#avoided most videos from tour so i will be blown away and now i can really feel how much i miss him

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

i've come ready for a war

[infinitegalahad]

GENERATION KILL: COMFORTING THERE PARTNER

"This is just me formally submitting a request for that gk boys offering their own forms of comfort fic/ headcanon/ thoughts wtevr. Lol just as a reminder. 😀"@theboardwalkbody

Gif Credit: @ymagor

A/N: You're wish is my command, homes❣️ Here's a little change of pace! @theboardwalkbody inspired this post (and asked it!), so thanks for the Inspo friend! 🤩 I'm doing this for BoB and TP because I'm going through a slight writer's block and instead of thinking about long descriptions, I just wanna so head canons that get a little out of hand. I hope this isn't too ooc😔 Reader has *inserted mental illness* btw, it's up for interpretation! ALSO GN! READER! Enjoy!

Taglist: @theboardwalkbody @contrabandhothead

Masterlist

NATE FICK-

Nate's a calculated person. He can see the patterns in people, things, etc. Like how his father's eyebrows wrinkle when he's excited, or when his mother likes to prep a meal from vegetables to the main course. So when you're happy, sad, whatever-he knows it, and you don't even have to tell him.

He'll come home and see you. He knows that you've heard him calling you're name, but you don't move. He looks all over the house and finds you inside of your tub, just sitting there with no response. The water is running, and your clothes and hair are soaked.

So in an attempt to not disrupt your peace, Nate climbs in and sits next to you. You look over and he's stares at you. Just as your about to speak, he beats you to it.

"I'll get you a towel and some clothes."

And then, he just leaves. You hear the door quietly shut, and you blink for a few seconds. What the hell just happened? It snapped you out of your depressive trance. Now instead of feeling sad-you just were confused.

So you hear the door lightly open again and then close. After a few more minutes of soaking, you get out and see a towel and a set of clothes that are most certainly not yours. It's Nate's Dartmouth Lacrosse sweater and a pair of underwear-he knows you too well.

So you exit the bathroom and you see Nate, putting two cups down of you're favorite tea

And he's got that face. You know the face were he's like ☹️

"Hey, c'mere."

The two of you climb into bed with eachtoher. He throws one of those ugg blankets over you. You rest his head in his chest and he pats your head. There's a silence, until Nate says, "Do you wanna walk about it."

Normally, you'd say no and he'd read you a book you're reading or hold you as you cry, but this time, it's different.

"Yeah, I do. You won't judge, right?"

Nate tilts you chin up, and he's got a tired smile on his face.

"Why would I?"

BRAD COLBERT-

Brad may appear horrible with emotions and reading the room...in which he isn’t

Okay, scratch that. He tries to understand them, it’s just hard for him to give advice and use words to comfort you. He feels like he’s walking on glass, But sometimes, you just need him psychically more then anything.

When you storm out of a room when Chaffin makes a comment on your weight, Brad takes a few minutes to think what he should do.

Normally, he’d just leave you be, but he’s gotta do something. Getting up, he follows you down the hallway. You’re not far, and he’s calling you’re name.

You stop in the hallway, wiping the tears coming down toye face. Brad turns you around with his hands on your shoulder. He’s got a blank face on as he looks at you, seeing your red face and the tears.

While you sob and stutter, he fixes the collar of your shirt, tucks your hair behind your ear, which is normal. He likes to neaten you up to make you feel better.

But he starts to use his thumb, wiping the tears coming down your face. You shocked as he cups your face, making you look into those icy cold eyes. He looks like the Iceman, cold and emotionless, but what he says very Brad.

“You’re beautiful.”

Then he pulls you into a tight grasp. He’s a whole foot taller then you, and you like the way he snakes his hands around his waist and slightly lifts off you your feet. His sheer presence is intimating, but for you; comforting. 

RAY PERSON-

THIS MAN. although a hick with a big mouth, he does know when to shut up and can read you’re emotions like the back of his hand.

He can just see the sadness swelling in your eyes and the way you pick at the foot at your plate and avoid all of needs for cuddles in bed. Heck, it’s making Ray sad.

So he does what he does best-not shutting up, well-about things he likes about you.

“Man! Look at my hot girlfriend/wife! There reading books by the liberal media, total smartie here! Oh! And they have a degree from-“

Ray will also beg for to your attention and follows you around like a puppy. Like you’ll be sitting on the couch and he’ll come rest his head on your lap. You ignore him, but he starts to twist and quote random movies so you finally give in.

Is Ray annoying? Yes. But did he make you smile? Also yes.

Also Ray is a cook, and knows all of your favorite meals. Of course, he sets the table, lights a few Mantown candles (yes there real google them), and comes to serve your meal with two plates.

“The most beautiful man/woman I have ever seen, the love of my life, the apple of my eye, the Avril to my Bizzy D-you’re hot pockets.”

It makes you laugh, which makes Ray happy. He feeds off of that attention. You sit in Ray’s lap, eating hot pockets, and watching The Best Damn Tour. You lean on Ray’s shoulder, and he leans right back.

POKE ESPERA-

Alexa play Whatta Man’ by Salt-N-Peppa BECAUSE! WHAT! A! MAN!

Poke is one tough mofo. He embodies the meme of “Good morning to my beautiful wife/husband and child everybody else get fucked”.

But like every baddie; baddie’s gotta have soft spots for there bitches. He has two; you and his daughter. And oh god he’s love the two of more then anything in the world.

Poke knows you and his daughter well enough. His daughter first notices that your not as enthusiastic and bubbly, and then she tells Poke. But Poke already knows because he’s observant and very in touch with his emotions.

So when he’s a work; he thinks and does a lot of self reflection. He wonders why you’re upset. Did he cause it? What can he do to make it better? He asks all the guys for advice, and even his own daughter.

An idea strikes! Poke’s got a lot of anger, so his therapist told him to express his emotions by journalling. But Poke learns that it helps him get everything out of system, so he’s a secret writer. Heck, he even likes poetry; and would kill anyone if they’d find out.

While off at work, small letters start to appear across you’re house. Some are long, some are short, but there sweet and make you’re day.

“I held the stars in my arms wen I held you”

“I can’t wait to kiss you.”

“Your eyes stole all of my words away”

And the covers of the notes are done by Poke’s daughter, covered in glitter and Lisa Frank stickers.

You confront Poke about this “mysterious pen pal” and Poke is like “I mean, your lips do sound tempting”

You know it’s Poke, and he knows it, but there’s something about the mystery that is very romantic.

WALT HASSER-

Here comes our favourie country pumpkin

Now let me say. This man LOVES you more then anything the world

Doesn’t wanna show you off (but he does)

So when you’re the slightest bit sad, Walt is even sadder then you are

Walt is someone that lives to receive attention, and also he’s someone that likes to give it. Especially to the love of his life!

Walt gives you things you actually need, and nothing that is materialistic. Growing up, his parents had a healthy relationship, and the apple clearly doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Waits on you hand and foot. A back massage? Done. A fuzzy blanket? Right on it! A specific burger from a joint that is thirty minutes away at three in the morning? Walt’s driving like a manic just for you. You have the man’s undivided attention.

“Walt?”

He stops whatever he’s doing and runs over, getting on his knees, “Yeah, what’s up baby?”

“Can you sing the song? Y’know, our song?”

Walt nods his head, now an eager puppy, and gets his gutair to play the song he wrote especially for you. And this is making me realize how painfully single I am oh my

RUDY REYES-

Rudy has an iv of respect woman/men juice. He always understands the assignment-and desires extra credit.

So whenever you’re down in the dumps, Rudy will drop everything and drag you into the car to go walk on his favorite trail. It’s ten miles long, but Rudy is a fitness freak.

First, you hate doing it. But the more you talk these long walks, the more you begin to enjoy it.

Sometimes there silence. Rudy won’t speak force you to talk. Talking is stressful, and Rudy will wait until you’re ready. The two of you holds hands, and Rudy has such a calming presence. It’s really hard to get angry at him.

You finally speak and tell Rudy you’re problems, and he listens and doesn’t interrupt. He’s got a hand on you’re lower back, or on your thigh. He’s basically you’re emotional support teddy bear and will always be a lending ear, or a total cuddle monster.

Rudy has the best advice as well. It’s always some yoga shit, but damn, those breathing  exercises do actually help.

EVAN “Q-TIP” STAFFORD-

Oh Q-Tip. My feral goblin son😭

I love him, but sometimes-things can fly over his head.

But when you start to ignore him and hide away from him, he begins to notice. And he HATES IT.

Like Christianson will ask him if he’s okay and he’ll literally quote a 2pac song and be like,

“I would drop all my girls for you, Walk barefoot 'round the world for you, Fly around like the birds for you, Thats why I wrote these words for you..”

Lilley is like “Brah we gotta help a homie out”

So the three stooges create Lovegate. The mission? to make Q-Tip’s partner happier.

Q-Tip is very artistically inclined. So with Christenson’s editing skills and Lilley’s camera, Q-Tip writes you a song and does a whole music video.

The man rents out a movie theatre venue just to show you. Of course, you’re blown away. It’s horrible and you can taste the autotone, BUT IT’S THE EFFORT THAT COUNTS. and q-tip has that smile on. you know what i’m talking about!

Doc Bryan walks in on the two of you making out and is pissed since all he wanted to do was see the re-screening of Bridemaids but NO, Q-Tip just had to rent out a theatre to show his partner a music video about them and then make out.

He see’s Lilley, who’s recording and asks to interview what Doc’s opinion on the music video, and this is what he’s says.

“I think my ears bled, but thank fuck those two aren’t acting like emo’s.”

DOC BRYAN-

The gif has a purpose. Trust me. SPEAKING OF THE MAN OF THE HOUR

Bryan, like Poke, is a very observant guy. He’s an angry motherfucker, and even a little insensitive, but ever since dating you; he’s tried to change.

He hates the world. People are shitty, and it makes him feel shitty that you’re sad because when you feel shitty, he’s in a shitter mood then he’s usually in

Knowing that his words might sound a little harsh, Byran knows how to distract you. Without words. After all, he didn’t work out for nothing.

Long hugs are you’re thing. The two of you will run into eachother, find a private place, and he’ll just wrap his arms around you. His big arms are protective, and he’s warm, and you just sink into him.

Sometimes, you’ll fall asleep. Byran sometimes will fall asleep with you, other times he’ll gently lay you down and put a blanket with a gentle forehead kiss.

When you cry in his arms, he’ll wipe the tears away. He can feel them against his arm, and he doesn’t know what to do. Crying girls/guys are not his speciality.

But when you squeeze his arm back, to let you know what your there and that you love him, Byran will freeze. He has no idea what to next with words. He’ll put his hand over yours, and turns out; it works well.

After this is all over, he’ll check up on you and ask you simply if you’re okay. You respond with a smile. Byran isn’t one for smiles, but for you, he shows a subtle smile back. Just to let you know.

[gothgovernment]

In Bed With Geo (Louis Tomlinson One Shot)

December 2015

"Hi friends and welcome back to in bed with Geo. As you can see, today I'm in bed by myself. This video has been a long time coming, which makes filming it right now absolutely terrifying..." I trail off with a nervous laugh. "Because I was so nervous, I spent three hours getting ready just to avoid this for as long as possible." I smile into the camera before taking a moment to collect my thoughts.

"As I'm sure you've all heard, One Direction announced their hiatus today. I've known this was coming for a few weeks now and it breaks my heart to see this all come to an end. These guys are the reason I have a career. These guys are some of my best friends. These guys are the reason I'm still here. And I am so proud of them for doing what's right and taking a break now before they all burn out..." I start to tear up. Fuck this video is going to be a rough one to edit.

"So, this is my story of how One Direction, and one member in particular, impacted my life in the best way possible."

September 2011

"Welcome Mr Tanaka," the petite lady at the door said as she let my father and I into the party. It was packed with important looking people wearing their nicest suits and dresses. One Direction signs littered the walls as everyone celebrated the release of the boy bands first single 'What Makes You Beautiful'. My dad is a musician with Syco. He helped write and record the guitar for One Directions upcoming debut album. I've always admired his work and I am so proud of him for helping aspiring musicians to realize their dreams.

Dad turned to me and smiled while throwing his tattooed arm around me, "you look so beautiful tonight, honey." He always knew how to ease my nerves. I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear as I responded with a soft thanks. "I've got to go congratulate the boys, want to come meet them?"

"Of course! I've only been asking you to introduce me since your first session with them," I giggled as Dad stuck his tongue out at me. I quickly grabbed a glass of champagne from a tray a waitress was carrying before following dad in the direction of 5 young lads. As we approached them, beautiful blue eyes locked with mine. I smiled politely at the handsome boy as Dad and I came to a stop in front of the group. He returned the smile and stuck his hand out for me to shake.

"Ahh so you're Geo. Izuki here has not shut up about you! I'm Louis," he said cheekily, giving my dad a playful nudge on the shoulder after our hands parted.

"Oh really? What has he said about me? All good things I assume," I bite back a smile as I see Dad rolling his eyes at us. Dad has told me a lot about the boys, but especially Louis. He seems to think we are destined to be friends.

"Alright, give it a rest," my Dad huffed with a smirk, "Boys!" My dad called to grab the attention of the remaining four band members. "This is my daughter Geo. Geo, this is Zayn, Harry, Liam and Niall." They all took turns shaking my hand with Harry even giving me a hug. "Right well, I'm leaving Geo with you while I go and talk business." Dad quickly turned and walked away, leaving me with these strangers. I watched Dad walk away before slowly turning back to the boys, immediately locking eyes with Louis again.

I spent the next 3 hours being dragged around the party by Louis, being introduced to countless important people. Something about this boys carefree and almost childish nature made me feel instantly attached to him. He is just so unapologetically himself all the time, it's almost contagious.

We had just finished raiding the food table when Louis asked me, "so, Geo... what are your plans for the future? Izuki has mentioned you're an incredible drummer." I should have known my Dad would talk about my drumming. It is, after all, his greatest achievement in me. Instilling me with a passion for music is the reason we are so close to each other. After my mother suddenly passed away, connecting through music has gotten us through our grief.

"Well right now my dream is to work as a drum tech but I also have an idea for a YouTube channel where I interview musicians, in my bed, pyjamas on, and ask them real questions. I want to talk to people about how their lives have influenced their music. How being in the industry impacts them. I want to know about their families, their hopes and dreams. I want to talk to artists like real people. Get to know why they are in this industry and if it's worth it. If the pros outweigh the cons... But that's just a fantasy. I would have no idea where to even start. I mean, the only musicians I really know are my dad and now you." I fiddle with the ring on my middle finger, realizing I just gave a much longer than necessary answer. Louis' silence causes me to look away from my ring and toward him. He is looking at me, mouth agape. His face suddenly splits into a smile which instantly helps to ease my slowly growing anxiety.

"You're a very interesting girl, Geo. Very interesting indeed..." He trails off as he quickly pulls out his phone, texting someone rapidly.

~

It's now close to midnight and Dad has decided to call it a night. As I bid farewell to the boys in the form of hugs, I reach Louis last.

"So..." I made eye contact with the Doncaster boy. "is there any chance I could grab your number? Ya know, in case you ever feel like making that dream a reality?" The cheeky glint in his eye makes me nervous.

"What? You want to come on my imaginary show?" Surely he was just being polite. No way would he actually want to waste his time on an interview that would maybe get 6 views.

"I text the lads about it earlier and we're all on board. It sounds like a brilliant idea. I fully believe in you, love." Okay wow, this feels like a dream. THE X Factor boy band One Direction want to be interviewed by me?

"If you're trying to make me swoon, you've achieved your goal," I giggle, pulling my phone out of my purse and handing it to him. When he returns my phone I see that he had text himself 'sup u sexy fuck'. I burst out laughing before giving him a long hug, whispering a goodbye in his ear.

December 2015

"I met One Direction in 2011 at the single launch for 'What Makes You Beautiful'. My dad was the guitarist for all of the recording and writing of Up All Night. All the boys instantly accepted me into their lives. Especially my now best friend Louis Tomlinson. After talking to Lou about wanting to start this channel, he immediately encouraged me and we set up the first ever 'In Bed With... One Direction'. That video gained 400,000 views within six months and affectively created my career. My whole life as I know it is owed to Lou. If it wasn't for his complete and utter faith in me, I don't think I would be here today." I start to cry, reminiscing on beautiful memories. I take a sip of my tea and think for a moment. I really wish L was here right now, but I know we would both be blubbering messes. I need to do this alone. For once, I need to do something without relying on him.

"Since my first interview with One Direction my channel has blown up. It has afforded me this house, my friends, the opportunity to meet some of my biggest idols and most importantly it has moulded me into the strong and powerful woman I am today. So I want to take this opportunity to thank you boys. Louis, Harry, Zayn, Niall and Liam. I love each of you more than I can put into words."

My phone buzzes beside me and I pick it up. 'Big Louser' sent me a text.

baby g, you okay? youve

not text me in a week :(

I sighed as I put the phone back down. I should have known he'd pick up on me semi-ghosting him. I have been so nervous around him ever since he and Eleanor split up about 9 months ago. It's like, I finally have my chance to tell him how I feel but I am so scared of losing the best part of my life. That's why, when he called me about a month ago to say the band had finally come to the conclusion of going on an extended break, I knew I had to make this video. So that the world can know and remember how important Louis and the rest of the lads are. And so that Lou can finally know how I feel. I pick my phone back up, knowing I should reply.

I'm sorry L. I promise

I'll make it up to you.

I'm filming a new video

right now that will be up

later tonight. I'll send

you the link when it's up!

Love you x

I turn my phone onto do not disturb and return my focus to the camera. "I want to talk a little bit about each of the boys from a friends perspective. Firstly, I would like to talk about Zayn. Z, you are one of the gentlest, kindest people I have ever met. You have dealt with so much during and after your time with the band. The constant racist and Islamophobic tweets and comments really wore you down a lot more than you'd let on. But Z, you would always rise above them, knowing that your culture made you into the incredible person you are today." I pause, hesitant about what I am going to say next. I would hate to overstep any boundaries here.

Choosing my words carefully, I continue. "Leaving the band must have been the toughest decision anyone could make. I remember you texting me about two months after you left to ask if I thought you'd made the right choice leaving behind your friends, your brothers. Your concern wasn't about if this would affect your future career, it was if it affected your friends. That's the epitome of the Zayn I love." I knew I would edit in a few videos I have of Z and I over the years throughout this mini speech.

