partially none of the relationships in the news bc like i knew abt this industry and how it worked yk? i mean its logic? i have so many mates that arent even in the fandom that know i am in the fandom and texted me when the articles started rolling out calling it out for what it was: A PR stunt

Hell someone i know whom i had never even talked abt fandom stuff/stunt stuff fully texted me making a joke out of it!!! like people who aren’t even in our fandom can see it and its just insanely surprising that if they can why cant the antis?? im just a bit shocked rn

both from 1. finding someone who actually believes in this stunt and 2. multiple blogs that fully commit their time to stalking u and other larries and once again i knew but fully seeing it

YK AT FIRST I WAS LIKE IS THIS A JOKE I DIDNT BELIEVE IT GINA I THOUGHT SOMEONE WAS PULLING MY LEG OR THIS PERSON WAS IDK BEING SARCASTIC AND HAD A MESSED UP SENSE OF HUMOUR but ye anyway

It made me realise that 1DHQ knew what the fuck they were doing when they were trying to alienate larries from the rest of the fandom, once again i am feeling extraordinarily grateful to have grown up with an education where i was literally taught to never trust anything and to always think things thru using logic - “does it makes sense to you? if not find out why, there usually a reason behind everything” my yr 9 english teacher used to say smth like that all the time and it just never left me bc she was always teaching us to judge everything and to take every piece of news we read entertainment or otherwise with a grain of salt and to always if we’re gonna give someone else our opinion or spread this information do our research (its what i am when i say i feel lucky to have had the education i have had)

Eye Opener 2: Anti’s are fully standing y’all u were 100% correct this is some next level stan behaviour if i’ve ever seen some, you’re famous gina!!

It is while surprisingly to realise that anti’s fully believe these things, more surprising to see how they treat larries bc why on earth would u treat any other human being this way??? like dont get me wrong they’re horrible ppl and i fully felt like sending them a message telling them exactly that but i would never bc i just dont want to make another person feel bad abt themselves even if they are that shitty of a person and it was very tempting

I just would like to understand why they feel the need to do this? like why hate on a whole other person? for what believing smth diff to u? having a difference of opinion? how tf are they gonna make it when they get a job??? like??? do u know how often i run into a person with a different opinion then me? it shouldn’t be that big of a deal! we should still be able to be friends with antis! but we’re not - not for lack of trying btw!! they’re just so mean and rude??? when i was in other fandoms when someone believed different things there was never this much hatred at someone for it!! hell there was barely any bc it was understood that it was normal to have diff opinions abt things and i just am truly fascinated by these ppl i swear they remind how stupid the human race can sometimes be not for what they believe (altho ngl a lil of that too) but for how they treat other ACTUAL human beings with different opinions to them

Eye Opener 2.5: Some people need lives, man like they proper do need lives and something to do maybe a hobby or smth? just like a life they need to get one of those and actual live it

and Eye Opener 3: I already felt this way but like even god damn stronger now you deserve a formal apology from both 1DHQ and the universe

and until we get that u deserve amazing things coming from the boys on your bdays to make up for it

Lastly Gina I hope you didn't read thru all that bc I couldn’t even read it over and thus sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes and I would also like to say that I love your blog and everything about you! you’re an absolute angel and one of the kindest ppl I have ever had the pleasure of well not meeting but stumbling across, you truly make this fandom a much much much better place with your presence (I shudder to think of it without u) that said if you ever need to take breaks or leave Im sure you already know but you should 100%

You first!!! Always! :)

Have a good day Gina, I hope its an absolutely amazing one!

Hi darling. LOL! Reading this was like talking with my kids when they don't take their ADHD meds. Lots of excited thoughts!! I loved it.

And yeah, that blog and their 4 followers are really... not well. But you're very right. 1DHQ made this fandom a breeding ground for people to hate larries and to think it's something Harry and Louis would both approve of. It's gross.

The gaslighting here is powerful, so thank goodness for fans like you who know to question what they're told and to look at things with logic and to do their best to see through their own biases.

Thank you for all the sweet words and your offer to kick butt (in your other message). I really appreciate it!

[guiltybystanders]

Beastars has ended! Two days ago, but I didn’t realize until today... And that ending... I have thoughts about it. Mostly that Beastars was a great story that completely lost its way in the last arc.

Warning for spoilers for the whole series, though this is focused more on a few big picture problems instead of individual characters and plotlines that got shafted.

I still really like Beastars, even if I'm no longer as gung-ho about recommending it to people after the last arc. The characters (when being paid adequate attention) were complex people with compelling flaws and fascinating worldviews. The worldbuilding (apart from a few bits of weirdness and the end) was some of the most interesting and thought-out I've read this past year, especially for something that starts as a slice of life story. And the commentary on gender (because this is definitely a story about gender) was nuanced and explored from many angles, and honestly a very thoughtful take on (non-toxic but still distinctly masculine) masculinity. Tho, for a story about gender and forbidden love, the fact there was next to no acknowledgment of LGBT themes was strange and actually made it a weaker story. Louis should have been gay tbh. Overall, there's a lot there to recommend.

Unfortunately, the best parts of the series (the complicated worldbuilding and how that society affected the characters, and the psychology of those characters) were less focused on than external forces and fighting towards the end, as the pacing rocketed up and many subplots were dropped to speed to the ending as soon as possible. Beastars was never super realistic in its drama (Haru was captured by the fucking mafia back when it was still mostly slice of life) but before the last arc, it still mostly felt internally-focused—it was a character-focused drama despite crazy action subplots. For instance, Legosi's training arc was undeniably an anime training arc, but more so it was about him struggling to be strong without eating meat, culminating in the scene where he does take a life by eating a bug. Even when shit got shonen, it was still a story of masculinity and finding your place in society, and I didn't mind the crazier aspects of that because it still felt mostly dedicated to the characters' emotional states (and the crazy shit was often sick as hell tbh.) I didn't feel the same way later on—Legosi still thought about what he was feeling, but almost always through dramatic monologues (often during fights) instead of moments of true self-reflection, and many of the supporting characters were sidelined with their potential wasted (such as Haru, who not only was never given her own storyline like she deserved, but also was still treated as Legosi's main motivation and yet was barely shown in his life.) The plot wasn't what drew me to Beastars—the characters and world were—but the plot is what got the focus in the end. And with the ending and the worldbuilding; the complete destruction of the Back Alley Market after one single moment felt pretty antithetical to a lot of other parts of the series—the Back Alley Market was challenged throughout the whole series as something to change and overcome, but we were also shown it was not so simple to completely end carnivore urges. To wrap it up in one big dramatic moment kind of destroys a lot of the best aspects of the worldbuilding, which was so horribly morally complicated.

There are parts of the last arc I did like, or at least think had potential if done differently, but none are enough to justify the last part of the manga. I liked Melon, at first. I think he brought some fascinating ideas to the story, ones that would have really shined had his arc been better written and paced. As it was, he became less compelling to me as time went on and the story became about defeating him instead of who the characters were as people, and his own character became more melodramatic. I liked the story of Legosi's mom, which only came after Melon's introduction. But then the part with Gosha's wife's suicide didn't really make much sense and felt shoehorned in to me. I liked Yahya’s introduction and his dynamic with Gosha. But I feel like his character was never fully unpacked, and his past with Gosha (while fun) sometimes overshadowed learning about his ideals or what it meant to actually be the Beastar. I loved seeing the "world of adults" in the city, and all of Legosi's neighbors. But they were largely written out as well, just as surely as most of the Cherryton students were. And the Cherryton characters were written out, even ones that seemed important, like Juno and Bill. The most egregious example of a character being written out was Haru: she started out as one of the three main characters with her own complex problems and worldview—and it was Legosi's feelings about her that motivated him throughout the entire story—but by the end, she was barely even a character, her own problems inconsistently addressed and glossed over, mostly showing up just for Legosi to Feel A Thing He Needs To For Plot. As it is... I can't help but think that it would have been best to end the story when Legosi caught the killer and left school, when things were relatively tied up, even if that would have come at the expense of some parts I really did like.

The ending dropped the ball on a lot of accounts—forgetting subplots, sidelining characters, oversimplifying the worldbuilding, bizarre pacing—and that really is a damn shame. However, I still like the beginning and the middle enough that I like this series overall, and in the end I'm glad I read it.

[tessatechaitea]

Scarab #7

What a surreal cover. Babies don't have skeletons.

And here was my reply:

I don't blame him for blocking me. Twitter is a giant shithole where nobody should be spending any time at all and the block feature is all that makes it bearable. He probably couldn't see just how funny I was being about how boring his fact was because he was ��� inexplicably — fascinated with it! It was so boring that I'd already forgotten it the next day when I discovered Millar had blocked me! And since he blocked me, I couldn't see the tweet which I had responded to. Which worried me because I thought, "Damn. What kind of a dick was I being?!" But then my friend Doom Bunny took a screenshot of the boring fact and I was relieved. I read it and thought, "Oh yeah! My response was hilarious! That fact was so boring I'm going to forget about it again almost immediately!" I guess I should apologize to Mark Millar. But should I be sincere or should I do one of those wise-ass apologies where I say something like, "I'm sorry you were so thin-skinned that my totally hilarious joke on Hellspace...I mean Twitter hurt your stupid feelings." Or I could just go on living as I had been living where I never see anything Millar tweets anyway because I don't follow him and haven't cared about anything he's written since he did the whole Todd McFarlane thing and started having other people write Hit-Girl and Kick-Ass while still somehow taking all the credit. Some day in my reading of old issues, I'll get around to The Ultimates and then I'll remember this day! I remember loving that series back around the turn of the Millennium but oh boy will I give it what for this time around! I'm already remembering that it probably sucked! My brain is really terrible with remembering names and even words that I often know I want to use but have to reverse Google search them by looking up the definition to give me the word I can't come up with. So when I was trying to remember who wrote Spawn, I just couldn't come up with Todd McFarlane. So I Googled him and this is the picture Google decided was the fucking Platonic ideal of Todd McFarlane:

I believe I own zero comic books by Todd so this is the only chance I have to look at his picture and think, "Really? REALLY? No, no. But really?!"

You know who I blame for me thinking I'm funny when I'm probably just a huge Internet troll that's making life miserable for a ton of comic book creators? Fucking Gail Simone! Why did she have to have such a good sense of humor about my blog?! Now I expect that kind of good natured ability to laugh at oneself from all creators instead of this tired pretentious bullshit that their art is above making dick jokes about! I should get blocked by somebody on Twitter every few days! It really gives me something to write about! Apparently the "Scream Over Hiroshima" story isn't finished. I guess Scarab still has a chance to do something — anything! — before this is over.

Russians super excited that their pacifist weapon destroyed London and taught everybody that war is Hell.

British Madame Xanadu fills Scarab in on what's happening so he can stop the next Scream Over Hiroshima attack. Not that she's worried about it destroying Reykjavik. She's more worried about what it's going to do to the astral plane. And, well, we all know how important the astral plane is having spent all those years playing Dungeons & Dragons instead of jerking off some peer in the bushes outside of the junior high school cafeteria. The astral plane is like the connective tissue of all the other planes, like The Happy Hunting Ground and the Abyss and the Negative Plane and Acheron and Gehenna and all the elemental planes too! This Scream Over Hiroshima situation is dire! It's also a good idea for my next Dungeons & Dragons campaign. Louis isn't really worried about saving the astral plane. Remember, he's spent the last six issues not giving a shit about anything except saving Eleanor.

See? Exactly like that barn owl Madame Xanadu!

While Scarab begins to realize that Madame Xanadu (even the British version!) always gets her way because how can you prove she's not being totally honest and just manipulating you for her own ends unless you risk the entire world by not doing as she says, one of the Russian scientists begins to have doubts about their plans for world peace. He's suddenly gotten philosophical and he's all, "How many dead babies is world peace worth?!" And his assistant is all, "All of them, you idiot! Every single one! Because all of the new babies won't have to worry about war anymore!" And the one feeling doubts is all, "But why do we have to be responsible for killing all of the babies?!" And the other guy is all, "We're not responsible! Science is responsible! Fucking murderer! But, you know, a necessary murderer! Because science is important!" Then the other guy starts losing his doubts and he's all, "You're right! Science is important! Imagine not having toasters! I'd probably kill three or four babies just to make sure science created toasters!" And then the other guy is all, "That's the spirit! Let's kill more babies for world peace!" Just to be clear, I was paraphrasing the actual conversation in the comic book! I know it was probably hard to tell because I used the word "fucking" and discussed killing babies and since this is a Vertigo comic, those kinds of things are totally expected. Actually, the scientists never really have time to come to grips with what they're doing before the Russian General shoots them both in the face. His mind has been taken over by the Glory Boys which probably means the entire world is in some serious shit now. Scarab travels through the astral plane to arrive in Russia so he can stop the Glory Boys from destroying the world. It'll probably be the easiest fight of his life because I'm sure the Glory Boys simply want to die. Except Scarab fucks it all up and his kill shot on the General just knocks the General into the lever which fires up the Glory Boys and releases the Scream Over Hiroshima over Reykjavik. That's where all the world leaders are meeting for some summit. The whole purpose of the Scream is to hit them with their own abuse of power. So maybe Scarab fucking up is good. Fuck the politicians! I hope the Scream Over Hiroshima makes them feel as bad as I felt when I realized Mark Millar blocked me on Twitter! The Earth is fucked and Scarab couldn't help. The issue ends with two cosmic dudes walking out of the chaos to fix everything. They claim they're Bobby Dazzler and Benedict Creed. They're cosmic plumbers or something. They work for the Cosmic Coincidence Control Center. Sounds like some real Doom Patrol shit. Scarab #7 Rating: B-. Once again, Scarab doesn't do shit. He's mostly just an observer of the horrors of the cosmos. He didn't even have to be in this story! And it looks like he doesn't need to be in the next issue either because those cosmic plumbers are there to stop the astral plane from overflowing into our reality. Unless they're actually the bad guys and Scarab needs to punch them a few times!

[margridarnauds]

002 orleans, 001 peyronan, lets GO

001 | Peyronan

when I started shipping it if I did: Funnily, it went under my radar for YEARS, because I. Did not care about Lazare at ALL. Did not even L I K E him. And the 1789 fandom, as a whole, was VERY anti-Ronan. You could not say ANYTHING positive about Ronan at that time. Then, during a stream of Zuka 1789 in June 2017 (THREE YEARS. WHAT THE FUCK? HOW HAVE THREE YEARS PAST?), I was like “Oh? O H? O    H  ?” and so It began. I started off with the idea of creating a contained series of drabbles, highlighting the two of them over the course of the musical. The idea was that it would essentially be PWP, disconnected, plotless, researchless, no feelings involved, no softening of Lazare, and would probably end at Ronan’s death. But, as I began working the concepts further, I realized that wouldn’t work, and within a few months of beginning the project, I started to call it “The Abomination”, due to it warping far, far out of my control. These days, a LOT of what I’ve written ties back to those original ideas for The Abomination, and a lot of the concepts used in Between the Waves started there (Printing Press being one of them.) 

my thoughts: THE BOIS. THE B O I S. My favorite totally canon ship. The two of them really do balance one another out really well, they’re the classic fire and ice combo (though, underneath Lazare’s ice, there’s fire, and underneath Ronan’s fire, there’s ice.) Ronan’s character arc begins and ends with Lazare, and there’s SOMETHING about him going to Paris with this idea of “Okay, I’m going to kill the Comte, take back my lands, and dance on the ashes of the old world” and then meeting Lazare and being like “...okay, new plan: Save this fucking disaster from himself”. There’s something about his arc going from hatred to love. And could this be done with Olympe as well? Yes, it could be. But, for me, I like the full circle happening with Lazare, since he did start this. Both of them have a Hell of a lot to learn from one another, there’s going to be a lot of grappling when it comes to establishing equality, a lot of sniping back and forth, but I also do think, legitimately, they could make one another happy. (And, Hell, even if they didn’t, that doesn’t mean it can’t be a fun ride.) 

What makes me happy about them: The general idea that the Comte de Peyrol, a cold-hearted, professional guard dog who probably never really even THOUGHT of love as something he could have, could melt for this revolutionary, no matter HOW slightly, enough to risk everything for a relationship. That, despite everything else, Ronan could love him back. That, even if only for a few months, they got to be HAPPY with one another. 

What makes me sad about them: The ending. The things that were left unresolved. It’s doubly sad in, say, the PLP universe, where Lazare really DID love Ronan with his entire heart, but Ronan really died without KNOWING the extent that Lazare was invested. And that Lazare will have to live the rest of his life, HOWEVER long that will be, thinking of how he destroyed the one person who ever gave a damn about him outside of what he could do for them. 

things done in fanfic that annoys me: Given that the fandom mainly consists of me + the various friends I’ve kidnapped into the fandom, there really ISN’T all that much? Like, I feel like the 1789 fandom, as a whole, is a fairly chill space (knock on wood.)

things I look for in fanfic: Existing is a lovely start. 

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: I don’t MIND Camille/Ronan, Ronan/Olympe, or Olympe/Lazare. They aren’t FAVORITES in the same way, but I would probably read fanfic for it. And I have read fanfic for Ronan/Robespierre as well. 

My happily ever after for them: Lazare chooses to leave the Army after realizing that it’s destroying him, the two of them escape the worst of the Revolution together and go away, either to London or America (I. Doubt. That someone as high profile as Lazare could slink away to the country like a ton of other aristocrats did.) They live together more or less openly, Lazare deciding against taking a wife for convenience’s sake, and society is left to deal. In theory, they keep two separate bedrooms, but in practice? Yeah, that peasant boy is spending all his time in Lazare’s bed, and Lazare has no complaints. 

who is the big spoon/little spoon: See, I WANT to say “Lazare”. This has been my official stance for YEARS. That Ronan routinely cuddles up to Lazare (who had a very difficult time admitting that he, in fact, needs cuddles), and Lazare pulls his arm over him, protecting him, since we KNOW that Lazare tends to feel a deep sense of duty re: protecting the things most important to him, whether that’s the Crown or Ronan. BUT CONSIDER. BIG SPOON RONAN attacking from behind and Lazare getting to feel safe and secure for ONCE. 

what is their favorite non-sexual activity: Ronan likes Lazare reading to him. Lazare has a very warm, smooth voice, when he isn’t barking out orders. Ronan loves getting to cuddle against his shoulder or on his lap, Lazare stroking his hair with one hand and holding the book in the other, letting his voice flow over him. Lazare will sometimes (gently) chastise him for not listening to a single word he says, but it’s worth it to see Ronan at peace (and, in the case of at least a few of the works, it isn’t a particularly great loss, anyway.) 

002 | Orléans

How I feel about this character: Thotty, ambitious bastard who should NOT be this charismatic and yet somehow IS. Also right for a solid 60% of the musical. I’m trying to articulate all my thoughts but they are just variations on “SON” and “PROBLEMATIC”. 

All the people I ship romantically with this character: Margrid Arnaud. Arnaud, Margrid. The sister of Marie Antoinette. Street Gremlin. I can KIND of see Antoinette, in a very, very odd way. Less “I love you so now I’m going to destroy you” like the Hungarian did, more “We were friends, there were Undercurrents to it, Things happened to make them have some mutually hurt feelings, and being stung like that set up this Mood for things later on.” 

My non-romantic OTP for this character: I’m actually really interested in Louis & Orléans, as a relationship. Like, they were COUSINS. Something went deeply, deeply bad in their relationship at some point, and it totally ruined both of their lives. In another life, they might have been closer, but, with a throne between them....there was really no other way for it to end. 

My unpopular opinion about this character: The LOVELY thing about a fandom that consists of, like, three people on a good day is that IT’S MY SANDBOX. But, one thing that I do think is that it wasn’t really a straightforward Mnaipulator-Manipulatee relationship with Margrid. She signed on knowing fully well that she would get her hands dirty, Orléans TOLD her as much, and she wanted it, at the time. It didn’t really benefit him to conceal what they would be doing. The two of them just happened to drift to two different places over time. I’ve seen a certain....tendency to baby Margrid over her choices, because she DOES have a traumatic backstory, but...she can still be rather reprehensible as a human being herself. In the early stages of the musical, HE’D be more likely to hold her back from doing something awful as opposed to vice versa. I also do think that...he didn’t GO OUT intending to supplant Antoinette. That was formed after years of seeing her bungle ruling the country. You can even see it in M cast when Antoinette turns down Rohan’s attempt to make nice, where he has this very distinct “Oh....she DIDN’T....she did” face. That isn’t the face of someone who’s THRILLED that things are going according to plan, that’s the face of someone who’s realizing that there’s only one way for this to happen and for France to remain in one piece, and it’s for him to take the throne. 

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: The problem with Orléans, as a character, is that at least in the Toho production, I DO think he’s fairly well done. It’s hard for me to REALLY see....what I wish could have happened. Because you kind of realize that there were only ever a few ways for this to end, and as the musical progresses, the available options just get narrower and narrower. It isn’t GOOD, but like....you UNDERSTAND how it happens. I do wish that he had more scenes with Margrid, obviously from a self-indulgent ship perspective. Not even in terms of “canonical makeout session” (since I almost feel like a canonical makeout session would ruin it), but in terms of him finding out that Marie was her sister and that THAT was where he went wrong, but also....I’m not sure how MUCH it would have ended, and there’s something to be said for the tragedy of him just never KNOWING why she betrayed him. That hurt, furious look on his face as he’s led away really is probably the best place to end their relationship on. I would have loved to have seen their second meeting, after Hébert convinced her to take the job, since it would have REALLY given a ton of groundwork for their working partnership and would have given them the chance to discuss their kind of disastrous first meeting.  Obviously, I would hope that he gets his head screwed on properly and he runs off with Margrid to America, where they end up living peacefully for many years and having children who are spoiled absolutely rotten, along with his other, legitimate children, who also flee to America. Philippe, being himself, naturally ingratiates himself to the new country, becoming very active in politics, and upon his summoning of his dear friend the Chevalier de Saint-Georges to America, the cause of Abolitionism is given a massive head start. It isn’t entirely France....or London, where Philippe’s heart will always lie, but it’s a nice existence, and his ego is suitably stroked by the American fascination with royalty. (He and Laz still have at least one near-duel, which is halted by their respective significant others.) 

my OTP: Morléans. Shockingly. 

my cross over ship: Never 5get @lochley fucking selling me on Marie/Olympe/Orléans. 

a headcanon fact: Part of why he has his ongoing snipefest with Fersen is that he’s bitter that Fersen was able to fight in the American Revolution while, in his case, after the Royal Family tossed him to the wolves after the Battle of Ushant, he was forced to remain in France and sit it out, and someone as active as Orléans could barely STAND it. (Also, along with Ronan, has SOME form of ADHD. He has a lot of plans, and one LARGER plan, but when it comes to things outside of that one larger plan? Yeah, he scurries around, chases after whatever seems good in the moment. It drives Margrid up a WALL.) 

[awed-frog]

in which caesar doesn’t do anything much and all the women are named julia

[Hi, this is me stanning Adrian Goldsworthy’s biography of Caesar. I studied Classics, but not this period, so all I can contribute here are squeals of delight, a few mistakes and the occasional witty comment. If you’d like to know more, please buy the book - it’s really good and a fun read.]

PART 2

The thing is - there’s a lot of boring relevant political stuff going on in this chapter, but I’m mostly fascinated by the glimpses we get into the world of Roman women. 

As I said, this is not really my area, so I know random, unconnected facts about how life was like for them; also it doesn’t make much sense to talk about ‘Roman women’, because, as a reminder, ‘Rome’ stretches from the 14th century BC to the 14th century AD, came to include dozens of very different regions, and obviously was home to an incredibly diverse population. And if we’re talking about the late Republican / imperial aristocracy, there’s a sharp divide anyway: on the one hand, the ‘ideal woman’ is the same old model we’re all used to and heard about (silent, obedient, virtuous, chaste, a perfect mother and so on), but on the other, Roman noblewomen had a lot more freedom than, say, their Greek counterparts, so there was usually some political scheming going on - something that in Greece was reserved to a handful of very well-placed courtesans. 

(In this sense, think about the contrast between Lucretia, the mythological wife of Collatinus, whose fridging created the Republic, and Agrippina, mother of Nero, empress and all-round badass bitch.)

Anyway, this chapter made me think about women because it starts with Caesar being born and getting his name - it’s sort of an urban legend, btw, that every single Roman had three names: that was just for the Moste Noblest - and how Goldsworthy casually mentions that, unlike men, women of noble birth would just take their family surname as first name. In Caesar’s family, for instance, all the women were named Julia.

(As a reminder: his given name was Caius, then ‘Julius’ identified the tribe, and finally ‘Caesar’ was a nickname that was possibly given to his grandfather for something elephant-related. 

People whose grandfathers did not do elephant-related stuff generally never enjoyed the prestige of a funny nickname passed down through the generations.)

So it’s bad enough that twins might be named ‘Peter and Not-Peter’ or ‘Peter and Twin’, but imagine going to the park with your buggy and meeting your old friend Oldest She-Jones (daughter of Ferdinand Jones), now married to George David Taylor, and her five kids - Louis David Taylor, She-Taylor, She-Taylor the Second, She-Taylor the Third and She-Taylor Born on Christmas. So damn cute, and also the reason why the Romans never developed smartphones or social media - how the hell are you supposed to find someone on Vultocodex when every single cousin and aunt has the exact same name?

Poor management, that is.

But anyway - as I said, there’s a dissonance here because women being treated like garbage (like, not given normal names and married off at fourteen) also led to the very peculiar phenomenon: generations of (male) politicians and VIPs being raised by very forceful, strong, and ambitious (widowed) mothers. Because if you count old age, wars, trampolining injuries (let’s be honest, men have always been obsessed with attempting dangerous stunts just for the fun of it) and the general risks of Roman politics, it was very usual for a noble kid to not even remember his father at all.

(Nero is a good example of how weird and all-consuming this boy-mother relationship could become - there’s entire books about it, but I’d point 16-and-over readers to Suetonius’ Life of Nero for details.

Keep in mind 95% of it is propaganda because Suetonius hated Nero, but still. HBO-worthy stuff in there.)

All this to say - we know that Caesar had a very close relationship with his mom (named ‘Aurelia’ because - you guessed it - she came from the Aurelii family), who was a near perfect figure of virtue, intelligence, beauty and common sense. Very powerful in her own right, Aurelia raised Caesar basically on her own, because her (much older) husband was either away at war or dead for most of their marriage.

Aside from drinking in Aurelia’s wisdom, Caesar’s education also included the normal lessons noble Roman boys were required to learn: self-worth, narcissism, delusional manias, rhetoric, martial arts, horse-riding, and writing really bad fanfiction based on Greek myths.

And now for the MEANWHILE part.

(I have no idea why this gif was tagged ‘meanwhile’, but I’m not enough of an idiot to let it go to waste, so.)

Meanwhile, all sort of messes were going on.

As I’m sure you remember, at some point the consul was Marius - Caesar’s uncle and a military genius, but not much of a politician. His negotiation tactic of choice was secretly inviting groups of unconnected people to his house on the same night, serving them dinner in two separate rooms so they wouldn’t see one another and try to work out some kind of agreement between them. Whenever a new point came up, Marius would say he had diarrhoea, pretend to run to the bathroom and instead sit down with the second group and see what they thought about the first group’s proposal.

(Isn’t ancient Rome magnificent?)

A big problem Marius had to deal with was how to grant citizenship to the allied tribes in Italy without pissing off current citizens. Basically no one wanted these other guys to be given new rights, but since they supplied more than half the soldiers of the Roman army and got nothing in return, their patience was running a bit thin. At some point, Roman bureaucrats started to erase foreign-born citizens from their lists claiming they were not actual citizens (something so openly dishonest NO OTHER GOVERNMENT would EVER attempt it again), and next yet another tribune working on a citizenship reform was stabbed to death in the street. 

So the allies went to war. 

(This war, confusingly, is known as the Social War, because ‘socius’ means ‘ally’ in Latin.)

As you can imagine, it was a disaster. Most of the allied communities had been part of the Roman republic for I don’t want to check but let’s say decades, they lived side by side with Roman families and fought in the same wars, so it was more of a civil war than anything else. Some tribes chose to remain faithful to Rome, others didn’t. Lots of people died.

Caesar was too young to be a soldier, but this was Cicero’s first taste of war (bet you never thought of that weaselly weasel as a soldier, uh? appearances can be deceiving, folks!). Marius was also involved, but since he was old as shit and had famously weak and leaky guts (hahahhaha), he mostly stayed out of active combat, which wasn’t all that normal for a Roman general. In the end, the whole of Italy, down to defeated tribes, cows, dogs and random patches of mossy rocks, was granted citizenship and everyone went home. Their votes, however, were inserted in the system in such a way that they didn’t count much. 

On the whole, the one winner of this war was Lucius Cornelius Sulla, one of the military commanders, who became a consul soon after.

Another war, because this is Rome and Romans were dicks, but! this one was in the East, which means every single soldier would get super rich and also! wars in the East were considered easy because *insert racist trope here* and! Sulla had been promised that, as the big winner of the Social War, he could go there with his legions and basically enjoy this Disneyland of golden cups and ultraviolence but! at the last moment, Marius, who never liked Sulla much, managed to snatch the commandership from him, which! was completely legal but also *insert outraged emoji* and wait for it! instead of going gentle into the good night, Sulla made a fiery speech to his soldiers all like GUESS WHAT FOLKS WE’RE STUCK HERE SCRATCHING OUR TESTICULI AND THOSE IDIOTS FROM THE 25TH ARE TAKING YOUR GOLD AND YOUR UNWILLING WOMEN and! Sulla’s entire army marched! on! the! city! of! Rome!

It was the first time a Roman army had ever invaded Rome. Nobody was expecting it, and people panicked. Sulla’s men won easily, burned down some buildings, killed some people, generally had a great time; and then Sulla announced a bounty for anyone who’d disembowel his political enemies (including Marius) because he didn’t have time to go to Braavos and learn how to do it himself (remember, he still had his war waiting for him in the East).

(This turned out to be a success, btw. One guy was even killed by his slave - Sulla gave him the promised reward, then shoved him off a mountain because duh, slave and “When I said ‘anyone’, I meant people, not IKEA furniture” and “Honestly”.)

As nobody could have imagined and/or predicted, as soon as Sulla left for Greece Weak Guts Marius came back with an army and took back the city, beheading his way to the Senate and leaving a trail of blood wherever he passed. As soon as he got there, however, he dropped dead - heart attack, trampolining, diarrhoea, who can tell - and the city was taken over by his second-in-command, Lucius Cornelius Cinna.

(Man, what a ride.)

Unfortunately, it’s impossible to know what Caesar was doing during this time.

Personally, I like to imagine him in Rome - a well-dressed, grey-eyed 15-year-old, freshly orphaned, horrified and exhilarated by the violence exploding all around him - I see him running down the streets, stopping to watch the corpses float in the dark waters of the Tiber, daring his friends to go and touch the severed heads nailed to the doors of the Senate; recognizing many of those heads as friends and colleagues of his father and uncle (passing a hesitant finger on the cold flesh, remembering how they’d once laughed and frowned and spoken about boring matters from the dais). 

The truth is, Caesar was just a kid. He was supposed to learn about the Republic, and his own role in making it great, by watching his elders. 

God knows what he actually learned, and what he thought, as he was passing through Rome’s paved streets, now shimmering with blood. 

PREVIOUS — NEXT

[the-walking-memelords]

Vows

Rating: G

Word Count: 3362

Pairing: Louis X Clementine

Louis and Clem work out their wedding jitters for their big day.

Read it on Ao3!

Read it on Wattpad!

The rapid sound of his pencil tapping against the paper was the only thing filling the silence of the empty dorm room. Louis sat slouched over the desk, head in hand. The blank page stared back at him almost mockingly. There were so many things he wanted to say but none could escape his mind onto the page. Time was running out. He kicked himself for putting this off for so long. The wedding was only a few days away but Louis had no idea what he would say to her. He leaned back in his chair, that beautiful face distracting him from what he was doing.

Clementine, the love of his life. Louis became lost in a daydream as he thought of spending the rest of his life by her side. Waking up to her golden eyes was already blissful, but to be accompanied by that golden ring seemed to make life even sweeter.

The feeling of him falling in love was interrupted by the feeling of him actually falling. Louis quickly grabbed the edge of the desk to prevent his chair from completely tipping backwards.

“This is no use.” He muttered to himself.

He gave up writing for now as he decided to go see someone he knew he could talk to about anything. Though of course, Marlon was less talkative these days.

---

Purple Snapdragons stuck out of the dirt around the worn wooden cross. Louis sat under the midday sun at the foot of the dirt mound. His eyes traced the carved letters spelling the name of his best friend.

“Hey, Marlon.” He spoke to the grave.

“I’m sorry it’s been a while since I came to visit you, we’ve just been so busy with the wedding and other stuff I haven’t had the time.”

He laughed to himself. Part of him thought this was stupid, but deep down he just hoped that somehow Marlon could hear him.

“Everyone’s been good, all excited for the wedding. Oh- I hope you don’t mind that Aasim is my best man.” He let out a sigh.

“I wish you were here, man. I don’t blame AJ, of course, I love the little dude. Though, he isn’t so little anymore. He’ll be eleven this winter.” Louis never thought he could be a dad, but Clem always assured him he was doing a good job.

“I love them both, so much. Clem and AJ are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I just don’t want to screw this up. Makeshift as it is this is our wedding.”

Heh, wedding jitters.

“I’ll think of something.” He decided

“Tell Mitch and Brody I said hi.”

---

It was as if all inspiration had left him. His fingers laid motionless on the piano keys, unable to find any notes to play. He ran his thumb over the carving they had made the night before everything went to hell. He remembered that night in such vivid detail. The good and the bad, though he chose to only think of the former.

He could still recall the heat in his cheeks when she called him cute...

The feeling of his heart skipping a beat when she said she like-liked him...

The softness of her lips the first time they kissed…

“Louis?”

Louis’ trip down memory lane took a detour when the voice of his adopted son called out to him.

“Uh, hey little dude. What’s up?”

“Violet told me to check on you, make sure you were getting your vows done.” He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, a behaviour he picked up from Clementine.

Shit.

“Tell Vi I’ve got it handled. A little more time and I’ll have the whole school sobbing at the wedding.” He said with his usual dramatic flair.

“You’re stuck, aren’t you?” AJ wasn’t falling for it.

“You’re gettin’ too smart for your own good, kid.” He scooted over on the bench, giving AJ a spot to sit.

“I just don’t know what to say. They’re so many things I want to say, but none of them seem right.” He grit his teeth in frustration.

“Well, you could tell her why you love her.” AJ suggested.

“Tell her how happy she makes you and why you want to stay with her forever.”

“That does seem like a good start.” He couldn't hold back a chuckle.

“When did you turn into a love guru?”

“...I don’t know what that is.”

“Heh. Never change, Alvin Junior.” He put his arm around AJ’s shoulder, pulling him into a hug.

“I love you, kiddo.”

“I love you back.” He said, wrapping his arms around Louis.

They broke the hug and stood from the piano, each smiling at the other.

“C’mon, AJ.” He said, ruffling the boy’s hair.

“We got shit to do.”

“Swear.”

---

---

---

Clementine held her breath as Violet struggled with the zipper on the back of a peach-coloured dress.

“It’s no use, it’s just too small.” The blonde huffed.

“These dresses are made for high schoolers, of course it’s too small.” Sighed Ruby as she dug through more of the school’s old costume bins.

“Well, we have to figure something out. She can’t just walk down the aisle in those mud-stained jeans.” Violet helped Clem out of yet another failed dress.

Clementine shuddered against the draftiness of the old theatre. A simple white tank top leaving her arms exposed to the chill.

Clem crossed her arms, her eyes finding a fascination with the floorboards.

“It’s okay hun, we’ll find somethin’ to make you look right beautiful for your wedding.” Ruby assured, noticing her silence.

“The dress isn’t what I’m really worried about.” She confessed. Letting out a heavy sigh, she sat down on the edge of the stage.

“I don’t know what I’m going to say to him.”

“Oh, God. You haven’t written your vows yet either? You two are just made for each other.” Violet was the most stressed out wedding planner in the apocalypse.

Clem didn’t respond. Instead, she fiddled with the ring on her finger. The slightly tarnished gold band was adorned with several small diamonds. The slight looseness of the band caused the heavy diamond setting to slip upside down around her finger.

I need to get a chain for this.

She found herself playing with it often, not wanting to lose it by not paying attention and letting it slip off.

She remembered the day Louis proposed to her.

He had been acting odd that entire day. Nervous and jittery. He was quick to pull her away from the others once her watch shift ended just as the sun began to set. She remembered catching Violet’s wink as he tugged her along. She couldn’t deny that she teared up when he showed her the ring that had belonged to his mother. Tears of happiness spilling down both of their faces when she said yes.

“Just write about how much you love him and that you’ll be together forever and all that.” Ruby continued to dig through the boxes.

“It has to be special. I can’t just say something generic and pretend it came from my heart.” She laid back onto the stage, staring up at the sunlight that peeked through the holes in the roof.

“I just didn’t think I’d ever be getting married. Once the world died I figured all of that stuff died too.” She ran her fingers through her loose curls, spying her hat laying a foot away.

She reached to arm out to grab it, holding the damaged cap in front of her as she sat up.

I need to take better care of this.

Her dad’s hat was filled with rips and holes and covered in stains from all kinds of muck. The D on the front peeled nearly halfway off.

She could hardly remember the voices of her parents. The mental image of their faces was tainted with the dead eyes and rotting skin of the walkers she found in the Savannah herd. Her memories of the old world didn’t even seem real anymore, like some kind of happy dream or alternate reality.

I miss you both.

You too, Lee.

She blinked back a few tears as she placed her hat back on her head, wearing the brim low.

“Don’t beat yourself up over the past.” Violet took a seat next to her, speaking as if she could read her mind.

“Now’s the time to think about the future.”

To Clem’s surprise, Violet pulled her into a hug. She returned the hug, then after pulling away with a smile.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you initiate a hug.” She laughed.

“Yeah? Well, don’t get used to it.” The blonde joked.

“You’re gonna be happy whether you like it or not, damnit.”

“Thanks for doing this for us, Vi. You didn’t have to make things so elaborate.” Violet was the one who insisted on a whole ceremony, flowers and fancy clothes in all. It was already more than she ever could have asked for.

“You and Louis are my best friends, and I’ll be damned if I can’t put on an epic wedding for you guys.” She smirked. “Thank you, Violet.” Her voice caught a bit in her throat as she choked up a bit. She could never be able to explain how much this meant to her.

“Oh c’mon, enough with the waterworks. We still gotta find you a dress that’ll knock that dork’s socks off.” Violet stood up, offering her hand to Clem as they both went to give Ruby a hand.

“I know what I’m going to write about.” Clementine decided. Her heart swelled in anticipation for the upcoming event.

“I’m glad.”

“Hey, guys? I think I found something.” Ruby called from a mess of searched boxes. The two girls rejoined the third, who unveiled her latest find.

“So what y’all think?”

A wide grin formed on Clementine’s face.

“It’s perfect.”

---

---

---

Louis adjusted his suit jacket in the cracked mirror, frowning at how large it appeared on him.

“You look fine, Louis” Violet assured, quickly checking her own slightly town jacket.

“Now c’mon we need to get you out there so I can check on Clem.”

She practically shoved him out the door.

“You’re taking this very seriously, aren’t you?” he chuckled.

“Almost as if you care or something.”

“Don’t push your luck.” She said impassively, continuing to lead him to the music room.

“You finished your vows, right?”

“Yeah, of course I did.” he fiddled with the slightly crumpled paper in his pocket. Louis had gone over the words again and again until they were burned into his brain, but he still couldn’t bring himself to leave the page behind.

“Good, now get in your spot.” With that Violet rushed off to find Clementine.

The music room was decorated in an assortment of wildflowers. The red petals of the Indian Blanketflowers were mixed with the bright yellow of the Black-eyed Susans. Each bouquet sat in an old glass jar on tables and shelves outlining the room. Chairs were lined in short rows, leaving a gap in the middle as the aisle.

“Nervous?” Aasim asked him.

“You can bet your ass I’m nervous.” He said matter-of-factly.

“Yet at the same time, this is the best day of my life.”

His heart fluttered in anticipation. Louis hadn’t been able to see her since that morning as they were hurried away to prepare for the event.

“I’m happy for you, dude. You guys are really good together.” Aasim gave him a pat on the shoulder as they awaited the arrival of the bride.

---

Clementine played with her hands restlessly as she sat in the desk chair in her room. Her ring was absent from her finger, left with AJ for the ceremony. She kicked her bare feet from under the long hem of her dress.

Her wedding dress was scarlet red like the colour of a rose’s petals. Long flowing silk ran from her collarbone to the floor tied just under her ribs with a sash. Her arms were left bare in the sleeveless gown.

“I’ve never worn something like this before.” She told Ruby, who was busy arranging Clem’s curls into a stylish updo, leaving a few locks to hang around her face.

“Do you think Louis is going to like it?”

“Like it? Louis is going to love it, just like he loves you.”

“All done.” Ruby held a hand mirror in front of her.

Clem ran her fingers over her styled curls.

Ruby did a great job.

“Thank you.” She smiled, giving the redhead a hug.

A knock on the door slightly startled them both as Violet entered the dorm. Her eyes widened when she saw the bride.

“You look amazing, Clem.” Violet gasped.

Clementine’s anxiety began to turn to giddiness as she twirled for them, letting her skirt flare out in every direction.

“I’m ready.” she declared, putting on the white flats they had found for her and taking her bouquet.