I have a video of Zayn and I napping together on the couch in the green room before their show in Sydney in February of this year. He'd been really anxious about the first show of the tour and the nerves wore him out. We were originally sat together, talking about how huge this tour was going to be when he drifted off to sleep with me in his arms. I soon followed after and we napped for two hours before he was woken up to get his hair done. Who would have known that just a few weeks later he would crumble under the pressure and quit. I wish I noticed the warning signs.

"Liam 'good game' Payne, where do I begin? You are my brother, my teammate, my friend. You have always been my favourite person to play Fifa with. I remember a week after my Dad died, I heard the doorbell ring and when I opened it, you were standing there with a dozen of my favourite red velvet cupcakes and your PS4 controller. We played together in silence for hours. Once I was finally ready to talk, you stayed awake with me until 6am, sharing stories about my Dad, our lives and talking about our futures. I will always cherish you, no matter how frustrating you can be." Again, I know exactly what videos to edit in of Liam and I. One of them is him, wearing a crop top and skirt voguing after I did a full glam makeup look on him. He's going to hate me for posting it.

"Haz. My love. My guiding star. I would be a complete disaster without you. Although you are the worlds worst replier and you never answer when I call, you always seem to text me or show up at my house right when I feel like I'm falling apart. It's like the universe has linked you to me. You're my crisis line, and I am yours. I cannot even begin to count all the nights we have lied on the couch together just crying. Happy crying, sad crying, angry crying... It would almost have to be as many nights that we have spent laughing together. H, you were destined to be a rockstar. I can't think of any other job you could be more suited to. I know this is just the beginning for you, and I honestly can't wait to see you grow." I still cannot believe that my baby H is only 21 yet has achieved more than most people do in their entire lifetime. "I love you almost as much as I love apple pie." I am full on crying now. That last sentence really broke me. He and I have an inside joke that nothing in this world is better than a homemade apple pie. We would often text each other about incredible/rare/unique moments and rate them on an apple pie scale.

"Horan. I don't really have much I can say here because 90% of our conversations are inside jokes but I will say this; you have changed my life in such a unique way. I know we've had our differences, but I wouldn't change any of it. You're the one person who can make me laugh no matter what mood I'm in. You are such a light to this world. Without you in this band, I think the boys would've collapsed under the pressure a long time ago. Without you, this industry would've swallowed up every bit of joy they have. You have kept all of us sane with your stupid, loud laughter and irritatingly optimistic attitude. Please never, ever change for anyone you precious wanker." I know that I might seem a bit harsh towards Niall, but this is how we speak to each other. We've always been way too honest and, at times, cynical with only each other. He truly is one of a kind. Niall and I haven't shared as many moments together as I have with the other boys, but the moments we've had are definitely special.

"And last but certainly not least, Louis 'dumb fuck' Tomlinson. I don't even know if I can put into words how you have changed my life. You are my favourite person in this entire universe. Without you, there's a good chance I wouldn't be alive today. You are the reason I have so much self-worth, confidence and happiness within myself. You have single-handedly gotten me through some of my deepest depressions. I can't imagine my life without you. I've been trying to think about what story best represents how you're truly an incredible friend. I decided that although everything you do is a testament to how amazing you are, I would tell the one that made me cry the most.

"The year was 2013, I was 20 years old and I experienced my first heartbreak. My girlfriend of 2 years cheated on me with multiple people. I called you up, crying so hard I couldn't form a sentence. You sat patiently on the phone with me for an hour, never knowing what was wrong, just waiting for me to calm down. When I finally just hung up because I couldn't string two words together you text me that you love me. Six hours later and you walked into my bedroom, pulled me into your arms and laid with me for two days. You flew home early from your press tour without any idea of what was wrong with me. You just knew I was upset and you pushed everything aside to be there for me. When I finally told you what had happened, you hugged me tighter, looked me in the eyes and said, "you are the most perfect person in the world and you deserve to be with someone who recognises that." I think it was then that I realised that I'm completely and utterly in love with you. But you were with Eleanor, whom I adore still to this day. I would never have wanted to ruin what you two had. Because all I've ever wanted since I met you is for you to be happy. And El always made you happy." A sob escapes my mouth as I think of how broken hearted I have felt over the last few years, knowing that my true love would never be mine.

I decide to talk some time to cool down, so I walk to my kitchen to make another cup of tea. While I wait for the jug to boil, I rub my finger over my tiny teacup tattoo. Lou and I got matching tattoos not long after the boys finished recording 'Little Things'. He showed me the song and I fell in love with his verse, so we went out that afternoon and got our tattoos together, his shout. I walk back into the bedroom, press record on the camera again and get comfortable.

"When you called me up crying because you and Eleanor split up, I came straight over and returned the favour. I lived at your house for a week, doing anything I could to make you happy again. And then you went back on tour, and I returned home, and I've never felt so alone. After that week of us spending every second of every day together I realised that you're my soulmate. There's no one I want to be around more than you. And I know you're going to be so mad that I'm posting this video instead of texting you back but I want the whole world to know that you are perfect."

I finished the video with a few happier stories about my time with the boys, then wrapped it up. This was going to be an emotional afternoon.

~

Pressing public on that video was strange. I almost felt numb after all the emotions I had poured out while filming and editing it. I immediately text the link to all 5 boys and went to have a shower. The video was about 20 minutes long so I expected their responses would be a little while away. What I didn't expect was to walk out of the shower and into my bedroom to see Louis sitting on the end of my bed, tears streaming down his face.

We made eye contact once he realized I had entered the room. Frozen in my spot, Louis took the initiative of standing up and walking towards me. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" His voice broke as he spoke, tears threatening to spill. I tried to form words but I was too scared of the impending rejection. "Geo. We're best friends. Why didn't you talk to me? I thought that... I..." His words trailed off as the tears streamed down his face. He looked down at his feet, he always gets embarrassed when he cries. I gently grab his right hand, causing him to make eye contact again.

"I am so, so, so sorry Lou. I didn't know what to say or how to say it. I guess I thought saying it indirectly would make this easier but it's so much harder than I ever could have imagined." I look away from his bloodshot, blue eyes and focus on my hand in his. "I'm in love with you. I think I always have been... And I'm sorry that this will make our friendship weird now. I don't expect you to ever want to talk to me again to be honest."

"How fucking dare you think that. If you think I could live without you, you're insane." Louis swiftly pulled me towards him with his free hand, kissing me with all the love he could possibly give.

[lunatens]

too much to ask

word count: 1.5k

genre: angst :((

pairing: hwang hyunjin x gender neutral reader

requested by anonymous <3

a/n: i don’t write angst often but this is probably the most angsty thing i’ve ever written lolol pls enjoy i hope it makes u sad also if anyone wants a sequel lemme know bc i feel so bad doing best boy hyunjin like this 

112520 update: here’s the sequel!

~

“happy birthday to me,” you sing lowly to yourself as you take another swig of your drink. it’s nearly midnight--meaning your birthday will be over in a mere few minutes--and hyunjin still isn’t home. you haven’t seen him all day, except for when he gave you a quick kiss when he left early in the morning with whispers of “i’ll see you tonight, babe. happy birthday,” as he quietly slipped out the door. 

honestly, you had high hopes for today. you’ve generally been understanding of hyunjin’s busy schedule, and while it’s hard for him to be busy or overseas so often you’ve gotten used to it. sure, it meant a lot of holidays or anniversaries or celebrations spent alone, and it always hurts, but you’ve learned to accept hyunjin can’t be with you all the time. 

but he promised you he’d be home early from practice today so the two of you could spend the entire evening and night together--a rare occurrence, most times you have to settle on just a video chat or something. so hyunjin promising to spend the evening together was a big deal, and you couldn’t help but get your hopes up. of course you support hyunjin’s career and you always will, but you’d be lying to say you don’t crave a normal relationship where you can actually be with each other.

you had sat there for god knows how long staring out the window, eagerly waiting for hyunjin’s arrival. as the shadows grew long and a dusty haze darkened the sky, your heart sank deeper and deeper while your apartment remained silent. no loud laughter or terrible, over the top renditions of “happy birthday” echoing through the walls; no smell of blown-out candles or taste of sweet frosting on your lips. most importantly, no kisses that taste like sprinkles or soft hugs or hours spent in hyunjin’s arms like you were expecting. you haven’t even heard from your boyfriend since he’s been out, and you find yourself thinking at least a “sorry running late” text would be nice.

all of the day’s increasingly sad events--or lack thereof--are what has led you to your current state: lying sprawled out on the couch in the dark with your drink in one hand and the tv remote in the other as you flick through channels. you notice the slight buzz of alcohol making your head feel a little fuzzy--perhaps you’re balancing the line of tipsy and drunk.

you’re so out of it you barely register the key in the lock or the creak of the door as it swings open. the quietness of how hyunjin removes his coat and shoes tells you he’s trying to avoid you noticing him right away--he’s being cautious, you know he’s unsure of how to handle this situation. you glance at the clock and aren’t sure whether to laugh or cry; it’s 12:01--he’s missed your birthday by a single minute.

you opt for ignoring hyunjin, wanting to see how he treats the situation. honestly, your thoughts are too cloudy to even try and piece words together, so silence seems like the best option for now. you remain your channel surfing, eventually settling on an animal documentary. on-screen, you watch as a herd of elephants traverse a large expanse of desert. the room is silent, besides the quiet narration of the elephants’ journey, but you know hyunjin’s still there.

after what seems like an eternity, you pick up on the tentative shuffling footsteps that make their way to the couch. you feel arms snake their way around you from behind, but you don’t reciprocate.

“i’m so sorry, y/n” he mumbles, climbing over the couch to sit beside you. he studies your face, but you continue staring at the tv ahead. a baby elephant is now approaching a mud hole in search of water. you try to focus on the elephants and not how upset you are at how your rare chance at having a fun night together was taken away from you. you’re trying not to think about how you’re always so patient with hyunjin, and you put up with so, so much, and the one day that’s meant to celebrate you has been ruined. was it too much to ask for just one day--scratch that, a mere evening together? apparently it was, you think to yourself, and you try to remain stoic but you can’t stop the teardrops from silently trickling down your cheek. the elephant on-screen slips and falls into the mudhole, trumpeting feebly as it struggles to climb out. 

“y/n, i’m so sorry.”hyunjin says again, this time pulling your body close to his so he can hold you tightly and stroke your hair gently like he always does to soothe you. this action makes it worse; now you feel like you shouldn’t be mad at him, it’s probably not his fault. but you still are mad, and you can’t seem to redirect this anger. you still remain limp, not responding at all to hyunjin’s attempts at reconciliation. the alcohol clouding your thoughts does nothing to help the situation, and you find you’re having trouble processing the whirlwind of emotions running through you.

“i just--i tried to leave after practice, which already was running late,but seungmin was struggling with a part of the choreo so i-”

“you promised.” you cut him off, voice quiet but stern--almost stern, actually, as your voice waivers a bit at the end. hyunjin shuts up, taking the cue not to make any excuses. he quietly waits for your response, and you can feel his heart beating loud in his chest. you know he’s feeling immense guilt right now and is doing his best to not set off any land mines, and you almost feel bad for him for a moment, but the pang in your chest when you finally look at him with tear-stained cheeks reminds you how hurt you are. 

“you promised, hyunjin. you promised we’d have this one evening together, and i was dumb enough to actually get excited to be able to spend time with my boyfriend for once but now i realize that was so stupid of me, how could i be so stupid hyunjin?? this should’ve been like every other holiday or celebration where i sit alone wishing you were here and you’re out with your friends having fun and touring the world, i always miss you when that happens and it sucks but at least it doesn’t hurt as bad as this does,” the words start spilling from your mouth, and you’re not sure how much hyunjin can even understand from your mildly slurred speech, but you’re sure he’s got the gist of it.

“y/n, i--”

“i wish i never met you.” you mutter, half to yourself. your voice is barely audible at all, in fact you wouldn’t even be sure you said it if it wasn’t for the way hyunjin’s face fell. you watch how the colour drains from his face and he stares at you with wide eyes and speechless lips, you can see the heartbreak written across his face. hyunjin responds softly, trying his best to keep his composure.

“y-you don’t mean that,” he says with uncertainty, now avoiding eye contact. you merely glare at him in response, you want to tell him you didn’t mean it and you take it all back but you know that’s not entirely true. as much as you love hyunjin so, so much, this loneliness and heartbreak is just so hard sometimes, and it makes you question whether this relationship is worth it. sometimes you just think it would be so much easier if you’d never met hyunjin, you wouldn’t know this kind of pain.

hyunjin’s breath hitches at your silence, and he runs his fingers through his hair--a constant habit of his. without looking back up at you, he speaks once again, voice low. 

“okay, well uh, i-i think i’m going to head to bed then. i lov--happy birthday, y/n.” he mutters, and with those words, he slowly makes his way to your shared bedroom. in your peripheral vision, you catch him turn to look at you when he reaches the doorway, but you continue staring blankly at the tv. it’s not long before his slender figure disappears from sight and you hear the door quietly click behind him.

on the tv screen, you notice the elephant has fallen into the mud pit and is struggling to climb free. the herd in the distance doesn’t seem to notice this struggle, and the elephant sinks deeper into the mud each time it tries to escape. you check your phone to see the time and your wallpaper photo of you and hyunjin together is enough to open the flood gates. silent tears stream down your face as you lie alone on the couch, pulling the blanket tight to you and trying not to think about how falling asleep without hyunjin beside you (yet knowing he’s in the room next to you) just feels so wrong. it’s safe to say this has been the worst birthday ever, you think to yourself as your drunkenness finally lulls you to sleep.

[coeurdastronaute]

Kiwi 11

Previously on Kiwi

Nothing could have been more welcomed than the spring. And not the beginning of the spring, but rather the full blown, wonderful, lush and verdant, alive and living, blooming and warm and sunshine afternoons. It brought about the feeling of new and completeness, of happiness that wasn’t hardfought. 

“Give. Me. The cookie!” Lexa yelled and she plodded her way through the park, hands up and jagged, like the monster she was portraying. 

Tiny legs waddled through the grass, squealing with delight as the auntie teased and tripped over herself, flummoxing her way around in the sunshine and grass. But laid flat on her stomach, morally defeated the monster watched the little bare feet approach and giggle before poking her cheek. 

“Aunt Lexie?”

“GrrrRRrrr.” 

“No, no bad.” 

“Please?” Lexa asks, tilting her head to the side as she squints, hair messy and obstructing much of her view. “Pretty please?”

“No more bad.” 

Not even two yet, her nephew was precocious and she had a soft spot for his tiny shirts and socks and dimples and hair and snores. Their tour came with a nanny now, and she was okay with it because he was the best way to spend a few hours detoxing from the blitz of traveling around the world.��

“You’ll share with me please?” she asked, sounding a little sad and sticking out her bottom lip. 

A piece of cookie was fed to her as a little boy squatted near her, gently feeding as if she were an animal in a petting zoo. She wasn’t sure how to explain to someone how much moments like this saved her life. How stale animal crackers and tiny fingers who pet her head and told her no more bad as the sunshine drifted in between the waving branches of the trees in the park as everyone spoke French around them and her sister lounged on the blanket, rocking her foot to the imaginary beat of the afternoon harmonies. 

“We have to head back to the hotel soon,” the adult explained as she turned a page and caught sight of her watch. “Indra scheduled a meeting.” 

“It’s our off day.” 

“I don’t think we actually have those.” 

“I can’t hear you, I’m napping.” 

“You’re less cooperative than a toddler, just so you know.” 

“I already knew.” 

“I’m going to tell Clarke.” 

“She knows too.” 

Lexa smiled to herself and pressed her face into the soft blades of grass while her nephew plopped down near her, still rubbing her hair gently, making more of a mess of it than usual. Nothing was going to get accomplished today, not with spring around them and hopeful enough to distract from the tiredness of the second half of the tour and the start of festival season. 

“She’s coming along soon, huh?” 

“Just over a week,” Lexa smiled and closed her eyes. “Dublin.” 

“Ah, the city of love. If only we went on tour and hit the actual City of Love… Oh, wait…” 

“She had to wrap up her internship and then promised to come on vacation and see some of Europe with us.” 

“You say us, like Clarke is going to be hanging out with me and the kiddo.” 

“Sometimes,” Lexa shrugged. “If you want to see her and stuff.” 

“I’d like to get to know her, if you’ll keep her around.” 

On the grass, Lexa stretched and basked in a little bit of sunshine. She savored the feeing of the dirt and the grass and the toddler that threw himself onto her stomach while her sister hinted at getting to know her girlfriend. 

“Can you remind me not to do anymore tours ever again?” 

“I would, but you’ve already got the workings of another album in the works,” Anya squinted and tossed her book down. 

“No, I refuse. I’m taking a vacation.” 

“You say that now.” 

“I haven’t taken a proper vacation in like six years.” 

“What about rehab?” 

Lexa scoffed and furrowed, rolling her eyes at the idea that she had any sort of fun while pulling the toxins from her body. That the inability to move from her bed, that the shaking and the sick and the ache and the pain-- none of it was a vacation in any form. But Lexa used it. She savored the pain, even when it was enough to make her want to kill herself, because it was her cosmic retribution for everything else she did to her sister. 

But she would never say it was a vacation.

“If that’s what a woman’s gotta do to get a break, I guess I’m due.” 

“I’ll kill you myself next time.” 

“I might take you up on that.” 

The siblings smiled at each other. Lexa smiled as she felt a tiny head nuzzle under her neck. It was perfect, and Lexa was getting good at appreciating these things. 

XXXXXXXXXX

There weren’t so much jitters anymore as there had been before. From time to time, Lexa would feeling a little more amped up than normal when putting on for a particularly raucous crowd. But in the tedium of such a long tour, the almost day-to-day schedule didn’t really get her up in arms anymore. 

But there was a ritual to it all. Most of her day was perfectly coordinate by her manager and a publicist and an entire corporate army of people whose sole job it was to make her bband a success, and as she got older and sober, she realized how good they were at it, and how easy her life could become if she let it. 

And what no one seemed to point out, or at least not that she could remember, was that if she listened and was receptive and prompt, her days led to more free time. It was an actual wonder to see it function as it should. 

The nerves came slowly, and though they never reached the former, paralyzing level, they still grew the closer it got. Lexa took the edge off with stretching and playing video games before the meet and greets, and between that and the set, she read and kept quiet, to herself, away from people. She was about to be pelted with thousands of voices, and having none was her permanent pre-detox. 

Sometimes, she watched the opener, proud of their growth. Sometimes she called Clarke, depending on the time zone. 