“Your future husband awaits.” Violet said as she held the door for her.

---

“Attention, everyone.” Violet called to the group.

“The bride has arrived.”

Louis’ jaw immediately dropped. She was gorgeous. A gown so simple yet so elegant.

She picked me.

He could barely believe it.

This living goddess actually picked me.

Heat crossed both of their faces as Clementine made her way down the aisle.

She tried to focus on her steps, dreading the idea of tripping over her skirt. Her eyes were deadlocked on his, finding nothing but love. She walked past their smiling friends until she reached the man she loved. She passed her bouquet to Ruby, letting Louis take her hands in his.

“You are so beautiful.” He whispered, making her heart jump even more than it already was.

“Alright, everybody.” Violet smiled, pulling a few small cards out of her pocket.

“We’re here today because two of our amazing friends fell in love and wanted to be able to unite in the way of the old world, and what kind of friends would we be if we didn’t support them and throw a kickass wedding?”

That earned a few woots from the audience.

“But today isn’t about us. Today is about Clementine and Louis getting married and being a family.” She nodded to Louis.

This is the moment he had been preparing for. His heart thumped loudly in his chest as he gazed into her stunning golden eyes. Louis abandoned the paper in his pocket. He knew what he was going to say.

“Clementine I…” He began, his breath slightly catching in his throat.

“You and AJ both mean the world to me. I never thought I could have this kind of family.”

“I never thought there would be someone like you who would want me.”

“Someone who could really see me for me, not just some stupid jokester who plays the piano.”

“This family is more than I ever could have asked for, and I promise, I will protect you with everything that I am 'til the day I die.”

His tone was serious but his smile never faded.

“And I vow to keep making my stupid jokes, and keep playing my stupid piano, and make you laugh every day because it is the most beautiful sound in the world.”

Clementine giggled as a tear rolled down her cheek.

“I vow to hold you tight through whatever this crazy world decides to throw at us, and whatever that ends up being, we face it together.”

He squeezed her hands tightly, their foreheads pressed together.

“Forever and ever.”

“Wow.” Violet mumbled.

Clementine wiped the tears from her eyes. It was her turn to speak.

“Louis, I love you more than words can say.” She choked back her tears.

“The day AJ and I arrived here at the school was one of the best days of my life, even if I didn't know it at the time.”

“I was scared at first, I wasn't sure if I could open myself up to someone again after losing so many…”

Her eyes fell.

“But you? You sparked a light in me I didn't think I had anymore.”

“I know there are things you still blame yourself for, stuff you wish you could take back even though you don't need to.”  

“But that was forever ago.”

She saw him begin to tear up. She knew he still blamed himself for AJ getting shot all those years ago.

“Today is a new day, and today I vow to be by your side for the rest of our lives.”

“I vow to be there whenever you need me, and to be just as much of a rock for you as you've been for me.”

“And I just have to thank you, Louis, because you taught me how to live, not just survive.”

Tears rolled down the faces of both the bride and the groom.

There wasn’t a dry eye in the room. Even stone cold Violet could be heard sniffling a little.

“O-okay, that was beautiful.” Violet cleared her throat.

“AJ, it’s time for the rings.”

AJ hopped up from his seat. Two rings, one adorned with diamonds paired with a plain gold band salvaged from a supply run rested an old red pillow in AJ’s hands. He excitedly held it up as Louis held his mom’s ring in his hand.

No, it’s Clementine’s ring now.

“I, Louis,

take you, Clementine,

as my wife.

With this ring, I thee wed and with all I am and all I have I honour you.”

Louis slipped the ring onto her finger, the gemstones sparkling in the sun that peeked in from the windows. It looked so natural.

“I’m sorry that it doesn’t really fit.” He saw how the band slipped loosely around her finger.

“It’s still perfect.” Clem assured with a smile.

With a shaky hand, she plucked the second ring from the pillow.

“I, Clementine,

take you, Louis,

as my husband.

With this ring, I thee wed and with all I am and all I have I honour you.”

She repeated the vows, truly meaning them with all of her heart as she slipped the ring onto his finger.

The matching rings were a symbol of their love. Two small pieces of jewelry that meant so much more than they appeared. Their love was their bond, and the rings were proof.

It was time.

“By the power vested in me by Ericson’s Boarding School for Troubled Youth, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Violet threw her unused cards over her shoulder.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Louis hardly waited for Violet to finish her sentence before he pressed his lips to his new wife’s. Clementine wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her slightly off the ground, her toes barely touching the hardwood.

The cheers of their friends were loud and wild. When the kiss broke, the newlyweds swooped in on AJ, pulling their boy into a tight hug.

The rest of the day was a party. Everyone danced and sang and had the time of their lives. For one day, they managed to make it feel like the world had never ended.

The whole gang enjoyed some of Omar’s specially made stew in place of an unobtainable cake. They didn’t mine. Everyone enjoyed Omar’s cooking. By the time the sun set the party was calmer. Tennessee played a song on a guitar as the couple slow danced.

The two moved with each other in small circles, swaying back and forth to the music.

“I love you, Louis. So much.” She whispered.

“I love you too, darlin’.”

Clementine rested her head on Louis’ chest as he held her. To her, the world only existed in that one room. That one moment. Surrounded by their friends as she rested in her husband's arms while he whispered the lyrics to the song in her ear.

Cause it’s you and me,

And all of the people

With nothing to do,

Nothing to lose.

And it’s you and me,

And all of the people

And I don’t know why,

I can’t keep my eyes off of you.

[moonbelt]

»mind over matter

↳ neighbors to lovers au

⇢ pairing: jaebum | reader

⇢ genre: fluff + slight angst + sexual themes

⇢ word count: 9.704

⇢ description: as it turns out your cat loves your neighbors apartment more than yours. consequently it happens to belong to the new neighbor dude that’s stuck comforting you after a measly break-up.

author’s note: born out of this request, and the sheer need to read a neighbor au fic haha. i hope you enjoy it anon! i really hope i did this justice!!

It takes only a moment for your life to change right before your eyes. And although you had never been one to abide or listen to corny quotes ripped off the internet, your step-mother had framed more than half of them around your apartment. In an attempt to bring "life" into your dingy residence. You hadn't even realized that they could, in fact, be true. Actual facts.

You had long since accepted the fact that there were always greater things at work. You were in control of your life but not that of others. Everything had a cycle, a plan, and that didn't by default make it any fair. Nothing in life ever was, your mother had drilled into your head, but that didn't stop you from resenting it.

You resented the things you could not change and loathed the things you could. Like how you could've prevented this whole shit-show from happening if you'd opened your eyes a little wider and seen all the thorns beneath the roses. The thorns being your ex-boyfriend. Major emphasis on the ex because you wouldn't be caught dead crawling back to that bastard, Theo.

Theo. It all led to him.

Well not necessarily everything, more like anything that had to do with your romantic and, in a long round-about, extended way, your social life. A deep shudder racks through your body as you begin to think about him. Oh God, you wanted so badly to run out of your apartment and back to his and smack his head so hard he saw the stars all the way from the Upside Down.

So maybe you're being a bit overdramatic when you say: All the moments that have happened so far in your life were, inevitably, leading to shit. But in no way are you not entitled to say it.

Your boss had nitpicked everything you'd done all day, creeping steadily up your already tensed nerves. One of your colleagues — René — was always within earshot when this happened, like glue you couldn't scrape off no matter how hard you tried. Always ready to throw a sly remark your way every time your boss had something to complain about. The only thing stopping your fist from connecting firm with her jaw was the fact that you prided yourself on having more class than her.

This decision that you wrongfully, and albeit naively, made came back to bite you deep in the ass.

Reason one as to why you're cooped up in your small apartment alone on a Friday night. Keyword in that sentence is: alone. You suppose that the blame doesn't lie with René alone. It's more eighty percent Theo and twenty percent René. Theo. Even his name begins to remind you of quickly decomposing poop. You would never have guessed him to be a cheater, but then again you had been blinded by whatever the heck it was you'd seen in him.

You shudder for the nth time that night as you bring your blanket closer to your chin and sigh into your chest. This whole situation is stupid and you're positive that in three months you'll look back at it and laugh. But not now. Now you'd rather throw yourself into watching your favorite French melodrama titled Piégé.

At first, you'd only started watching it in a bid to get more accustomed to the language as you were taking a French course in college and you did not want to fail. But it had been approximately eight months since you'd graduated university and you were under no obligation to be watching it anymore. In fact, you have no idea how you even got into Piégé in the first place, but at least it's helping you attempt to forget what a shitty boyfriend Theo had been. Never mind that the series is filled to the brim with unnecessary drama. But, hey! You'd rather watch the drama about other people's lives than dwell on the drama brewing in yours.

Turning your attention back to your laptop that's gingerly placed on your lap, you try to get immersed back into the film. The main character — Alphonsine Vernoux — is saying, no screaming, at her boyfriend to get out of her apartment because she "can't be with him because our parents would never approve." Her boyfriend, a man named Jean-Louis refuses and long story short — because there's a lot of back and forth squabbles that ultimately mean the same thing; Alphonsine and Jean-Louis have really hot make-out sex.

The scene though is disrupted by your phone beeping off with the arrival of a new text message. It's from Youngjae, your best and only friend from work. For a moment, you're tempted to ignore it and watch Jean-Louis push Alphonsine up against the wall in sexy frustration. But alas, you decide against it, Youngjae probably has a really good reason for seeking out your companionship, even if it does come in the form of a text and my actual speaking.

Youngjae: Did you know a Tarantula spider can survive for more than two years without food?? [9:32 pm]

You fight a laugh as you think of an answer. And you'll admit, you had no idea this particular breed of spider could survive that long. You figure he must be watching another documentary because this is a reoccurring theme. Almost every(?) night, Youngjae sends you threads of rapid-fire texts narrating the things he found out from animal documentaries, that he's definitely already watched a thousand times but still is beyond fascinated by. Usually, you also sent him texts about Piégé but today you weren't feeling it.

You: really??? thats cool. maybe i should hope to be a tarantula in my next life? [9:33 pm]

Youngjae: lol who says you even have a next life? might be ur last one right now [9:36 pm]

Youngjae: oh hey, i was gonna ask you. are you and theo down to go watch a movie tomorrow? that new horror movie you were wanting to see is playing [9:36 pm]

You stare at your phone for a good ten minutes wondering what exactly you should send as a reply, berating yourself for having not yet told Youngjae about the things that transpired between you and Theo. That you caught Theo in bed with René roughly a week ago and you doubt you even want to tell him.

You know he won't pity you, Youngjae would most likely feel saddened by the events but not pity directed at you. Maybe pity directed at Theo? Because he damn sure lost the second-best thing that happened in his life, the first best thing being Ara, your cat. And it's not like you're heartbroken and devastated by what happened, you feel more sad about it than anything. Sad and tired. Five months with that dude and it all amassed to absolutely nothing.

The only thing that seems able enough to break you out of your trance state is the loud blaring of your alarm clock as it reads you the time. Nine forty-five. Time for you to feed your cat. Your cat that always seems to magically disappear once you get home from work. You groan. Ara had always been fonder of Theo than you, after all, he had been the one to pick her out. You had wanted a dog but as always, Theo had convinced you. And even though at first, you'd hated how Ara scratched almost everything in sight, she'd grown on you and now you wished she'd done the same.

Pushing yourself off the sofa, you make your way to your apartment searching for Ara. Usually, she likes to hang in dark places, ergo your closets, but after you make two rounds of opening and closing every drawer or door without finding her, you begin to think that something has gone amiss.

Alphonsine Vernoux is still going on whatever new drama has befallen her. She talks in rapid French that you don't understand completely because of the lack of your trusty subtitles. Well not talking, more screaming than anything. She always seems to do more screaming than actual talking, but maybe that's just you.

"Merde!" She cries now, and if the broken understanding of the language is anything to go by. Fuck! is the translation.

Fuck it really is. You can't lose a cat. Correction: you can't lose your cat. You love Ara too much and although the love isn't reciprocated in the same way you want, you can't be responsible for the death of a good ole cat.

Okay, so maybe the 'good' is an oversimplification but you don't want the blood of anything on your hands, with a little exception for Theo, you're not above getting into a catfight with him (which you technically already did, although the damage was mainly done with words.) Calling Theo a bloody bastard and airing out all his dirty laundry (mainly his nauseating habits that you'd pushed to the side) to dry in front of his new fling, René was as much metaphoric blood you were willing to have sprayed on your hands. Maybe you were being more influenced by your dramas than you thought?

But back to the real point at hand, you do not want ill to befall anyone (apart from Theo). And especially not your cat.

You're so far gone with searching every nook and cranny of your little apartment for a hint of Ara that you don't notice the incessant knocking that has started tapping up your door. Quickly, you drop the pile of clothes you'd thrown out of your wardrobe, as you had raided to look for Ara, and head over to your front door.

Peering up through the peephole, you try to decipher who's there. Hopefully not Theo. He'd tried stopping by twice since you broke up with him and it always ended in you telling him to get the hell out and he claiming to have made a "grave mistake" and all that jazz that you do not believe which leads to you yelling at him to leave again. Jesus Christ, you were turning into a miniature Alphonsine, the only thing missing was the hot sex. Which you weren't getting any time soon and even if you were, it sure as fuck wasn't coming from Theo.

But regardless of this new discovery, you're still in no mood to see him today. You already have to deal with him every day at work and you'd rather not bring that hell of a mess home.

So, when you pull the door open the door, you're somewhat already preparing yourself to clash face-to-face with your ex. Ready to send him away again because, for the love of God, you're not going to hand him a second chance even if your life depends on it. But instead of Theo, it's someone completely different. Someone that's holding a sleepy Ara in his hands, scratching her head lightly.

"Oh my god," you say, reaching for Ara and taking her cautiously into your arms. You know better than to try and disrupt her sleepy state. "Thank you so much. I had no idea she even left the apartment."

The man waves away your gratitude with a shrug, smiling in a blithe manner. "It's no problem at all. I'm not sure if you noticed but she likes coming to my apartment a lot."

This is news to you but you don't want to seem as incompetent as you feel in front of this stranger, so you force a smile unto your face and try to relax the tensions in your shoulders.

"Really? I'm sorry but I have to ask, who are you?"

A look of embarrassment washes over his features as he soaks in your words. Maybe you were too harsh, calling him out like that? But you truly didn't know him at all. There was no way you'd ever forget a face like his, you don't think. He didn't have rough around the edges, rogue looks like Theo (or any of your exes, to be honest) but he had a sort of laidback and soft vibe with black locks falling short off his shoulders in smooth bouncy waves.

Clearing his throat, he replies. "I'm your neighbor, Jaebum. You can call me Jae for short. I moved in about four weeks ago? Sorry I wasn't able to introduce myself earlier, but yeah, your cat likes to come over to my place and at first I really did think she was a stray, that's why I've been taking care of her anytime she showed up but had I known, I would've never tried to impose on you like that, that was—"

You have a feeling that he's not going to stop rambling unless you do the honors of helping him. So, you interrupt.

"It's okay, don't worry about it... Jae. She can do that sometimes. I really should get her a collar or something."

Since she'd mostly stayed at Theo's place and not yours, you hadn't thought about getting her one before. Theo didn't want it on her and you hadn't really thought about the possibility of losing her. Mainly because the events that surrounded you bringing Ara to your place had been unnerving. You'd found Theo in bed with Rene and subsequently, you had stormed out of there (after giving him a full piece of your broken mind) with Ara in your hands and your car keys already fumbling with trying to open your car.

"What's her name?"

Jaebum — Jae — is the one to shake you out of your thoughts, looking genuinely curious to know the answer to his question. You figure there's nothing wrong with telling him, especially since he'd been kind enough to take care of her in your negligence.

"Ara," you finally say, giving him a dry smile. "Thank you for taking care of her for me in my absence."

He shrugs again, running his hand through his hair and you watch as Ara meows as she stretches her body towards him. You still in your movements of scratching the top of her head. She never does that. At least, she's never done that to you, she'd always craved Theo's attention and now you see, she craves Jaebum's.

Maybe she's going through a phase where she only wants male attention?

You think it'll be rude to send him on his way without making small talk so after a while of restraining Ara in your arms, you fix your gaze back to him and say:

"So... do you have any cats?"

"Yeah. Three but one is staying over at my sisters for the meantime."

Wow. You don't think you could ever be responsible for more than two lives, you could barely remind yourself to have three meals a day and had to set timers to feed Ara because, god willing, you are bound to forget to one way or another. So, for that reason alone, you begin to hold this neighbor of yours on a higher pedestal. Taking care of three cats doesn't sound as comfortable or easy, you admire him for that.

"You must really love cats then," you snort to yourself at how obvious you're being. Of course, he loves cats, he has three.

He nods his head, probably realizing that this is his cue to leave. "Cats are amazing. Anyways, it was nice meeting you..."

"y/n," you fill in for him.

Jae smiles at your name as he continues on. "It was nice meeting you, y/n. If Ara ever needs to hang out with other cats or anything like that, mine seem to love her more than me."

Oh, how you can relate. Ara seems to like everyone else on the planet but you, her caregiver. You frown. Maybe you're feeding her food she doesn't like? You make a mental note to research more on cat food before you turn in for the night.

"Nice meeting you too, Jae. Hopefully, we see each other sometime."

Against your own words, you do not, in fact, see each other sometime after that. If not for the fact that you're mainly preoccupied with due dates from work, you think you would have gone out of your way to make sure it happened because contrary to what your heart was telling you, you thought he was kind of cute. Well, not kinda. You really thought he was cute.

And if it had been of your own will, you would've long ago tried to ask him out on a date because hell, your single and ready to move past your ex. But your boss has ridiculously been on your case the past few weeks and by the luck of your fate, you've been paired, for the latest project, with René. René that refuses to let a day go by without rubbing into your face the "amazing" sex she's having with Theo, not that you even care. Fuck, you really want to deck her. How can someone be so un-classy about having your sloppy seconds? You'd never know.

Either way, René doesn't seem to be any help with the project. You've tried to work with her, although you really want to shove a stiletto heel through her eye for always going on and on about your fucking ex, she is adamant on not being productive or helpful. You wonder how she even got her job as a secretary in the first place. If you were the boss you'd never hire her. But in any case, you're stuck with her unhelpful ass for the next two weeks until the presentation to pitch a new update would be held.

"Ugh," you sigh to yourself as you lay on your living room floor, staring idly at your laptop. "This isn't going anywhere."

True to form, René had forgotten to send you the age demographics of people that had been using your company's app in the last six months. And without that vital information, you were stumped with how to prepare your speech. You wish you could call her and ask her to email it to you ASAP, but you know from experience that she would either ignore it or send you something completely irrelevant. What did you ever do to warrant such unprofessionalism from her, you wonder.

Flipping on your back, you stare absentmindedly at your ceiling. Maybe you should go out? It is a Wednesday night and you're almost certain that you're not going to clubbing today but you want to get out. So, after minutes of deliberating, you decide that you would go jogging. It's been a long time since you'd done anything active, you preferred to stay inside and watch stuff. But Piégé isn't scheduled to release a new episode until tomorrow, and you're bored.

Quickly, you go back to your room and try to find your exercise clothes that are hiding behind more used clothing. When you open your closet, you're met with the piercing blue eyes of Ara and your skin jumps off your bones.

"Oh my god, Ara," you say after catching your breath. "Why do you always do this."

These days she seems to be sulking. Maybe she's finally realizing that Theo is a no-show and you're all she's got. She refuses to allow you to carry her anymore and you think she's going through some kind of withdrawal phase. The only time she comes out of her dark places is to eat or to sit in front of the front door. Waiting for what? You don't know. But you guess she might be waiting for a long time.

Gingerly, you lift Ara up and make fast work with finding your clothes. Once you do, you strip out of your pajamas and change into your athletic leggings, a long-sleeved shirt and tie your shoes. Ara has made her way to the living room and once again has resumed her spot in front of the door. Christ, maybe you should call Theo and have the two of you work out details about the rearing of Ara.

Maybe two weeks with him and then two weeks with you? But then again, he hasn't actually asked about Ara at all since the breakup, so you wonder if he even cares that she's gone. You check to make sure her collar is on her neck before you grab your phone, keys, and earphones. Even though you're sure she won't care, you blow Ara a kiss right before you close the front door and lock it.

As you're walking past the apartment next to yours — room 321, to be exact — their door opens and out comes Jae. He has a leash connected to two collars that are respectively connected to one white cat and another black one. You still have at least a few seconds to dash down the stairs without him seeing you but you find your feet remaining where they are and you find yourself saying:

"Oh, hey!" There's so much excitement in your voice that you inwardly cringe at it. "Long time no see."

He makes a loud noise of surprise when his gazes rests on you, his hands reaching out to clutch his chest. "Shit, that scared me."

You laugh at him. His hair is hidden behind a gray beanie and it helps you see his face clearly and you notice the little black dot above one of his eyes, it's cute — you think.