Mostly, Lexa sat in her green room and waited, itched, ahed to play. The nerves came from an eagerness to wreck herself on stage.

“Can we skip the hand squeezing after tonight?” Lexa asked as Indra swept into the green room, eyes fixed pointedly on her phone screen as she typed some response. “I went for a run yesterday and I need to recover.” 

“Where’s Anya?” 

“You can just tell me, you don’t have to wait for Anya.” 

“She’s nicer to me; she doesn’t ask for ridiculous favors like avoiding wealthy and famous and connected people who play your records.” 

“Not to your face,” the guitarist grumbled.

“How kind of her. But this is something I need her help with.” 

“Maybe I can help.” 

“I don’t know,” she shook her head and shoved her phone in her pocket. “I think… This is a tough... “

To many, they wouldn’t see how much Indra cared about the two sisters. They were her bounce back to the big times. She discovered them, brought them up, showed them the ropes, kept them as safe as she could. She celebrated the highs, the hits, the shows, and she was there for the lows, for the rehab, for the relapse. She lived for them, giving up all other clients, traveling with them part-time. She was protective because they were her’s. 

“You’re going to have Anya tell me whatever news you’re about to break?”

“Yes,” Indra nodded, earning a smile. 

“Coward.” 

“You could be nicer to me-- I’m letting your girlfriend come along for a few weeks.” 

“You like Clarke.” 

“I do, which makes this a little more difficult.” 

“I’ve never seen you have difficulties telling me anything before. This must be bad. Did we get dropped from the label? Am I under arrest? Embarrassing pictures leaking? My porn history hacked?” 

“Not that I’m aware of,” Indra sighed, mentally making a note to have all internet-capable devices double checked. “This is more of something that I want to prepare you for, but I’m trying to be considerate of your sobriety.” 

“Oh, yikes,” Lexa furrowed and turned around, facing her friend who looked like she struggled with these words more than ever before. “Well, I’m in a good place. I’ve been working the meetings. Honestly, I can handle anything.” 

“Tonight there’s-- Well… What I mean is the... “ she took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Where is Anya?” 

“Probably changing the kid. She likes to put him down before our shows. I told you to ban him from the tour. The whole lot of them. Anya and the kid and the husband, exhausting.” 

“Costia is coming to the show tonight.”

The name hurt. It hit her like a ton of bricks. In any string of words put together in the world, she never imagined that Indra would put those words together. 

“Weird. She hates my shows.” 

“She’s promoting a movie she’s in for a second, and she’ll be in town. She knows it’ll generate buzz and rumors.” 

“You’ve spoken to her publicist then?” Lexa nodded to herself, keeping it all business. That would help, she convinced herself. 

“I did. It… it didn’t go well. We basically got the message that it’s happening no matter what, and we should prepare, and there’s no stopping it.” 

“Couldn’t you just ban her?” 

“And then the story is about how you’re still hung up on her. If she comes here, it’s her that’s hung up on you.” 

“Is she?” 

She hadn’t meant to sound interested, and she wasn’t actually. She hadn’t thought about Costia in a long time, but suddenly she had to think about her, and that was hard. Awkwardly, her agent shifted and took a deep breath, strongly disliking this conversation. 

“I mean, who wouldn't be?” 

“Don’t manage me.” 

“It was a good line though, wasn’t it?” Indra offered a small grin. 

“I don’t care. Do I have to see her?” The manager pursed her lips and Lexa groaned. “I need to call Clarke before this hits the waves.” 

“Want to hit a meeting after all of this? I’ll go with you.” 

“I’ll let you know.” 

“Hey, you almost ready to go on?” Anya stuck her head into the room. 

“Oh, now you show up,” Indra shook her head and brushed past her.

“What’s her problem?” 

Lexa just shook her head and turned back toward the mirror. 

XXXXXXXXXX

The sweat was just starting to cool on her neck when her sister stalked toward her, and Lexa knew she was in trouble, even if she didn’t know what for just yet. The euphoria wouldn’t go away. She was still on that high and the stadium was still changing her name despite the encore and there really weren’t drugs that could compete with something like that, even with Anya’s angry face. 

“So that’s why you switched up the set list for the encore.” 

Hands on her hips, she stopped in front of her sister, blocking her off from the rest of the world, cornered and toweling the sweat off of her neck and forehead. 

“Thought we could just do a few different songs tonight,” Lexa shrugged. 

“Indra should have told me. You should have told me.” 

“Why? It’s just a normal night.” 

“That dumb bitch got you hooked--”

“Okay, hold on. You can’t blame her for my actions. Costia didn’t--”

“Don’t defend her!” Anya yelled. 

Lexa had seen her sister mad. She’d made her mad from time to time, believe it or not. She was good at it, but it was never real anger, never this real kind of bite to her words that she currently was exhibiting. This wasn’t a time to reason with her or nitpick word choice. 

In all honesty, Lexa just wanted the night to end. 

Her legs were sore, her brain was a little distracted, and she knew she was gong to wake up to very stupid rumors. But she’d be one day closer to her girlfriend arriving. She smiled, thinking about Tinder’s numbers. 

“You’ll be with me. We’ll do the stupid hand shaking and after party thing, and be on our way. I’m fine, by the way.” 

“You changed the songs.” 

“Yeah.” 

She looked guilty at the admission as her sister sized up the result of the news. 

“You played her song.” 

“The only songs I play are mine.” 

It was a lie, but her sister didn’t push. 

“We’ll do a meeting tomorrow. Two if you want.” 

“Can we just take it hour by hour. I’m honestly fine. I don’t want to think about it too much.” 

“Okay.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Does Clarke know?” Anya ventured, softening slightly. 

“Yeah, I called her before we went on. That was an awkward conversation.” 

“What did you say? Hey, my ex is here and I have to see her for very stupid and very commercial reasons?” 

“Basically, but with a lot of ‘please don’t be mad at me’s thrown in for good measure.” 

Anya smiled and put her arm over her sister’s shoulders before steering her toward the dressing room. 

“You should send her flowers tomorrow.” 

“Already ordered.” 

“Thata girl. I knew you were trainable.” 

XXXXXXXX

It wasn’t hard to see Costia, and that was the hard part. She was beautiful. She was still beautiful. She would always be beautiful. It wasn’t hard to be in the same room as her because she was light and airy, she was wind and wild and illuminating to anyone that came within her orbit. She was intoxicating so that nothing made sense and you did things you normally wouldn’t do, but it was okay, because she had the capacity to see you and believe in you and make you believe in yourself. She was effervescent, and Lexa hated that word because no one was ever actually effervescent-- except for Costia. 

She wasn’t a bad person, contrary to what Anya might think. In fact, often she was a very good person who held doors for strangers and was the type to discreetly tell you there was food in  your mouth before following it up with a compliment about your shoes and the next thing you knew, you were best friends and it was a week later and you didn’t know how you got to St. Tropez. 

It wasn’t hard to see Costia-- it was actual torture. 

Costia smelled like coke in Barbados. She tasted like lines off tanned thighs. She looked like two yellow pills and a tab on a tongue. She was a numbness that made Lexa itch like she hadn’t itched before and she wondered if she was still in love with her. 

And all of this happened in a room full of people who had no idea. 

The niceties of the party were done and the evening stretched. Anya kept an eye on her sister and Lexa was grateful for it. She needed it, she realized; not because she was afraid of doing anything, but just that she was very afraid of being alone. 

“I recognize that look,” Costia whispered as she slipped beside Lexa, weaving through the crowd to find her alone in a corner. 

“I don’t have looks.” 

“You are desperately planning your escape.” 

“Just trying to find my sister,” Lexa disagreed, avoiding looking at her. 

If she glanced, she would have seen her shoulders, bare and sun-kissed. She would have seen the familiar slope of her nose and the stupid little scar on the corner of her jaw that she felt very self-conscious about despite it being half an inch and unnoticeable to anyone who wasn’t intimately-- Nope. She wouldn’t glance. 

Her palms were sweaty, and she gripped the glass of water tighter in her hand. 

“You look good, by the way. I don’t think I told you that. We didn’t really get a chance to chat, though I imagine that’s by Indra’s design.” 

“She’s good at her job.” 

Costia chuckled and Lexa felt her throat close. 

“I followed your lead. Clean for 4 months.” 

“That’s really good. You look,” Lexa gulped and looked at her ex, cursory and strictly for show. “You look good.” 

“Thank you, for doing this, for coming tonight,” Costia offered, taking the chance of meeting Lexa’s eyes finally to be earnest and grateful. “I know it’s stupid, but our paths crossed and we need all the publicity we can for this movie. It’s stupid--’ She tucked a stray curl behind her ear and Lexa died. 

“It’s not. I’m proud you’re branching out. I wasn’t going to do anything else tonight anyway.” 

She got sized up with that comment and she felt it. Deep amber eyes searched her face and plump lips curled up the faintest amount. Only someone acquainted with those lips would see it and appreciate. 

Lexa looked away immediately before taking a sip of her water. 

“We should get out of here and catch up.” 

If only Anya were around. Or Clarke. 

Clarke. 

Fuck. 

Lexa took a deep breath and let it out slowly, clearing all of the noise and the memories. 

“I promised my sister I wouldn’t leave without her. We have a show tomorrow, and this tour has been crazy. I’m running again and I ran yesterday but I want to do it again tomorrow.” 

“That was about six excuses rolled into one.”  

“I think the most important of all might be Clarke. I promised her I’d behave myself.”

“You don’t trust me?” 

It was the look. The same look she had before every wonderful thing that happened during their relationship. The look that Costia got before mischief was afoot-- before she tackled Lexa into bed, before she tossed her book aside and crawled into her lap, before she told her to ignore her phone and spend the weekend in a cabin. 

“No. I don’t.” 

She laughed and shook her head. 

“That’s fair. I’ve been fairly untrustworthy in the past.” 

“You can say that.” 

They were quiet for a moment and Anya caught Lexa’s eye from across the room and did her best to make her way over for the rescue. 

“So. Clarke. That’s an interesting name. How’d you meet?”

“Tinder.” 

“Wow. I wouldn’t have taken you for a dating app user.” 

“I’m not. It was for a radio interview game… almost a year ago, actually,” Lexa smiled to her chest as she recounted it. 

“How’s she doing with the whole,” she waved her hands in Lexa’s direction. “Rockstar thing.” 

“Anya doesn’t let me call myself that.” 

“It’s still true.” 

“She’s good. She’s... “ Lexa paused and smiled, unsure of how to describe her present versus the haze of memories she’d buried and been forced to excavate in the past fifteen minutes. “She’s sturdy. She’s steady. She’s gorgeous and funny and strong. She finds me impressive for the things I’m proud of being and she’s not bothered by the things everyone else latches onto. She’s a photographer. And messy but in a neat way-- like her mess isn’t unwieldy. It’s perfect. She’s like breathing, you know? When you sit at the bottom of the pool and then get a big gulp of air. That’s what she feels like.” 

Speechless, Costia stared at her ex as she realized she’d said many words. She recounted it all in her own head and felt each syllable like a knife creating small slits across her skin. 

“Wow. Where can I get one of those?” 

Lexa blushed to the tips of her ears and smiled, embarrassed and awkward as she sipped a little more. 

“Sorry, I just… I don’t get to talk about her much on the road.” 

“No, no… it was refreshing,” the model lied. “Have you written her songs yet?” 

“No.” 

It was Lexa’s turn to lie, though she didn’t consider it such. Not when she hadn’t published or really polished anything worthwhile. 

“That’s surprising. Did you tell her you were going to see me?” 

“Yeah, I called her before I went on tonight.”

“How’d she feel?” 

“Not great. But she understood.” 

“Sounds too good to be true.” 

“She’s… yeah. I don’t know. She’s my favorite person on the planet, honestly.” 

Before Costia could ask anything else, Anya was able to disentangle herself from the group that accumulated and found her sister. 

“I think you gave the reporters more than enough time together,” Anya muttered, disinterested in anything from Costia. “Ready to head out?” 

“Yeah, sounds good,” Lexa nodded. “It was great to catch up. I’d say let’s do it again, but I have a feeling our sponsors might say no.” 

“Or your girlfriend.” 

“Clarke?” Anya scoffed. “Nah. She’s too graceful to say something like that. But I will. I think we can say this was enough catching up for a century.” 

Costia nodded and looked back at Lexa who didn’t disagree with her sister, though she shook her head and tried to soften the blow. 

“That’s not true,” Lexa feigned politeness. “It really was good to see you, and I’m glad you’re doing so well.”

Costia leaned forward and hugged her ex. Lexa only used one arm and pulled away as quickly as possible. 

“You too, Lex,” she smiled. “I’ll see you around.” 

“Yeah, I hope so.” 

“I could go without it,” Anya interrupted. 

With a nod, Costia made her way back into the party and Lexa looked at her sister before earning a disapproving glance. 

“We were just catching up. She’s clean, and I know how hard it is sometimes.”

“You looked chummy.” 

“We actually were just chumming it up.” 

“She lives in a room behind a door that you don’t want to reopen. Leave her there, Lex.”

“I am.” 

“Good.”

NEXT

[vamonumentlandscape]

Poplar Forest & Bedford

When we first arrived at Poplar Forest that lies on the outskirts of Lynchburg in Bedford County, we were blown away by the beautiful landscape that surrounded Thomas Jefferson’s retreat. Our team had heard such good things about the historic site from those who work there, our professors, and fellow students, we knew it was a must see spot. When we walked into the visitors center, we were greeted by the most kind staff member that we have encountered at any historic site. He was helpful, sweet, and even asked us about our research. We felt very welcome as soon as we walked through the door. To begin the tour, we started with a fifteen minute video introduction to Poplar Forest. Before the tour began, we realized our tour guide seemed to have little enthusiasm when one man asked her if she was our tour guide and she responded with a flat “yes.” After that odd encounter, we watched the wonderfully done film on Jefferson’s retreat home. The short video captured the stories of Jefferson, the enslaved people who worked there, and the importance of the architecture of the site. We were all looking forward to the tour of the historic home and the rest of our day at Poplar Forest after this.

We began the tour outside of the octagonal mansion with our tour guide explaining the symmetric architecture that Jefferson wanted to experiment with. By combining all of the techniques he had seen in Europe, he created this small, yet grand mansion as his getaway. But, he is not the one who put the physical labor into creating this architectural masterpiece. The enslaved people of Poplar Forest are the real champions of constructing the illustrious home. Our tour guide made that clear when she described much of the back-breaking work the enslaved people, like John Hemings, put into the building. She pointed out the only asymmetric detail, the wing of the home, where the enslaved people spent most of their days cooking, cleaning, and keeping the home the way Jefferson wanted. Unlike other Jefferson designs, there was no other wing to complete the symmetry. As Travis McDonald would explain to us later, “the second wing is the million dollar question.” Speculation from staff who have greatly studied the wing says it was just unnecessary to add another space to the home. We walked a little further to see the newly reconstructed carriage turnaround to what it would have looked like in Jefferson’s day. At Poplar Forest, the staff has taken huge steps to ensure the complete correctness of their rebuilding of the home. Our tour guide made sure we knew this once we entered the home. We were all impressed by the moulding, exact replicas, and specificity of the measurements for the rooms. Not only is the representation of the home wonderfully done, but the interpretation was wonderful. Though our tour guide was a bit quiet and unenthused, she did not refrain from allowing Jefferson to be talked about as human and did not glorify him. She was able to express his architectural genius all the while letting us know he did not build one piece of it. He was wholly dependent on enslaved laborers to have his elitist lifestyle. It was encouraging to see a second site where Jefferson was able to be learned about earnestly and not in a God-like manner. Our tour guide also explained to us in the parlor room how he had a more familial side with his granddaughters who frequently accompanied him at Poplar Forest. In the last room, we got to see the room that mirrored Jefferson's bedroom. While his room was fully restored, this room was used as a progress room to show how the staff at Poplar Forest worked to recreate the Jeffersonian home after it had undergone fire and renovations from other residents. Also in this room was an original John Hemings door. This was a site to see as we all know that he was responsible for most of the ornate mouldings and doors in the original home. We all enjoyed the house tour and were incredibly impressed with all the work the staff at Poplar Forest has done in the short 40 years they have been a museum. In the grand scheme of things, 40 years and starting from scratch is not long for the project that they had ahead of them.

In the basement and the wing of the mansion is an exhibit dedicated to the enslaved workers of Poplar Forest. This was not a part of the house tour, but we made sure to see all that was displayed on our own. We saw the familiar name of John Hemings featured throughout. Without his tireless efforts, the home would not have been able to feature such unique architectural details. Though Thomas Jefferson was a master architect, he was never doing the hard work of actually building what he designed throughout his life. It was enlightening to see what archaeological finds have been discovered at the site. There was one display case that featured a series of items collected by rats in the attic of the home between 1846 and the 1960s, which was far beyond Thomas Jefferson’s ownership of the property. There were fragments of book pages, newspapers, clothes, and more. We walked over to see what was displayed in the wing between the east side of the home and the east mound, and we were amazed to find the kitchen with fireplaces, hearths, and a cook’s quarters. On display in one of the rooms was a letter from Hannah, an enslaved woman, written to Thomas Jefferson. In the letter, she expresses sadness about his inability to visit Poplar Forest that Fall and she also paraphrased the Bible - “we ought to serve and obey his commandments that you may set to win the prize and after glory run.” We believe this letter clearly shows a level of hopelessness and despair within Hannah, but it also depicts a unique dynamic of an enslaved person being allowed the ability to write. This must have been a unique circumstance. We are extremely pleased with the archaeological excavations done to bring the Wing of Offices back to their original form. Past the East mound are structures of the era beyond Thomas Jefferson’s ownership of the property and contained the living quarters of enslaved people during the antebellum era up through emancipation. There was a small exhibit in one of the spaces that allowed further learning about the enslaved. Down the hill and near a modern residential community is a reconstructed enslaved person quarters known as the North Hill site. It was built with logs and had a chimney lined with clay to avoid the spread of fires. A small garden likely existed since food rations were so limited. It was amazing to see the basic shape and size of what the enslaved lived within and is a stark contrast to the extravagance of the mansion. Reconstructing such structures allow sites like Poplar Forest to share the hard, yet necessary, truths of what enslavement looked like.