"Sorry," you say, not sorry at all.

He knows this and his mouth breaks into a low smirk. He makes a move to run his hand through his hair but stops halfway when he remembers that he cannot because of the beanie. "Are you heading out?"

You nod your head. "Yeah, this body isn't going to work out itself."

"I'm taking Kunta and Odd for a walk, mind if I join you?" He points at each cat when he says their name and they perk up when he says it.

You suddenly feel like going back to your apartment and hugging Ara, but you know she'd probably scratch your face against the skinship. So, you grit your teeth and focus on the cats in front of you instead.

"Not at all. Do you have a route you usually take?" You ask as the two of you walk down the stairs, Kunta and Odd in Jaebum's arms.

"It's a pretty simple one. From here to the park and back."

Fucking hell. The park is at least thirty minutes away by car, imagine how far it'll be by walking? You groan at the thought. This is the first time you're going jogging in months and by god, you need to take it slow or else you'll end up passed out before you even make a round trip. Jaebum must realize your distaste about the prospect of making a fifty-minute walk because he offers to cut it short. Faster than you'd like, you agree to his adjusting. Maybe in a few weeks, you'd be able to, but right now in the state that you're in, you doubt you'll last.

Outside the August air is not as hot as you thought it'd be so you're thankful that you had enough sense to wear a long shirt because if not, you'd be tempted to run back inside your apartment and watch reruns of Piégé in the comfort of your bed. Jae sets his cats on the ground, oblivious to your internal turmoil, and begins to lead the way. Easily, you fall into step with him.

You find out that he's a very fast walker as you try to keep a conversation going. You ask him about his job and find out that he owns a pizzeria, to your astonishment. You'd always wanted to be your own boss, sadly that was a bust. He tells you that running his own place is pretty fun minus a few exceptions but it was a family business so, once he graduated college his father passed it on.

He asks you about what you do for fun and you tell him about your obsession — love — for Piégé with a pride in your voice. Although you tell him that you can't really watch it without subtitles since your French is still lacking, he seems blown by it regardless and you feel satisfied for some reason. Like you've impressed him a little.

After almost a good fifteen minutes of keeping the same pace and you feel as if you're finally getting the hang of things, he breaks into a run. You think you can keep up, you're not that out of shape but before you know it, you're struggling to release a breath and you're about ready to collapse on the concrete ground in defeat. Even his freaking cats have better stamina than you, damn.

"You okay there, y/n?" Jaebum asks when he catches a glimpse of you almost knocking your knees against each other. Fuck, this is embarrassing.

Struggling you manage a response. "Definitely. I'm a just a little... peachy."

Jaebum snickers at you, folding his arms across his chest and halting his steps to allow you calm down. "Really? Wouldn't have guessed."

You're tempted to throw him the finger because you know he is mocking you but instead, you squat down and place your head in between your hands. It hasn't even been thirty minutes and you already want to quit, how the hell is he doing it? You raise your head and give him a once-over. In his black t-shirt and matching basketball shorts, you think, he definitely looks the part of a healthy runner.

"Are you checking me out?"

Whoa, you are most definitely not. Okay, maybe you are. But it's not like you can help it. He has pretty defined muscles and his smile sort of does something to you, you're not exactly sure what, but you'd be a fool to deny how sexy he looks. He doesn't come off as cocky or overbearing. His looks are more soft and easy on your eyes, a good kind of feeling.

"So, what if I am?" You cock an eyebrow at him.

He doesn't expect your reply. You know this because, after a few seconds of him looking out of his element, he clears his throat and says:

"I was not expecting that."

You scoff lightly at him, standing back to your full height and dusting imaginary dust off your leggings. He's cute, you think for maybe the second(?) time that night.

"I'm ready to continue if you are," you pull your hair strands together and tie them into a ponytail.

"You're telling me," Jaebum laughs softly at the smirk dancing on your lips. "Bet you'll need another break in fifteen minutes."

Rolling your eyes, you pat his shoulder playfully. "Try me."

And try you he does. If you thought he was running fast before, he turns into damn sonic in front of your eyes. Holy shit, he's fast. You know now that he's toying with you, making you eat your own words. You kick yourself in the shin because of this, if you had kept your mouth shut, none of this would have happened and you wouldn't be begging for another rest-stop not even ten minutes later.

Jaebum guffaws at you as you crash with a heap onto a wooden bench littering around the plaza. Your muscles are crying for help, you think you might need to order an Uber to take you home because this running thing just isn't going to work out.

"Try me," he repeats your words but with a mocking undertone. "You're way too cute, you know."

Apparently, you don't know because you can feel your ears getting hotter by the second. Keep it together, y/n! You scream to yourself. You're not some high schooler. You've successfully graduated university; you are an adult. Being called cute should not get you lightheaded, goddamn! But your words fall on deaf ears because your body is still heating up, you effectively blame it on the lack of oxygen reaching your head and nothing else. Of course, nothing else.

"Shut up," you mumble mainly to yourself but he hears it and breaks into another fit of laughter. "I'll have you know, I'm usually a good runner. I'm just not in the mood today."

Jae raises his hands up in faux surrender. "Hey, hey. I believe you."

You want to chuck your sneakers at him but restrain yourself because you know there has to be something that he's bad at and when you find it, by gods, you would never let it go. You laugh to yourself. Yep, all you have to do is survive this one embarrassing moment and you're sure the world would be kind enough to repay back for your deed.

After all, life was all about the moments. And contrary to how the moments in your life were adding up about two weeks ago, this time the moments in your life, you were sure, are going to lead to you getting sweet, sweet revenge on Jae. He can have his laugh right now but you know in the end, you'll be the only one laughing... you hope.

It takes a while for him to sober up but when he does, he squats down and gives his attention to Kunta and Odd. He treats them tenderly and talks to them in a voice akin to what someone would use on a baby. You're not paying any mind to what he's saying until you hear your name fall from his lips. Much to your dismay, he is telling his cats all about your blunder and how he thinks you'll probably "pass out any minute now."

You huff out a breath and repeat your mantra to yourself. The universe was going to slip up and let you see the thing he was bad at, but until then you resign yourself to instead try your best at catching your breath.

You watch Jaebum interact with his cats and a small portion of your resolve fades away. You can tell that he really does adore them and for a moment you long for Ara. She's soft and cuddly whenever she allows you to hug her, you feel at peace thinking about it. Definitely one of the only good things that came out of your past relationship.

Contrary to the laugh bubbling in his chest, Jae is the one to suggest that the two of you head back to the apartment building without completing the route. You guess he's taking pity on your exhausted state because you simply can't do it anymore. The walk back is better and you're somewhat thankful that he doesn't start running halfway through.

He asks you, tentatively, about your job and it takes you several moments before you decide to tell him about your position as a management and research officer at a fashion wear company. The brand is considerably popular and you've seen more than a handful of people wearing the outfits your company produces. It fills you with joy that you're able to work there, although these days that joy has been replaced by laced displeasure, courtesy of Theo and René.

You don't tell him about them though, it's not like you want to air out all your problems, but you tell him about Youngjae — your silver lining of sorts. You tell him about the days where Youngjae is the only thing that keeps you smiling with his new discoveries from animal documentaries. Youngjae and you have been friends since your freshman year at college and you think it's a miracle that the two of you managed to get accepted into the same workplace.

Jaebum points out his favorite coffee shop as you near the apartment complex. It's a big one, the biggest store on the block, and you know this because you pick your late coffee fix from there when you're heading to work every morning. He likes his coffee black, no sugar and you gag over-exaggeratedly.

"What? It tastes good," he says incredulously.

You shake your head remorsefully, appalled by his lack of quality coffee taste. "It tastes like liquid shit and you know it."

He concedes. "Okay, maybe it does. But it keeps me awake at least."

Smiling smugly at him, you revel in your win. "Still tastes like shit."

The two of you keep talking about seemingly irrelevant things; his favorite genre of music, your love for ice cream in the winter, his favorite author — which happens to be William Shakespeare. You were tempted to laugh at him and call him pretentious until you saw the admiration glowing in his eyes; it was enough to make you reevaluate and let him go on a full expedition of his favorite works by him.

You don't realize you've been listening to him describe this love for at most eight minutes until you're in front of your apartment door and it's time to say goodbye but you kind of want to keep listening to him. It's something he really cares about, you can tell and for a reason, you don't know, it fills you with a sort of contentedness watching him talk about Shakespeare with such fervor.

Leaning on your apartment door, you're about to pitch in your own opinion to something he's said when your gaze catches someone walking up behind Jae. Oh, fuck shit. Groaning, you close your eyes. This cannot be happening. Not now, not here. You aren't starring in a melodrama, so why does it feel like you've been assigned the role of the main character?

"y/n!" The last person on earth that you want to see says with so much excitement in his voice you want to hurl yourself at the sun.

You can sense the confusion rolling off Jaebum in waves. You don't want him to be caught in the crossfire that's bound to happen between Theo and you. You're not very good with confrontations, blame Alphonsine for teaching you it was best to scream it all out when push comes to shove. You peel open your eyes and focus them unwaveringly on Jaebum.

"It was really nice hanging—"

"y/n! It's me, Theo," he repeats, coming closer and sidling up to you. "I came with flowers."

And what the fuck are flowers supposed to do? Flowers aren't going to keep his dick from finding the nearest trash can and dumping his load in it. God, you wonder, whatever you had ever seen in him?

Jae furrows his eyebrows in concentration, trying to piece who Theo is to you. Kunta and Odd are quickly becoming restless, wanting nothing more but to go into their home already and you take this as your cue.

"It was amazing hanging out with you Jae," you offer him a smile, ignoring Theo. "But I have to go now. We should hang out soon though, yeah?"

You don't wait for an answer, instead, you grab Theo's wrist roughly, because you're furious at him, and drag him into your apartment. You're about ready to pounce on him, ask him why the hell he's here — you thought you'd made it clear that you didn't want anything to do with him, apparently not clear enough.

"Jae? Who's Jae?" He asks once he's in the solace of your apartment.

"That's what you're asking me?" Unbelievable. Simply unbelievable this fucker is. "How many times do I have to tell you that I fucking hate you?"

"You don't hate me, y/n. Right now, you're angry, I get it. But we can work through this—"

You can't bear to listen to the bullshit that's coming out of his mouth. The way he says your name like you’re some kid that's throwing a non-deserved tantrum, makes you clench your fists at your sides. How, the ever-loving heck, had you dated him for five months? You can barely stand him now.

"Shut up! God, just shut up and get out. Why do you keep embarrassing yourself? Go back to René. The two of you deserve each other."

"I love you," he says and you know he's pulling out all the stops tonight directly out of his ass.

"Oh, fuck your love," you push his shoulder and direct him to the front door. Suddenly you're very angry, boiling even, and you can swear a vein in your neck is about to burst. "Go. I'm not playing Theo. If you don't leave, I'll call security."

There's a shift in the air and suddenly Theo is too close. You've never been afraid of him before; Theo's all talk and no bite. However, right now the feeling that slithers through your body is unadulterated anxiety. You're not backed against a wall but you feel like your safety has been compromised and you want him out. Out of your house, out of your hair, out of your life.

"Get out. We're done." You manage to say without your voice shaking, but your heart is pounding furiously in your chest. "I don't want you here."

"But you want Jae?" His already rough face contorts to something uglier. "What does he have that I don't, huh?"

For starters, he hasn't cheated on you, not like there's much competition there. Theo isn't the smartest cookie in the box, he thinks more with his sexual body parts than he does with his brain. You could swear that if you knocked on his head a shattering hollow sound will echo out, can't say you'd be surprised.

Alphonsine Vernoux, you think to yourself, watch me and be proud.

"His dick is pretty impressive, not going to lie."

Even when you're shaking in your boots, you can't really resist the urge to engage in a catfight with him. Your step-mother had always told you to go down screaming and by god, you are not going to allow Theo to intimidate you for something you don't need to feel bad for. Because you don't.

"You are a fucking slut!" His voice is loud and you can't help the incredulous laugh that falls from your lips.

"Me? Newsflash Theo; we're not together anymore. I can do whatever the hell I want."

He doesn't deserve an explanation because it doesn't matter. If he can do it when he's in a relationship, what's stopping you from doing it when you're not?

"It hasn't even been a month, y/n," he says this like it would matter to you if it has been a year or three. He doesn't own you, he ever did and he never will. Moreover, did he expect you to wait a fucking month to get over his sloppy ass?

"Are you seriously saying this right now? You're the one that screwed somebody else when we were dating! Are you fucking stupid or what?"

Theo blinks a dozen times a minute, not quite understanding what you're saying. A pig, that's what he is. So, he was allowed to go around sticking his small as fuck dick in anyone he pleased, but god forbid you do the same? (let's not even put into consideration the fact that you're single as a circle sure as hell isn't straight.)

Oh, how you want to reach up and smack him so hard he fades to dust on the spot but you're not crazy and you don't want to abuse him, you just want him to leave you alone.

"You know what? Just get out." Without waiting for him, you pull open your door and push him out with as much force as you can gather. "If we're not at work, I don't ever want to see your sexist, disgusting ass ever again. Take your stupid flowers and go give it to a bitch that cares because it sure as hell isn't me."

And then you slam the door with so much fervor it shakes on its hinges. You pull at your hair, agitated and tired because you hate him so much. Why did you even think it was a good idea to date him? The selfish prick only thinks about himself and must be some different type of delusional to think flowers were going to do anything to salve your relationship. Christ, you'd basically left Jaebum standing like a fool outside and for what?

You are pretty sure that he probably heard all that just happened. The walls in this apartment complex are thin and it's not like you weren't screaming at the top of your lungs. Ugh, you doubt he'd even talk to you again but you truly can't bring yourself to care anymore. All that you want to do now is sleep. Sleep and forget about everything. Never in your life have you ever felt so humiliated. If you could go back in time and erase meeting Theo from your history, you wouldn't even bat an eyelid.

Furiously, you punch the air and imagine it's Theo's face. It feels good to do it, like your dishing out his own medicine. You truly can't believe he thinks you were going to turn celibate because you dumped him, did he really have no sense? You keep going at it, punching the air until it feels like you've connected with his jaw because frankly, it's helping you release all your pent-up tension and annoyance.

A set of knocks proves to be the only thing able to bring you out of your punching galore and without missing a beat you yell:

"Go away, Theo! I mean it when I say I'll call the police. Don't try me."

"It's not Theo."

Indeed, Theo, it is not. Scrambling, you rush over and jack open your front door for the third time that night and through your eyes you see a glassy and blurry silhouette of Jaebum standing at your doorstep. Oh, he's not what you're expecting.

Clearing your throat, you attempt to correct your previous words. "I'm sorry about that. You're obviously not Theo and I'm sorry again for being so rude earlier, I don't—"

You're not really sure where you're going with your apology because even though you know what you want to say, the words keep mangling and choking up in your throat before you can say them.

"You're crying," he states softly and you realize now how wet your cheeks have become and why your vision is all muddled up.

"I'm not," you lie because dammit, you shouldn't be crying over that douche. You hastily try to wipe the tear marks away with the back of your palm but oh boy, they keep on coming.

He hesitates for a second before he raises his palm up and uses his fingers to rub at the tear stains. "You are. I heard what he said earlier."

You stomp your feet in annoyance because this is so unfair. How dare your ex just waltz in here and make you regret one of the best nights you've had in a long, long time. How fu—

"I for one, think your ex is the dumbest donkey on the planet. Not that I meant to eavesdrop or anything because I'd never do that but fucking hell, does he really have no filter? I've never been more inclined to use my fists and punch the light into someone as much as I want to do it to that dude. He deserves it, I think."

You crack a smile at his ramblings. God, it's endearing when he goes off tangent. Especially when you can see that he's trying his best to stop you from crying — he's doing a phenomenal job because you've been reduced to irregular sniffling.

"I'm sorry that you didn't get to finish what you were saying about how Shakespeare should be treated in modern society." You refer to your earlier conversation before everything had blown bigger than you could contain it.

"y/n," he sighs out your name. "I honestly don't give a flying shit about that right now. Your ex-said some really rude things and I hope you know it's not true."

"I know. I don't even know why I'm crying, I guess I'm just frustrated because I should have known he wasn't the smartest or the loveliest. God, how could I have been so blind?"

Jae shakes his head slightly, releasing your cheek and instead grabbing your elbows to keep up grounded. "What's done is done, so it doesn't matter but I just couldn't stand to listen to him degrade you like that. You're an amazing person y/n."

"Thank you," you say and you mean it. "I probably would have gone and cried myself to sleep if it wasn't for you."

Truthfully, you think you still will. At this point, you want to rush to your bed and collapse into a deep sleep for at least ten years. Like you've said again and again; you're not devastated. But you're so tired. Tired of it all.

"Or you could show me that French TV show you like. I wouldn't mind staying up with you and watching it if it means that you won't cry yourself to sleep... obviously, don't do this if you don't want to. I mean, I wouldn't hold it against you. Your stupid ex just came in and ruined your night, I don't want to impose on you and make you uncomfortable or anything like that because uh, you know that would suck. So—"

Watching him ramble on, you imagine the gears in his turning. On one hand, you could take his proposition as a move on a very vulnerable person but on the other you can take it as someone, a very nice someone that your body and mind seem to be keen on keeping around longer than you want, trying to console you. And you don't know why, but you think it wouldn't be a bad idea to allow him to do that.

"It's okay. You can come in," you cut him short as you step aside and push your open door wider, flashing him a watery smile. "I'm not exactly sure if you'd enjoy Piégé though. Loads of drama."

His eyes flicker between your face and then the floor, you believe he didn't quite expect you to accept his offer. But then he shoots you a slow smile in response. "Good thing I love drama then."

It is because it turns out that Jaebum loves Piégé more than you. Gradually but surely, it becomes somewhat of a ritual for the two of you to go for a run (something that you definitely got better at) and come back home to your apartment and watch the newest episode together. Something you never thought would be happening when you first met him.

You don't know when exactly the switch came but it did — slowly. You couldn't really deny the sexual attraction brewing between the two of you, not you wanted to, but this time you didn't want to build a relationship only on the physical. This time you wanted to actually know the person you were becoming accustomed to. And although we, as humans, can never know all there is to know about another person because we do not even know all about ourselves, you at least want to try. Especially since he lets you do it.

Finding out that Ara becomes way less irritable when Jae is around is a golden opportunity that you don't miss, and hence use it to keep him at your apartment longer because screw it, you feel something with him.

So, it comes as no surprise to you when he texts you in the middle of your workday — three weeks later — telling you that he has successfully binge-watched the first four seasons of Piégé in two days and he finally was up to date on the happenings of Alphonsine Vernoux and her love, Jean-Louis, so by association, you were finally able to gush and rave about the newest additions along with him and god, that was a good feeling.

It's not the same kind of feeling you had with Theo or Seongwon or any of your exes. This is different. It's calm. Being with Jae is calm and relaxing. It's more of a slight-tingle-that-washes-all-over-your-body-until-you-can't-think-straight kind of feeling. It's not explosive or counterproductive and it doesn't make you want to tear your hair out by just thinking of it. Instead, it makes you want to flow with the waves and enjoy the seasons because you know no matter what, you feel warm.

He makes you feel warm. When he remembers that your favorite time of the year is Halloween and hence helps you prepare two months in advance so the two of you can coordinate costumes for Youngjae's annual Halloween party. When he listens to you rant on and on about how much you hate René for making some otherwise snarky comment about your love life and when he rejoiced with you when she finally! packed her bags and moved five states over to marry the dude you hope will last with her for a long time because you know nobody else on this goddamn planet will.

When you introduce him to your rather small friend group and he makes it a sole duty to try and get in their good graces, which to be honest wasn't hard. He makes you feel warm when you listen to him talk about his dreams and his hopes or when he listens to you talk about the new things your attention has latched onto.

He makes you feel proud whenever you stop by his pizzeria and watch him handle his business in a cool, organized fashion. Most times trying to impress you and most times you leave there fully impressed. You listen to him talk about how much his dream of wanting to write and get something — anything, published. His parents had been against it. But then you encourage him to do it because fuck, life is too short to not do the things you love. And you can tell he loves it; in the way, his eyes light up every time you ask him about it.

"It's all about the moments," you tell him as you pretend to not see the corny grin lacing his lips as you do so.

He pushes you over the edge when he challenges you to do the things you're too afraid to. You never admit your fears but somehow, he knows them and proceeds to drag you out of your shell. You would say you hate it, but not really. You hate how he knows you like the back of his hand. You're not sure how you feel whenever his arms wrap around you at night and pull you closer to him, filling your emptiness with something more.

There's so much to be said about the way he holds you. Like you were made for him. He tells you he believes "loving one person for a long time is enough." And as the days add up to weeks that add up to months, you begin to believe them too. Being with him makes you believe in the corny quotes ripped off the internet that your step-mother has ingrained into you. It makes you wish you'd believed in them sooner.