Our last stop after the gift shop at Poplar Forest was to Travis McDonald’s office. McDonald is the Director of Architectural Restoration at Poplar Forest. He has been with the foundation from the very beginning. His skills of being an architect, a restorationist, and a historian in his own right made him the perfect candidate for the position he has held for over 30 years. We were all so thankful that we got the opportunity to speak with him about Jefferson’s historic retreat. As we sat down in his office, the walls were lined with shelves encasing what seemed to be hundreds of books. On his desk and floor there were even more. The books that caught our attention were the Annette Gordon-Reed books, The Hemings of Monticello and Thomas Jefferson and Sally Hemings. His devotion to the ever evolving story of Jefferson was told to us before he even began talking. He told us right off the bat that Poplar forest “strives for historical accuracy over idealistic perceptions.” Since we have been to many historic sites across the state this summer, we have seen a few places that do the opposite. It is so impressive that the foundation has wanted to do this from the very beginning. They have cut no corners in perfection - literally. He explained to us that Jefferson was not the originator of his own ideas, but a master of self-education. He was able to learn and combine many pre-existing cutting edge architectural techniques. From masters of the art like Andrea Palladio, Jefferson was able to utilize his knowledge and European ideas to create his own style. McDonald continued to give us wisdom when he connected his specialty of architecture to history. “Architecture is a lot like history. It gets reinterpreted as new evidence is found and progress can be made.” Our last question for McDonald was about his feelings towards the current issues of Confederate monuments. His answer blew all of us away as it contained sincere emotion and toiled thought. “I had to separate myself from seeing them as art and architecture. As a professional architect and restorationist, that is how I saw and appreciated them for a long time. But now, I have been able to separate myself from that and see what they truly mean.” It was enlightening to hear a professional who has been in his field for decades to share his feelings with us. Travis McDonald was so welcoming and we are so thankful to have had the opportunity to gain insight from him.

We ventured into the small town of Bedford after visiting Poplar Forest. In our earliest research, we found an article on “The War Between the States Museum'' at the Bedford Museum and Genealogical Library. Just from the title, we knew we needed to go see whatever it was. Of course, “the war between the states” is a lost cause term to amplify that states rights was the reason for the Civil War instead of the obvious cause: slavery. We went in and it was a dark, dimly lit place. There were a few staff members and they were kind to us when we asked for admission in the museum. The gift shop was filled with outdated books, old postcards, and Confederate memorabilia, so we gained more insight onto what was ahead in the exhibit spaces. We took what the museum employee called the “slowest elevator in the county” up to the top floor where the exhibit on the “war between the states'' was displayed. We walk in and it is a large room with many glass cases. Again, very dim and not well lit, we strained our eyes to read the exhibits. The first exhibit you see in the space is on “Blacks Service.” All of our mouths dropped. It was an exhibit amplifying the myth of Black Confederates. Yes, Africa Americans served in the Confederacy, but not by their own will. They served as enslaved persons to those in the war. None of us could barely stand to be in the museum any longer after this, but we pushed through. Confederate flags were everywhere, the use of the word “Yankee”, and an exhibit on how Jefferson Davis’ release from prison was “a way to heal the deep divide between the U.S.” was on display. It was mind blowing to see this shrine to the Lost Cause only thirty minutes away from Randolph. At the end of the exhibit, we noticed a little sign on the wall that said the Sons of the Confederate Veterans still meet at least once a month in the room. We were all in disbelief from the complete bias and shrine-like nature of the museum. We traveled downstairs to see the other exhibits on local Native Americans, local African Americans, WWI, and WWII. The Native American exhibit looked like it was a project that the local middle school students put together. The information was not terrible, but the display was embarrassing. The information was presented at an education level for 5th graders, yet there was no signage dictating that it was a children’s exhibit. In the local African American exhibit, there were artifacts from the former all-Black high school, the African American sheriff who just retired, and Carol M. Swain, the African American conservative political science professor and Republican advocate. It was nice to see the information displayed about successful locals, but the message was clear. Overall, the museum experience was subpar. We all knew what we were walking into, but somehow it was worse than we could have imagined. We hope one day that the staff at the Bedford Museum and Genealogical Library will improve their interpretation.

Before we left the town of Bedford, we took a close look at the Confederate monument that stands in front of the Bedford County Courthouse. The text at the base of the high obelisk below a carved battle flag says “Bedford honors her heroes; proudly rejoicing with the living; sincerely mourning the dead. Their history is its brightest pace...This stone is erected to keep fresh in memory the noble deeds of these devoted sons.” Obviously, this monument reeks of the lost cause and does not honor a piece of history that all can be proud of. Taking down such a problematic statue would not be “erasing history,” as Bedford supervisor candidates stated in 2017. The public should play a role in discussions of what to do with the obelisk, but it certainly does not belong in front of such an important government building. Once again, the United Daughters of the Confederacy supported the construction of a heinous monument at a time (1909) when African-Americans faced acts of discrimination and bigotry. If people were able to put themselves in the shoes of those most affected by the presence of such an awful monument, then we would finally be able to make lasting changes for the betterment of us all.

[elv--eyera]

So today, I’m gonna talk to you about the most cursed creative decision I’ve ever seen Disney make with one of their Broadway shows.  

Night of The Living Chippy

Literally the most awful, cursed moment in Beauty & The Beast. 

I sincerely have no idea if anyone else will find this as flippin’ cursed as I do, but this moment just jumped out at me five years ago, and it has lived rent-free in my head ever since. God, I need to know how the world feels about this. Please PLEASE let me know your thoughts if you’ve seen this show on a tour or seen a video of the Broadway production.

Here’s context (because I spent too much time writing it)

Beauty and The Beast was the first of Disney’s animated movies to be adapted into a musical, and adapting BatB in particular was ambitious for several reasons. Specifically, how do you create the enchanted objects onstage? How do you make a person look like a clock, or a candlestick, or a teapot, without being unnerving? When you consider what the characters looked like in the Disney World staged version…

… yeah, translating these characters to real life could get weird. The creative team tried out using heavy prosthetics and special effects for the enchanted objects, but realized much of the inhuman elements just looked, well, inhuman. They scrapped them for more natural takes on the looks – for instance, Lumiere has a brilliant white pompadour instead of a melting head – and in general the choices made ended up looking gorgeous and avoiding the uncanny valley look. Here are some pictures of the Broadway costumes:

The writers working on the adaptation modified the Enchantress’ spell to support the more humanoid designs, as well - In the movie, the characters are immediately fully turned into objects, but in the musical, the characters are gradually turning more and more into objects, and are in the near-final stages of becoming fully inanimate objects. (Occasionally, there’ll be a costume change between Act 1 and Act 2 to show the progression.)

Here’s a picture from a national tour of Beauty & The Beast, featuring the enchanted objects. Note Chip and the cart he’s in, in the center of the picture. There are mirrors carefully placed inside the front of the cart to create the illusion that the cart is hollow and there’s nothing beneath his head on the plate. It’s a nifty little magic trick! I saw this tour live in 2015, and the mirror illusion was really convincing. 

Basically, this is how Chip’s design has always been - the cute lil’ kid just sits in the cart, Mrs. Potts pushes him onstage and offstage for the first scene, and that’s how it’ll go until he turns into a human child at the end, and it never takes a unnerving turn -  

Except it does, and if you wanna watch what I’m talking about, just click here, (make sure it starts at 30:17) or here. Or if you just wanna look at gifs, scroll down, but I really, really think hearing Chip will give a better sense of what i was feeling.

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So 30 minutes into the show, Mrs. Potts walks onstage carrying a platter with Chip - sorry, Chip’s head - on it. And It bobs its creepy dead-eyed doll face back and forth to mime along to the chirpy pre-recorded voice of Chip. (Do you prefer heavy (below) or minimal (above) neck movement?) 

A million thoughts sear through my mind.

Oh my god, this is a decapitated mannequin child head on a platter. Oh GOD, it's talking. Oh no, I hate that the little kid voice is coming out of it. 

. Who are they trying to fool here? KIDS?!

Would it be better or much, much worse if the puppet looked less creepy and more like the kid playing Chip?

- How is Chip even talking with no neck?! -

okay, that is a dumb question because he’s a magic cup, but please forgive me - when he has a human child face, my brain feels a NEED to ask some questions - 

- Oh god, I don’t even like the cart design concept anymore because they’re  still trying to make it look like he’s JUST A HEAD. Who on the creative team was like “so my concept is to make the kid look like a severed head at all times-” 

So by the time Maurice is being taken away from Belle, I finally stop thinking about how the actress who plays Mrs. Potts deserves a special award for having to act motherly to ChipSaw’s cold, empty little kid-puppet eyes. I enjoyed the rest of the show, but ended up watching a few early bootlegs of the show on YouTube a week later, and realized that not only was puppet-platter-Chip in the original production, the concept stayed in the show and the subsequent productions / tours for 30 freakin’ years. And I was kinda blown away by that because it seems like if I had such a wild reaction to it, someone on the creative team somewhere along the way must have too, right? 

Anyway, I have absolutely no idea why this is coming to my mind today, but my reflections on it in 2020 are thus:

This is Disney. They have the Hall Of Presidents. Some higher up should have seen that terrifying puppet and been like “uh, we can do better”

Why did they specifically cut the other “inhuman” bits to avoid being uncanny, but keep this moment, which is definitely a little uncanny because it’s a kid’s head on a platter, in the show forever?

Somewhere, there exists a Nick Jonas Chip Head.

I’ve seriously been trying to find a good picture of this scene or of the head backstage for a while because even though it haunts me, I want a good look at it up close to see if it’s better or worse than the bootlegs make it out to be.

So if the musical changes the backstory of the enchanted objects to be going through a gradual transformation into inanimate objects... Were they turned into humanoid objects initially, or did they start out as fully human and then gradually become more object-like?! Did Chip ever have a body? What happened to the rest of Chip?!? I hate that I can’t rationalize it as “he’s the cart AND the cup” because he obviously isn’t if Mrs. Potts is just carrying his cup head around. 

My goal here is absolutely not to inspire anyone to write body horror BatB fic. But god, slowly turning from a human being into a brick wall (this is canon in the musical) sounds terrible for everyone involved.

And finally - my first thought at the time was that it’d be so easy to cut Platter Puppet Chip and have her push the cart he’s normally in, but now I realize that there’s probably a valid reason for it that we just don’t know about. It totally sticks out to have her only carry it for one scene that’s a minute and a half long. Maybe they wanted to make it easier on the kid wrangler, or on Mrs. Potts, (who is very clearly the only hero of this post)

There’s no moral here, only a creepy little puppet child head, but just - PLEASE let me know if you think it’s weird. I literally hate it so MUCH, I can’t believe it made it into the show and stayed for 30 friggin’ years, and I need to know I am not alone.   

[blurry-fics]

Chapter Sixteen

Where Did We Go | Series Masterlist

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2041

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this one! :) (picture credit)

“Thank you so much,” I smiled as I grabbed the bag of food from the counter.

“Have a nice day.”

“You too!”

I pulled my hood up over my head as I pushed the door open with my hip. A rainstorm had blown in over the weekend and for the last few days there had been constant showers of rain. My Vans were practically soaked through by the time that I made it across the parking lot to my car. I quickly set the food down in the passenger seat, next to the flowers that I had picked up from the grocery store, and stuck the key in the ignition. The drive to our house from here wasn’t exactly short and I didn’t want to let the food get too cold.

The rain was still coming down in sheets as I arrived home about twenty minutes later. Thankfully, I was able to park in the garage and avoid trying to get everything inside without getting it soaked. Getting the flowers out of the store and into the car without completely destroying them had already been enough of a task.

“Ty?” Y/N called as I closed the door to the garage.

“It’s me!” I answered.

I was so focused on double checking that all of the flowers were still in tact that I barely noticed Y/N coming down the hallway towards me. Thankfully, she was actually paying attention and managed to get out of the way before I totally ran into her. It was only once I passed her that I realized she was there.

“Oh, hi,” I smiled. “I got these for you.”

Y/N smiled as I handed the flowers and thai food to her.

“Is this from the place by your old apartment?” she asked, peering into the bag. “Isn’t that out of the way for you?”

“Only an extra five minutes or so, but it’s not a huge deal. It’s worth it because I know you love their thai food and we don’t get to have it as often anymore.”

“Thank you, Ty.”

She gave me a quick kiss before walking off down the hall towards the kitchen. I followed close behind, still carrying various documents and things in my arms. There were only a few final things that I needed to finish before the last meeting tomorrow, and then everything would finally be good to go. It was a huge weight off my shoulders.

While Y/N started to pile food onto plates and grab silverware, I set all of my stuff down on the table and began to arrange it so that it would be quicker to get through later. Now that it was the last week before tour, time was of the essence and I was going to take any free time that I could get.

“Do you want a Red Bull with dinner?” Y/N asked from the other room.

“I’ll just have water tonight.”

“You feeling ok, Ty?” she laughed.

“Yeah, I was just thinking about what you said the other night. I don’t think I need to have Red Bull with every meal anymore.”

She walked into the room carrying two plates of food and set them at the end of the table, out of the way of all of my folders. Before she had a chance to, I stepped back into the kitchen and grabbed the drinks that she had prepared for each of us: water for me and a vanilla Coke for her.

“Thank you,” she smiled as she sat down in her chair. “For all of this.”

I gave her a quick kiss before sitting down across from her. “Anything for you.”

*     *     *

“Definitely the red beanie and black shirt,” Y/N nodded, taking another look between the two mockups. “I like the pop of color when you have the all black outfit and you don’t really get that with the red shirt.”

“Yeah, I think that’s what I was leaning towards too. Plus, it’s a nice contrast to the suits at the beginning of the show.”

“Did you sign off on those?” Y/N asked, her eyes going wide.

“I never showed you, did I?”

“I don’t think so.”

I grabbed my phone off the table and opened the photos app. Josh and I had gone to a fitting late last week to make the final alterations on the suits, which I had evidently forgotten to show Y/N. Once I found the correct picture, I passed my phone to her.

“Oh my god,” she said, her jaw dropping. “Oh my god.”

“You like it?”

“Tyler! You look hot.”

I could feel my face turning bright pink. Y/N started to smile when she noticed.

“Don’t be embarrassed! This is a really good look on you, Ty. The color and everything is amazing.”

“For real?”

“For real.”

She passed my phone back to me, kissing me as she did so. I wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into my side.

“So, after seeing that, still red beanie and black shirt?”

“Definitely. It will go well with the black paint.”

“Good point. Ok, I think that was everything I had to do,” I said. “Thank you for helping me out, things went a lot faster with you here.”

“Of course, I was happy to help. From the looks of it, this is going to be a really good tour.”

“I hope so.”

“Alright, why don’t you finish signing off on stuff and I’ll get everything ready to cut your hair.”

“Oh right,” I nodded. “We’re doing that tonight.”

“Unless you don’t want to?”

“No, that’s good, I just forgot is all.”

“Ok. Good luck.”

Y/N gave me one more kiss on the cheek before walking out of the room. I took a seat at the table and began to sign all the necessary papers, making sure to check them all for errors. Meanwhile, I could hear Y/N going up and down the stairs as she got the necessary things to give me a haircut. We always did it in the living room so that we could watch TV together.

“I’m ready whenever you are, Ty!” she called.

“Ok, I’m almost done! Just a few more papers.”

I quickly finished them up and tucked them away into the proper folders. If everything went to plan, there wouldn’t be any more forms for me to sign until the next tour. Once everything was arranged and cleaned up, I got up and walked into the living room to join Y/N.

“Alright, I’m r- what are you watching?”

On the TV was an old video of Josh and I circa 2011. I recognized it instantly, it was from one of the first big interviews that we had done as a band. My nerves had been running high that morning and, naturally, I had called Y/N to try and calm down a bit.

“Just some old interviews,” she smiled. “I thought it would be fun to watch while we cut your hair.”

“I like that idea.”

The video continued to play as I sat down in the chair and Y/N began to brush through my hair. I pulled the towel that she grabbed for me around my shoulders.

“Why did you let me wear that out of the house?” I asked, noticing the old choir shirt I was wearing. “Why wasn’t I wearing a nice button up shirt or something? And the white pants!”

“It’s not my job to tell you what to wear,” she said as she plugged in the clippers.

“Ok, fair enough, but you could have at least given me a push in the right direction. Josh looks decent, at least, but I look like a mess!”

“You look fine, Ty. And I’m about to shave the sides down, so don’t move.”

The mechanical whir of the clippers started up, masking some of the sound from the TV. I was appreciative of that, though I would never say it out loud. Hearing the way that I used to talk in old interviews had never really been a fun experience for me.

“Here, take a look at your hair,” Y/N said, passing me a mirror. “Is that a good length?”

I turned my head so that I could see better. “Yeah, that’s great.”

“Ok, I figured you didn’t want a super close shave since you’re keeping the top longer.”

“You’re right. Thanks for doing this, by the way.”

“Of course. I know if I didn’t, then the job would just end up going to your mom, anyway,” she laughed.

“You two are the only people that understand how I like my hair cut.”

“I know we are, love.”

The video we were watching faded out and came to an end. I started to reach for the remote, but before I had a chance to grab it another one started playing. This one was from much later, I could tell because Josh’s hair had changed from its natural dark color to bright purple. As soon as it popped up, I knew exactly which interview it was.

“Look at you! You’re wearing a nice sweatshirt in this one,” Y/N said.

“Much better than a stupid choir shirt.”

“Shh, you looked nice, Ty.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Tyler.”

“Wait, quiet, this is my favorite part.”

It was much easier to hear now that Y/N had started cutting the top of my hair with scissors instead of the clippers. I leaned forward, still eager to hear every word that was said. This was the one interview that I would still occasionally watch from time to time, it never failed to put a smile on my face.

“So, Tyler, just the other day you made a very special announcement on Twitter,” the interviewer said. There was already a knowing smile on my face in the interview. “Do you care to comment on that?”

Y/N stopped cutting my hair and turned to watch the screen.

“I do,” I nodded. “I just recently announced that I am dating my wonderful girlfriend, Y/N. It’s been going on for awhile, but we decided that it was finally time that we made it public. She really is the most wonderful person in the world and I’m so lucky to have someone like her in my life. I want the world to be able to see even a fraction of the light that she brings into my life.”

“I didn’t realize that it was this interview,” Y/N smiled. “I really like this interview.”

“It was the first time that I officially talked about you in an interview.”

“And now you won’t stop,” she giggled.

“What can I say? I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Y/N started to cut my hair again, but I couldn’t stop sitting there and smiling like an idiot. Everything that I had said about her then was still true, if not even more so than before. I could talk about her for hours if given the chance, although that wasn’t really the point of the interviews. There were just so many things about her to love.

“Alright, Ty, I think your hair is done.”

“Let’s go look.”