He makes you feel content with everything every time his lips come in contact with your skin. It wraps you whole and makes you want to choke out "I love you," again and again until he believes it and burns it in his mind because it's true. When he doubts whether he is enough for you because he believes you're too good for him, you want to scream it aloud at him. Oh, how you want to but, you're scared. It's been months — eight to be exact — and you're not particularly sure if it's enough time for him to believe your words.

But after several weeks of trying to get Jaebum out of this stalemate that he's in, of him thinking that you deserve better than him when really all you ever want is him, you decide that you've had enough.

You corner him after work. A few hours after you've already gone back to your apartment to grab Ara for her nightly jog, you'll be damned if you allow her only to sit on her ass and eat all day, and left her to fall asleep soundly in the living room.

He's wrapping up the last things left to do at his store — telling one of his workers, a girl named Haru, to leave for the night and that he'll close up — when you find him. Instead of walking in like you'd usually do, you wait outside.

You're nervous. More nervous than you've ever been in your entire life. You've known for quite some time now that you love Im Jaebum. You love him so much that it seems almost stupid to not let him know. You know he loves you back, if not for the fact that the two of you have been dating for the past eight — almost nine — months, his little nickname for you "my love," was enough to tip you off. And at this point, you don't care. You just want to let it all out.

When he comes out of his store, wrapping a scarf tightly around his neck, you think to yourself: this is it. Looping your arm through his, you watch as an affectionate smile automatically slips onto his face. God, this is so incredibly corny but you feel your stomach do flips.

"How was your day?" He asks you first, maybe because he can tell how nervous you are. "Anything happen?"

You shake your head. "Not really. I did pitch in this really good idea though and my boss actually liked it. I thought I would cry."

"Bet you did," he chuckles out, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

"Did not. I would never cry in front of that woman. She'd probably fire my ass because of 'disruption or negligence of duties.'"

Jae snorts at that but doesn't say anything in response. Instead, his fingers rub slow circles on your shoulders and you think maybe he knows something is up with you. You know it's not that big of a deal, truly. You've told him how much you love him by your actions every day since the day the two of you got together but it still feels oddly different trying to get the words out because you feel like they'll come out wrong.

It's not till you reach the big coffeehouse, the one Jae adores, that he finally stops to ask you:

"Babe, what's wrong?"

And before you can stop yourself or even think through your next actions, you throw your arms around his neck and flush your lips against his. For a moment, he's stunned into stupidity but soon enough he's clasping one of his hands around your back and threading the other one through your hair and you're sighing into you him. "I love you." He laughs into your neck because it's so obvious.

"I know."

"No, no," he doesn't. Not in the way you're trying to say it. You break away, dazed. "I love you. I love you no matter what. I love your stupid bets to get me out of bed in the evening to go running with you, I love your writings and the little post-it notes you have stuck everywhere in my apartment. I love how you don't make me feel weak for crying when I get so frustrated, I love you for attempting to sing a lullaby for my niece that one time but instead made her cry the whole night.

"I love you for always knowing what you want to do but never trying to force it on me. You don't understand, Jae. I love you. And I hate that you think I deserve someone else because you're the best possible thing that's happened to me. You're my best moment and fuck, I hate seeing you doubt yourself so much and—"

"I know," he says again and this time you think, he really does. "I know and you don't have to force yourself to say it when you're not ready. I know you love me and I'm sorry for making you think that I didn't believe in it otherwise."

Without much words, he laces his fingers through yours and rests his forehead against your own. You think you finally understand why your step-mother went/goes through so much trouble to remind you that the moments you make in life are beyond important. They make you. They teach you about love. Not the love you thought you had or knew about but real love. The kind that fills you up and makes you a better person. The kind of love that's just waiting to consume you.

With his breath fanning against your skin, you feel everything at once. The connection you have with Jaebum, the guy that you were blessed to have as a neighbor. You suppose you should be thanking Ara for the two of you being where you are today. But then again if fate really wanted the two of you together, it would have happened with or without Ara's help anyway.

You can hear your heart pounding ridiculously loud but you take a deep breath and say it again.

"I love you."

And this time he doesn't say he knows, he says it back. "I love you too, y/n."

You wonder what passersby are thinking about the two of you. Two grown adults professing their love for each other on the street like they've run mad.

He raises his head and looks at you, eyes so intense and burning, like he'd been waiting for you to say it in this way. Not in a rush to get all the words out because you and he have all the time in the world, but slow and understandable. You squeeze his hand tighter.

Regardless of the moments that led up to the two of you being here together and the circumstances that surrounded it, you're thankful. So, fucking thankful, because it means more to you than you'd ever thought possible.

"So, I was thinking," Jae's lips tilt up after several moments. "Do you want to move in?"

A/N: hey! it would be super cool if people gave me feedback on this :) i hope you liked it! thanks so much for reading !!

⇢ masterlist

©️ 2017 kai, moonbelt [aka high-on-food]

[wineanddinosaur]

Wine 101: Oenology

This episode of “Wine 101” is sponsored by E & J Gallo Winery. At Gallo, we exist to serve enjoyment in moments that matter. The hallmark of our company has always been an unwavering commitment to making quality wine and spirits. Whether it’s getting Barefoot and having a great time, making every day sparkle with La Marca Prosecco, or continuing our legacy with Louis Martini in Napa, we want to welcome new friends to wine and share in all of life’s moments.

Interested in trying some of the wine brands discussed on “Wine 101?” Follow the link in each episode description to purchase featured wines or browse our full portfolio at TheBarrelRoom.com. Cheers, and all the best.

In this episode of “Wine 101,” VinePair tastings director Keith Beavers discusses oenology — the science and study of wine — with Scott Kozel, vice president of winemaking at E & J Gallo. Beavers and Kozel discuss the differences between oenology and winemaking, and explain the role an oenologist plays in wine production.

In addition, Kozel explains the distinct difference between how the Old and New World define “oenologist,” while Beavers gives a brief overview of the pioneering winemakers and oenologists in the ‘90s, such as Helen Turley, Mia Klein, and Celia Welch.

Tune in to learn more about oenology.

Listen Online

Listen on Apple Podcasts

Listen on Spotify

Or Check Out the Conversation Here

Keith Beavers: My name is Keith Beavers, and I’m going to say “Streets” is my favorite Doja Cat song.

What’s going on, wine lovers? Welcome to Episode 22 of VinePair’s “Wine 101” podcast, Season 2. My name is Keith Beavers. I am the tastings director of VinePair. How are you? Today, we’re going to talk about this word called oenology. It looks weird, but it’s not really that weird. It’s all about science, something you may not know about, but it’s fun. It’s science. Let’s get into it.

Wine lovers, I love wine science, as you probably know. History, science, wine. It’s my jam. The thing is, I’ve never made wine. I’ve never gotten my hands dirty. OK, I clipped a couple of grapes in England once, but I’ve never been out there and done the work. Once I was out in Long Island, I did some work on a vineyard, but I really didn’t do anything. I never had the responsibility of creating a wine. I’m fascinated with science, and I understand it in my own capacity so that I can tell you guys about it in a general manner. I try to get as detailed as I can, and the upcoming episodes are going to be really fun because it’s really about science. We have sulfites and wine flaws and all this stuff, but when it comes to the word oenology, there’s really not a lot to read about oenology. It’s a word. It has a definition, and then it stops there.

Oenology is the study of wine. It comes from the word oívos, which is Greek for wine. When the word is written down for the public, in an article or something, it has two different spellings, and it’s a little bit confusing. Oenology is spelled o-e-n-o-l-o-g-y, but it’s also spelled enology without the initial o. It’s a little bit confusing and when you’re reading about wine and you read the word oenology, it almost interchanges itself.

I had an opportunity to get on the phone with an actual oenologist, Scott Kozel. He’s the vice president of winemaking at E & J Gallo. He oversees a ton of winemaking. We talked about what oenology is, why the spelling is different, and its distinctions between the New World and the Old World. It was an awesome conversation, and I don’t think I can convey what he said better than the way he said it so I’m going to put the interview here. I edited it down. I want to put it here for this episode. This is a raw interview in that I was not prepared to be putting this in this episode, but what he said was so cool, I figured I had to do it. You might hear some references to names or wine stuff that’s a little bit out of context, but just know that I’ll be approaching those names and things in future episodes. Here’s the interview, and thank you so much, Scott, for taking the time to talk to me about this stuff. It’s awesome.

(Start of Interview)

K: I guess what I’m trying to understand is what goes into being an oenologist? Because, in the wine world, we obsess over you guys. We are the people that buy wine. We are the ones that go and put them on the wine list. We are the ones that go to your website and see who the oenologist is for this one. We love that, but if I tell somebody, “Oh, man, Giacomo Tachis” over dinner they would ask, who the hell are you talking about? They don’t know who Giacomo Tachis is. Anyways, I just want to give you the floor. Is it a school thing? Is it not a school thing? Can you do it without being in school? Do you mind riffing on this for me?

S: Yeah, so I got a million things that went through my head right now, so I’ll see if I can get it in a sensible order.

K: This is recorded, so go for it, man. I can piece it together.

S: OK, beautiful. First, Europe employs the terminology differently than the United States does and differently than Australia. It depends on where I’m standing, which damn continent I’m on. Now, I will talk about roles first, and then maybe we’ll step into how I think about oenology versus oenologist because I view them differently. An oenologist in the New World is really almost an entry-level position. You might be doing some lab work, you’re doing a lot of the science stuff behind it. You’re measuring SO2s, you’re measuring pH, and maybe you’re making some decisions on what to do in the cellar. Possibly, you’re directing the cellar but not making a lot of decisions. An oenologist is really an entry-level role in the New World, whereas a winemaker is a much more expansive role in the New World where you’re certainly employing the pieces of work the oenologist used to do. By the way, you’re running the cellar now. You’re running the bottling line often, you’re probably on the road as a PR spokesperson and meeting with sales teams and meeting with marketers. You could also be the marketer. You’re also out in the vineyard doing the viticultural stuff. You probably take care of the supply chain, making sure the bottles are ordered and the corks are coming. A winemaker has a much more expansive role than an oenologist here in the United States.

K: Wow, you’re blowing my mind here. OK, keep going.

S: That’s right. Oh, this took me years to figure out, talking to friends in Europe and they would say, “Our oenologist has been here for 40 years.” Forty years, and this dude hasn’t had a promotion?! They actually think about it the other way. They believe the oenologist is the pinnacle and they do all these things. We use the words 180 degrees differently. I think the term is very confusing if you think about it globally, so don’t help anybody at all at that point. Now, oenology. I like the classic definition: the science and the study of wine. Separate from grapes because even if you look at the wine schools around the globe, they’re usually viticulture, grape study, and an oenology department. This is to study grapes and wine, and they treat them somewhat separately. They’re different courses and different sets of professors. Most students, like myself 20-plus years ago, take courses in each of those fields but you have an emphasis. Mine was more on the oenology side, and this is why I love oenology. This is my second career. I pursued a career as a mechanical engineer, which I did for a decade. Then, I quit my job and moved my family across state lines, sold the house, and went back to school to study oenology. It’s really a synthesis of other basic sciences: biology, chemistry, microbiology, and sensory science.

K: Sensory science? I don’t know much about it, but I love it.

S: Exactly. We all do because you get the taste and you get to make the choices and all that stuff.

K: Are those perception thresholds and stuff like that?

S: Yeah, exactly. That’s the sensory science piece of it that one might learn in a formal education here in the States, Australia, or in Europe as well. You’re learning how these all fit together, learning how choices you make with respect to biology and chemistry cascade into or affect the sensory experience one might have later. That’s why I like oenology because it is the study of all these things at once, how they interact, how chemistry affects the use of biology, and how that, in turn, affects the sensory aspects of the consumer’s experience many years later. It’s really fascinating stuff, the oenology piece of it. I’m trying to go back here a little bit to the oenologist versus winemaker. I think here in the States, the study of oenology is really understanding the choices that are in front of you and having an opinion on them. For example, SO2. I could add SO2 to this, or I could not add SO2 and maybe add this instead. I think winemaking here in the States and the rest of the world is making those choices and understanding the ramifications that you’re now making. With oenology, it’s like look, I’m not going to tell you what to do but the winemaker is now making that choice because the winemaker doesn’t get a billion options to bottle. He gets one. It’s one wine at the end of the day or the end of the month. It’s a summation of all those choices that the winemaker, he or she, has made over the last several years with respect to that wine. I draw the distinction a little bit differently with oenology and oenologist understanding the choices that winemakers understand, but also now making them and having to live with those decisions.

K: It’s like “Sir, Ma’am, these are the results of the data that we have.” Then, they talk to the winemaker. The winemaker says, “OK, thank you for that data. I will now take it and apply it to the future.”

S: That’s exactly right. One of the other winemakers I work with — and you summed it up almost exactly that way — said, “Look, the job of the winemakers is to generate all the data. It’s to assemble all the data, understand it, and make a choice at the end of the day because we’re only going to do one thing. We’re not going to do 50 things. It’s act now or act later.

K: Dude, my brain hurts, but it’s awesome. This is incredible. I love this stuff. This is great. Can I make a distinction here then? That’s the New World, and that sounds like a collaborative effort between a bunch of people doing really cool stuff. You have the vineyard manager, you have a winemaker, and you have an oenologist. I’m sure the lines blur sometimes, but there’s that nice collaboration between these three skills that can help create something beautiful. Do you know how different it is in Europe or is this the way they do it?

S: I think it’s very similar, but they’re simply using different titles for the role. What we in the United States call a winemaker, in Europe, they call it an oenologist. That’s all. They have the exact same set of activities, meaning the oenologist in the more traditional winemaking countries is going to go to the vineyard and talk to the grape grower. Then, the oenologist is going to make those choices that are made here in the States by a winemaker. It’s almost a reversal of title and activity.

K: Wow. When you look at the history of California, you have Helen Turley, Mia Klein, Celia Welch, and Thomas Rivers Brown, who has been blowing up. Also, Heidi Peterson Barrett. They did some serious work back in the ‘90s to usher in a trend. Their skills helped usher in a trend, but what they were doing is they weren’t trying. I don’t know that they were trying to create or maintain a trend, but they had ideas which then became trends.

S: Yes, I think it’s more appropriately stated in that last piece, right? I think their approach was their approach, and it became a trend. Their approach was a really ripe grape carrying through to higher-alcohol wine with significant extraction and tremendous color. Really, really showy right from the get-go. I think that was a new concept 30 years ago, and critics embraced it. Bob Parker really started to embrace it and thought it was really cool. He gives them good scores to drive the sales. Now, everyone else wanted to sell like they were selling volume and price-wise, so they evolved their style to match that a little bit more closely.

K: Right, that’s why Screaming Eagle came on top in the beginning. OK, then there’s this idea of the traveling winemaker, or as the Europeans would say, the traveling oenologist. This list of awesome people back in the ‘90s that were doing the good work in California, are they oenologists or winemakers?

S: I think here in the States we would call them winemakers for sure because they are involved right there at the vineyard identifying the plant, trellising systems, and management throughout the season as well. They’re involved in all those things, as I think most winemakers here in the United States are. I guess that is a fairly common job description, if you will. Those are the activities I think a winemaker would be expected to do here in the United States.

K: What a fun little conundrum we have here. You have Jancis Robinson writing in the “Oxford Wine Companion” about oenologists. Defining oenology, defining what it oenologists is on the level of what the European model believes. Here I am, an American in the New World, reading about it and I have to make that distinction now. Now I know the distinction that has to be made between the two. It’s not wrong or right. It’s just different, and that’s how we understand it.

S: Yep, exactly. Whether you’re sitting in as a Bordeaux oenologist or sitting in as the winemaker, the things you’re going to do are pretty much the same thing. You are out in the vineyard this time of the year, trying to see the plant’s status and leaf pulling at an appropriate stage. Are we ready for a heat wave this weekend? Going to take a last look before the heat. Come back next week and see what impact it had on a lot. Their activity today is almost identical.

K: Scott, have we come back to “it starts in the vineyard?” Have we come back to Mother Nature?

S: Oh, unquestionably.

K: We’ve come full circle to Mother Nature here, I think.

S: Oh, yeah. No question.

K: I love that you guys are able to harness this through science. I think it’s phenomenal, but people are making wines in different ways and different styles. There’s a bunch of stuff now as if you would like an Époisses, which is very stinky cheese, or maybe you like a wine that has a bunch of Brettanomyces in it or a wine with volatile acidity and that’s your jam. You don’t really want the fruit, you want the savory. I just find it interesting that in that way, as a scientist and a chemist, you are actually saying things like, “I know the Brettanomyces is going to eat the fruit after the Saccharomyces die, and I’m cool with that.” You’re making that decision, and that’s insane.

S: That’s exactly right. Or just, “I’m going to let this ride, and not worry too much about it. I’m going to be aware of it, but I’m just going to let it ride.” I’m going to, for example, add a little more sulfur, I’m not going to sanitize barrels as frequently as I would otherwise. I’m going o let my pH be a little bit higher. If you have those things together, your probability of getting Brettanomyces has gone up. I know those things, and I’m cool with it.

K: So you still have to do work.

S: Unfortunately, we still gotta do some work beyond just tasting.

K: Scott, you blew my mind, man. I really appreciate you taking the time. This is great. I do these podcasts, and I’m the guy talking all the time. I may just publish this interview, man. I may just put this out. This is a part of wine that’s always been not mysterious to me, but never fully understood. I understand it fully now.

S: That is great!

K: I just don’t know that I can explain it as well as you can. Would it be OK if I put you on the episode?

S: No problem at all.

(End of Interview)

K: OK, that’s awesome.

Do you see what I’m saying? He wraps it all up nice with a little bow on it, so we all understand what oenology is. Just so you guys know, Giacomo Tachis was the oenologist in Tuscany responsible for pretty much ushering in the Super Tuscan movement. Helen Turley is a very famous winemaker, and everyone that I listed is also very famous. One day, I will go over all that with you guys. You’ll notice we dipped into a little bit of a Brettanomyces-sulfites thing there. I’ll be talking about that as well. Also, Agoston Haraszthy and Charles Krug are very important players in the history of California wine and the wine in America in general, so at some point we’ll talk about all that.

But this episode was about oenology, and I hope you got from it what I got from it, which is, “I get it.” Thank you, thank you, thank you, Scott Kozel, vice president of winemaking at Gallo. Thank you.

@VinePairKeith is my Insta. Rate and review this podcast wherever you get your podcast from. It really helps get the word out there. And now for some totally awesome credits.

“Wine 101” was produced, recorded, and edited by yours truly, Keith Beavers, at the VinePair headquarters in New York City. I want to give a big ol’ shout-out to co-founders Adam Teeter and Josh Malin for creating VinePair. And I mean, a big shout-out to Danielle Grinberg, the art director of VinePair, for creating the most awesome logo for this podcast. Also, Darbi Cicci for the theme song. Listen to this. And I want to thank the entire VinePair staff for helping me learn something new every day. See you next week.

Ed. note: This episode has been edited for length and clarity.

The article Wine 101: Oenology appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/wine-101-oenology/

[johnboothus]

Wine 101: Oenology

This episode of “Wine 101” is sponsored by E & J Gallo Winery. At Gallo, we exist to serve enjoyment in moments that matter. The hallmark of our company has always been an unwavering commitment to making quality wine and spirits. Whether it’s getting Barefoot and having a great time, making every day sparkle with La Marca Prosecco, or continuing our legacy with Louis Martini in Napa, we want to welcome new friends to wine and share in all of life’s moments.

Interested in trying some of the wine brands discussed on “Wine 101?” Follow the link in each episode description to purchase featured wines or browse our full portfolio at TheBarrelRoom.com. Cheers, and all the best.

In this episode of “Wine 101,” VinePair tastings director Keith Beavers discusses oenology — the science and study of wine — with Scott Kozel, vice president of winemaking at E & J Gallo. Beavers and Kozel discuss the differences between oenology and winemaking, and explain the role an oenologist plays in wine production.

In addition, Kozel explains the distinct difference between how the Old and New World define “oenologist,” while Beavers gives a brief overview of the pioneering winemakers and oenologists in the ‘90s, such as Helen Turley, Mia Klein, and Celia Welch.

Tune in to learn more about oenology.

Listen Online

Listen on Apple Podcasts

Listen on Spotify

Or Check Out the Conversation Here

Keith Beavers: My name is Keith Beavers, and I’m going to say “Streets” is my favorite Doja Cat song.

What’s going on, wine lovers? Welcome to Episode 22 of VinePair’s “Wine 101” podcast, Season 2. My name is Keith Beavers. I am the tastings director of VinePair. How are you? Today, we’re going to talk about this word called oenology. It looks weird, but it’s not really that weird. It’s all about science, something you may not know about, but it’s fun. It’s science. Let’s get into it.