I grabbed Y/N’s hand and practically pulled her up the stairs to our bathroom, which had the best mirror in the house. She stood off to the side while I flipped on the lights and got the first good look at my hair.

“It looks perfect,” I said, examining it from all angles. She had taken all the excess length off without making it too short. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“I’ve been giving you the same haircut for five years, you get pretty good at it after awhile.”

“Thank you. That’s one less thing on our tour checklist.”

Y/N and I high fived before I pulled her in for a hug. She laughed quietly into my shoulder as I rocked us back and forth.

“I’m looking forward to tour with you, Ty.”

“I am too,” I smiled. “It’s going to be a lot of fun.”

There was just something else I had to get out of the way first.

*     *     *     *     *

Taglist

@tylersheavydirtysoul​ @faceofcontvsions​ @ohprettyweeper​ @shaytwentyonep​ @tyler-josephs-floof​ @angelicopioid​ @topownsmyheart​ @harishaanne​ @addictwithaheavydirtycheetah​ @somethingboutyou1​ @boiled-onionrings​ @heythereitm3​ @gaysludge​ @breadbinishigh​ @5secondsofmoxley​ @patdsinner33​ @littlerachelbee​ @royal-avengers​

[acoolchickouthere13]

February 27, 2019: Taylor drops Easter egg

Feb. 28, 2019 abigail drops matching Easter egg and quotes Panic! In a post about Taylor(EASTER egg)

March 2019 Karlie and JK move into 211 Elizabeth St.

March 4, 2019 LA

(Wears the same shirt December 2019)

Taylor announces her mom is battling cancer again- Elle article “30 things I learned before 30” march 6, 2019

“Being sweet to everyone all the time can get you into a lot of trouble. While it may be born from having been raised to be a polite young lady, this can contribute to some of your life’s worst regrets if someone takes advantage of this trait in you. Grow a backbone, trust your gut, and know when to strike back. Be like a snake—only bite if someone steps on you. Trying and failing and trying again and failing again is normal. It may not feel normal to me because all of my trials and failures are blown out of proportion and turned into a spectator sport by tabloid takedown culture (you had to give me one moment of bitterness, come on). BUT THAT SAID, it’s good to mess up and learn from it and take risks. It’s especially good to do this in your twenties because we are searching. That’s GOOD. We’ll always be searching but never as intensely as when our brains are still developing at such a rapid pace. No, this is not an excuse to text your ex right now. That’s not what I said. Or do it, whatever, maybe you’ll learn from it. Then you’ll probably forget what you learned and do it again.... But it’s fine; do you, you’re searching…. Banish the drama. You only have so much room in your life and so much energy to give to those in it. Be discerning. If someone in your life is hurting you, draining you, or causing you pain in a way that feels unresolvable, blocking their number isn’t cruel. It’s just a simple setting on your phone that will eliminate drama if you so choose to use it….Apologizing when you have hurt someone who really matters to you takes nothing away from you. Even if it was unintentional, it’s so easy to just apologize and move on. Try not to say “I’m sorry, but...” and make excuses for yourself. Learn how to make a sincere apology, and you can avoid breaking down the trust in your friendships and relationships….Before you jump in headfirst, maybe, I don’t know...get to know someone! All that glitters isn’t gold, and first impressions actually aren’t everything. It’s impressive when someone can charm people instantly and own the room, but what I know now to be more valuable about a person is not their charming routine upon meeting them (I call it a “solid first 15”), but the layers of a person you discover in time. Are they honest, self-aware, and slyly funny at the moments you least expect it? Do they show up for you when you need them? Do they still love you after they’ve seen you broken? Or after they’ve walked in on you having a full conversation with your cats as if they’re people? These are things a first impression could never convey.Playing mind games is for the chase. In a real relationship or friendship, you’re shooting yourself in the foot if you don’t tell the other person how you feel, and what could be done to fix it. No one is a mind reader. If someone really loves you, they want you to verbalize how you feel. This is real life, not chess.

Learning the difference between lifelong friendships and situationships. Something about “we’re in our young twenties!” hurls people together into groups that can feel like your chosen family. And maybe they will be for the rest of your life. Or maybe they’ll just be your comrades for an important phase, but not forever. It’s sad but sometimes when you grow, you outgrow relationships. You may leave behind friendships along the way, but you’ll always keep the memories. Fashion is all about playful experimentation. If you don’t look back at pictures of some of your old looks and cringe, you’re doing it wrong. See: Bleachella. How to fight fair with the ones you love. Chances are you’re not trying to hurt the person you love and they aren’t trying to hurt you. If you can wind the tension of an argument down to a conversation about where the other person is coming from, there’s a greater chance you can remove the shame of losing a fight for one of you and the ego boost of the one who “won” the fight. I know a couple who, in the thick of a fight, say “Hey, same team.” Find a way to defuse the anger that can spiral out of control and make you lose sight of the good things you two have built. They don’t give out awards for winning the most fights in your relationship. They just give out divorce papers. I remember people asking me, “What are you gonna write about if you ever get happy?” There’s a common misconception that artists have to be miserable in order to make good art, that art and suffering go hand in hand. I’m really grateful to have learned this isn’t true. Finding happiness and inspiration at the same time has been really cool. I learned that disarming someone’s petty bullying can be as simple as learning to laugh. In my experience, I’ve come to see that bullies want to be feared and taken seriously. A few years ago, someone started an online hate campaign by calling me a snake on the internet. The fact that so many people jumped on board with it led me to feeling lower than I’ve ever felt in my life, but I can’t tell you how hard I had to keep from laughing every time my 63-foot inflatable cobra named Karyn appeared onstage in front of 60,000 screaming fans. It’s the Stadium Tour equivalent of responding to a troll’s hateful Instagram comment with “lol.” It would be nice if we could get an apology from people who bully us, but maybe all I’ll ever get is the satisfaction of knowing I could survive it, and thrive in spite of it….I’ve come to a realization that I need to be able to forgive myself for making the wrong choice, trusting the wrong person, or figuratively falling on my face in front of everyone. Step into the daylight and let it go.”(x)

Feb. 2019 probably when ME! music video is shot(it’s either feb. 9 or March 9). “A record player is playing in the background[of the music video]. “It’s an old-timey, 1940s-sounding instrumental version of ‘You Need to Calm Down,’ ’’ Swift says. (x)

March 12, 2019 hung out with SelGo AND SHE’S HOLDING BENJAMIN BEFORE ANYONE KNEW ABOUT HIM ITS AN EASTER EGG WOW WTF

March 19, 2019

April 19, 2019 The Netflix movie “Someone Great” premiers, which she says in an Ellen interview May 15, 2019 is the inspiration for DBATC

April 22, 2019 NY

April 23, 2019 uses female pronouns in “NYD” at Time 100 Gala

[ifyoucouldholdme]

Movie Nights with Trashmouth

Chapter 1

Words: 1376

Pairing: Bichie

Rating: Explicit

Read on AO3

               Bill couldn’t believe his eyes as Richie led him through the maze of DVDs. The whole scenario was oddly an experience out of time. His friend had dragged him halfway across town to a still running video rental store, probably the last of its kind as far as Derry was concerned. “You gotta see this place!” Richie had crowed, “They’ve got movies you can’t find anywhere else.”

               The shelves upon shelves proved him right. Bill wanted to carefully scan through each title, making a mental list of which to rent first. He passed period dramas, sci-fi epics, films from around the globe. “R-Richie, w-wait up. I’d l-like to actually look at s-some of these,” he whined. Richie kept pulling him forward.

               “You can see those later, Big Bill,” he chided, “I’ve got something that’ll give you a raging cinema boner. Hell, it’ll probably give you a real boner.”

               “C-can you p-p-please stop t-talking about m-my dick?!” Bill sputtered.

               “Whatever blows your skirt up, sweetheart. Just be glad you didn’t wear gym shorts today.” He sent a salacious wink, sending such a heart burning through Bill’s gut that he was indeed relieved he wore his rigid jeans instead of his flimsy shorts after all. If only Richie knew that his jokes were a bit too accurate. Bill pined as he watched the goofball’s dangling curls bounce as he skipped through the store. Ok, maybe he was also entranced by the bounce of Richie’s perfectly rounded bubble butt too.

               Before they rounded the next corner, he suddenly turned and shoved his hand against Bill’s chest to stop him. “Alright, BIlliam,” he whispered into the now blushing boy’s ear. The warmth of Richie’s bony palm spread through his chest and mixed with the chills from the trashmouth’s breath dancing across his ear sent Bill into a paralyzed stupor. Yes, Richie was a touchy-feely person, but this felt different. This felt intimate and intentional. This awkward, brash, and gangly boy that haunted his nighttime fantasies was now mere inches from his wide-eyed face. Bill instinctively leaned forward, gradually closing the gap between—

               “Around this corner is the most beautiful sight you’ll ever see, aside from my precious dimpled smile, of course. Like, for real Bill, you’re gonna cream your jeans. I know I sure as hell did the first time I saw it.”

               “B-b-beep, R-r-r-r—” the poor frazzled boy tried, but Richie had already disappeared into the next room. The mere thought of his friend climaxing looped through his head taunting him as Bill tried in vain to cover his now full-blown erection and hobbled through the archway.

His shame was forgotten, however, when he laid eyes on the room before him. Each wall was lined in hundreds of bizarre and terrifying titles and box art. He recognized classics of horror like the Exorcist as well as some just plain weird movies, Meet the Feebles being one he was embarrassed to admit he somewhat enjoyed. Some shelves were alphabetized, others were categorized by director or subgenre. Stylized posters plastered the remaining spaces just beneath the ceiling, their artistry mesmerizing him. Above it all shone a neon marquee that simply read, “Cult Corner.”

“Welcome to paradise, Billy-Boy!” Richie beamed with arms raised in a grand gesture.

“Holy s-s-shit!” Bill proclaimed a bit louder than intended. “They’ve g-got everything.”

“Right?” With that, he eagerly led Bill around the room in his worst tour guide impersonation. “Thank you for choosing Tozier Tours Unlimited. We’re glad to have you aboard this afternoon. If you look out the window to your left, you’ll find the world’s larges collection of the spinetingling, the hair raising, and the grotesquely gory. But please, ladies and gentlemen, keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times. There’s lots more to see.”

Bill chuckled despite himself. As often as he wanted to strangle the brash jokester for taking a laugh one step too far, he no less than adored Richie. Underneath that layer of jovial frivolity was a sweet boy just as lonely and as unsure as he was. If he ever needed a true friend or someone to listen to his uncertainties, Richie always did whatever necessary to help him, albeit with a few chucks thrown in to keep the mood from turning too sour. It also didn’t hurt that Richie’s smile did in fact give him the most adorable dimples.

Thankfully he didn’t notice Bill’s infatuated stares as he continued. “To your right you will see the weird, the bizarre, the flat-out what-the-fuckery of the aisle of cult movies. We got your Rocky Horror, your Pink Flamingoes. You want blood, guts, quips, and tits? There’s a little something here for everyone!” he crooned gradually sounding more and more like a carnival barker.

Bill felt lightheaded, overwhelmed by such a collection to choose from. “I d-don’t even know w-where to start.”

“Well then, monsieur Denbrough,” Richie switched again, this time to what he called his Frenchie Dressing voice, “allow moi to direct vous to la piece du resistance.”

“Alright, M-Marcel, c-chill. You only w-went to Q-Quebec for a w-weekend,” he teased, but the smirk flew off his face wen Richie bent over, sticking his glorious ass in the air as if presenting it for Bill’s approval. Bill absentmindedly reached out a hand, just to ‘accidentally’ brush the enthralling derriere, then, remembering his tightening pants, snapped his hand back to cover himself. Once again, Richie seemed not to notice. He was more concerned with the DVD cases he thrust towards Bill. The shaking redheaded boy blankly gazed at the covers, glad for any distraction from his embarrassing issue. At first, he was confused. The boxes were adorned with several men and women in unusual poses.

“These,” Richie whispered in a curiously huskier tone, his face instantly as close to Bill’s as before, “are for extra special movie nights.” The pieces finally fell together in Bill’s mind.

“This is p-p-p-p—”

“The word you’re looking for is ‘porn’, Big Bill,” Richie winked. Crimson flooded over Bill’s cheeks. This pushed his tension over the edge, and he sputtered and shivered with embarrassment. The frenzy subsided a touch as Richie placed a reassuring grip on his shoulder. “Whoa there, Sister Mary Agnes. I’m putting them back. Nothing to get all antsy about, it’s just some dicks and tits. We’ve all got ‘em.” Bill, slightly calmer, quirked a teasing eyebrow at him. “Well, we’ve all got one or the other.” They gazed at each other for a moment, filled with some unspoken thing felt between them. Then they each burst into a hearty laugh.

“Alright, alright,” Richie gasped, “Go ahead and pick a couple out for a date night. It’s on me.” Bill dropped the cases, letting them clatter against his Converse sneakers. He stared, frozen in place, at Richie who also seemed to notice his choice of words and avoided eye contact himself.

“D-d-d-date n-night?” Bill managed through a clenched throat.

Richie brought a hand to his neck, trying to hide a rosy patch his had sprouted on his cheek. “I mean, yeah, I guess,” he said, voice uncharacteristically wavering. “We totally don’t have to. It’s weird. We can’t just get our own movies. Your taste in horror is more on the classy side anyway, you wouldn’t like any of my—”

Bill socked his arm, leaving a nice red mark which would eventually bruise later that day. “B-beep beep, d-d-dumbass.” He then worked his fingers through Richie’s, noticing the other boy’s nervous sweating palm and his own racing pulse. He swallowed his anxiety and excitement as Richie tightened his grip. “D-date night sounds f-f-fun.”

“Well,” Richie stalled, trying to will away red face. Bill could’ve sworn that his bottle thick glasses began to steam over. “Let’s pick out some flicks then. Say, two apiece?”

“S-sounds like a plan.” Bill smiled, lost in Richie’s warmth and the surprising sweetness of the moment. “R-Rich?”

“Yeah, Big Bill?”

“How d-did you even know I’d b-b-be—”

“Well, you’ve been staring at my ass like it’s a buffet, plus I’ve been able to see your hardon since we walked in, so I figured I had at least a fifty-fifty shot.” Bill punched Richie even harder a second time. Trashmouth just cackled in return.

[jessethejoyful]

the art school au no one asked for

I decided I wanted to try writing a carry on fic and they say you should write about what you know so - read it here or on ao3

Baz is a painting/drawing major, Simon is an animator, and much problem ensues. 

BAZ

At the end of every spring and fall semester, the art school hosts a student showcase, so we can gain experience with exhibitions and the like. I thought about entering a piece, one of my paintings, but I deliberated long enough that I missed the deadline. Which is absolutely fine, because everything from this semester felt like garbage to me anyways. I was trapped somewhere in my own headspace - but, anyway.

I wander through the student show, my eyes passing across the canvases and sculptures. Mentally, I have to keep my nose from wrinkling at some of them (how did these kids get into an art school? Is there actually any criteria, or do you just have to toss paint on a slab and say please?). Some of the students are standing next to their pieces, obviously brimming with pride. There’s one boy stopping anyone who is unfortunate enough to glance his way, and asking them a barrage of questions. (“How does it make you feel? Which one is your favorite? How much would you pay for this?”) I avoid him carefully, giving him and his creepy multi-face painting a wide berth.

It’s something of a surprise when I come across a laptop, set up on a podium by itself. That’s not art. But when I wander up to get a closer look, I realize it’s an animation reel. I’ve come up at the tail end of someone throwing a ball at a wall, which looks nice but is rather boring. I’m about to turn away when it changes to another clip.

The shot begins on a girl, curled in on herself, and a moment of her finger tapping the white space beneath her. And then she shoots up, arms flaring wide, head tilting back, and I’m blown away by the style of it. It’s not normal 2D animation, but a sketchy, wild style that somehow carries a lot of emotion just in the chaos. The video follows the girl, a ballerina, through a routine that I imagine would be heart-wrenching if it had music with it. Even without, I feel a pull in my chest, watching the obvious pain that flits across her shadowy and angular face.

I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s beautiful.

The scene ends with the girl knelt down again, her back heaving as she breathes heavily, and I realize I’ve been holding my own breath. It comes out in a rush as the reel changes again. I expected something just as amazing, but instead have my eyes assaulted by an ugly, gritty-looking clip of two stick figures beating the shit out of each other. I feel the scowl rise on my face and narrow my eyes at the name attached to the podium.

Simon Snow - who the fuck would name their kid Simon Snow? Sounds like the heroine of some sappy young adult novel. Maybe it’s an alias for a less idiotic name.

I straighten and adjust my jacket, eyes flicking back to the screen in the hopes that the ballerina clip was back, but instead it’s moved on to some boring clip of fish leaping from a river. My scowl deepens, and I move on, refusing to return to the laptop. Anyone who would put such a stupid video in a showcase deserves no more of my attention.

The name Simon Snow flits through my head now and then over the summer, while I serve coffee at a small, artsy shop near campus. I wonder if he ever comes in, but no one claims the name Simon for their cup, and eventually I forget about the reel, and Simon Snow, entirely.

Until the start of the new term, when I’m carrying my supplies into the art building, my  heavy bag hung painfully on one shoulder. A girl’s voice shrieks, “Simon!” and I’m nearly bowled over as she dives by me, and I register a mane of frizzy red hair and warm brown skin, similar to my own.

“Sorry, Basil!” she squeals as she barrels away, and I’m startled enough that it takes me a moment to reply.

“How do you -?” But she’s already gone, down at the end of the long corridor and throwing her arms around a tallish boy with wild bronze hair, freckles so numerous I can see them from here, and a laugh that reverberates through the hall.

That’s Simon Snow?

Shit.

SIMON

Penny surprised me in the art building, but I was glad she did - she’d been gone all summer to study in Italy, and I’d missed her like I’d miss my left hand. She spent nearly two hours chattering to me about the different sites she toured, the museums she visited, the food she’d eaten, and I listened happily, grateful to have her voice filling up our cozy flat again. It had been far too empty without her.

I don’t know how she does it, but Penny is double-majoring in art history and sculpture. She’s dead brilliant at both of them. I was royally fucked in my own mandatory art history class until she started helping me. We’ve been friends since high school, so she knows I’m shit at studying, but I managed to brush by with her help. Thank God - I wasn’t eager to repeat that class. The professor nearly fell asleep at his own lectures, I don’t know how Penny can stand him, and he’s her faculty advisor.