Wine lovers, I love wine science, as you probably know. History, science, wine. It’s my jam. The thing is, I’ve never made wine. I’ve never gotten my hands dirty. OK, I clipped a couple of grapes in England once, but I’ve never been out there and done the work. Once I was out in Long Island, I did some work on a vineyard, but I really didn’t do anything. I never had the responsibility of creating a wine. I’m fascinated with science, and I understand it in my own capacity so that I can tell you guys about it in a general manner. I try to get as detailed as I can, and the upcoming episodes are going to be really fun because it’s really about science. We have sulfites and wine flaws and all this stuff, but when it comes to the word oenology, there’s really not a lot to read about oenology. It’s a word. It has a definition, and then it stops there.

Oenology is the study of wine. It comes from the word oívos, which is Greek for wine. When the word is written down for the public, in an article or something, it has two different spellings, and it’s a little bit confusing. Oenology is spelled o-e-n-o-l-o-g-y, but it’s also spelled enology without the initial o. It’s a little bit confusing and when you’re reading about wine and you read the word oenology, it almost interchanges itself.

I had an opportunity to get on the phone with an actual oenologist, Scott Kozel. He’s the vice president of winemaking at E & J Gallo. He oversees a ton of winemaking. We talked about what oenology is, why the spelling is different, and its distinctions between the New World and the Old World. It was an awesome conversation, and I don’t think I can convey what he said better than the way he said it so I’m going to put the interview here. I edited it down. I want to put it here for this episode. This is a raw interview in that I was not prepared to be putting this in this episode, but what he said was so cool, I figured I had to do it. You might hear some references to names or wine stuff that’s a little bit out of context, but just know that I’ll be approaching those names and things in future episodes. Here’s the interview, and thank you so much, Scott, for taking the time to talk to me about this stuff. It’s awesome.

(Start of Interview)

K: I guess what I’m trying to understand is what goes into being an oenologist? Because, in the wine world, we obsess over you guys. We are the people that buy wine. We are the ones that go and put them on the wine list. We are the ones that go to your website and see who the oenologist is for this one. We love that, but if I tell somebody, “Oh, man, Giacomo Tachis” over dinner they would ask, who the hell are you talking about? They don’t know who Giacomo Tachis is. Anyways, I just want to give you the floor. Is it a school thing? Is it not a school thing? Can you do it without being in school? Do you mind riffing on this for me?

S: Yeah, so I got a million things that went through my head right now, so I’ll see if I can get it in a sensible order.

K: This is recorded, so go for it, man. I can piece it together.

S: OK, beautiful. First, Europe employs the terminology differently than the United States does and differently than Australia. It depends on where I’m standing, which damn continent I’m on. Now, I will talk about roles first, and then maybe we’ll step into how I think about oenology versus oenologist because I view them differently. An oenologist in the New World is really almost an entry-level position. You might be doing some lab work, you’re doing a lot of the science stuff behind it. You’re measuring SO2s, you’re measuring pH, and maybe you’re making some decisions on what to do in the cellar. Possibly, you’re directing the cellar but not making a lot of decisions. An oenologist is really an entry-level role in the New World, whereas a winemaker is a much more expansive role in the New World where you’re certainly employing the pieces of work the oenologist used to do. By the way, you’re running the cellar now. You’re running the bottling line often, you’re probably on the road as a PR spokesperson and meeting with sales teams and meeting with marketers. You could also be the marketer. You’re also out in the vineyard doing the viticultural stuff. You probably take care of the supply chain, making sure the bottles are ordered and the corks are coming. A winemaker has a much more expansive role than an oenologist here in the United States.

K: Wow, you’re blowing my mind here. OK, keep going.

S: That’s right. Oh, this took me years to figure out, talking to friends in Europe and they would say, “Our oenologist has been here for 40 years.” Forty years, and this dude hasn’t had a promotion?! They actually think about it the other way. They believe the oenologist is the pinnacle and they do all these things. We use the words 180 degrees differently. I think the term is very confusing if you think about it globally, so don’t help anybody at all at that point. Now, oenology. I like the classic definition: the science and the study of wine. Separate from grapes because even if you look at the wine schools around the globe, they’re usually viticulture, grape study, and an oenology department. This is to study grapes and wine, and they treat them somewhat separately. They’re different courses and different sets of professors. Most students, like myself 20-plus years ago, take courses in each of those fields but you have an emphasis. Mine was more on the oenology side, and this is why I love oenology. This is my second career. I pursued a career as a mechanical engineer, which I did for a decade. Then, I quit my job and moved my family across state lines, sold the house, and went back to school to study oenology. It’s really a synthesis of other basic sciences: biology, chemistry, microbiology, and sensory science.

K: Sensory science? I don’t know much about it, but I love it.

S: Exactly. We all do because you get the taste and you get to make the choices and all that stuff.

K: Are those perception thresholds and stuff like that?

S: Yeah, exactly. That’s the sensory science piece of it that one might learn in a formal education here in the States, Australia, or in Europe as well. You’re learning how these all fit together, learning how choices you make with respect to biology and chemistry cascade into or affect the sensory experience one might have later. That’s why I like oenology because it is the study of all these things at once, how they interact, how chemistry affects the use of biology, and how that, in turn, affects the sensory aspects of the consumer’s experience many years later. It’s really fascinating stuff, the oenology piece of it. I’m trying to go back here a little bit to the oenologist versus winemaker. I think here in the States, the study of oenology is really understanding the choices that are in front of you and having an opinion on them. For example, SO2. I could add SO2 to this, or I could not add SO2 and maybe add this instead. I think winemaking here in the States and the rest of the world is making those choices and understanding the ramifications that you’re now making. With oenology, it’s like look, I’m not going to tell you what to do but the winemaker is now making that choice because the winemaker doesn’t get a billion options to bottle. He gets one. It’s one wine at the end of the day or the end of the month. It’s a summation of all those choices that the winemaker, he or she, has made over the last several years with respect to that wine. I draw the distinction a little bit differently with oenology and oenologist understanding the choices that winemakers understand, but also now making them and having to live with those decisions.

K: It’s like “Sir, Ma’am, these are the results of the data that we have.” Then, they talk to the winemaker. The winemaker says, “OK, thank you for that data. I will now take it and apply it to the future.”

S: That’s exactly right. One of the other winemakers I work with — and you summed it up almost exactly that way — said, “Look, the job of the winemakers is to generate all the data. It’s to assemble all the data, understand it, and make a choice at the end of the day because we’re only going to do one thing. We’re not going to do 50 things. It’s act now or act later.

K: Dude, my brain hurts, but it’s awesome. This is incredible. I love this stuff. This is great. Can I make a distinction here then? That’s the New World, and that sounds like a collaborative effort between a bunch of people doing really cool stuff. You have the vineyard manager, you have a winemaker, and you have an oenologist. I’m sure the lines blur sometimes, but there’s that nice collaboration between these three skills that can help create something beautiful. Do you know how different it is in Europe or is this the way they do it?

S: I think it’s very similar, but they’re simply using different titles for the role. What we in the United States call a winemaker, in Europe, they call it an oenologist. That’s all. They have the exact same set of activities, meaning the oenologist in the more traditional winemaking countries is going to go to the vineyard and talk to the grape grower. Then, the oenologist is going to make those choices that are made here in the States by a winemaker. It’s almost a reversal of title and activity.

K: Wow. When you look at the history of California, you have Helen Turley, Mia Klein, Celia Welch, and Thomas Rivers Brown, who has been blowing up. Also, Heidi Peterson Barrett. They did some serious work back in the ‘90s to usher in a trend. Their skills helped usher in a trend, but what they were doing is they weren’t trying. I don’t know that they were trying to create or maintain a trend, but they had ideas which then became trends.

S: Yes, I think it’s more appropriately stated in that last piece, right? I think their approach was their approach, and it became a trend. Their approach was a really ripe grape carrying through to higher-alcohol wine with significant extraction and tremendous color. Really, really showy right from the get-go. I think that was a new concept 30 years ago, and critics embraced it. Bob Parker really started to embrace it and thought it was really cool. He gives them good scores to drive the sales. Now, everyone else wanted to sell like they were selling volume and price-wise, so they evolved their style to match that a little bit more closely.

K: Right, that’s why Screaming Eagle came on top in the beginning. OK, then there’s this idea of the traveling winemaker, or as the Europeans would say, the traveling oenologist. This list of awesome people back in the ‘90s that were doing the good work in California, are they oenologists or winemakers?

S: I think here in the States we would call them winemakers for sure because they are involved right there at the vineyard identifying the plant, trellising systems, and management throughout the season as well. They’re involved in all those things, as I think most winemakers here in the United States are. I guess that is a fairly common job description, if you will. Those are the activities I think a winemaker would be expected to do here in the United States.

K: What a fun little conundrum we have here. You have Jancis Robinson writing in the “Oxford Wine Companion” about oenologists. Defining oenology, defining what it oenologists is on the level of what the European model believes. Here I am, an American in the New World, reading about it and I have to make that distinction now. Now I know the distinction that has to be made between the two. It’s not wrong or right. It’s just different, and that’s how we understand it.

S: Yep, exactly. Whether you’re sitting in as a Bordeaux oenologist or sitting in as the winemaker, the things you’re going to do are pretty much the same thing. You are out in the vineyard this time of the year, trying to see the plant’s status and leaf pulling at an appropriate stage. Are we ready for a heat wave this weekend? Going to take a last look before the heat. Come back next week and see what impact it had on a lot. Their activity today is almost identical.

K: Scott, have we come back to “it starts in the vineyard?” Have we come back to Mother Nature?

S: Oh, unquestionably.

K: We’ve come full circle to Mother Nature here, I think.

S: Oh, yeah. No question.

K: I love that you guys are able to harness this through science. I think it’s phenomenal, but people are making wines in different ways and different styles. There’s a bunch of stuff now as if you would like an Époisses, which is very stinky cheese, or maybe you like a wine that has a bunch of Brettanomyces in it or a wine with volatile acidity and that’s your jam. You don’t really want the fruit, you want the savory. I just find it interesting that in that way, as a scientist and a chemist, you are actually saying things like, “I know the Brettanomyces is going to eat the fruit after the Saccharomyces die, and I’m cool with that.” You’re making that decision, and that’s insane.

S: That’s exactly right. Or just, “I’m going to let this ride, and not worry too much about it. I’m going to be aware of it, but I’m just going to let it ride.” I’m going to, for example, add a little more sulfur, I’m not going to sanitize barrels as frequently as I would otherwise. I’m going o let my pH be a little bit higher. If you have those things together, your probability of getting Brettanomyces has gone up. I know those things, and I’m cool with it.

K: So you still have to do work.

S: Unfortunately, we still gotta do some work beyond just tasting.

K: Scott, you blew my mind, man. I really appreciate you taking the time. This is great. I do these podcasts, and I’m the guy talking all the time. I may just publish this interview, man. I may just put this out. This is a part of wine that’s always been not mysterious to me, but never fully understood. I understand it fully now.

S: That is great!

K: I just don’t know that I can explain it as well as you can. Would it be OK if I put you on the episode?

S: No problem at all.

(End of Interview)

K: OK, that’s awesome.

Do you see what I’m saying? He wraps it all up nice with a little bow on it, so we all understand what oenology is. Just so you guys know, Giacomo Tachis was the oenologist in Tuscany responsible for pretty much ushering in the Super Tuscan movement. Helen Turley is a very famous winemaker, and everyone that I listed is also very famous. One day, I will go over all that with you guys. You’ll notice we dipped into a little bit of a Brettanomyces-sulfites thing there. I’ll be talking about that as well. Also, Agoston Haraszthy and Charles Krug are very important players in the history of California wine and the wine in America in general, so at some point we’ll talk about all that.

But this episode was about oenology, and I hope you got from it what I got from it, which is, “I get it.” Thank you, thank you, thank you, Scott Kozel, vice president of winemaking at Gallo. Thank you.

@VinePairKeith is my Insta. Rate and review this podcast wherever you get your podcast from. It really helps get the word out there. And now for some totally awesome credits.

“Wine 101” was produced, recorded, and edited by yours truly, Keith Beavers, at the VinePair headquarters in New York City. I want to give a big ol’ shout-out to co-founders Adam Teeter and Josh Malin for creating VinePair. And I mean, a big shout-out to Danielle Grinberg, the art director of VinePair, for creating the most awesome logo for this podcast. Also, Darbi Cicci for the theme song. Listen to this. And I want to thank the entire VinePair staff for helping me learn something new every day. See you next week.

Ed. note: This episode has been edited for length and clarity.

The article Wine 101: Oenology appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/wine-101-oenology/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/wine-101-oenology

[frivoloussuits]

Preview: Suits/Hunger Games AU

Here’s a peek at the fic I keep procrastinating on by writing Suits 100 prompts instead, lol. Apologies in advance for any odd formatting+warnings for referenced drug use and deadly violence.

All the Capitol’s geneticists have tried and failed to produce something that can compare with Mike Ross’ brain. At three years old, he’s more literate than many of the adults around him, and he spends his days reading aloud from a dictionary, his family’s longest book, to his baby sister Jenny. His eyes, skimming over the text at stunning speed, shimmer blue like the sea, nothing like the coal and fire surrounding him in District 12.

In District 1, Lily Specter dresses her four-year-old son Harvey in his finest clothes and takes him to their city’s central park soon after winter ends. Surrounded by a horde of other children, he plays games, solving puzzles, punching targets as hard as he can, flitting through an obstacle course with all the easy grace of a spring breeze. He throws himself into the challenges with childish enthusiasm, turning downright giddy as he outstrips one opponent after another. Young as he is, he doesn’t realize these are the entrance tests for Pearson Academy, Panem’s premier training school for the Hunger Games. He doesn’t notice Jessica Pearson herself observing him from a distance.

When school starts, Mike skips particularly boring classes and instead loiters around the Hob, 12′s black market. Even though he’s too young to buy or sell anything himself, assorted shopkeepers take a liking to him, and some use him as a human calculator. When he’s not needed, he tucks himself into odd corners, soaking up old stories and the old records that Sae plays sometimes, all crackling horns and syncopated rhythm. One day he’s joined under a table by a fellow truant named Trevor, the same age as him, with a dangerous spark in his dark brown eyes.

Seven-year-old Harvey– or “Specter,” as everyone calls him nowadays– lounges in his Academy quarters, blasting jazzy music out of brand-new speakers and singing along. When other kids bang on the door and shout for him to quiet down, he simply smirks and turns the volume dial higher, because he’s added bars and bolts to his door and built a barricade from furniture to keep intruders out of his room, and nobody can stop him from doing what he wants in here.

That is, until a little redheaded girl breaks through all his barriers, circumvents all his defenses, sneaks up on him as he leans back in his chair with three of its legs off the ground, and moves as if to tip him over– only to reach across him and click the speaker’s off button instead.

As he gawps, she just raises an eyebrow and says, “Hi, I’m Donna. I just moved in next door. Shut up, please, or I won’t be so nice next time.”

In a single heartbeat, an explosion in a coal mine orphans both Trevor and Mike.

Harvey ignores the baseball bat at the back of his closet and instead brings out a dark suit. Today is the first time he’s ever been permitted to leave the Academy during school. The occasion meriting such special allowances is his father’s funeral.

When his mother shows up at the wake with another man on her arm, Harvey straightens up and tells her to go to hell. “You made a fool of Dad,” he says. “You exploited him and his legal problem this whole time, and all he ever did wrong was love you from the moment he met you. Is it so damn impossible for you to at least pretend to be faithful?”

Lily just shakes her head, torn between pity and exasperation. “That’s not how things work here, Harvey.”

In the aftermath, Mike and Jenny move in with their grandmother Edith. There’s a roof over their heads but never enough food on their plates, and the wind cuts right through the walls and their threadbare blankets to chill them to the bone.

During a particularly harsh winter, Jenny takes ill, and Trevor starts showing up at their door with extra supplies of meat and other food that he can’t possibly afford.

At the Academy, Harvey beats back his grief by hurling himself into the nonstop competition, battling all the other students who want a shot at one of 1’s Tribute spots. He regularly faces off with Scottie, a girl with flashing dark eyes and a brazen wit, and every time she forces him to the ground. When he at last wins a match, he expects her to sulk or play it off as a fluke, but instead she beams proudly at him. Then there’s Donna, who proves a damn near equal match for him. Each wins just as often as the other, and the hope of pulling ahead sharpens both of their resolves. They pummel each other with mock weapons, study for months to beat each other’s scores on Games knowledge tests, and spend every school day taunting each other.

With time, the taunting softens to playful teasing, and they gradually turn inseparable. In their rare hours of free time, they break out of the Academy and roam around the nearby city. Harvey rather suspects Jessica is aware of every time they stray outside– she seems to have a knowing glint in her eye each morning afterwards, but perhaps he’s just imagining it.

Mike starts going out to the woods with Trevor, breaking a wide array of laws simply by crossing 12’s fence. They compound the crime by poaching, hunting down animals to eat and selling whatever meat they have to spare. After some exploring, they discover a swath of wild Eufrosyne trees, and they start harvesting the leaves to sell as well. They find plenty of buyers– people seem grateful for drugs around here.

One night, they find that the fence is electrified when they try to go home, and so they are temporarily barred from 12. Trevor starts to panic, but Mike starts to plan, recalling hundreds of tricks for surviving in the wilderness that he’s learned off the Hunger Games. They end up adapting a shelter that the girl from 3 made last year and weathering the night. When the fence powers off the next morning and they return home, they find Edith and Jenny both frightened senseless.

“We’re perfectly intact,” Mike reassures them. “Nobody died!”

Trevor gives an easy smile and plants a kiss on Jenny’s lips. “Yeah, you know you can’t rid of me that easily.”

Harvey wears suits increasingly often, at interviews and dinners for fencing competitions and boxing tournaments and Mock Trials. Yet his dress is considerably plainer, just black slacks and a white T-shirt, on the day when he kills for the first time.

His victim is a patient suffering from a painful terminal illness who consented to being killed by an Academy student in exchange for money for her relatives. He knows taking her life ought to affect him– it’s an explicit opportunity to work through some of the self-loathing and moral quandaries that accompany killing ahead of the Games– yet he tries to pretend he doesn’t care. He thinks he’s doing a good job of it, until Jessica calls him to her office for a cup of tea and he winds up breaking down as he drinks it, just as he later finds out she predicted.

Days later, he’s dropped off in the wilderness with Donna for an Academy survival practical. As they huddle around their fire, in the shadow of a shelter they constructed together, she nudges him with her elbow. “I got us a present.”

“Oh?”

She pulls an old rubbing alcohol bottle out of her pack, unscrews the top, and hands it over to him. He takes a quick sniff and immediately starts chuckling. “Not quite the same alcohol it says on the label, huh?”

“Scotch, straight from Cameron Dennis’ surprisingly well-stocked cabinet.”

He grins and takes a swig. They while away the afternoon, passing the bottle back and forth and sharing increasingly ridiculous ideas for knocking off opponents in the Games, until Donna puts forth a plan with a can opener that Harvey can’t even try to top.

One bright spring morning, Edith passes away. Leaving Jenny with Trevor, Mike flees to the woods for the night, closing his fingers around the mockingjay pin she left him.

It’s impossible to ignore the Cameron Dennis problem anymore. And while Louis, the other main teacher at Pearson Academy, has his own endless issues, at least he’s not an addict.

Harvey and Donna drag Jessica down to Cameron’s office one night, when he’s out of his head with some ugly mix of alcohol and morphling, and the teacher they’ve studied under for years turns on them, slurring that Jessica ought to expel the two of them for their insubordination before lunging at Harvey. He easily sidesteps, and Jessica fires Cameron on the spot with a melancholy sigh.

“Well, that was self-sabotaging,” Harvey remarks in a half-hearted attempt at levity. “Now we’ve got to train with Louis instead.”

“No,” Jessica says sharply.

Harvey’s heart stops, as she confirms that they’ll be training in her small advanced class from now on, because she has officially decided to send them to the Games.

A few years down the road, Mike watches Dana Scott of District 1, a girl with murderous eyes and brazen confidence with all manner of deadly weapons, play in the 73rd Hunger Games. He’s fascinated in a sick sort of way, and he supposes he should root for her, if only because he’s put quite a bit of money down on her. She’s a relatively safe bet– Pearson Academy’s Tributes always start with the odds in their favor, thanks to their training and their willingness to do whatever it takes to win– and he grows more certain of her chances as the Games unfold, as images of Dana stabbing, garroting, and poisoning burn themselves into his brain. She pushes through the arena, along with her partner Vanessa, a young woman who matches her guile and skill in battle when necessary but has a sort of vulnerability about her that Mike rarely sees in Pearson students.

In between the deaths and fighting, the cameras show the coaches and sponsors and Gamemakers all mingling. Mike sees Jessica Pearson herself schmoozing with Caesar Flickerman, both wearing smiles that could kill. In the background, he identifies Tom Keller, the Capitol citizen in charge of most of the Games’ main gambling systems. The camera starts to pan away as Tom throws an arm around an up-and-coming Pearson Academy student, a young man strutting around with slicked hair and a suit that cost more than Mike’s house.