Despite the heavy course load I signed on for this semester, I’m glad to be back at it. I spend summers feeling off-center, like I lose my sense of direction for a few months before wandering back from the wilderness in September with leaves in my hair (it’s a feeling that’s kind of hard to describe).

Animation is a lot more work than anyone outside of the field realizes. I don’t think I even realized it when I started, but now I couldn’t imagine myself doing anything else. Watching my pieces come to life on a screen is like a drug, a high that’ll never come down.

But it’s exhausting.

During the semesters, I spend more time in the computer lab than out of it, making use of the huge tablets and desktops provided by the school. Penny will come hang out now and then, but I get so scary focused and quiet that she usually gets bored and wanders out after a few minutes. She fell asleep there once, half-off her chair, and I let her sleep, waking her up around two when it was time for us to walk back to the flat.

Now we’re only a few weeks into the new term, and I’ve already fallen back into the habit, chatting up the lab’s student assistant before I claim my spot in a corner, ready to work until I pass out.

I try to keep an eye on the clock, but I get so into my work that hours pass without my notice. When I realize I’ve been there for coming on six hours without a break, I force myself to drop my pen and sit up, feeling my back creak in the process. I think I’ll go heat up one of the frozen meals I’d thrown in the student fridge last week; I can feel the hunger creeping up in my stomach.

It’s so late, just past midnight, that barely anyone is around. I’d work at home if I could, but the equipment is so expensive that I can’t really afford my own, with only a laptop and a shitty knock-off tablet that I use for personal stuff. The cord is fraying and half of the time won’t connect, but it does what I need.

I’m shocked when I amble into the student lounge to find a guy digging through the fridge, the room around him so dim that the bright white light makes him look pale, like a vampire. But when he closes the door and stands up, I realize he’s got almond brown skin, and grey-green eyes like a deep lake. And he’s scowling at me.

“Can I help you with something?” he snarls, clutching a carton of cream, and I’m immediately caught off guard by the aggression in his tone.

“Yeah mate, you’re in front of the fridge,” I say slowly, pointing. His cheeks darken and he steps away, heading to the counter where there’s coffee brewing. Neither of us says anything for a long bit, while I pull my food out and chuck it in the microwave.

Out of the corner of my eye, I observe him, trying to take stock. The half-up bun and long sleeve black button-up seem about right, but I’m surprised by the massive black combat boots, giving him an easy extra two inches in height.  

Finally, because the silence is deafening, I say, “Working late, then?”

His answer is abrupt. “Yes.”

I try again. “My name’s Simon.”

“I know.”

I furrow my eyebrows at him, fed up. “Want to tell me yours then, or are you just going to keep being a dickhead?”

This clearly startles him, looking at me with wide eyes and saying his name, two quick syllables. “Bas-il.”

“Bazzzz-il,” I drawl, dragging out the z sound present in that ridiculous name. His lip curls, actually curls, and I’m almost impressed before something occurs to me. “Wait. Not Basil, as in T. Basilton Pitch?” There’s no way there’s multiple people in the world with a similar name, let alone this school.

“The very same.” I’m floored. This is the prat whose art I always notice in the halls? Every time I see an impeccable figure study or a breath-taking oil painting, the name ‘T. Basilton Pitch’ is always attached underneath.

Five minutes ago, if you had asked me who I thought was the most talented in the building, I would’ve said Pitch immediately. But now that the arse is standing in front of me, antagonizing me, I’m not about to give out any compliments.

“Oh. I’ve seen your work in the cases.” The microwave beeps at me, and I fiddle with it before saying grumpily, “S’ pretty nice.” Damn. That sounded more sincere than I’d meant it to.

“I’m flattered, I’m sure,” Basilton says sharply, before loudly dropping his mug into the sink and disappearing out the door. I throw myself down at one of the tables and start shoveling mashed potatoes into my mouth, annoyed now.

T. Basilton Pitch.

What a tit.

PENNY

It’s 3 am when Simon finally wanders in, squinting even in the darkness, dragging his feet like he’s left lead in his shoes. He always does this, pushing himself to the edge of exhaustion and probably ruining his eyes in the process.

And then he has the audacity to try and lecture me. I’m reading by a soft lamp when he comes in, and he snaps at me about damaging my eyes, by reading in such dim light. I raise my eyebrows at him and flip the book shut. “Who spit in your tea tonight, Simon?”

He glances at me apologetically, dropping his bag onto the floor before throwing himself down on the couch beside me, head resting on my hip. “Basil,” he growls, as I absentmindedly run my fingers through his curls.

“Oh, met him, did you?” Simon sits up and looks at me sharply.

“You know him? How?”

I shrug. “He was in my Drawing II class. Put the rest of us to shame, with his drawings and his shit attitude. The professor told him to shut the fuck up once when he made a girl cry, and he just sneered at him. It was quite a scene.”

It had been a real scene. I make a point not to be friends with assholes, but I remember I couldn’t help being a little bit fascinated by this tall dark prat, who looked ready to throw hands every time the professor said anything. And it hadn’t really been his fault that girl started crying - we were in the middle of a peer critique, and Baz told her in somewhat harsher terms that her anatomy was way off.

She’d just started bawling. It was embarrassing for everyone.

I tell Simon as much, and he seems genuinely intrigued. “Maybe he’s just an asshole to people he doesn’t know,” Simon says slowly. “Maybe if I’m nice to him, he’ll be nice back.”

“Simon, not everyone’s like you. Like if a golden retriever became a human.” He looks almost offended at this. “Baz is endlessly contrary. I wouldn’t put money on even you being able to befriend him.”

“Penn, come on. Everyone needs friends.”

I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

BAZ

Three days after I officially met Simon Snow, I’m still kicking myself for the whole thing.

Seeing him up close had just been too much. This dead handsome idiot, standing over me at nearly one in the morning, staring at me with his mouth open - far too much for my sleep deprived brain. I’d gone and made a complete ass of myself.

It was the first time I’d left my studio that day, just looking for a coffee, and my brain had stayed behind.

Honestly, though, it’s probably all for the best. I’m too fucking queer to have a guy that good-looking around on a regular basis. (What is up with all those freckles? He looks ill. I want to draw the constellations on his face.)

When next I see him, it’s thankfully from a distance again, far across the campus green. He’s got two girls with him. I recognize one of them, short and stout with that mad frizzy hair, but the other is a complete stranger. Even far off, I can tell she’s beautiful, even to my gay ass. (I’m gay, not blind.) She’s the kind of beautiful you can’t help but notice. Waist-length honey blonde hair, a perfect figure, expensive-looking clothes and high-heel ankle boots, though they still don’t make her as tall as Simon.

Too late, I realize I’ve completely stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, gaping at them across the lawn. My eyes lock with Simon’s, and suddenly he breaks out into this enormous grin.

I might be a little fucked.

Simon is saying something to the girls and then jogging toward me, and my time to escape has fled. Not that I could’ve - that smile was so much I think it rendered me briefly immobile, gluing my shoes to the pavement.

“Hey, Basil,” Simon greets me sheepishly, stopping before me and rubbing the back of his neck. He looks so carefree, in loose jeans that somehow look good, and a graphic tee partially covered by a paint-stained hoodie. He rips the green beanie off his head and shoves his hands through his orange curls, making them stand on end. And he’s wearing these massive circular, wire-framed glasses, and I’m mesmerized.

“...Hey?” I say, cursing myself for letting it come out sounding like a question. Simon doesn’t even seem to notice, his smile smaller now but no less painful to look at.

“Look, I wanted to apologize for the other night. I was completely knackered, I’d been in the lab for hours and was feeling a bit grouchy.” To say I’m startled by this apology is putting it lightly. I’d been rude first, what is he apologizing for? Defending himself?

Maybe just this once, it would pay to play nice. I glance over Simon’s shoulder, where the two girls were still watching their interaction, waiting. “Er - it’s alright. I’m - sorry as well. I was barely functioning that night.” Simon’s face lit up at my mostly friendly response, and I think I might be barely functioning now.

“Penny and Agatha and I are going off campus for a bite, you wanna come along?” Agatha must be the other girl. I vaguely remember the name Penny, some distant memory from second semester. But there’s no way I’m up for that much social interaction today; just this interaction has nearly killed me.

“Ah, I’ll - have to pass,” I choke out. “I’ve got a date.” Simon looks surprised before I finish, “With my studio.”

There’s no way it’s relief that flashes across Simon’s face at that amendment. No fucking way.

“Oh, right, then,” he says. “Another time, then.”

Weary now, I try to smile, but I think it must look like more of a grimace, before I stride away.

“Basil!” Simon calls my name and I turn back to look. Now that I’m looking at him, he seems not to know what to say, his hand pulling awkwardly back to his chest like he’d been reaching out. “Uh - good luck with the painting!”

“Cheers,” I reply, walking away then without looking back.

SIMON

I’m wandering back to the computer lab that evening when I notice the light on in the studio labeled T. Pitch. It’s pretty late, already after ten, and while I’m not surprised Basil is still here, I’m a little curious. I’d grabbed a few scones from the bakery Penny works at before coming back to campus, with a mind to eat them later - but maybe Baz would like one. I’d heard Penny call him Baz, and I can’t blame him for the nickname. I wouldn’t want people calling me Basilton either.

I wonder what the T stands for? Could it be something worse than Basilton? Is that possible?

I knock twice on the door of the studio before turning the handle, surprised to find it unlocked. Baz is clearly shocked to see me, jerking his hand away from canvas he’s working and yanking his earbud out.

“Christ - ever heard of knocking?” All this guy seems to know how to do is snap and snarl. I’m already bristling.

“I did knock.”

“Well, you’re supposed to wait for me to say come in.”

“You’ve got headphones in.”

“Exactly.”

I force myself to take a deep breath, before I hold up the pastry bag. “Thought I’d bring you some food. You seem the type to get sucked in and forget to eat, am I right?” I can tell by the defensive look on his face that I am. “Look - don’t say anything. Just take this, alright?” I take the wrapped pastry from the bag and toss it too him, and he’s not too bewildered to catch it. “Have fun, yeah?” I back out the door before Baz can say anything else and snap it shut.

I don’t know what I expected. Some declaration of gratitude? I’d never expect that of anyone, let alone that prickly bastard. That’s not why I do things for people.

But fuck, was it too much to even be civil? I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so grouchy. He’d seemed to quiet earlier, soft, almost. Shy. Maybe he’s bipolar. It wouldn’t surprise me whatsoever.

Or maybe he’s just an asshole.

I continue onto the lab, spinning my chair so the back touched the desk, and straddle it, resting my chin on the cushion. Penny yells at me that I’m going to ruin my back sitting like this, but it’s comfortable, so I always ignore her.

I’m struggling with a frame I’m working on, unable to get the flow right between shots. It makes me blink out sometimes, when I get really stressed by something that isn’t meshing. Normally I’d take a walk, but I’m not so sure tonight. What if I run into Baz? I’m pretty sure I’d deck him at this point, I’m so worked up.

I should probably just call it a night. I look at the close - 2 am. Yeah, I’ll just call it a night. I flick the light off as I leave the lab, letting the door shut behind me.

As I walk by the private studios, I notice Baz’s light is still on.

I keep walking.

[topweeklyupdate]

TØP Weekly Update #53: Out (7/6/2018)

This is it, boys and girls. The “hiatus”, as we’ve called it for the last 364 days, is finally, finally, finally over... probably. Let’s cover the week that was, and look forward to the new era that could be.

This Week’s TØPics: 

“New” Music Discovery

The Last Message From Dema

The Return of WILD SPECULATION

Major News and Announcements:

On any other week, new music from Tyler Joseph would be the biggest news story. And... well, I mean, I guess it should be, so we’ll cover it first, but it really doesn’t feel like it. That’s really weird, isn’t it?

@ultrawafflehouse shared a unique piece of content with the world in the middle of the week. After a friend of a friend received an old Tyler Joseph mixtape from a local youth pastor trying to prove his street cred to the middle schoolers of suburban Ohio, Ultra discovered that two of the unnamed tracks were pieces of music that had never previously found their way onto the Internet. 

One of the unnamed tracks is a slick instrumental with elements of some of Tyler’s other early works like “Two” and “I Need Something To Kill Me” on full display: i.e., an extremely promising but unfinished arrangement from an extremely talented novice with no training or experience and a dozen better ideas than this that he decided to actually flesh out. Little wonder it, like presumably most of Tyler’s work, never made it to the general public.

The other track, however, actually sounds like a full song. Dubbed “Going Down” due to the phrase’s repetition in the hook, the track fits in perfect with the general No Phun Intended/Self-Titled sound; passionately-sung heart-on-sleeve lyrics supported by a simple piano arrangement with some basic hip-hop elements thrown in. I’ll be real: I was not blown away by this song. The writing in general, particularly on the hook, is low-energy, all over the place, and stretches the metaphors real thin. Tyler’s vocal delivery is at peak teenage whine, and his bars in the sole rap verse seem amateurish and out of breath. 

But I wasn’t expecting to love it- most of Tyler’s stuff pre-Self-Titled, and even some tracks on the first two albums, are clearly made by someone who has no real clue how to do the whole music thing. “Drown” and “Blasphemy” are the only truly great songs from No Phun Intended, and they were both repurposed later down the road when Tyler had a better idea what he was actually doing. I still think Tyler is a genius, but he was not born the songwriter and performer he had become by the time Fueled By Ramen signed him. I still appreciate tracks like these, but more as historical curiosities, stepping stones to what Twenty One Pilots would become with brief flashes of Tyler’s insightful introspection and genuine brilliance.

The biggest news of the week, as with last week’s update, was not new music, but updates from the world of Dema. To start, we got three updates from dmaorg.info on Sunday. The first was a gif of a creepy vulture slowly turning to camera. Not too much to derive from this one. There’s the iconography of vultures, aka the carrion feeders who consume the bodies of the dead left at real-world Towers of Silence. The vulture can be seen to “blink” with its thin transparent eyelid, aligning it with the fifth Closing Eye Lyric: “Nobody dreams when they blink.” This correlation is strengthened by the name of the gif itself: “i”.

The second post, another letter from Clancy, was much more intriguing. The letter contains some great prose, with Clancy describing how the bishops have robbed the denizens of Dema of their dreams using something referred to as “smearing” and pledging to not let them crush his hope. The references to nighttime and light connect it to the sixth Closing Eye Lyric, “remember the morning is when night is dead”. The image title of this update is “e_sr_eve_r.jpg” (”reverse” in reverse), and that’s reflected both the content of the letter and its organization- you can swap the order of the sentences, and it still makes perfect sense. But why this command to reverse? To what end? Hmm....

The answer to that comes in the third update, a simple smattering of yellow marks slipped out of chronological order in the middle of the list the list under the date of the band’s Grammy win. When laid over the Clancy letter, the markings for individual letters again spell out the word “trench”, which connects it to the audio clip from the previous Dema update, while the solid vertical lines highlight the phrase “We are banditos.” When you connect all these dots and reverse that audio, as several people had already discovered previously, it becomes pretty clear that Tyler is singing “We are banditos.” What does that mean? Well, hold your horses, kid, because the circled letters in the message spell out “end”. That looked like it might be it...

Until the gif that originally revealed the Dema site made its way back onto the main website. Many interpreted this to be the fulfillment of the last Closing Eye Lyric, “Now I just sit in silence,” due to the gif ending with the finale of the “Car Radio” music video, and a sign to the Clique to pay attention to the site if they weren’t already.

dmaorg.info finished its mission on Thursday with another rush of content. First, a photo of a vast desert with a single small figure possibly visible on the horizon. The image was simply titled “o_ut.jpg”. Not much else to say; once again, the big reveal was delivered to us by Clancy.

This letter is honestly the best fiction writing and world-building I’ve seen from Tyler yet, good enough to make me wonder if he’s been considering writing a Hunger Games-style YA series if this whole music career thing doesn’t pan out. Clancy lays out his plan to break out of Dema: since it will be impossible to sneak past the huge walls unnoticed, he plans to make a big commotion during the enclave’s biggest holiday, the Annual Assemblage of the Glorified, to distract the “watchers” and permit those from the “other side” to find a way in, then avoid being “smeared” by the bishops until the others can show him the way out. There are tons of great details and turns of phrase (”concrete coffin of a city”) and really cool moments (”They don’t control us” should sound way more cringey than it reads here.) They even snuck in a final hidden message message: following the dotted lines up the same number of rows as there are squares reveals one last “Wake up.”

The biggest takeaway from this letter, though, is how direct it is. It makes reference to it being “a year since the last convocation” and directly says that “by morning, everything will be different.” And, if you still didn’t get the message- *poof*. Within minutes of the Clique posting and dissecting these new posts, dmaorg.info was gone. They pulled the plug. The only evidence of the last few months of theorizing, speculating, and decoding will be on Reddit threads lost to the dust of time, as our thoughts become occupied with a whole different type of Twenty One Pilots content...

WILD SPECULATION:

As of the moment I’m writing this (7/6/18, 1 am PST), the band has not released any new music. I am not bopping to “Jumpsuit” right now. But something is totally happening within the next 12-24 hours. The only question is... what?

Well, I have zero information beyond the registration of the song titles “Nico and the Niners” and “Jumpsuit” and the implication that the songs will relate to this unfolding tale of Clancy and the Bishops of Dema. But I do have some theories/wishes.

First, I don’t think we’ll be getting a whole new album all at once. Twenty One Pilots ain’t Beyonce. They don’t have the clout (yet) for FBR to let them get away with dropping a full project with zero mainstream promo (also, there’s no other registered song titles, so nothing for at least a few weeks). I think that, in following the standard pop music tradition of the last few years, we’ll get two singles dropped on the first day (the aforementioned registered names), with a music video for one to tide us over, then a trickle of songs for two or three months before an album in time for the holidays. I suspect “Jumpsuit” to be the main radio-play single (I’m already picturing a prison break from Dema for the video), while “Nico” serves as the song for the fans that lays out more about this concept.

The thing that excites me most about the whole Dema idea is that, unlike the rather straightforward metaphor of Blurryface, the ARG content we’ve received so far has laid out an entire world populated with multiple named characters and concepts that we aren’t clear on just yet. Because of that, I think we might get quite a few songs (like, hopefully, “Nico”) that focus more on storytelling (and, also hopefully, killer soundscapes) than just affirming the importance of staying alive. I really hope “Nico” is, like, a nine-minute long rock/EDM opera that lays out all the different bishops’ plans and motivations while mashing genres in the classic TØP style. I really want to see Tyler and Josh push themselves artistically, and I think that what we’ve seen so far is really indicating that is the case.