Mike rolls his eyes and tells Jenny, “If I ever try to look like that, feel free to smack me.”

“Will do,” she giggles, “after I figure out how you managed to afford anything remotely like that and take some of that money for myself.”

Mike gives her a thumbs-up.

“Okay, I’m going to bed,” he says a few minutes later, rising from his seat with a yawn. “Wake me when the Gamemakers start firebombing the kids from 5.”

“How do you know they will?” Jenny frowns.

"They will.”

And they do.

Dana and Vanessa win, and they visit 12 and all the other districts on their Victory Tour. Yet the Gamemakers and academies and gamblers have already turned their attention forwards, to the 74th Hunger Games.

[mangokiwitropicalswirl]

The Gift

Missing scene(s) in “Tithonus.” There’ve been a lot of recent discussions about Scully and the immortality question, and oddly enough, I was already working on this fic which is my take on that issue.

This is dedicated to any fellow Philes who spent the late 90s transitioning seamlessly from Philedom into the LOTR fandom!

Rated: R for language

It seems a sacrilege to call it beautiful. But it is.

The woman’s coat looks almost purple in the deep black pigment of the film; her pale skin is shock white and smooth as a doll’s. Her open eyes look toward approaching light, and the wisp of breath escaping from her mouth -- what he had said was death itself -- looked like the soul exhaling on a winter morning. If not for the shimmering pool of blood spilling from her cloche, she looked almost alive, but merely posed for the photographer’s gaze.

It reminds Scully of painting of Ophelia she saw once -- Ophelia at the moment of her drowning, hands trailing in the black stream strewn with flowers, her eyes sad but steady as the dead weight of her flowing gown pulls her under. A thought flits through her mind, that how often in their death, young women are made to look so beautiful.

But even amidst thoughts of death and youth and beauty, she is still here to gather evidence. She seizes on the name scrawled in the corner and hurries to call Mulder.  

“Louis Brady, Mulder. Tell me what you find out.”

She can’t call Ritter. She won’t call Ritter. It hadn’t taken more than half a day for Scully to settle into loathing him. She had tried not to. Really, she had. Kersh was throwing her a bone, a lifeline. And even though she had no intention of grabbing it without pulling both she and Mulder out of background checking limbo, she had at least to make an effort.

But then Ritter started swaggering around talking about “busting this guy,” and bragging about knowing judges, fixing warrants. Scully had simply stopped talking to him, using the silence to pay even closer attention to the clues in front of her. Fellig’s own confessions, the pained look on his face in the interrogation room, had led her to his lacerated back and his improbable story.

She hadn’t been surprised when Mulder called her, full of theories, his mind racing a hundred miles a minute toward some unexpected truth. This was how they worked, how they’d always worked. Not at an effort to “bust” guys or make the details fit a preconceived conclusion. No, they started every case from scratch, everything on the table, no guide but truth and the whetstone of the other’s intellect to strike their own against.

She loves that about him. About them together. Mulder’s mind is everything that Ritter’s never could be. Mulder’s swagger is never about exerting his power over perpetrators, it’s just confidence in his ideas. An intellectual dominance, not a physical one.

Which is why it always surprises her a little when she hears his confidence waver. His comment on the phone -- “he has nice things to say about you, though. Mostly”-- there’s a tiny blip of worry underneath the teasing. As if all it takes is reassignment and she'll reconsider everything. She remembers first hearing this anxiety in their case with Tooms, a moment she recalls with a shiver, when he’d brushed his fingers briefly on her blouse as he’d grasped her necklace, tugging her slightly toward him as he voiced his feelings of connection. She had accused him of being territorial, which is, after all, just the workplace word for jealous.

She would never say aloud now, even to herself, how much she likes his territoriality. Now she is his, and just as much, he hers.

These are the thoughts running in the background of her mind as she stalls Fellig, waiting for Mulder to hurry up and call her back. Fellig is a sadly hollow man. His certainty he’s outlived the joys of life unsettles her, especially in this year she’s had post-cancer.

“What about love?” she asks. She winces at his answer. He tells how he forgot his own wife's name and she is speechless. Internally, she pities him intensely. He can’t have really loved, she thinks. He’s never even tried, in all these years, to understand what would make the rest of us bargain for every extra day of life.

Even discounting love, and that’s a lot, there’s simpler things. There’s your legs slipping into a warm bath, or the sky after rain. There’s your hands wrapping around a cup of coffee and bringing it slowly to your lips. Any one of these might be worth staying alive for one more year at least. And then next year you’d find a new thing -- a bird call you hadn’t noticed, a novel you re-read a hundred times, a knitted scarf, a song.

But maybe love’s what colors it, she wonders. Maybe all alone, the rest of it goes dim. She tries to think of going on without everyone she knows, as Fellig has. For a moment now, she understands. The real curse would be the emptiness. Then she remembers Bruckman and his prophecies -- for him, it wasn’t when but how we died. The world suddenly seems full of haunted men.

In all the stories, death sweeps in as darkness. But Ritter charges through the curtain in a shaft of light like a bright, avenging angel. She almost doesn’t feel the bullet; she’s still squinting at his swirling coat when the metal rends her gut. She’s pinned against the wall, eyes open and astonished.

And then the world goes colorless, its shadows and its brightnesses accentuated, the way they are at dusk before the sun goes down for good.

It seems a sacrilege to call it beautiful. But it is.

Ritter is new to the Bureau, but not so new he hasn’t heard the rumors. Spooky Mulder’s quirky quest is legendary around the halls of Quantico, both as a fascination and a cautionary tale. So when Agent Scully introduced them, Ritter thought he’d understood everything. Here was a man who lost his mind to conspiracy and fable, too far gone to rehabilitate. In the rumblings in the break room he heard stories of Antarctic quests and bees, UFO sightings and secret vaults, about how every paranormal monster tale got routed through their office.

But there’s another set of rumors Ritter’s new enough to not have heard. Maybe it’s that now that they’re not tucked away in the basement, the bullpen rumor mill is more discreet about its speculations. “Screwing since year two,” is the usual explanation for their bond. But Ritter hasn’t heard yet how they must be more than partners.

He registers how beautiful she is, and how hard it must have been for Mulder working day by day beside her not to cross some lines. He doesn’t think he’d manage it himself. And even though she’s the senior agent, he entertains some impure after-hours thoughts about her creamy skin and piercing eyes. It’s not uncommon; partners screw around and ADs look the other way. These two are probably no different.

But he is unprepared for Mulder’s absolute stark frenzy.

Ritter’s cold from shock and shaking, pacing the hospital corridors still covered in her blood. He knows he must have made some calls -- somehow they made it here. But he can’t remember dialing. His hands still quiver and his stomach’s tied in knots. Down the hall he hears shouting.

“Where the hell is she?!”

Ritter watches Mulder towering over the nurses’ station, his hands pounding flat on the counter top. “Dana Scully -- where is she?!” The volume of his voice is turning heads throughout the hall, and Mulder looks as jumpy as a caged animal, shifting on his feet as the nurses flip through files. He turns and strides toward Ritter when he sees him.

“What the fuck happened, Ritter?!” Mulder races toward him. Ritter winces and tries to back away. Mulder corners him and twists a knot of bloody shirt inside his fist, pressing him against the wall. “Tell me where she is!”

He doesn’t know what happened, Ritter thinks, not meeting Mulder’s wide-eyed gaze. He can’t tell him the truth either. Mulder will kill him, this he’s figured out already.

“She’s,” Ritter gulps, his tongue sticking in his throat, “she’s in surgery.”

“What. Happened?!” Mulder leans against him with his elbows in his gut.

“Gunshot wound.” Ritter’s hedging, mapping an escape route with his shifting eyes. “To the abdomen.”

“Oh god.” Mulder doubles over as if he’s been shot himself, releasing Ritter from his grasp. “Oh god, no.” The color drains from Mulder’s face and his breath leaves him in one swoop. He braces himself with one hand against the wall. Ritter hesitates a moment before he takes off running, ducking down the nearest stairwell in a panic.

It takes Mulder half a second to realize what Ritter’s doing, and then he’s off and running. “Ritter, you fuck!” He yells after him, swinging the stairwell door wide enough it bangs back against the wall with a harsh metallic clang. He’s about to take off down the stairs when he remembers, Scully. She’s here somewhere. He stops. A few flights below him there's an echo of a heavy door swung shut.

Mulder breathes and grips the railing, turning back to the sterile corridor and the nurses’ station. “Ms. Scully is in surgery,” a short blond nurse tells him. “Would you like to have a seat?” She nods toward the waiting room as Mulder tries to steady his breathing.

He hasn’t stopped since getting off the plane. He’d hopped the regional commuter jet as soon as he had found the open casefile, never stopping to call Kersh. He’d dialed Scully twenty times, willing her to pick the damn phone up. His fingers twitched the whole flight. He had chewed his way through half a bag of seeds, as if the grinding motion of his jaw could have made the plane go faster.

There was voicemail when he landed, a shaky Ritter rambling and breathless, “NYU Medical Center.” Then a pause. “You… you might want to hurry.”

Now he collapses in a wood-armed chair and leans to grip his head between both hands. He can hardly sit still half a minute before his mind resumes its racing. Skinner. Skinner might know something. If he doesn’t, he’ll find out.

Mulder’s reaching for his phone just as it rings. “Mulder,” he croaks.

“Mulder, what the hell is going on?” It’s Skinner.

“I was just about to call you, sir. Agent Scully’s been shot.”

“I heard that, Agent Mulder. What are you doing up there? Kersh is on the rampage. Something about you mucking up an arrest?”

“Why isn’t he on the rampage that one of his agents is currently in surgery for a gunshot to the abdomen?!” Mulder yells into the phone. “I’d think that would rank a little higher than some goddamn botched arrest!”

“Shit.” Skinner swallows audibly. “What happened?”

“I was just about to call you and find out,” says Mulder. “Ritter was here, looking like something the cat dragged in. He was…”. And here the gravity of her injuries sinks in again. His voice quavers, “he was covered in her blood.”

“Jesus.” Skinner sighs. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll try to find out what’s going on. Stay by your phone.”

“Yes, sir.” Mulder nods. As if he was going to take another breath without his hand gripping the damn phone. He tries to settle in the stiff beige chair, but in a minute he gets up again and walks a frantic circle. He’s alone in the low-lit room and for that he’s grateful. It gives him space to think. Which is when he starts to think how Ritter ran. Why would he run?

Mulder stops in his tracks when it hits him. Ritter did it. He shot her. The brown-nosing motherfucker shot her.

Mulder’s hands ball into a fist and he nearly hits the wall. It’s cinderblock, so he stops himself just short, all his anger quivering without someplace to go. He circles the room again and flips open the phone.

“Ritter!” It goes directly to his voicemail. “I swear to God, Ritter! If she dies, I will end you!” Mulder’s yelling almost incoherently, the rest of his message a swirl of expletives and blame.

“Mr. Mulder?” A nurse runs in the room and interrupts his tirade. “Mr. Mulder, we need you to keep it down please.”

Mulder punches end and flips the phone shut forcefully. He takes a slow breath through clenched teeth. “Sorry.”

“Mr. Mulder, we see from Ms. Scully’s files that you’re her primary emergency contact?”

He swallows, fearing what comes next. “Um, yes. She’s my partner.”

“Well could you come with me, please? The surgery team would like to see you.”

“Okay.” He breathes a little slower. “Is she… is she going to be okay?”

“I don’t have any information, sir, I’m sorry,” the nurse says. “She’ll be in surgery for awhile. Just come with me.”

It’s a cliche to say the hours passed in a blur, but for Mulder there was no other way to say it. There’s a quality to hospital lights, the fluorescence mixed with the pungency of industrial cleaners, that makes his brain just file these times away in the mental space his psyche labels, “hospital.” They’re indistinguishable from one another, a blur of white and worry.

There were phone calls to Skinner and to Maggie. There were strict warnings to stay away from Ritter. There was a parade of different doctors in blue scrubs offering updates that he barely understood. Scully was the one who did these things. It wasn’t that he wasn’t capable, just that in the years since they had been together, he’d begun to outsource his need to know these things to her. Scully is in charge of doctor jargon, he’s in charge of, what exactly?

Right now he couldn’t tell you as uselessness settles over him like a sedative. He waits outside the recovery room in a molded plastic chair.

When Ritter comes back in cleaner clothes to see how Scully’s doing, he watches Mulder camped like a sentinel outside her room and quickly turns around. Down the hall beyond the reach of Mulder’s hearing, he dials Kersh.

“Sir, I’m sure by now you’ve heard,” Ritter starts.

“So unfortunate, Agent. Please keep me apprised,” Kersh answers.

“Sir,” Ritter pauses. “Why didn’t you tell me? If I’d known….”

“Known what?” Kersh is confused.

“That Agents Mulder and Scully are,” he pauses again, considering his words, “that they’re together.”

“They’re not together, Agent,” says Kersh. “I split them up. You were meant to give Agent Scully a chance to come back in the fold.”

“No, sir, I know that,” Ritter tries to be deferential, but it’s clear that Kersh isn’t hearing what he means. “I mean, if I had known that they were lovers, I would have....”

“Your information’s incomplete, Agent.” Kersh cuts him off. “And I’d advise against spreading such unfounded rumors through the Bureau.”

“Yes sir.” Ritter swallows. “It’s just that….”

“That what? There should be nothing in your behavior that gives consideration to Agent Scully’s former partnership with Mulder.”

“I understand, sir.” Ritter nods. “I’ll let you know when she wakes up.”

“Thank you for the call, Agent.”

Ritter cuts the call and ponders what to do. He’ll face a hearing, that’s for sure. He needs her to pull through. He immediately feels terrible for the fact he thinks that if she dies, his career is likely over. But still, he thinks it. His survival depends on hers. Somehow, he figures this whole thing is Mulder’s fault. No matter what Kersh says, there’s something going on between these two.

He’s seen agents shot before, been in the hospital, taken the statements, filed the reports. He’s young, but not naive. The look in Mulder’s eye as he had held him to the wall was not just the look of a worried partner. It was the look of love terrified to lose its dearest object. Whatever’s going on between the two of them, Kersh clearly doesn't know the half -- the slimmest fraction -- of it.

Ritter lingers in the hospital awhile, waiting for the minute Mulder steps away so he can safely get some answers. He wanders corridors for hours, peeking his head around the narrow corner to check if Mulder’s finally gone. But he never leaves. Ritter watches him wring his hands and check his phone a dozen times. He sees him stand and peer through the small glass window of her door, his foot tapping on the cool linoleum. He sees him try to drink the little cups of bitter coffee, but Mulder doesn’t leave the hallway for a minute. It’s 10 p.m when Ritter finally goes, Mulder still gaunt-eyed and attentive at her door.

She sleeps all night and well into the morning. They had moved her to a private room at midnight once her vital signs were stable. Mulder walked along beside the cot despite the nurse’s protestations.

“We’ll just meet you up there, Mr. Mulder,” the orderly explained.

He shook his head. “I’m coming with you,” he mumbled in a stupor of exhaustion, reaching in his pocket for his badge in case his insistence weren’t enough. He needs to be there when she opens her eyes. He’s lost track of all the times she’s done the same for him.

Her room has a fold-out chair for visitors and sometime past 2 a.m he pulls it out and dozes off, draping his long coat over himself for warmth, the neon buzz of the machines as forlornly familiar as summertime cicadas.

Mid morning she begins to stir and Mulder sits up straight and moves his chair a little closer to the bed. She’s barely propped up, kept flat to keep her BP low, so he leans in so he can see her.

Scully feels as if she’s surfacing from underneath dark water, her limbs fluttering languidly back to life. Her eyes slide open in a groggy haze and she turns toward the hovering shape beside her. She hears a hitch of breath before she sees him.

“Hi, I’m Fox Mulder. We used to sit next to each other at the FBI.”

A smile he's crossed continents to witness creeps into her eyes, her dry mouth tries to turn up stiffly at the edges. Her nearby fingers tap against the bed, and he covers them with his.

The first week is a whirl of pain management and monitoring infection. Scully mostly passes in and out of sleep; she loses track of night and day beyond the routine vitals checks and interruptions. Maggie comes and keeps a vigil for the first few days -- Mulder had called her from the cab his first day there.

The second day that she’s awake, Scully turns her head and beckons Mulder closer. His jaw is dark with a wiry scruff of two-day beard. She nods at his rumpled dress shirt and his wrinkled pants and mumbles teasingly, “Mulder, you stink.”

“You’re one to talk, Ms. Spongebath,” he retorts with a grin.

“Clean up. Go Home.” She’s hoarse, but still commanding. “Mom’s here now. I’ll be fine.”

“But we don’t know how long you’ll be here,” he protests.

“It could be a while,” Scully sighs, “if what the doctors say is accurate. You’ll be expected back at work.”

“Maybe they can move you down to Washington?”

She shakes her head. “They won’t unless there’s pressing reason.” She shrugs. “But I’m serious, you have to go clean up.The nurses are starting to avoid my room.”

Mulder laughs and nods before bending down to press a soft kiss to her cheek. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

The next morning Scully wakes and Maggie isn’t in the spot she had been the night before. Over the ambient beeping of machines, Scully hears her in the hall. She’s talking to someone, a low voice she knows well. Scully rolls her eyes and smiles as she hears Mulder insisting, “take the bagels, Maggie, I brought them for you.”

He maneuvers through the door, a duffel over one shoulder, his arms balancing a stack of books, a paper sack from the bagel shop and a couple styrofoam cups of coffee. He’s shaved and changed into worn jeans and thrown his leather jacket over a grey t-shirt. His eyes brighten when he sees that she’s awake.

“Room service,” he calls out as he enters, plopping his pile of books and things onto surfaces and side tables and chairs.

“Mulder, what are you doing here?” She croaks. “I thought I told you to go back to Washington?”

“Can’t get rid of me that easily, I’m on leave now.” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.

Scully’s eyes widen. “Kersh? Are you in trouble?”

“No, no,” Mulder shakes his head. “It’s not that. I’m taking some of all that built up leave that I’ve got coming. I don’t think HR knew what hit them when I sent in the paperwork this morning.”

“Mulder,” Scully sighs, “you don’t have to do this. I told you, my mom is here.”

“Scully, what else am I going to do? Sit around doing pointless background checks and scut work while you’re all the way up here?”

She knows when to stop protesting and lets him settle in the chair as if he has nowhere else to be, no grand quest to pursue, no other purpose than to sit here in this tiny room with her and watch her sleep.

“Besides,” he says once he’s comfortable, “I’ve been wanting to catch up on my reading.” He nods at the stack of books piled on the table, with New York Public library stickers fixed along their spines.

Scully tries to push up on her elbows and get a better look, and so he presses buttons to angle up the bed so she can see.

“I wasn’t sure what you’re in the mood for, so I brought a broad selection.”

“Oh really,” she smirks, ready to let him perform his usual show and tell. Ever since that first slideshow in the basement, he has never tired of showing her his finds. They have a pattern now, a dance. He holds up a dark-covered book.

“Elmore Leonard’s latest,” he waves it back and forth. “Crime fiction at its best,” he offers enticingly.

Scully shakes her head back and forth against the pillow. “I’m living in crime fiction, now. No, thank you.”

“Hmm,” Mulder doesn’t seem surprised and pulls another off of the pile. Scully almost blushes as she catches a glimpse of the scarlet-colored bodice-ripper. “The Immortal Queen and Her Rogue Knight. Whaddya say, Scully? I think I could do the voices.”

“No Harlequin,” Scully whispers, almost sad to disappoint him even though she knows he’s teasing. “And no immortal queens.”

“Ah,” he breathes slow. “Right.” He sets the book aside and reaches for another. “Third time’s a charm?” He holds up the next thick hardback with a question in his eyes.

Scully recognizes this one and she registers surprise. “Tolkien? Really?”

“Have you read it?” Mulder asks.

“Actually, you might be surprised to learn I have.”

“Was young Dana into fantasy?” He smiles.

“No, but her brother was,” says Scully.

“Bill?!” Mulder scoffs, unable to fathom the humorless, straight-edged man he’s met enjoying stories about elves and hobbits.

“Not Bill,” Scully shakes her head. “Charlie. He got really into them one summer and made me read them all. It was something we could talk about.”

“Did you like them?” Mulder is surprised, trying to expand his image of a logical young Scully to include this seemingly out-of-character information.

“I did. A little long, and wordy, but fun.” She smiles remembering Charlie and his earnestness, the hours they spent discussing elven languages and plot twists. “Let me guess, you were a fan?”

“I think you know me well enough to answer that,” Mulder smiles sheepishly.

“How many times?”

“What?”

“How many times did you read them?” Scully grins imagining gawky 14-year-old Mulder lost in Middle Earth, ignoring his mother calling him for dinner. She imagines how good it must have felt for him to escape into another world with everything that was going wrong for him in this one.