A few more questions (and some speculation): 

What other songs are coming? “Trench”? “Heavy”? “Banditos”? “Wake Up”? “Coconut Sharks: Requiem”? (No clue, can’t wait to find out.)

What will the promo look like? Will the band bother to participate in local radio interviews anymore? (Depends on how early sales go, I think.) Will they do any long-form/in-depth sit downs? (Rooting for Zane Lowe, but also hoping a mag like Rolling Stone that’s willing to put artists in the hot seat puts Tyler on his toes and asks some of the difficult questions.)

What can we expect of tour? (I’m calling amphitheater followed by arena shows, just like with Blurryface and a lot of the bigger FBR acts. Praying for more live musicians and maybe some theatrical stuff with Dema.)

What will the album be called? Dema? Silence? Tower of Silence? Iris [remember that, holy crap]? Blurryface 2: Electric Boogaloo? Hard to say (Probably the first one, let’s be real).

Will it be successful? (Almost definitely not as much as Blurryface. We’ll have to see how hard they focus on the Dema concept or an alternative sound, since radio hates weird.) Will it be good? (Yes. I was unsure for a long time, but I’ve got a really good feeling now. A really, really good feeling.)

Community Spotlight:

This is technically cheating, but I am part of the community, so I’m gonna write about myself today. Forgive me.

Last year, on my 21st birthday, Twenty One Pilots posted a shut eye and some mirrored lyrics on their social media and then, for all intents and purposes, disappeared. I spent my whole twenty-first year of life without ‘em (the irony is not lost on me), which was weird considering how much they had inspired and impacted me throughout high school and college.

I did a lot of stuff when I was 21. I graduated college. I got a new job. I made friends. I lost friends. I got in fights. I learned to let go, but not soon enough to spare someone I cared about from unnecessary heartbreak. I turned corners in my mental health, only to run into new walls. I listened to a ton of music. I grew up.

Today, I turned 22. The irony of the absence of Twenty One Pilots aside, I’m so glad I had the chance to figure out who I was without this band by my side every step of the way. I learned that I could make it. And now I get to have them back while I continue to make it. How sick a birthday gift is that?

Power to the local dreamer.

|-/

[theliberaltony]

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

Welcome to a weekly collaboration between FiveThirtyEight and ABC News. With 5,000 people seemingly thinking about challenging President Trump in 2020 — Democrats and even some Republicans — we’re keeping tabs on the field as it develops. Each week, we’ll run through what the potential candidates are up to — who’s getting closer to officially jumping in the ring and who’s getting further away.

Nearly 20 candidates are now crisscrossing the country to court voters in early primary states, including Rep. Eric Swalwell who declared that he was running for president this week. But despite being one of the early-poll front-runners, former Vice President Joe Biden is still sitting on the sidelines for now, while the party embraces some of the lesser-known contenders.

South Bend Mayor Pete Buttigieg, for instance, out-raised several well-known Democratic candidates, including Massachusetts Sen. Elizabeth Warren, Minnesota Sen. Amy Klobuchar and New Jersey Sen. Cory Booker, according to an ABC News analysis of candidates’ preliminary fundraising numbers from the first quarter of 2019. And in a Saint Anslem College poll of New Hampshire registered voters out this week, Buttigieg was in third place, behind Biden and Vermont Sen. Bernie Sanders with 11 percent of the vote. A new Quinnipiac poll of California voters put Buttigieg slightly lower, tied in fourth place with Warren, with each earning 7 percent of the vote. It’s early yet, though, so whether Buttigieg’s bump in the polls will continue, or if another candidate will edge him out, remains to be seen.

Here’s the weekly candidate roundup:

April 5-11, 2019

Stacey Abrams (D)

The Georgia Democrat continues to hover on the periphery of the 2020 field as she decides whether to run for president or Senate (or neither). When asked during an interview with CNN whether there are too many Democrats running for office, she said, “No, I think that’s a false narrative.”

“The point of a primary is to winnow down the number of people who are actually going to be viewed by the public and go through the fisticuffs of debate,” she said.

Michael Bennet (D)

Days after announcing his prostate cancer diagnosis, the Colorado senator hit the campaign trail with back-to-back stops in early-voting states. The potential 2020 candidate returned to New Hampshire for his second visit over the weekend. He then jetted to Iowa on Monday for a meet and greet with the Polk County Democrats.

Joe Biden (D)

Despite capturing headlines last week over claims that he made several women uncomfortable by inappropriately touching them, Biden avoided controversy during a speech to accept a lifetime achievement for his work supporting cancer access and affordability, particularly for African Americans.

At the close of his remarks, he told the crowd in Washington, “I am convinced, as we make significant progress in cancer, the only truly nonpartisan issue facing the country, that the rest of the nation is going to say, ‘Dammit we can do anything. This is the United States of America.’”

With an announcement expected in the coming weeks, according to CNBC, Biden stopped at the University of Pennsylvania on Thursday for a panel discussion on the opioid epidemic. He will also deliver the eulogy for late U.S. Sen. Fritz Hollings in Charleston, South Carolina, on Tuesday.

Cory Booker (D)

Booker, who formally announced his entry into the 2020 race in February, is hosting a hometown official kickoff on Saturday to launch his “Justice for All Tour” that will take him on a two-week trip across the country.

At the onset of the week, the New Jersey senator introduced a bill in the U.S. Senate to form a commission to study reparations. Booker told The Root that he “unequivocally supports” reparations for black people. His bill is a companion to HR 40, introduced by Rep. Sheila Jackson Lee in the U.S. House.

“Since slavery in this country, we have had overt policies fueled by white supremacy and racism that have oppressed African Americans economically for generations,” he said. “[The bill] will bring together the best minds to study the issue and propose solutions that will finally begin to right the economic scales of past harms and make sure we are a country where all dignity and humanity is affirmed.”

Pete Buttigieg (D)

Earlier this week, Buttigieg traded barbs with Vice President Mike Pence after he criticized the former Indiana governor for his views on LGBTQ issues.

“If me being gay was a choice, it was a choice that was made far, far above my pay grade,” he told a crowd at the LGBTQ Victory Fund National Champagne Brunch. “That’s the thing I wish the Mike Pences of the world would understand. That if you got a problem with who I am, your problem is not with me — your quarrel, sir, is with my creator.”

Pence’s press secretary responded to Buttigieg’s comments, writing in a tweet, “The last time we recall Pence even mentioned @PeteButtigieg was in 2015, after news that Pete came out, Pence said: ‘I hold Mayor Buttigieg in the highest personal regard. I see him as a dedicated public servant and a patriot.’”

The 37-year-old South Bend mayor, who announced his exploratory committee in January, is poised to officially launch his candidacy on Sunday at a rally in his hometown.

Julian Castro (D)

In the hours after President Trump touched down in San Antonio for a fundraiser, Castro held an opposing rally in the city, according to the Corpus Christi Caller Times. Admonishing the president’s hardline immigration policies, the former San Antonio mayor said: “People in San Antonio understand the value of immigrants. This is a city that has been built up by immigrants, and it’s one of the most successful cities in the United States. It’s a testament to the power of immigration over the generations.”

The former secretary of the Department of Housing and Urban Development travels to Iowa on Sunday for his third trip to the first-in-the-nation caucus state since announcing his candidacy.

John Delaney (D)

Delaney, one of the first candidates in the field, emphasized his centrist platform on the trail in Pennsylvania to cast himself as a “different kind” of Democrat, according to the The Daily Pennsylvanian.

On Sunday, Delaney makes his 17th trip to New Hampshire, meeting with voters in Bedford, Nashua, Laconia, Meredith, Conway, Lancaster and Deerfield.

Tulsi Gabbard (D)

Gabbard, who launched her campaign in January, hit a significant milestone on Wednesday: reaching the 65,000 donor threshold needed to qualify for the first Democratic debate.

Thank you! I’m extremely grateful that over 65,000 of you have now donated to our campaign, ensuring our voice will be heard in the upcoming debates. For a small campaign that doesn’t accept PAC money, I knew we had to rely fully on the power of the people. Aloha & Mahalo! pic.twitter.com/Uw303e2JUh

— Tulsi Gabbard (@TulsiGabbard) April 10, 2019

“For a small campaign like ours without a big dollar donor network and a campaign that refuses PAC contributions, we knew we had to rely fully on the power of the people,” she said in a video posted on her Twitter account. “We’ve been blown away.”

Kirsten Gillibrand (D)

The New York senator contended with past congressional votes this week as she addressed her controversial record on immigration during her tenure in the U.S. House while also embracing her relationship with former Democratic presidential nominee Hillary Clinton.

“When I was a member of Congress from upstate New York, I was really focused on the priorities of my district. When I became senator of the entire state, I recognized that some of my views really did need to change,” Gillibrand said during a CNN town hall Tuesday. “They were not thoughtful enough and didn’t care enough about people outside of the original upstate New York district that I represented. So, I learned.”

GIllibrand also said in the town hall that Clinton has given her advice about her presidential campaign and is a “role model for all of us.”

“Hillary Clinton put that 65 million cracks in that highest and hardest glass ceiling. She’s inspired the world by her bravery and courage,” Gillibrand said. “Secretary Clinton is still a role model for all of us.” But despite her admiration for Clinton, Gillibrand said that she believes former President Bill Clinton should have resigned after the Monica Lewinsky scandal.

Kamala Harris (D)

Harris signaled that she’s open to an all-female Democratic ticket in 2020, saying in an interview on SiriusXM Progress’s Make It Plain, “Wouldn’t that be fabulous?”

Harris landed in third place in a new Quinnpiac University poll of her home state of California. The poll found that Harris had the support of 17 percent of Democrats and voters who lean Democratic, putting her behind Biden (26 percent) and Sanders (18 percent).

She also made her third trip to Iowa earlier this week — focusing on the issue of raising teacher pay — according to her campaign.

John Hickenlooper (D)

The former Colorado governor took the stage at the Building Trades Conference in Washington to court the pro-union crowd, urging that the country “needs a president” that supports unions.

In his speech, Hickenlooper focused on his private sector experience as a business owner, saying that it will complement his ambitions in the public sector.

“I didn’t check off how many times I said you’re fired,” he told the audience, an apparent jab at President Trump. “I said you’re hired. … That’s why I am running for president.”

Hickenlooper will also make six stops in Iowa starting Friday, during his second trip to the state.

Jay Inslee (D)

Inslee, who has staked his 2020 candidacy on climate change, reinforced his focus on the issue Wednesday while seeking to show his broader record beyond climate.

“We are the first generation to feel the sting of climate change, and we are the last generation, literally, who can do something about it,” the Washington governor said at a CNN town hall.

He also took aim at one key debate playing out across the 2020 field — reforming Senate rules and the filibuster. “We’re not going to be able to get health care done, or anything else for that matter, unless we get rid of the filibuster,” he said. “If the filibuster is still in Mitch McConnell’s hand come 2021, all hope is sort of down the tubes to be able to do real significant reform.”

Inslee travels to Iowa on Friday to visit community members who have been affected by recent flooding, according to his campaign.

Amy Klobuchar (D)

After announcing earlier this week that her campaign committee, Amy for America, raked in $5.2 million in the seven weeks after the launch of her campaign, Klobuchar stopped at a union conference in Washington to deliver a pitch to voters.

Politico reported that the Minnesota senator spoke about her grandfather saving money in a coffee can to send her father to college and her father’s struggle with alcoholism later in life.

“I saw him sink to the lowest valleys because of his struggles. He got three DWIs, and it was on the third DWI that he finally had to go and get treatment,” she said. “Because of his work, because of people that worked with him … just like people work with you, he was pursued by grace, and his life changed.”

Terry McAuliffe (D)

Former Virginia Gov. Terry McAuliffe, who is still considering a run for the White House, signaled that he is closer to making a final decision. “I have not made my decision yet. I am very close,” he said at the Building Trades Conference in Washington. “If I do decide, I’ll make a decision in a couple of weeks.”

McAuliffe spent most of his speech Wednesday touting his record as governor of Virginia — before underscoring his willingness to take on President Trump.

“I think when you’re looking for your next president, you have to look at the governors because they are CEOs,” he said. “I just want you to remember one thing — of all the candidates running, how many have actually wrestled a 280-pound, 8-foot alligator for a political contribution for $15,000.”

“If I can wrestle an alligator, I can sure as hell wrestle Donald Trump,” he said.

Wayne Messam (D)

After announcing his long-shot bid for president, Messam traveled to both South Carolina and Nevada, before heading to California on Thursday. The Democratic mayor of Miramar, Florida, kicked off a two-day visit in the state with a stop at the University of Southern California’s College Democrats meeting.

Seth Moulton (D)

The Massachusetts Democrat embarked on a tour through the early primary states of New Hampshire, South Carolina, Iowa and, most recently, Nevada.

The former Marine, who is considering a 2020 bid, sought to bill himself as an “outsider” in his pitch to a core group of Nevada voters: veterans.

“I’ve always been an outsider,” Moulton said, according to the Nevada Independent. “I’ve always been willing to take on the Washington establishment. That’s been true in almost everything I’ve done, and I’m someone who doesn’t have a long political history. But I am someone who believes in this country.”

As Moulton inches closer to a decision, Politico reported that he is asking voters if he should run for higher office in digital advertisements running on social media.

pic.twitter.com/s9kHe5Qo3Y

— Patrick Ruffini (@PatrickRuffini) April 10, 2019

Beto O’Rourke (D)

The presidential hopeful recently told the Texas Tribune that he had a change of heart about a controversial vote he cast in 2016 on offshore drilling.

His campaign spokesperson told the news outlet that his vote to allow federal dollars to fund oil and gas exploration studies in the eastern Gulf was about trying to “get off of our foreign reliance on resources in oil and gas that has caused so much foreign wars and American lives and troops and resources.” But after speaking with voters on the campaign trail, the spokesperson said, O’Rourke “wouldn’t cast the same vote today.”

The former Texas congressman has been crisscrossing early voting states, bringing the style of his unsuccessful 2018 Senate bid against Ted Cruz to the rest of the country. After an 843-mile drive through Iowa, O’Rourke returns to South Carolina on Friday for his second trip since announcing his candidacy, for a three-day drive through Charleston, Clemson, Denmark, Beaufort and other communities.

Tim Ryan (D)

In a pro-worker pitch to a union audience at the Building Trade Conference, the newly announced 2020 candidate anchored his speech to his roots in the Midwest, pushing a populist message to the predominantly blue collar audience.

“The national emergency in the United States today is that the American dream for millions of Americans is on life support,” he began. He also took a swipe at Trump, without mentioning him by name: “Put the phone down, let’s get to work.”

But the native Ohioan then turned his criticism inward, to his own party, suggesting that Democrats don’t need a “savior” but someone who can “grind it.” He also added that the party should “not be so hostile to the free enterprise system, not be hostile to business.”

Bernie Sanders (D)

All eyes were on the two-time White House hopeful’s tax returns this week. Sanders, a millionaire, told The New York Times he would release 10 years of tax returns by April 15. He refused to do so in 2016, which brought comparisons to President Trump.

Sanders also introduced a signature piece of legislation Wednesday: the Medicare for All Act. The bill, which he has introduced several times in the past decade, is far more sweeping than previous versions; it would provide government-run, Medicare-style health insurance for all Americans.

“Health care is a human right not a privilege,” Sanders said. “Together, we are going to end the international embarrassment of the United States of America — our great country being the only major nation on earth not to guarantee health care to all as a right. That is going to end.”

Earlier this month, Sanders reported that his first-quarter fundraising numbers show that he pulled in an impressive $18.2 million. Sanders heads to several Midwest battleground states this weekend, holding rallies in Wisconsin, Michigan and Pennsylvania.

Howard Schultz (I)

The former Starbucks CEO, who has not formally entered the race, stopped in Johnson County, Kansas, this week to pitch running as an independent to voters.

Schultz said he plans to make a decision over the summer on running, according to the Kansas City Star. During his trip through Kansas, before continuing on to Arizona and Utah, he told a crowd at a local community college that “the extreme ideology of the Republicans and the extreme ideology of the Democrats do not represent the vast majority of Americans who are at the center of this country, and we have to unleash them.”

Eric Swalwell (D)

The U.S. House member from California officially announced his candidacy on Monday on “The Late Show with Stephen Colbert.”

“It’s official,” Swalwell said. “Boy, did it feel good to say that.”

Swalwell also unveiled that gun control and student loan debt will be the centerpiece of his 2020 agenda on ABC’s “Good Morning America” on Tuesday.

“I’m telling folks, keep your rifles, keep your shotguns, keep your pistols, we just want the most dangerous weapons out of the hands of the most dangerous people,” Swalwell said. “Most gun owners believe that.”

At his first event as a presidential candidate, Swalwell visited Broward County — the site of the mass shooting at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School that killed 17 students and teachers. “Throughout this campaign, there will be other issues that I talk about — health care, education and climate change,” he said. “But my pledge to you tonight is that this issue comes first.”

Elizabeth Warren (D)

Warren announced a $6 million fundraising haul in the first quarter from 135,000 donors. The average donation was $28.

While the Massachusetts senator bested two of her colleagues in the Senate — outraising both Klobuchar and Booker by $1 million — she still fell short of others like Sanders and Harris.

The announcement came on the heels of Warren releasing her 2018 federal tax returns, which revealed that she and her husband together made nearly $850,000 and paid about $231,000 in federal taxes after deductions on that income.

“I’ve put out 11 years of my tax returns because no one should ever have to guess who their elected officials are working for. Doing this should be law,” Warren said in a statement.

Andrew Yang (D)

Yang told ABC News’s George Stephanopoulos on “This Week” that his cornerstone universal basic income proposal — which would provide every U.S. adult with a $1,000 guaranteed monthly income — will prepare the U.S. economy for the 21st century.

“We have to solve the problems that got Donald Trump elected in 2016,” Yang said. “And to me, the main driver of his victory was that we automated away 4 million manufacturing jobs in Michigan, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Wisconsin, the swing states he needed to win.”

Yang said he’s running to prepare the country for a future in which new technologies could cause a third of the nation’s jobs to disappear.

[commonalex]

Venus 3000

Definitely not my day. Either it will be my phone not ringing, either the ship getting slow as fuck to the platform or even Emily as I see her (and she sees that I see her) right before I was skipping line from a mexican dude for a sandwich. And neither did I get a nod nor a sandwich. Fuck.

I don't know why I said hi, I surely wasn't at my best and she didn't look too ok with it. I could pretend to study these ugly backs of the seats in front of me or keep on looking at the Pacific from my window while she was passing to seat at the first class. Sure, I could. But I was itching to learn why and how she justs appears here and just sits along with the richie rich folk. If only this notification for email and this nervous air hostess nagging about turning off out devices didn't hold me back from asking her on the spot.

"A reminder.

Make sure to fix your attitude and send some content, some good content this time, or we'll have problems to solve. Patience only lasts that long.

Sam, Assistant Manager."

Ah, simple, straight to the point and obnoxious Sam-the-assistant-manager as always, which she thinks she rules the world now that every serious person took a week of for the summer and she's left behind. I don't quite blame her, but she was asking me to reportabout local brunch restaurants and sunscreens just for the ads, only to get me to fly to Venus because Tyler got sickand all that crap.

Venus is just a dusty volleyball from the window when we get awaken by the stuff. Dunno if that's a tradition or not, but the pilot seemed to think that it was a good idea to sing happy birthday to each passenger that had birthday during the three month flight. It really was a good idea since I barely forgot Emily's birthday. I get myself around the seatbelts and get right back to them after the air hostess gives me the side eye. I take a minute to think about this and I see that i'ts kinda tricky to just play friends with her, so I stick to my shit. I take a look at my seat personal notifications to see what I missed. My sister's cat my only casualty. Pretty good if you compare that to the others beside me crying their eyes out for their loved ones that turned out less alive than expected. I guess I got pretty lucky. For a bit.

Cause this yuppie next to me takes his chance at starting a conversation with me about his newborn grandchild and as I'm known to enjoy this type of junk I tolerate this quirky little video of his daughter giving birth feeling physically disturbed. So disturbed I look away constantly, till I catch Emily in tears going to the bathroom of the first class (which is right in front of our class). I get closer to ask her what's wrong, only to get a cold shoulder. And I don't know what fucked me up the most, her attitude or this cringy video being almost twenty minutes long and me not having enough balls to tell him to stop it.

The pilot and his amazing texan accent wish us a nice stay at the colonies, thanking us for using Venus 3000 (yeah, wow) while I try to shut my helmet until the 'click'. We get out around this orange fog with some beacons shining in rhythm from far away. The reception authorities takes each one of us by the hand like babies until we get used to the different pressure. I take off my helmet first and try to communicate with this nice lady that holds me like her nephew about the distance from the hotel. I'm tired as hell and ready to sleep to my death.

I wake up from another notification from Sam-the-assistant-manager, underlying her previous nice words and sending me the schedule that I have to follow. If I can manage my time right, I could even get a second to pee between all those events, interviews and tryouts to get some footage (since the colonies authorities, for a reason I didn't quite get, were too willing to look for photos or videos you took during your time here, something that makes me understand what really got Tyler sick). But I shouldn't complain. It's only ten days and I got through the first one.

I get down, take just three bits and flee asking the reception about the Virtual Plaza where my appointment with the summer deputy head of the souther colony waits for me. I take the train get blown away by the ride. This so goddamn blue sky with small orange scratches from the dome, those weird asymmetrical buildings, those huge statues and columns resting on a never ending grass field and this coast. Yeah, coast as like sea (well, it's a big realistic pool, but still). I'm legit shook like the other passengers inside the train.

Somewhat irritated but gentle enough to not show it that much, Stephen Wang welcomes me with his uptight gestures and slick but uncomfortable warm suit (the colonies are always quite hot and summery). He looks a bit cold and all, but I get around him easily. Asking for some pics and then some answers to standard questions that no one gets uncomfortable with (about how he got here, how he feels, what the hell are the americans trying to build in this place along with these weird security measures) except for his security beast that checks my camera for footage and carries Stephen back to his car.

I walk around Virtual Plaza and see several kids bouncing around, playing with the slightly tweaked gravity in front of their disgustingly rich parents. Next to them some plain tourists playing with their drinks (it's too early for that) and a whole group of other tourists walking to the beach. I follow them creepily (they are in their swimsuits and I'm full clothed with a camera around my neck, just so everyone can get a bit uncomfortable) to this (close to a mile wide) shore where I let water touch my naked feet. It takes time to grasp what I really touch and/or feel.

Tired as hell, I return to the hotel to eat for the noon, getting several Venus facts from the speakers (couldn't give less of a fuck about them, though). And there she is once again, Emily, standing at the bar looking absolutely gorgeous, wearing something that costs like three times my salary. I get noticed, I smile at her, she smiles back and I decide to get to her while a old and bald penguin dude takes her by her hand for a spin. Not really hungry after that. I'm walking to the elevator with her quietly closing in. I look at her by accidentand see the same bitterness in her eyes, just like then before the take off.

Sleeping is not so easy on Venus. They tried all they could to simulate earth-like conditions (like day and night scheduling etc.), but that can't stop my biological clock from going nuts. So I fill my nights by looking at old convos with Emily as I deliberately avoiding her for the rest of the day. As for the work stuff, I managed to convince Sam that the communication delays are a pain in the ass and I can't send daily reports to get away with them. Sometimes I go for long night time walks, but those irish students looking for trouble and those faux cops that caught me filming the artificial forest the other day restrict me from enjoying anything but my room's satellite tv.

Days get so dry, dull and empty, too. When I don't have to ask the exact same things to weird army guys and Elon Musk wannabees, I need to listen at tiring speeches that all end up in how advanced and cool and hip this test is not only for humanity, but every form of life back to Earth. From top notch scientists and disgustingly rich white people to stupid youtubers and Robbie Williams (not kidding), all those people came exclusively to praise this initiative of the western world that officially puts the tombstone on the soviets after nearly ninety years of competition (not that it was that hard in the first place).

It only took a couple walks for me to see what those colonies had to offer me. All of those bright white columns, weird looking hotels and disturbingly tall palm trees just seem unpolished and lazy to me. Sand's just grated rocks, the sea smells like a chemistry lab, the food is processed to death and even the temperature gets a bit weird sometimes. The colonies are nothing more than huge hotel facilities, sprawling sparsely over a small island that floats in a large swimming pool. I'm fed up hearing about the hope of the future that starts herewhen I see old, pale fucks keeping on eating foie gras and using oil. This whole project is an ad that targets only the Kylie Jenners of this world that have a daily life of eating, sleeping and swimming in cash.

Sam-the-assistant-manager sure begs for these kind of reviews, but I'm risking my head for her. I only send her a draft without a slump of criticism, because I don't want any of those faux cops fucking with me just for writing bad things for them.

Three days before my flight, Stephen Wang drags me with his nerdy hands for another tour around the colonies. Oh look, art exhibitions, dance festivals, Robbie Williams (I needed this second time to make sure it was really him), even a luxurious cruise with a boat that smells just like burnt plastic. All slapping newand moderninside their names. All getting more and more random in my eyes. Wang clearly sees my disappointment and becomes troubled. He asks me if everything's fine, I respond with yeap, why notand not one second later I just leave my breakfast inches from the stern of the boat. So many days I spent here, and I only got to succeed in making a successful thirty year old career man lose his shit and getting nauseous from a pool. A fucking swimming pool.

Two days before my flight, my article looks like it's never gonna make it, especially with Sam's moaning about me giving away my hidden footage to Wang as an act of goodwill to the poor guy. I could finish the article regardless, but my mind starts to fade away. I spend more time looking at the forest from the window of my room than typing. It's already dark when a knock on the door kills my boredom. Emily knows me well enough to put aside my difficulty at finding something to say, dragging me to the beach with this cute rudeness that only she can pull off.

-You can be really mean if you want to

What can you say to her when she's one hundred percent right? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

-It's really hard for me to deal with your presence anymore, Emily. Try to understand me.

-Still, I don't deserve this kind of behavior;

-I know. And as far as you should know, I'm glad I found you here

-Really?

Really. But...

-But I don't quite prefer I found you here. It's not good for me to see you after all this times. I don't know how I could make this sound less douchey, but it is what it is.

I'm holding her hand to make her stay. She tries really hard not to hit me.

-You're making it so damn hard to trust you, you know that? I know you for so long and I still can't figure out if you crack jokes or turn serious.

I have a really hard time figuring this out myself, as well.

-I'm serious. It bugs me to act like nothing happened and this bald fuck touching you doesn't make it easier for me.

-You didn't seem to have this problem before, right? Let me remind you that it was you that didn't want to commit. What changed?

-Nothing

-You want it your way, as always

-Just like you, right? Only difference I have to wait for you to decide what exactly you want from me

-You're so bitter

-I'm in love

I can't stand fighting with her. She can't stand fighting with me. That's why we slow down a bit. We get cautious at our words now, we're testing each other's defences to avoid getting hurt.

-John passed away

-I'm really sor-

-No. No you are not. It's ok I guess, but I spent so much time with him and it got to me pretty hard

-You are wrong, I'm not that petty

-I was hunting you down for so many days to talk to you. You were hiding from me

It's difficult to make myself look more stupid.

-How you got here?

-John's health went south and he didn't want me to see him like this. It was something like a last gift from him.

-So you got this penguin to comfort you

-Please. Please don't make me regret my decision to talk to you. Please. I needed you in my life so damn much

I hate her for doing this. Not because she does it deliberately, but because it works. Most of the time.

-I think we have to stop having any type of contact, Emily. We can't do this anymore, can we?

I believe in what I say, I know I do, but it feels wrong actually saying, if that makes sense.

-You can't make it so damn easy to me. You just can't

-What do you mean?

-I do not intend to come back. I'm gonna stay here. Not coming back, like at all. You understand?

Oh I understand all right.

Just one day before my flight, I'm buried by the bed sheets and Emily. She plays with my hair and I lock myself on her as the purple dome turns to morning blue. Everything seems so right and wrong. Only this time there's no husband getting between us, just me feeling read to fall right off the window.

-Do not forget me, ok? I know I wont

And that's my soul being smashed to million pieces.

I greet her being super dazed, no idea why. My mouth is dry from the stress, the joy, the exhaustion and I can't help but puke inside the (empty, luckily) elevator. I'm sick, like legit sick. So sick that I lock myself back to my room ust to cry for god knows how long, only to get stopped by Sam. Where's the article, up your ass you fucking moron. I only got ten hours to get my head straight and there's no time for your dumb shit.

It is the same old lady who took me by the hand on my arrival that awaits with a big smile. I try to smile back but my lips are not responding. I could swear she almost pushes me to the plane, before I catch myself dragging my steps like a child. I get my helmet off to let me guilts breathe, trying to figure out how big I fucked up, how much of a coward I am for running away or how dumb I was for thinking about staying for her.

My condition's only getting worse. My ears are ringing as the passengers are sitting around me. They are somehow trapping me and I try to squeeze my eyelids until everything gets blurred so I can't understand much of what's going on and my plan's working pretty well until this australian chick shouts at the air hostess because I give her the creeps. I get up and get to the bathroom. I splash my face, look at my reflection, get disgusted, vomit and get out even more dazed than before.

A couple hundred of old ladies are staring at me with their either frighten eyes, waiting to see just where will I collapse. Unfortunately for them, Emily picks me up and sits me back down. Emily. Emily got a ticket and leaves. She leaves. She changed her mind and she leaves. With me.

-Be careful now, You all right?

-Emily, I think I love y-

-What?

Her face freezes, like I said something wrong to her. Her cheeks lose all of their color, those markings on her neck disappear, her long hair get more and more grey. I'm panicking, what the fuck is going on? Why is she like that? What did I do?

Nothing. I did nothing. It took a minute to get back to normal but here I am, stuck in my seat before sleeping, feeling the need to dig a hole on the floor and jump inside. Because it wasn't her.

It wasn't her.

It wasn't her.

[mitchmitchmitch]

“Strike a Pose” Struck a Nerve

When I was a kid, I wanted to be a dancer, part of the long list of things I wanted to do in life, but did not, or could not. Growing up as the youngest of four kids, the phrase I heard the most from my parents was “we can’t afford that.” There was a ballet studio right down the street from our house, but my mom said “you’ll just quit,” which was how she deflected requests when she didn’t want to say “we can’t afford that.” Yes, I’m still a bit bitter. 

Loving dance is a big reason why I’ve also loved Madonna. No one has gotten me to dance more than her, and dance is central to everything she does. One of my favorite movies is Madonna’s “Truth or Dare” documentary, which chronicles her now legendary 1990 Blond Ambition tour. Controversial and provocative, the tour itself changed what a pop star concert could be, and the live broadcast of the last concert in Nice, France on HBO was a ratings blockbuster - I still have my VHS recording of it (although I no longer have a VCR). At the time the tour was moving across the world, Madonna was white hot. Her platinum blond pony tail and Jean-Paul Gautier cone bra corset over a tailored suit has became an iconic moment in fashion. She made news in Toronto for almost being arrested. The Vatican told Catholics to avoid the show. Yet her videos during this period are now considered among the very best of MTV’s golden age. Even her Blond Ambition cast became famous in their own right.  

The documentary played a big part in their rise to fame, as it told another facet of the story - the behind the scenes interactions of Madonna, her production crew, her management team, her brother, and mostly with her cast of seven gay, male dancers and two female backup singers. At the time, I so wanted to do what they were doing, I was equal parts enthralled and envious. They also gave me hope that my boring life in Indiana could change. By the time this movie came out, I had watched the HBO broadcast of the final show at least 100 times. I could do the choreography for Express Yourself and Vogue. I knew her back up singers, Niki and Donna, and her dancers, Carlton, Gabriel, Kevin, Oliver, Jose, Luis, and Salim. 

I had a crush on Salim, in particular, that bordered on obsession. In the Vogue video, his black hair is slicked back as he looks smolderingly into the camera and I swoon. And then he breaks out in a big grin that can only be described as adorable and i’m swooning even more. If I could create my perfect man, he would look like Salim. 

Yes, he was hot, but he was also a great dancer. I’d read a story somewhere about when they were in rehearsals, not sure if it is true but it’s worth telling as an urban legend. The choreographer, Vincent Paterson, told Salim to bring down his intensity because he was pulling focus away from Madonna, and she told him to keep doing what he was doing - if he was pulling focus that was on her to correct, not him. And because I so wanted to dance, I couldn’t help but be mesmerized by him. He was everything I wanted to be - dark, handsome, athletic, talented and creative. And he was living his life as an artist which is what I wanted for myself but had no clue how to make happen. 

“Truth or Dare” shows all of the dancers as they were, and a lot of their behavior I found annoying. Madonna tells Salim, Jose and Luis to back off 19-year-old dancer Oliver because they were being little bitches to him. They were pushing their sexuality out into the world, demanding that people deal with them. They were out and proud. And looking back, I’d say they were brave. At the time, people interpreted their bravado as confidence, but to me it came off as too much, too forced ... insecurity. As it turns out, I wasn’t entirely wrong. 

Jump ahead 25 years with the new documentary about the seven dancers called “Strike a Pose.” Sadly, Gabriel Trupin died in 1995 of AIDS, and the remaining six dancers talked about how much they loved him, as well as their life before, during and after the tour. They expressed how much they felt they were faking it, and how insecure they felt. This is common for early 20-somethings, but in some of their cases there was more behind it. Unbeknown to the rest of the cast - and Madonna - Carlton Wilborn and my beloved Salim were both HIV positive as they were doing the show. Salim’s revelation is particularly heartbreaking in the documentary, having never revealed it to anyone except his mother, and Carlton coming around to give him a hug is when I lost it. 

They all discussed the overwhelming fear every gay man had at that time about HIV/AIDS. They talked about watching people die, which was a too common occurrence. And the dread of living with HIV, the intense stigma surrounding it, and knowing if you had it at 22 you wouldn’t make it to your 28th birthday. They shared lives lived, with all of the wrong turns, bad decisions and dreams unfulfilled we all experience as young people. 

And once again, I found myself back with these men, measuring my own life to theirs. It struck a nerve. I had forgotten about that intense fear, but fear was my constant companion when I was young. By the time I got to college, the thought of sex was terrifying. I had a crush on a guy named Joe in college. He was my age, shorter than me, Jewish (which seemed really exotic to me back then), big brown eyes and so cute. There was a spark between us, but he was so out and so vocal about his gayness, he scared me. I think he was hurt by my rejection, and to be honest, he wasn’t used to being turned down. It could have been a great relationship, or it could have been just great sex. Either way, I was just not ready. I eventually avoided him before even a friendship could develop. 

After we graduated I was working at a department store in Indianapolis. A college friend was in the store and we caught up. “Oh, by the way,” he said. “Did you know Joe died?” I didn’t know. 24-years old. AIDS. Out and Proud. It was hard news to take at the time but when you are 24 and someone your age dies, you don’t appreciate just how tragic that is. But every time someone died, or tested positive, or was in the hospital with some strange illness, the fear grew. My generation of gay men, those of us born in the 1960s and early 1970s, had that fear weave its way into our DNA. 

I’ve now to come to realize I’m still living in that fear in spite of being HIV negative. I think gay men my age are all still living with fear, and the deep sadness of seeing our peers die so young. It hangs over us like a storm cloud but it’s aways there. I’ve made jokes about my perpetual singleness, I’ve said I’m single because I’ve had too much therapy, or that I have bipolar. But these aren’t the reasons why. I’ve struggled to date men my age throughout my life because there is always the distance, the inability to commit, the pushing away, the fear. 

I can’t help but think we are, none of us, honoring those men we loved and lost by carrying the sadness around with us. When we were young, we wanted to be able to be open, to be free, to express ourselves, as Madonna would say. Now it’s time to let go of the fear and start talking about it. Young gay men need to hear our stories, even though we don’t want to talk about it. It’s all abstract to them, an anecdote, something you watch on TV. HIV rates are rising, and yes, it isn’t a death sentence anymore. But it isn’t a walk in the park, either. Alexis Arquette just died of full blown AIDS. It can still happen. 

“Strike a Pose” ends on an upbeat note, the six dancers coming together for dinner, sharing memories, laughing, crying. As they’ve moved into middle age, they have found success, love and joy in their lives. And oddly, I can still say I am envious of them, because they had the courage I did not have to live their lives as artists. 

But it also made me think that we all pay a price for our youth. I let go of my dreams of being a dancer or singer or actor a long time ago. I’m a good graphic designer but not a great one. I could say the same thing for writing and photography. Bipolar has cost me a lot of time and energy, and I’ve had to come to terms with that as a limitation. I am the sum total of a lifetime of decisions, as are we all. And I’m not sure how to live without my constant companion - fear - but it’s time to try. 

And my crush on Salim is going on its 27th year!

[wildlyhardphilosopher-blog]

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