“I lost track a long time ago,” he chuckles. “A lot. A lot a lot a lot.”

“Well, I hope you don’t think I’m going to be in here long enough to read that whole thing.” Scully’s face betrays some rarely-displayed worry.

“Of course not,” Mulder says, laying a hand gently on her arm, “So far you’re doing great. I think you’ll be home in no time.”

She swallows a lump in her throat and does her best to lean toward him even as sharp darts of pain radiate from her abdomen every time she shifts her weight. Pain crinkles her forehead and she bites her lip in a grimace.

“Don’t move too much,” Mulder stops her movements. “Just tell me what parts you want to read.” He nods toward the steaming cups. “Can you have coffee yet?”

“Not yet,” she sighs and looks off toward the window in resignation. “Maybe you should read me the part with Eowyn in the Houses of Healing.”

“Ah, so you identified with Eowyn, I bet.” Mulder lifts the book and begins flipping through thin, feathery pages.

“Mulder, there are only two girls in the whole book, and one of them is an immortal Elf princess who has barely any lines.” She tilts her head toward him with a wry smile. “Who else was I going to identify with?”

“You forgot Galadrial,” he teases.

“Okay fine, three women. Two of whom aren’t even human.”

“So, let me guess, you wanted Eowyn to end up with Aragorn.” Mulder’s still paging through the heavy tome looking for the chapter.

Scully shrugs her shoulders slightly and smiles. “Well, duh, Mulder. He’s the hero, right?”

She pauses, watching his eyes move across the pages, taken aback for a moment by the gentleness in them, and a contentedness she rarely sees. A contentedness that’s surprising given present circumstances. Her heart constricts abruptly in a rush of gratefulness and affection. She reaches for his forearm and squeezes it gently, brushing a thumb through the fine hairs there. “Who did you identify with, Mulder? Who did you want to be?”

“Mainly, I would have to say Gimli.” His eyes twinkle.

“Ha!” Scully laughs sharply and then grabs her stomach. “Ow! Mulder! Don’t make me laugh!”

“Sorry!” He immediately looks worried and apologetic. “No, of course as a kid, everyone thinks they’re Frodo, right? The one who carries the Ring and defeats ultimate evil.”

Scully nods.

“But as I get older, I think the real hero there is Sam, you know.” He looks at her softly, but can’t quite meet her gaze. “His loyalty, his unwavering devotion to his friend. It all would have faltered without Sam. Frodo would have been lost by chapter two without him.”

Scully nods again and reaches for his hand, smoothing her thumb over top of his where he holds the book. Her memories of the week’s events replaying in her mind, she forms her thoughts into a question she ‘til now has been much too scared to voice.

“Mulder,” she mumbles, “you don’t think Fellig really was immortal, do you?”

Mulder shrugs. “I don’t know how else to explain it. So I guess, yes, he was.”

Scully’s eyes grow wide and worried. “So what does that mean for me?” Her voice is just a dry whisper.

“You mean, did he take your place?”

She nods slowly, a little embarrassed to be entertaining such thoughts.

“You know,” Mulder pauses, “Tolkien had this idea that death was actually a gift. He called it ‘the gift of men’ and the immortal creatures like the elves envied humans who were allowed to die and pass beyond the confines of this world.”

“I could see that,” Scully nods. “I saw that in Fellig, his envy of the dying.” She thinks about the photographs he took, their violent beauty, how he tried to catch a glimpse of the portal between this world and beyond. And she thinks about how Fellig had drained all the joy from this life by his longing for the next.

“But,” Mulder continues, “in Tolkien, even the immortal were allowed to give it up. Maybe if your attachment to this world -- and those you love -- is strong enough, you get to die beside them.”

“So, you only get the gift of death if you’ve first enjoyed the gift that is your life?” She’s trying to make sense of everything, spinning through the possibilities.

“Something like that,” Mulder nods. “Maybe Fellig’s problem was he wanted it too much?”

“Mulder,” she whispers, forcing him to look at her and lean close to hear. “I want all of life’s gifts. I’m not like Fellig.”

“No, you’re not.” Mulder’s eyes brim with unshed tears.

“I don’t want to become like him.”

“You won’t.” Mulder threads his fingers through her hand. “I promise.”

She looks up at him though glistening eyes and pins him with her gaze. “I don’t want you to become like him either.”

He nods in understanding. “I guess that means we need to do a little better at this living thing, is what you’re saying?”

“I think so,” her voice is rough and hoarse from too much talking. “Now, I’m tired. Are you gonna read to me or what?”

“Your wish is my command, O Queen.” Mulder finds his place and opens to the page. “Hey wait,” he startles and looks over at her, “isn’t this the chapter where Eowyn kisses Faramir?”

She shrugs and smiles wanly. “I can’t remember. Maybe?”

“You would pick the one chapter in this whole book that has kissing,” he says teasingly.

“I guess I gotta live vicariously,” she says with one raised eyebrow and a glint deep in her eyes.

Mulder smiles and reads aloud until her eyes drift closed. Then he reads on a little further until drowsiness sets in. He softly lifts her sleep-limp hand and presses it against his lips.

Before he drifts to sleep himself, he looks over at her sleeping form, her sweat-matted hair, the bruises on her forearms from the IV drip, the crusted skin at the corner of her mouth, the inhuman mess of tubes and wires running from her body to robotic grey machines, her doll-white skin like paper far too easily ripped, and a bluish shadow bruising in the curve beneath her eyes.

This is not the time he’d think to call her beautiful, but she is.

[therandombanjo]

Songs From 2018 (one per artist)

Another mixed bag of stuff i either enjoyed a lot, thought was excellent or interesting (regardless of taste… sort of), emerging artists to maybe look out for, and generally music that for whatever reason connected with me in some way, including the odd earworm i just couldn’t shake. Hope you enjoy some of this too and find something new to be taken by. There’s a spotify playlist (below) for easier listening but for the music that wasn’t on there, i’ve posted links next to them so do check them out! Spotify:

(As ever…. as i don’t tumblr or blog or anything (besides this list), this won’t be seen by many (if any?) people so if you like it or think it’s of any worth in any way, please do share this along)

In Alphabetical order:

The 1975 - Love It If We Made It

700 Bliss - Ring The Alarm         (Moor Mother & DJ Haram collab)  

Advance Base - Your Dog      (Owen Ashworth is a longtime favourite and always love what he puts out. Such a gifted lyricist and such an empathetic deliverer, just always cutting deep, just always sounding uniquely him. The records & artists he’s putting out on his Orindal footprint are really impressive too - Julie Byrne, Gia Margaret, Dear Nora - so do keep an eye out on those releases)

Aidan Moffat & RM Hubbert - Quantum Theory Love Song

Alasdair Roberts w/ Amble Skuse & David McGuiness - a. The Fair Flower of Northumberland b. Johnny O’the Brine (One of my favourite records this year, a quietly inventive old folk beaut from one of my favourite singers on earth. Included two as a. exemplifies his singing that i love so much and b. better highlights the inventiveness of the record)

Alison Cotton - All Is Quiet At The Ancient Theatre

Amen Dunes - Miki Dora

Anderson .Paak - 6 Summers

Angelique Kidjo - Once In A Lifetime        (From her complete re-imagining of the Talking Heads classic Remain In Light record, with all her Benin spirit infused)

Anna & Elizabeth - Mother In The Graveyard

Anna Calvi - As A Man

Aphex Twin - T69 Collapse

Aqueduct Ensemble - Cut Grass I

Arctic Monkeys - Four Out Of Five        

Armand Hammer - Alternate Side Parking       (Elucid & Billy Woods)

Arp - Reading a Wave

audiobooks - Call of Duty Free

Barry Walker - Late Heavy Bombardment

Beach House - Dive

Ben Vince - What I Can See     ft. Micachu

Big Red Machine - Forest Green          (Justin Vernon (Bon Iver) & Aaron Dessner (The National) project. I’m likely never not gonna be into Justin’s work, he’s always stretching himself with virtually no regard to expectation and always finding interesting and new spaces)

Birds Of Passage - Another Thousand Eyes

Black Midi - bmbmbm      (Heard about them non-stop all year, about being this incredible live band, and all teenagers, so been intrigued for quite some time. Virtually no online presence, remaining somewhat mysterious, and only a couple of pieces to go by, but curious to see what’s coming from them) https://soundcloud.com/speedywunderground/sw024-black-midi-bmbmbm

Blocks & Escher - One Touch     

Blood Orange - Saint

Bodega - Name Escape

Bonny Doon - I Am Here (I Am Alive)       

Bruce - Elo

Capitol K - Fennel Dance

Cat Power - Stay

Channel Tres - Controller

Chris Carter - Cernubicua

Christina Vantzou - Some Limited and Waning Memory

Christine & the Queens - 5 Dollars

Colter Wall - Wild Dogs

Cool Maritime - Mossage

Cornelia Murr - Man On My Mind

Courtney Marie Andrews - May Your Kindness Remain

Damien Jurado - The Last Great Washington State

Daniel Avery - Slow Fade

Daughters - Long Road, No Turns

David Thomas Broughton - Drifting Snow       (An old, unreleased recording lying around, brought out as a seasonal single, and i think it’s beautiful. My favourite live performer, and i would encourage anyone who sees this to check him out both on record and if he's ever in a town near you.) https://davidthomasbroughton.bandcamp.com/track/drifting-snow-seasonal-single

The Dead Tongues - Pale November Dew

Dear Nora - Simulation Feels       (12 years away, and back after renewed interest in their re-issued Mountain Rock LP last year courtesy of Owen Ashworth’s (Advance Base) Orindal Records)

Deux Trois - Roy

DJ Koze - Muddy Funster     ft. Kurt Wagner       (It’s probably fair that “Pick Up” is the best song on the record, but I’m a sucker for Kurt so liked this one a lot too)

Dolphin Midwives - Mirror

Doug Paisley - Drinking With a Friend

Drinks - Real Outside

Durand Jones & The Indications - Don’t You Know

Earl Sweatshirt - Nowhere2go

Earth Eater - Inclined

Emily Fairlight - Body Below      

Empress Of - When I’m With Him

Eric Chenaux - Wild Moon      (Most likely my favourite record from this year, if not any it feels right now. I’m fully begulied by it. Fair play to you if you recognize the sounds you hear as a guitar!)

Erin Rae - Bad Mind      

Erland Cooper - Solan Goose

Ezra Furman - Suck The Blood From My Wound

Fatoumata Diawara - Kanou Dan Yen

Field Report - Every Time

Flasher - Who’s Got Time?

Frog Eyes - Pay For Hire

Fucked Up - a. Normal People or b. Came Down Wrong   ft. Jennifer Castle & J Mascis

Gabe Gurnsey - Ultra Clear Sound

Georgia Anne Muldrow - Blam

Gia Margaret - Groceries     (Wonderful debut on Orindal)

Glenn Jones - The Giant Who Ate Himself

Grouper - Driving

Hailu Mergia - Tizita

Haley Heynderickx - Oom Sha La La

Hatchie - Sure

Helena Hauff - Hyper-Intelligent Genetically Enriched Cyborg

Hen Ogledd - Etheldreda       (The great Richard Dawson’s experimental group, connecting the ancient/medieval with the present in a way that definitely rewards with more listens)

Hermit & The Recluse - Sirens       (New project from the rapper Ka, who continues to fascinate, with producer Animoss. This time the concept record combining his personal street stories with Greek mythology, with Orpheus vs The Sirens)

Hilary Woods - Kith

Homeboy Sandman & Edan - #NeverUseTheInternetAgain       (Nice to hear Edan once again after so long, and especially with a favourite of mine in Homeboy Sandman)

Ian William Craig - Discovered In Flat

Idles - Danny Nedelko         (Probably my favourite song of the year, and one of the most beautiful, impassioned & dearly needed statements of love & community we need right now. The video moved me to damned tears, it’s so beautiful)

The Innocence Mission - Green Bus

Institute of Landscape Architecture - Melting Landscapes       (field recordings documenting Alpine glaciers and their changing landscape) https://landscapearchitecture.bandcamp.com/releases

James Blake - If The Car Beside You Moves Ahead

Janelle Monáe - Make Me Feel

Jean Grae & Quelle Chris - Gold Purple Orange

Jeff Tweedy - I Know What It’s Like

Jennifer Castle - Tomorrow’s Mourning

Jenny Hval - Sleep

Jeremy Dutcher - Mehcinut

Jerry David DiCicca - Watermelon

Jessica Pratt - This Time Around         (Massive fan of Jessica and this is without doubt one of my absolute favourite songs this year)

JFDR - My Work (String Version/Live)

John Prine - Summer’s End

Jon Hopkins - Emerald Rush

Joseph Shabason - Forest Run       (From his 2nd record, Anne, a touching record on his mother’s Parkinson’s Disease featuring interviews with her over his ambient, sax-effected work)

JPEGMAFIA - 1539 N. Calvert

Julia Holter - I Shall Love 2

Julia Jacklin - Head Alone

Kacey Musgraves - Slow Burn       (I was late to this record, but i may have listened to it more than any other come December-time.)

Kadhja Bonet - Delphine

Kamasi Washington - Fists of Fury

Kathryn Joseph - From When I Wake The Want Is

Kelsey Lu - Shades Of Blue

Khruangbin - Maria También

Kim Petras - Heart To Break       (There’s actually a chance this is my favourite song of the year)

Kurt Vile - Bassackwards

Lambchop - The December-ish You

Landless - The Trees They Grow Tall

Laura Cannell & André Bosman - Golden Lanes At Dusk

Laurence Pike - Life Hacks

Leikeli47 - Girl Blunt

Let’s Eat Grandma - Falling Into Me

Lisa O’Neil - Factory Girl [trad]        

Lizzo - Boys

Lonnie Holley - I Woke Up In A Fucked-Up America

Louis Cole - Real Life     ft. Brad Mehldau      

Low - Quorum

Lucinda Chua - Whatever It Takes      (experimental cellist & composer who, as well as making expansive, looped soundscapes, also writes and sings in an equally spellbinding fashion)

Lucy Dacus - Night Shift

LUMP - May I Be The Light        (Laura Marling & Tuung’s Mike Lindsay collab)

Maarja Nuut & Ruum - Kuud Kuulama

Maggie Rogers - Fallingwater

Makaya McCraven - Butterss’s

Malibu Ken - Acid King           (Aesop Rock & Tobacco collab)

Marie Davidson - Work It         

Marisa Anderson - Cloud Corner

Mary Lattimore - It Feels Like Floating

Maxine Funke - a. Boy On The Bow or b. One Step a. https://maxinefunke1.bandcamp.com/track/boy-on-the-bow b. https://maxinefunke1.bandcamp.com/track/one-step

Mich Cota - Kijà/Care                (Two-spirit Canadian Algonquin artist who, after seeing her supporting Baby Dee at Cafe Oto very recently, had me excited for the bangers to come!)

Michael Nau - Funny Wind

Milo - Stet

Miss Red - Dagga

Mitski - Nobody

Moses Sumney - Rank and File

Moulay Ahmed El Hassani - Yak Ennas Mlklil Darou Labas 

Mount Eerie - Tintin In Tibet      

Mountain Man - Rang Tang Ring Toon      (8 years since their last record, and so good to hear their harmonies once again. Ever as beautiful and transportive, but this time more wiser. It’s a really lovely record and such a needed balm)

Nap Eyes - Every Time The Feeling

Nathan Bowles - Now If You Remember          (Didn’t know this was a cover, originally by Julie Tippetts, but it lodged itself in my head pretty good. Aquarium Drunkard rightly suggested an album or two back that, if Banjo Futurism is a thing then Nathan Bowles would likely be leading the pack. The remainder of this record definitely reflects that)

Nathan Salsburg - Impossible Air

The Necks - Body https://thenecksau.bandcamp.com/album/body

Neko Case - Hell-On

Nils Frahm - My Friend The Forest

Noname - Ace       ft. Saba & Smino

Nostrum Grocers - ‘98 gewehr         (Milo & Elucid collab)

Oliver Coates - A Church

The Orielles - Bobbi’s Second World

The Other Years - Red-Tailed Hawk

Ought - Desire

Our Native Daughters - Mama’s Cryin’ Long      (New group project with Rhiannon Giddens, of Carolina Chocolate Drops, inspired by New World slave narratives and reclaiming/restoring black women’s stories)

Panda Bear - Dolphin

Parquet Courts - Wide Awake

Penelope Trappes - Burn On

Peter Broderick - Words Of Love       (An unreleased Arthur Russell song Peter got to record after befriending friends and family of the great man. Part of a free album Peter released of Arthur Russell covers at Christmas featuring one other unreleased song. Do check it, it’s lovely)

Phosphorescent - Christmas Down Under        (I could pick many from this record, but the sci-fi-like presence in the vocals gives it a strangeness and position i really loved)

Preoccupations - Espionage

Pusha T - Come Back Baby

Richard Swift - Broken Finger Blues        (Such a dear and sad loss. I actually included this song a few years ago when Aquarium Drunkard featured it, so feel like i should select a different one from this most-recent record.... but dammit if it doesn’t highlight the very best of Swift’s talents).

Richmond Fontaine - Horses In Las Vegas https://richmondfontaine.bandcamp.com/track/horses-in-las-vegas

Robby Hecht & Caroline Spence - Over You

Rocheman - Parades I & II        (Caught/discovered Rocheman supporting Jenny Hval earlier this year in a church, and was really into it so I’m looking forward to seeing where it goes from here)

Rosali - I Wanna Know

Rosalía - Pienso en Tu Mirá

Rosanne Cash - She Remembers Everything

Roy Montgomery - Outsider Love Ballad No. 1   ft. Katie Von Schleicher

Saba - Life

Sam Gendel & Sam Wilkes - BOA

Sam Lee & Peter Wiegold - Rambling Boys

Sandro Perri - In Another Life 

Sarah Davachi - Third Hour

Sarah Louise - Bowman’s Root

The Scorpios - Mashena

The Sea & Cake - Any Day

Seabuckthorn - Disentangled

Seán Mac Erlaine - Cotter’s Dream

Serpentwithfeet - Bless Ur Heart

Shad - Magic    ft. Lido Pimienta

Shannon & The Clams - The Boy

Shit & Shine - You Were Very High

Sidi Touré - Djirbi Mardjie

Sidney Gish - I Eat Salads Now

Snail Mail - Heat Wave

SOB x RBE - Paid In Full

Soccer Mommy - Your Dog

Sons of Kemet - My Queen Is Harriet Tubman

Sophie Hunger - I Opened A Bar

Sophie Hutchings - Repose

Sorry GIrls - Waking Up

Sourakata Koita - Ha-Madi     (I don’t usually include too many - if any - reissues, but i love kora music and this record, “en Hollande” (’84), was a great discovery this year)

Stella Donnelly - Boys Will Be Boys      (I was sure i had this in last year’s list when it was a single, but appears not so including it now with the album release).

Steven A. Clark - Feel This Way

Suuns - Make it Real

Swamp Dogg - Answer Me, My Love

Szun Waves - Constellation

Terje Isungset - Blue Horizon     ft. Maria Skranes   (all the music is played by intruments made of ice)

Theo Alexander - Matter of Balance

Tierra Whack - Black Nails or Hungry Hippo      (A record of 15 one-minute tracks, full of ideas and all kinds of fun. Check out the “Whack World” short film for the record) 

Tim Hecker - Keyed Out

Tinashe - Throw A Fit     (Came across this song randomly via a Youtube video of dancer Jojo Gomez, and the attitude of it all just kind of thrilled me)

Tirzah - Gladly

Toby Hay - Bears Dance

Tom Demac & Real Lies - White Flowers

Tomberlin - Seventeen

Tracey Thorn - Queen

Tracyanne & Danny - It Can’t Be Love Unless It Hurts    (I think, actually, that Jacqueline off the record would edge my choice here, but i needed a little more Tracyanne (Camera Obscura) in here to highlight the two of them)

Tropical Fuck Storm - You Let My Tyres Down     (Aussie band made up of various Aussie bands, most recognizably Gareth Liddiard of The Drones, with an excellent debut record “A Laughing Death In Meatspace” that along with their name fits the music on this record. It’s acerbic, feral, sardonic, and plain great)

Ty Segall - Every 1′s A Winner        (Just an absolute killer Hot Chocolate cover, of all things!)

Ursula K. Le Guin & Todd Barton - Heron Dance

Valee - Womp Womp     ft. Jeremih

Valotihkuu - Walking Through Dew Drops On The Lawn

Vera Sola - Small Minds

Vince Staples - FUN!

Virginia Wing - The Second Shift

Witch Project - Manifest

Womans Hour - Don’t Speak       (So great to hear them finally return)

Wooden Shjips - Red Line

Y La Bamba - Mujeres

Yo La Tengo - a. You Are Here and b. Ashes

Yoshinori Hayashi - Overflow

Zilla With Her Eyes Shut - Whatever It Is